#please please go touch some grass and read a book

[mobliterated]

I just barely saw the tip of an iceberg float by that had twitter words I’ve never heard of and the sentence “if anything is longer than 280 words I probably won’t read it lol” and you would not believe how fast I swam away from that shit

[sunbunnyyy]

i know i just got here, but seeing all of the laughably bad takes from both sides of the spectrum is convincing me that no, i don’t actually need to be on social media again.

[dreamytfw]

"Your ship would be nothing without Desti-"

Shut up

Shut up!!

Shut! Up!!

[nothingbutferal]

Random person who looks like they've never meditated or done any type of yoga ever, has six out of seven chakras severely blocked, and spends more time on their phone than they've ever spent outside: hey

Me pulling out a block of selenite and a full set of tuning forks: I can fix you.

[ame-to-ame]

oh a week without the things that are keeping me alive and sane... how will i live

[notherpuppet]

I LOVE READING YOUR NANNY AU!! The writing and art is amazing!!

Though how you get the dialogue so perfect!?!? I'm trying to do a comic series but I can't do the writing right.

May you please share some tips?

I want to actually be helpful with this, because I looove writing dialogue. It’s my favorite part of the storytelling process. I’ve written works with and without internal dialogue and I like both. It just depends on how much I want the reader to know. Anyway, here’s some advice?

1. Study techniques from media you like

I study scenes from favorite films/tv shows. And there are many YouTube channels that are great resources for writing, but I’m most partial to “Studio Binder”.

This is a great video on dialogue.

Because I write for comics most of the time—rather than prose—I find advice for tv and film to be more helpful because it incorporates the techniques in a visual storytelling medium. But I’d recommend studying technique for the storytelling medium you’re partial to as well. I have several books on comic book storytelling and have studied comics and manga the most in my life haha (cuz I’m a giant fucking nerd).

2. Workshop dialogue to fit the character and scene

Dialogue can change a lot from my first concept—where I want to convey the necessary information—into making it sound “in character”. So I study the writing of the show of course to pick up on the characters’ quirks and unique ways of speaking.

Example:

Carmilla Carmine is bilingual with Spanish/English and it seems that as a character, Spanish was her first language. So some traits she may have are:

1. To confirm her ideas ending with a “no?” Instead of saying “right?”

2. Slipping into Spanish when she’s ‘thinking out loud’.

Then I’ll read aloud a scene to see if it sounds right. Often, this is when I’ll notice if the dialogue seems repetitive or awkward.

3. Touch grass, go laugh, have fun

Also, I’m sure my very chaotic but-hilarious-family members and friends help me with writing dialogue so make sure you take the time to hang out with people lol!

It’s true what they say about drawing inspiration from real life 👥🌎

Hope that’s helpful 🥰

[luveline]

could you please write something where maybe bombshell!reader hears one of the team members teasing about how she’s torturing spencer and she kinda backs off with the flirting and maybe it’s his turn to hold her hand and call her cute names because even though he always says he doesn’t mind, maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to tell her

tysm for requesting, 1k

Spencer's hair is brown silk in the sun. You bite your tongue to hold in a compliment rearing to come out, saccharine and completely true. Looking sweet, Spence. 

You love to compliment him and especially while Hotch is out of earshot. He and Derek play pairs against two agents from a different unit, their tennis racquets a shiny FBI navy. You start to speak and bite it back —a memory flashes, a shouting stop sign. 

You'd been teasing Spencer as he left the room, something about his indecisive hair. He's cut it shorter but left his curls without product, and you love it. 

Poor guy, Emily'd murmured, lips set against the rim of her coffee cup. 

What's the matter with him? you asked, perplexed. 

Nothing, just that he spins into a total meltdown every time you guys are within ten feet of each other. He must be exhausted.

She was joking and you know that, but something deep down worries she's right. It's not fair for you to keep winding him up… Especially when Spencer might be going along with you because he isn't sure how to say no. 

What if you're forcing yourself on him? 

You're sitting together on a small blanket in the grass with Anderson and a few of the other less competitive BAU agents. You bring your bottled iced tea to your forehead to cool down, condensation wetting your hot skin. The top of your head feels as though it has the full concentration of the sun beating against it. 

Spencer looks up at your movement. He's been reading a book for pleasure, or so he says, so he isn't going a mile a minute but he's still way faster than the average Joe. "Do you want to go find some shade?" he asks. 

"You look comfortable," you say, putting your iced tea aside.

Which is to say, I don't want you to come with me, it would disrupt you. Spencer nods and turns to the brown leather of his familiar satchel, popping the buckle open to dig around inside. 

"Do you think this would be okay?" he asks, bringing out his baseball cap. 

The fabric is starchy and the brim stiff as you accept it and wedge it over your head. You don't immediately cool, but your heart spins strange loops. "Thank you," you say. Thank you, handsome, gorgeous, baby, all beg to be said. 

Spencer stays looking at you for longer than normal. 

"Do I have something on my face?" you ask, swatting self consciously at your cheeks. 

"Nothing. You look really pretty," he says. 

"Thank you." Another loop. You point at his book, fingertip hitting a creamy page with a small thud. "Is this any good?" 

"I think you'd really like it, it feels like that last book I borrowed from you, and you loved that. They're very similar. I can lend it to you when I'm done." 

"Don't rush it for my sake."

Spencer gives you a private smile. "I won't. Just because you could watch a movie at two times speed doesn't mean you should." 

Your returning smile isn't half as nice. No shared lightness, no bright eyes. You're feeling awkward and unhappy —you really like Spencer. Like, you think you could be happy together for a long long time sort of like. He's charming and sweet and no one is ever as kind to him as he deserves, which is why you're trying to be kind now by putting distance between you.

You'll be brash forever. You can't change that, and Spencer doesn't need the stress of dealing with you, not on top of everything else. 

His smile fades as yours does. Quiet, without fuss, he scoots back on the picnic blanket, putting you knee to knee. The subtle muscle of his arm presses to yours and his hand wraps gently around your wrist as he dips his head down, his cheek touching briefly to your shoulder. 

"I know it's nice, but if the heat is getting to you we should go inside," he says, his fingers sliding across your palm to slot between your own. He squeezes your hand. "Heat stroke isn't obvious at first. Do you feel woozy?"

You stare at your twined fingers. He surprises you again, being this soft with you, and being uncharacteristically forward. Or maybe not uncharacteristic at all; Spencer won't let something like timidity stop him from comforting someone that needs it. 

"Spence," you murmur, closing your eyes, face angled down. 

"What?" 

"I'm sorry if I… If I've been messing you around. But I don't think this is a good idea." 

"What's not a good idea?" 

You can't make yourself say it. Instead, you rub the back of his hand, more for your own comfort than his, your tongue like a useless lump in your mouth. 

"You're sorry? Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asks, no heed to the people sitting with you as he lets go of your hand to put his arm behind your shoulder like a shield. 

"I don't want to torture you," you say. 

Your friends love that word. You torture Spencer with your flirting and your easy affection. 

Spencer makes a face, eyes squinting and nose wrinkled. "They're just kidding when they say that. Emily, Morgan, they like making fun of me, it's like, sibling bonding or something. They don't say it because there's actually something to feel sorry about." He lowers his voice, bashful but sincere at once, "If you're torturing me, I guess I'm a masochist." 

You laugh without thinking, a breathless, girlish sound you'd regret if you had the wherewithal. "You're a masochist?" you ask. 

He takes the brim of your borrowed hat and pushes it up to unobstruct the view of your eyes. 

"If that's what it takes," he says. A hint of wryness creeps into his otherwise smooth tone. 

Despite his brave talk and his steady eye contact, his face has started to blush. A rosy hue kisses the tops of his cheeks and his nose, a dusting of pink splodges stark against his paleness. The curve of his lips seems extra tantalising now. He's very, very pretty. 

And he doesn't mind stepping in to take the reins when you're unsure of things. 

"We really should sit in the shade for a bit," he says. "Let's get drinks from the gazebo. Yeah?" 

You're halfway through a nod when he kisses your cheek too quickly for you to respond. You follow him to the gazebo without any more reluctance, weaselling your hand back into his, and attempt to pull another kiss from him.

[little-star-library]

Headcanons: Playing with Astarion’s Hair

Summary: Just some soft and fluffy headcanons about playing with Astarion’s hair. That man deserves to be coddled and pampered with all of the affection.

At first, Astarion didn’t care for anyone to touch his hair other than himself. After years and years of seducing so many people to lure back to his former master, there were plenty of people who had tangled their fingers through his hair and he developed a feeling of disdain and loathing at the sensation whenever someone got too close, like a hot brand that persisted until he was numb from the pain because none of it was ever real to him. It was all an act that he had to endure. But somehow that wasn’t the case when it came to you. You were different from everyone else. And it was frustrating beyond measure to accept the fact that he began to accept your touch more and more as the two of you grew closer.

It started with small, fleeting brushes of your fingers when you noticed the leaves and small twigs that got caught in his hair after a run in with some goblins. He hesitantly let you pluck out the debris and a twinge of warmth emanated from his undead heart at your gentle ministrations.

From then on, he would purposefully dishevel his snow colored waves and come to you with the excuse of the lack of his own reflection, saying that he only trusted you to fix it because Karlach would surely singe his hair by her own touch and Halsin’s hands were too large and would crumple his hair even more. You knew what he was doing, but secretly you didn’t mind at all.

“There we go, good as new.” You would say this every time with a smile and even though you would love to keep stroking his hair, as soft as it was, you would never cross that boundary unless he expressed his full consent to do so. You knew of his past and empathized with him not being comfortable with non-sexual intimacy because it was a foreign concept to him. He never got to personally experience something so simple and loving as that. And gods help him did he want you to keep going, but never really knew how to ask without embarrassing himself.

Luckily for him though, he didn’t have to wait too long before the opportunity arose. It was after the first time he convinced you to sleep with him and the two of you were laying in the grass under the starry night sky and he was nuzzling against the crook of your neck, trying to catch his breath even if it wasn’t really necessary. You were caressing his shoulders and your hands began to wander up to the curls at the nape of his neck and tentatively pet his hair , but you pulled away briefly so as not to upset him.

“No, don’t stop…please.” His voice came out as a soft whisper and he tightened his grip around your waist like you were going to disappear if he let you go and it made you melt from the inside to see him like this, and you didn’t need to be asked twice. You went back to entangle your fingers through his hair once more and lightly scratched at his scalp and he let out a hum as a silent ‘thank you’ and practically started purring when you kissed the crown of his head. The world around you began to blur until it was just you and him and there was nothing else that mattered other than this moment, and he silently pleaded for the sun to never rise so he could bask in your embrace just a little longer.

And after that night, he was hooked. Every night he would actively search you out and you would never turn him away. By now it was a common occurrence to spend the night in the privacy of your tent in comfortable silence by each other’s side while the rest of your traveling companions were asleep, usually with him reading a book and you playing with his hair as he rested his head in your lap.

One of his favorite pastimes however was when you would offer to wash his hair. You always thought he looked ruggedly handsome and carnal when he was in his element. You know it’s kind of off-putting to be attracted to something like that, but the sight of him when he had blood splattered across his cheeks and twisted into crimson ribbons throughout his hair was downright breathtaking. But you knew from your own experiences in battle that after a while, the blood cools and congeals into a sticky, wet mess on your skin and it was awfully discomforting after walking under the hot sun all day. Although Astarion would rather prefer an actual proper bath compared to scrubbing down in a freezing lake, he still insisted on using these special soaps and pomades which he may have acquired not so honorably stating that he wouldn’t be caught red-handed walking around smelling like ‘orthon roadkill’

He would give you detailed instructions on which products to use as you went and you dutifully complied just to see his expression turn to one of instant contentment as you scrubbed gently at his scalp to work the soap through the strands until the blood washed away and he was slowly oozing into a puddle of relaxation, almost slipping away into a short trance to rest his weary body. He would gladly return the favor in kind, making sure to wipe every patch of dirt and grime away until you were clean, his dexterous fingers feeling like an absolute godsend as they nimbly stroked thoroughly in your hair and he would smirk with pride when he had you moaning so sweetly just with his delicate touch.

He always enjoyed these small acts of intimacy that you shared with him and you helped show him a side of affection that was completely different from what he knew. There were no strings attached, no obligations he had to fulfill because there was no need for that. You were just expressing your care for him and you didn’t need to be repaid, always insisting on doting on him with your kindness and that made him nervous. He thought that after years of torment he would never actually catch a break or deserve any sort of reprieve after all of the awful things he went through, but you were his saving grace, the light at the end of the dark tunnel of his lonely existence. But as long as you were there, holding him in your arms and indulging him with your soothing touch, he felt like he could get used to this.

“You are worth so much more than you think, Astarion. I know it’s hard to see that, but I am willing to do whatever it takes to show you that.” Your hushed words struck him to his core and he desperately tried to contain the tears welling in his eyes from falling, pulling you closer to him as you both laid in your bedroll and left a chaste kiss on your lips in reverent gratitude. Although you two had only known each other for a short time now, you had already fallen for him and vice versa. There was no need to come to terms with your relationship until he was ready and if playing with his hair had been the beginning of your virtuous tenderness towards him, then he could not wait to see what else you had in store.

[elsa-fogen]

Why would you make something like this of Alastor and Rosie killing Velvette. This is such a sick minded thing to make. And the way that you drew it implied that Alastor and Rosie stripped her down?? what the actual fuck?? that is SO odd... I dont know, this entire comic is something that is just so off putting and I dont want to imagine what kind of things are going through your mind to make something like this. Poor Velvette. And why the fuck is valentino biting his lip seeing Velvette dead?? Overall this comic is so gross. Get a new hobby. Go touch some grass. Read a book. Do all that, but stay away from Velvette please. Biggie.

Oh no, i'm deeply senserely sorry! How could I even think of such a thing?!! I'm a monster, the most horrible creature on earth, and your words have opened my eyes! I'm now realising how horrible and fucked up of a person I am! All this time i lived in the darkness, pitch black pit of evil, but now I see the light and this light blinds me, burns me! I know now that me, such a disgusting offspring of the dark and unimaginable horror cannot live under the light of this world and therefore doesn't deserve it! I don't deserve to do art, i don't deserve to live! Thank you, moonyxshunsuke-forever, i have seen the light and now it's gone, and i can't live without it! Knowing that such light can never shine inside my corrupted and twisted soul! I should never draw again, delete my blog and kill myself! To stop the darkness of my soul poisoning this pure and perfect world! In 24 hours this blog will be deleted and you'll never see or hear from me ever again!

✨✨✨S A R C A S M ✨✨✨

yeah nno buddy, that doesn't work this way. I draw what i want and i'm not gonna stop because some sensitive vanilla flower didn't like it. It's fictional characters, dude, I do what i want with them and i don't care if it's immoral. Novody's harmed in real life. Block the tag of the AU if you don't like it, block me if you hate my art in general and fucking move on

And fair warning, if you or anyone else keep sending me shit like this, i'll find more creative and horrible ways to torture your precious little Velvette, just to spite yall.

Masterpost of the most twisted and gross AU on Tumblr

[gabgabwrites]

LESSON LEARNT | Professor!Patrick Zweig

summary ⇝ your insufferable colleague has no sense of time and you’re tired of that, though if there’s one thing Patrick doesn’t like, is a smart mouth, one you so happen to have.

warnings ⇝ allusions of art x reader, language, mentions of cheating, smoking, blasphemy(if you squint) smut! p in v, unprotected sex, choking, oral (M), fingering, cum-eating, collar(?), rough sex, slapping, spanking, spit play, barely aftercare, DEGRADATION TO ITS FINEST, praise, Patrick yaps and yaps about reader being a whore/slut…yolo, mdni

an: I had to touch some grass and myself during this &&& I have another 2 planned challengers fics coming out… one day

based off this request here!

you can read part 2…over here

You're an English professor at Stanford university, you're loved by many students and got along with most of your colleagues.

There was just one problem, majority your students almost always kept arriving late to your lectures because of the Biology professor, Professor Zweig who kept keeping his students overtime.

He irked you, he was cocky and arrogant and always boasted to you when a student got a higher mark in his class instead of yours, even if you taught English.

Even now, you had a few late stragglers enter your class, as you were busy reading to your class; 'I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream'. You had enough, you shut the book and excused yourself, telling your students to continue reading along and write down notes. You marched straight for the dark, thick double doors that led to the biology labs.

Lo and behold, stood Professor Patrick Zweig, packing away his microscope and other various equipment he used for his classes today, until he heard the banging of the double doors. As he turned over, he couldn't help but roll his eyes as he saw you standing at the entrance, a scowl on your face that he had to admit was rather cute.

"Oh no... my worst nightmare." He said sarcastically as he leaned against the table.

Zweig couldn't help but scoff, he watched as you walked over and he almost smirked at how much you were fuming in front of him. "We've had this talk before, let your students out on time."

He leaned against the counter, his arms resting on his hip, "Oh, please, you're being so dramatic, they're a few minutes late to a lesson, you're acting like it's my fault you started too early."

"I start on time, thank you, and I am certainly not being dramatic. Language is far more important than looking at dead insects."

Zweig raised his eyebrow, he had no trouble arguing with you, and with a grin, he pushed himself off the table and leaned forwards a bit, "Oh? Language is more important than biology? Don't make me laugh, the study of biology is much more useful and important than studying Shakespeare and dead poets."

"It's not about poetry," You groaned. "It's a goddamn language that everyone seated in my class speaks at home, unfortunately that is more useful than fucking insects."

Patrick couldn't help but laugh, his grin only widening, he was enjoying this far too much. He crossed his arms, his stance becoming wider, “Please, English is hardly a language, it's mostly made up of stolen words from Latin and Germanic languages. Besides, what is so important about knowing the language when science is what the world functions through?"

You let out a small hum. "What if your students are religious, huh? What if they believe God created all creatures and critters?"

He rolled his eyes, "That's your counter argument? You want to go and talk about religion? Really? If God truly created all these things, then how come we have so much evidence and scientific facts disproving that? It's science over fiction, sweetie."

You scoffed, and muttered under your breath, "Blasphemy." With a frown, you turned around and went back to your lecture hall and picked up the book.

Patrick couldn't help but snicker as he watched your dramatic exit, oh he had to admit he was absolutely enjoying this new routine of riling you up with every encounter. He almost wanted to skip teaching tomorrow just to watch you fume even more.

"Alright, we'll pick up from page 146," You said, flipping to the page. "‘Cornfeld grasped the head of the hammer, and...’" The rest of the class went on with no more interruptions from tardy students, but in a small part of your mind, it still lingered to what Zweig had said.

Sure, you thought he was a cocky and arrogant bastard, but he also annoyed you so much. It was like he almost did it on purpose to rile you up.

The next day, your class was thankfully one of the last, but before Patrick's, and you knew some students had no luck and had to endure Biology back to back with yours. You smiled, today you planned to keep your students— the ones who had Biology next, in a few minutes later.

You weren't sure if he'd do something in retaliation for what you were about to do, but you really didn't care, the look on his face would no doubt be hilarious, especially when some of his students complained about being late for his lesson.

You had to make up some dumb reason, you pretended that those exact students had flunked the short item they wrote about two weeks ago, and had to discuss their mistakes. You knew it was a lame excuse, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

You could just imagine Zweig getting all huffy and impatient with the students as they were stuck in your class having to review their mistake.

The clocked ticked, minutes and minutes well passed the end of class.

You knew for a fact that those students were now late for the biology class, you tried to hide the grin growing on your face as you thought about how Zweig would take the tardiness, he was going to be absolutely fuming.

You sighed, pointing your neat and professional manicured finger at a big, red circle you made on a page. "See, here you got the facts wrong. Launcelot was a clown not a jester."

You heard some of the students groan and complain in the queue, some even looked at their watches and began to realise that they were now late for class. One of them, a male student, raised his hand slowly and peered at you over the shoulders of his classmates.

"Professor... Are you sure you need to go over every mistake?"

You raised a brow. "This topic will come up in your year end paper, so I expect you to get it right that time, and how else will you if you don't get it now?"

The male student groaned once more, he and the others all looked at their watches and then to each other. Another student, a female one, chimed in, "But we're going to be late for Biology."

You chose not to say anything, simply giving her a smile before turning back to the student you were attending to. "Right, where were we?"

They all looked at each other and gave out a collective sigh, but they had no choice but to listen to you review each and every one of their errors and mistakes. Every student glanced at the clock as the time slowly went on and on, they had to bite their tongues and try to pay attention as best as they could.

You could get a warning, or worse, but considering the Dean never took in your complaints, you didn't worry.

As the minutes passed, you were surprised at the amount of mistakes that students had done before in the past. You were about to look at another student's mistake, when you heard the loud sound of the double doors opening behind you.

You looked back over your shoulder and was stunned to see Zweig himself standing in the entrance with an intimidating glare on his face.

You bit your lip, turning in your chair to face away from him and back to your student.

The students all stood back and sunk into their places as they saw Patrick, he let out a huff and walked over to your desk. He stood for a moment in silence before speaking,

"Professor, may I speak with you for a moment?"

You looked over your shoulder, batting your lashes before giving him a sweet smile. "Can you give me ten minutes?"

Zweig raised an eyebrow at your response, he folded his arms and looked over to the students, who had all gone silent as he stared each one of them down. He let out a huff before grabbing your chair and pulling it away from the desk, "Actually, no. I need to talk to you now."

"I'm so sorry, Professor, l'm just a little busy."

You could see the slight twitch of irritation on Patrick's face, he leaned his hand against your desk and gave you a smirk, "Are you trying to play smartass with me?"

"I don't know what you mean. I'm just helping my students get a distinction for their grade." You told him

Zweig let out a scoff, "Cut the crap, I know exactly what you're doing, and you damn well know that you're purposely keeping these students in here to make them late for their next class."

"I'm not."

His jaw visibly clenched, he stepped even closer, leaning down even more so that you were almost face to face at this point, "Then explain to me how your class has ended twenty minutes ago and these students are still stuck in here and now late for my class?"

"I guess I lost track of time, whoops?"

Patrick's nostrils flared as he exhaled from his nose, he was beginning to lose his patience at your petty attitude.

"Right, because losing track of time is totally a good explanation to keep your students twenty minutes over the end of your class..."

Patrick's eyes trailed over to the students, who were all watching in anticipation as the two of you argued, some even looking amused at the scene playing out in front of them.

He sighed and looked back to you, "Why can't you just cut the crap and admit you did it on purpose to annoy me? I know you did."

"And if I did? Am? Then what?"

Patrick couldn't help but be caught a bit off guard by your response, he let out a half scoff and a half amused huff as he smirked down at you, "You're actually admitting to it? Really?"

"'m tired of you doing the same, Zweig."

Patrick rolled his eyes and groaned, he stepped back a bit and ran his hand through his hair, "You're acting like a damn spoiled child, it's not my fault my lectures sometimes go overtime because people in my class are actually interested to learn more."

"It's not about their interest," You snapped. "It's about their needs."

Patrick let out a scoff and rolled his eyes,

"Right, right, because they need to be in your class to sit around and hear you recite your favourite Shakespearean garbage?"

"It's not—," You caught yourself raising your voice, before taking in a deep breath. "You can either wait for me to finish, or move on."

Patrick let out a sharp exhale, he stood silently for a moment, his eyes were trained on you, studying your face as he debated his options. He stepped back over and leaned against the desk, "Fine, I'll wait, but you damn well better finish up before I get impatient."

You gave him a snarky smile, before focusing on the next student. "Okay, let's have a look..."

Patrick stood off to the side and crossed his arms, he was almost impressed with how adamant you were being in keeping him waiting and keeping him irritated.

He almost had to admit that watching you argue with him was oddly attractive, but he would never say it aloud.

"No, no, see they weren't talking about Christians here, they were talking about Hebrews." You groaned, as your pen jabbed the paper.

Zweig watched with slight amusement as you kept the students in your class even longer to correct their work and mistakes. He was starting to grow impatient and irritable by each second that passed. He let out a huff and looked to the clock again and then to you, "Are you ever going to finish?"

"If you let me." You snarled, shooting him a look over your shoulder.

Patrick rolled his eyes, he was beginning to find the whole situation less irritating and more entertaining, he held his hands up in surrender with a sarcastic grin, "By all means, take your time and continue, I have nothing but patience, after all."

"I'm glad." You snickered.

Patrick crossed his arms and let out a huff, he was definitely growing more impatient, he checked his watch before looking to the students that were all staring at the two of you with anticipation and curiosity.

"How much longer until you're done?" He asked, his voice having an underlying irritation in it as he looked back over to you.

"I don't know? Fifteen minutes? How about you go have a seat at one of the desks while you wait?" You asked him.

Patrick rolled his eyes, he could practically hear the sass dripping from your voice as you spoke to him. Nevertheless, he played along and walked over to one of the desks in the furthest row and slumped down into the seat.

A few of the students snickered and giggled as he shot them warning glares before fixing his eyes back to you.

Content enough, you went back to reviewing the mistakes of your peers.

Zweig sat in the seat, legs apart, arms crossed, and looking more than a bit irritated and bored as he sat in the desk.

He let out a frustrated groan and looked at the time again, twenty minutes had now passed and you were still keeping the students in class. He couldn't help but glance at you again, a part of him had to admit that you were very attractive, even when you were being a sassy smartass.

The bell rung a short beat. "Alright, I think you guys are all good for your paper. You may leave." You told the few students.

And Patrick Zweig smirked, his tongue pushing against his cheek to ease his annoyance.

The students quickly went back to their seats and gathered their belongings before rushing out, they were all eager to get out of the classroom and get to their next lesson. A couple of the girls giggled as they glanced over to Zweig on the way out, seeing him slumped in the desk and giving him knowing smirks.

"You really couldn't just let the students go early, huh?" Patrick asked in a mocking tone, he sat up straighter in the chair and stretched his legs, "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

You looked up from your desk, Patrick physically was above you, from how the desks were on giant steps, even though you two were on complete opposite ends of the classroom. "It's what I have to deal with almost every other day."

Patrick let out an amused scoff as he rolled his eyes. "Oh please, don't go act like you're so pitiful and that I'm such a big bother to you. It's not like anyone else is going to complain about it and the students love my lessons."

"I have no doubt." You mumbled, pushing yourself off your seat, straightening the stack of papers on your desk.

Patrick noticed this, and it gave him an idea. He slowly stood up from the desk and took a large strides down the steps, towards you.

He watched as you finished straightening the stack before smirking and knocking them from your loose grip once he reached your desk.

"What the fuck?" You scoffed, stepping out from behind the desk to pick up the papers. To prevent your pencil skirt from rising, you unhappily kneeled down, knees digging into the tiles as you picked up the papers.

Patrick couldn't help but smirk. As you went to pick up one of the last papers, Patrick's boot came into frame, stepping on the paper. Your eyes flickered up in annoyance.

"You've been a real smartass today."

"Do you mind?" You asked bitterly, tugging on the paper lightly, enough for it to not tear.

He chuckled and continued to dig his foot down on the paper, he was now clearly teasing and taunting you.

"I don't mind at all... I think it's quite a good view, actually." He answered, still smirking down at you.

He bent down onto his haunches so that he was somewhat eye level with you. His eyes didn't miss the way yours unconsciously flickered to his crotch, even if it was for half a second.

He watched as a crease formed between your brows and your painted lips fell open to complain.

He continued to smirk as your expression contorted into a look of irritation, but he quickly cut you off once your mouth opened to respond, "Oh no, don't try to make a smart comment now... after all, you're in quite a position, aren't you?"

His thick fingers found loose hair hanging down by your ear, before he tucked it behind the shell of it.

"You know, you're quite pretty when you aren't being a total bitch." He said softly.

You hated how his touch on your skin sent a shiver down your spine, you didn't know whether you wanted to slap him or kiss him, and that only made you angrier.

"And you're even hotter when you aren't being an arrogant bastard." A snarky response escaped from your lips.

His pearly whites peaked from between his lips. "You find me hot? Fucking knew it."

Damn him, you really shouldn't have let that slip. You could feel a slight burn on your cheeks as you realised what you had just said.

"Shut up, I do not." You lied through gritted teeth, you tried desperately not to let your eyes wander to his lips.

"Yeah?"Patrick's gaze was locked onto you, he was very amused by the way your cheeks were blushing, his fingers continued to play with the loose strands of hair behind your ear, his touch was gentle and soft but his voice was mocking and sarcastic. "That's not what your body is saying."

And then, his hand curled around the mass of your hair and yanked, your scalp crying in pain and a strangled sound rumbled from between your lips.

"I bet if I kissed you, you'd kiss back, huh?" You gasped as a rush of pain and a rush of pleasure soarer through you, you let out a strangled moan, hating how it only proved him right.

"In your dreams." You growled through gritted teeth, not denying that you wanted his lips against yours.

"Oh baby, in my dreams we're doing a lot more than kissing."

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, your mind running wild at the thoughts and images that invaded your mind.

"You're a pig," You said breathlessly, you tried to keep your voice firm and stable but you could feel your resolve breaking. "A fucking pervert."

"Damn straight," He grinned, his face leaning close enough for you to count every freckle and mole on his face. "God would send me to hell if he knew what I think of doing to you."

His breath was hot against your face, you could feel it as he leaned in close, you cursed yourself as you realised you were practically melting towards his touch.

"Well, I guess I'll see you there then." You breathlessly responded, a hint of a smirk beginning to form on your lips.

"Oh? You fucking minx." He purred.

You could feel yourself growing weak at the way he said that, his voice so low and deep, you were almost losing the ability to respond to him.

"What can I say? I've never been a saint," You mumbled, your lips only just millimeters away from his.

He brought his other thumb to your lips, giving you no time as he pushed it past them. "Such a pretty mouth, baby." His thumb traced along your teeth and tongue, making your lips look poutier than normal.

He chuckled as he watched your expression change from irritation to want.

Patrick smirked and leaned his head down so that his lips were next to your ear, his voice low and almost raspy as he spoke, "Do you know what I want to do to it, doll?"

Your lips wrapped around his thick digit in response.

His smirk widened at the feel of your lips wrapped around his thumb, a surge of desire ran through his veins.

"I have so many things I want to do to that mouth, baby. I want to make it do things you've only read about in your little romance books. I want to see those pretty lips all pink and swollen, I want to make them cry my name," His voice was hoarse and ragged and his breath was coming thick and heavy as he spoke. "Fuck..." He groaned, just at the thought of these things. "I pretend my fist is you, y'know. Your lips, your hand, your sweet pussy."

He whined. Like, actually whined. His eyes swept to you.

"Just once, I ask. Let me fuck your throat?" He asked, pulling his thumb from your lips.

You were weak like brittle bone, and crumbled and caved.

You gave him a nod, and it was like a switch flipped. He stood up to his full height and fumbled with his belt, his movements were sloppy, abrupt and jarred, he was almost angry.

Patrick hated how much he hated how much you got under his skin and infuriated him every single damn day, he hated how you were always the first thing on his mind.

But above all, Patrick hated how much he really, really wanted you.

His belt slid from the belt loops, allowing for his pants to sag. He kicked them off with ease, presenting you with the massive tent in his underwear. "You're gonna swallow every inch, like a good slut." He sneered, he grabbed his belt and swung it around your neck, making quick movements as he made a makeshift collar, one that dug into your neck.

"Yeah?" You choked out, your defiant attitude coming back as you continued to look up at him, your gaze trailing down from his face to his chest, down further until it landed on the tent in his underwear.

You swallowed as you felt him tug on the belt around your neck, you could feel the cold leather against your skin, the material digging into your throat as he held the other end of the belt and pulled you towards him.

"Yeah." His lips pursed, before a glob is his saliva landed square on your cheek.

He gave you little room for thought before one of his hands harshly smacked against your skin, before he smeared around his spit.

Half your face was glazed with his saliva as he pushed two of his fingers in your mouth, momentarily.

"Open up." You instinctively opened your mouth, looking up at him with a mixture of hate and a twisted but undeniable desire. You looked utterly shameful and pathetic as you sat on your knees while Zweig stood above you, his fingers in your mouth and the leather of the belt around your throat.

You despised the way you were behaving, but at the same time, it somehow only made the heat between your legs grow

You were in a state of mind that confused you. You hated Zweig with all your might, but in that moment, you wanted him with an intensity you hadn't felt before.

He slipped his fingers away from your lips, using that hand to yank his boxers down while the other remained with a firm grasp around his belt around your neck.

You couldn't help but allow your gaze to slide down his body, your eyes taking in every inch of him as he slowly revealed himself to you.

You had to admit that he was large and thick and it only served to make your heart thump louder in your throat, making you all the more aware of the belt around your neck and Zweig's hand holding the end of it. You felt pathetic and helpless, even more so as you looked up at him through widened eyes, waiting for what he was going to do next.

He used his wet hand to pump his dick, getting it somewhat lubed up before aligning it with your mouth. Patrick gave little care to your natural reflexes and shoved his whole length past your lips, groaning at the warm, wet feeling enveloping his cock.

"Yeah, Professor... you can write all the essays you want, but you still can't hide the fact that you're nothing but a dirty, filthy slut. You're only good for one thing, don't lie." He smirked, watching as your eyes began to well over with tears.

It made him feel smugly confident seeing that he made you cry, knowing that you were the one beneath him. Not just literally either.

You make some sort of strangled sound as you choke around him, feeling spit drool at the corners of your mouth.

"Look at you," He muttered. "All messy and disgusting. Pathetic. And to think you teach at one of the top schools in the country."

His eyes raked over his saliva that still coated your cheek, at your makeup that began to drip down your lashes, as your eyes that began to flutter while you tried your best to take him.

Patrick swore you were a fucking angel that dropped down the very heavens he cursed at as he felt his lower belly stir.

He groaned deeply, his eyes rolling back a little. "What would your students think, seeing you like this, huh? Seeing their 'great' professor, looking so debauched and filthy in her own lecture hall, with her pretty, little mouth stretched around her 'coworkers' cock. I bet your students would all be very disappointed. You think they all look up to you, but they'd be so disgusted if they found out you were just a dirty, little, cock-sucking, lying, whore who'd do anything for a few extra pennies. I bet they'd all be so shocked that the professor of English likes being on her knees just as much any other dumb little girl... and just for a pathetic little biology teacher, of all people."

His hands pulled at the belt end, that's wrapped around your neck, forcing the walls of your throat to strain against his aching cock.

"And you," He added as he gave another firm pull. "You like it too, huh? You're loving this. You're only a pretty, little plaything, and it only took me a few minutes to make you understand that. At least I know what you use that good-for-nothing mouth of yours for when you're not spewing useless knowledge to a bunch of idiots all day."

You didn't know of the tears that ran down your cheeks was from his cock’s head constantly bumping the back of your throat or from his degrading words.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted to do this... ever since we first met. You're not my type though, not really. Far too annoying. But then again, you're useful for this one, specific thing. At least I can appreciate that."

He groaned deeply and let go of the leash, letting you take over what you could.

"Show me what else that tongue can do, Professor..."

Your lips were swollen and your throat cried out in pain. You allowed for his member to slip from your lips, letting your hand wrap around it while your lips moved down, over to his heavy set of balls.

He looked down to watch, his breathing ragged and uneven. "Yeah... just like that. God, just like that. You really were made for this, huh?"

His large hand found the crown of your head, fingers tangling between the strands as he pushed your face deeper into his balls.

He was basically riding your face, while you still pumped his cock.

"That's perfect," he groaned. "Absolutely perfect, I should put you in your place more often, Professor. You're doing a fine job for me. I hope you don't mind if I do this a little more often now, I've always wanted to shut that pretty-face of yours... and, I think l've found a good way to do exactly that."

You mumbled something, though it was incoherent and muffled.

He chuckled breathlessly. "I couldn't quite hear that, Professor. What did you say?"

In complaint, you sucked hard, sucking his balls deeper into your mouth, while your hand squeezed hard around his shaft.

"Fuck," He groaned. "Won't drop the attitude even with my fucking balls in your mouth?"

He shuddered a moment, watching as you continued to suck and work him.

"Yeah, I've definitely been thinking up the right punishment for you when you go around acting like a smartass... all it took was a few minutes to shut you right up."

Your free hand snaked down your torso, where it inched up the tight pull of your skirt, and found haven between your pantyhose. Your fingers reached your achy and throbbing clit.

"You really are that desperate, huh? You can't wait for me to finish, you have to do it yourself? I guess it's just part of your personality, you're a little, impatient brat, always needing to have things done your own way, with no consideration for anyone else."

Your tongue was scratchy as it lapped over his course hairs, you felt his balls grow heavy in your mouth, signalling he was close to release.

"Almost... I'm almost there... just a bit more." He panted

He couldn't look away from the sight of you, on your knees and working him with your mouth while you touched yourself.

"Can't wait to see you walking around the campus with my cum all over your face... so they all know just what you really are: a worthless, little whore desperate for anything I do to you. I should put you through this more, Professor... it suits you... much better than being a teacher, don't you think? You look so good on your knees, where you belong... like a dirty, little cock sucker."

His hips thrust up into your hand a few times, before he was spilling his cum all over your face, and even past your hairline and in your hair.

He groaned deeply, his head thrown back and eyes squeezing shut. "God. That's it... that's good, take it all, let me paint your face with my cum. Fuck!" He gritted out as he rode out his release.

With heavy pants, his soft cock slipped from your grip as his balls from your swollen lips.

He groaned at the sight. He couldn't stop himself, even if he tried, from his palm from making contact with your face and spreading his semen around, adding to the previous layer of tacky saliva.

"Just look at that," He muttered."Beautiful. So much better than that stupid, stuck-up attitude of yours. Bet you'll think twice before trying to act tough with me again."

You swallowed, throat raw, before getting up on shaky feet.

You took in a breath, before your hand whipped out and hit his cheek.

"God I needed that," You groaned out, before shifting and limping over to your desk where you managed to clamber on. "Let's see if you can fuck well."

He was honestly a little shocked by your response, not that he let you see that. He merely smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. "You're going to regret that, Professor."

He took one long stride forward before he was between your legs. His hands shot out before he grabbed your nylon tights and ripped them, creating a gaping hole that expose your lacy thongs.

"Look what we have here," He chuckled as he gazed at the destroyed stockings. He looked at your soiled pair of underwear, blotched with your arousal. "Who knew the English Professor had such lewd panties,” He laughed, his thumbs hooking in the fabric of your waistband. "Should I send the biology department a little gift, Professor? Show them just what you look like beneath your clothes?"

You grunted, hating how you had a flicker of pain go through your chest. "Would I be able to find another Professor's cock to suck?"

A scoff left his lips. "I don't think any other faculty member could handle you as I could. I've seen the way the rest of them look at you."

"Oh, and how's that?"

He gave you a wolfish grin and leaned forward a little, putting his hands on your hips. "Like they just want to devour you, every last inch of you. You're one of the youngest professors in the school... and definitely the prettiest. I'd bet all the others would love to have a round with you."

"Maybe I should let them," You said with confidence. "Mm, what about that cute, little History teacher? Professor Donaldson? Think he'd be interested?"

He tensed at that, jaw twitching. "Yeah, he'd love to get his hands on you, I'm sure. That loser couldn't even keep his wife, and now he probably spends his free time staring at your ass..."

"Oh so he's an ass man? Thanks for letting me know." You gave Patrick a sweet smile while his top lip curled in disgust.

"And what of the rest of the staff?" He asked, not liking your smug expression. "What about the psychology teacher, or the business professor... or maybe even the dean?"

"The Dean? How taboo." You grinned.

"Very taboo," He grunted. "Which I'm sure you're into... I'm sure you'd go absolutely wild at the thought of getting bent over the desk of the college dean, huh?"

"I mean, he's just a little too old for me, but I hear older men are more experienced."

He scoffed again, his fingers tracing down to your inner thighs, close to your aching core. "You're really pushing it, you know... what if I had to tell the rest of the staff what a little whore you are?"

"Oh please do. They must know how well I sucked your cock, how good I am with my mouth."

"Yeah?" He said smugly, his hands moved to your underwear and began massaging your aching pussy. "Do you think the rest of the staff would be interested in having their own personal mouth whore? And I'm sure you'd just be aching for it, wouldn't you? You'd just love to be the campus little toy, just be passed around amongst the faculty... probably can't wait for it, in fact."

You whimpered, feeling your mind already fog up from his fingers through the fabric of your thongs. You shifted your hips, giving him more room to move your pencil skirt.

"Yeah, is that what you were thinking about? Sitting at your desk, thighs spread wide open, and just being passed around? Like you're nothing but a toy for the entire faculty to use, as much as we want?"

"S-Shut up."

"Don't get shy, Professor," He said smugly. "We all know you love the idea, probably even think about it while you're alone in your apartment late at night... I bet you're thinking about it right now."

You sighed, your fingers going to unzip your skirt with wobbly movements.

"You know, it'd be perfect, you'd probably never need to teach again, you'd just be a little office slut, going around and helping any single man in the building, you'd be much better suited for that anyways, I'm sure you know that."

"No..." you groaned out, pushing your skirt off.

His fingers dipped beneath the lace of your thongs. "Yes, Professor, you wouldn't get anything done in the day, you'd be too busy servicing every member of the faculty, the principal, the other professors, the TAs, and the other staff members, even the groundskeepers and lunch-men, I bet you'd be the most diligent worker around campus."

You gasped when two of his fingers sunk into your weeping hole.

"Yeah, that's it... that's much better than all that teaching you do, isn't it? At least you'd be really useful now," He snickered, pushing his fingers in to the base. "Although I'm sure you'd end up getting pretty tired pretty fast... and I doubt the rest of the staff would have any sympathy on you for being so tired. I'm sure you'd be the most popular employee by far."

He pulled his fingers out. His two hands landed on your shoulders before he spun you around, basically pulling you off the desk until the edge was cutting into your hips, your face pressed up against the mahogany.

"I bet this is how you always dreamed you'd spend your days here, huh? Bent over the desk instead of writing your pretty little papers." He grunted as he bent down to his discarded pants and fished out a cigarette and his lighter.

"Hey, you can't smoke in here." You told him.

"Oh, now you're going to actually remember your responsibilities?" He said with an amused chuckle, lighting the cigarette. "Too late for that now, Professor... just accept what's happening."

He set the lighter down on the desk before taking a long drag from the cigarette, watching as a stream of smoke left his lips.

"You're a little late to be playing the prim, Professor, after being on your knees in the middle of the lecture hall just a few minutes ago."

The hand that wasn't holding his cigarette went to your underwear, where he began to tug at it, just enough for it to stop midway down your thighs.

"And now you're here, on your desk, about to get bent over like a little toy, I'm sure you never imagined it'd turn out like this," He snickered, the hand on your panties giving a teasing pull. "I don't think you're gonna be wearing these to your next class,Professor."

He let his cigarette hang between his lips while both of his hands landed on your ass cheeks, giving them a spread to expose both holes.

"God, look at you..." He muttered. "So eager, probably been trying to hold out for weeks now, huh? I don't think you've had any action in a long time, Professor, you're just desperate for someone to actually notice you, I bet you'd take anything, wouldn't you? Just as long as it gives you attention."

"Dickhead." You mumbled.

He laughed, stilling taking puffs from his cigarette. "Bet you'd let me take any hole I want. Imagine your tight ass being stuffed with this cock. Probably why you wear those little skirts," He snickered. "You just want someone to be noticing you, to get their eyes on just how provocative you are... desperate for some attention."

You didn't hear any movements, but you sure as hell felt them. His dribbling tip found your opening, before he pushed in, all while he eyes your tighter hole that puckered for attention.

"Mm, look at that, you're so tight, I bet those other professors have no idea how tight you still are, or has someone else been giving you attention?"

Your eyes rolled back as he sheathed himself, pain blossomed between your legs.

"Fuck, baby… you're so tight. It's like you've never had a good, real cock fill you up. I bet the other professors would love to hear that, Professor, that their pretty little English teacher is a needy little whore who just needs a good, hard cock to keep her in her place," He chuckled at he slowly started to buck into you. "You're just so perfect for this, aren't you?

Patrick leaned forward, cigarette still hanging from his lips, as his hand dug into the collar of your blouse, yanking down hard and popping all the buttons before he shoved your head back down onto the desk.

"There you go. I'm not even sure why you wear all these pesky clothes, you look so much better like this, like you're just here for decoration. A pretty little thing, ready for the taking... doesn't your staff profile say you have a boyfriend, Professor? Maybe I should give the poor bastard a call and let him know that you're really not working late, and that you're just getting railed by your colleague... I'm sure he won't even care."

"Shut the f-fuck up." You groaned, feeling the fat of your ass jiggle with his thrusts and arousal drip down your thighs.

Patrick grinned, his fingers dug into the flesh on your hip, when his eyes caught sight of something. An idea popped into his mind as he picked up your personal reader, some book about faeries, before he threw it down in front of you. "Read."

"Read..?" You muttered, still dazed from him fucking into you. "You want me to read?"

"Yeah I do," He said smugly, not slowing his pace. "That's what you're supposed to be good at, Professor... read whatever sentence is on the page, out loud. Let me hear your pretty voice."

You grunted before flipping open the book to a random page. "Mm, Fine, 'He raised a finger to his lips a-and winnowed'—fuck!"

He chuckled at the break in your voice, how the words stuttered from your mouth. "That's better... read again. The next paragraph this time, if you can manage it."

Your lips fell open and a gasp ripped past, "'We free-fell, and I didn't have breath to scream as his wings appeared'— Mm, Patrick..."

"Come on," He said smugly, his movements becoming slightly rough. "Keep reading. If you stop, I'll stop."

The words printed on the page began to swirl together as your vision became hazy. "B-But." You moaned through gritted teeth.

"No buts," He said firmly. "Keep trying. Don't start giving up now, you're supposed to be smart, remember? Keep trying to read, Professor, it's what you're supposed to be good at."

You couldn't help the sob that escaped your lips, there were no tears, you were just too overwhelmed with pleasure that it was hard to focus. "'Spreading wide, and... he curved us into a... steady g-glide.’ " Your nails clawed at the desk as you felt heat burn between your legs.

Even he was impressed with you managing to keep reading through the pleasure, although he would never tell you that. "Good... good, Professor. Keep going. What's the next line?"

"'Right through the open windows of what ha...had to be a war room...' Patrick, I can't." You mewled.

"You must've misunderstood me," he grunted. "I told you tokeep reading, so you keep reading, Professor. Come on, what was the next part of the sentence?"

You shook your head, mind too fogged to think.

He stopped moving altogether and reached out, one hand grabbing you by the hair, and he pulled your head upwards, arching your back. "What did I just say?"

You whined, trying to move your hips back onto his to get friction.

"You're not getting anything if you're not gonna do what I tell you," He said firmly. "Now come on, you're supposed to be smart, Professor, I'm sure you can tell me just one more line."

"'There was a mirror'," You said softly, with a tired voice. "'On the wall behind them'."

"There we go," He breathed, releasing his grip on your hair. "Was that so hard, Professor? Do you think you can keep going?"

"Please, I need to... need to—." You stopped yourself, words stuck in your mouth, as if you were worried about what you might say.

Patrick's hips pulled back before snapping forward, sending you lurching back onto the table. "What was that? I didn't quite hear what you were gonna say, Professor," he grunted, letting his hand caress your lower back. "Come on, you're doing pretty good so far... use that pretty voice of yours and tell me just what you need."

You whimpered, trying to form a response, but it felt like you had cotton in your mouth, like the words were stuck in your mouth. It was like they just needed a little push, just one little word needed to tip you over the edge, to get you to fully submit.

You tried your very best to read again, feeling the fuzzy feeling in your lower tummy start to build. "'There was d-dark—' please Patrick, I really can't." You begged.

"Shh-h-h," He cooed, his hand rubbing your lower back. "You're doing so good... you've read your whole little paragraph. Now you're just missing that one last sentence, Professor. Just one more, I'm sure you can do it."

The cigarette he was smoking had burned down and fell from his lips, the sizzling butt of it lay on your floor.

'''Colossal sense of him—' Fuck!" You screamed, tired and aching for a release that began to creep up on you.

He chuckled as the book slid free of your hand and hit the desk with a thud. "See, I knew you could do it, Professor, I knew all you needed was a little push,"

You mewled out softly, letting your mind fully focus on Patrick penetrating you.

He chuckled as your body relaxed, clearly getting tired of trying to keep up the act. "Is that it, Professor? Is that all it takes to get you behaving?"

You'd usually snap back and say something witty, but you couldn't. Not when you felt this new pressure press against your puffy clit.

"Oh, and now you get nice and quiet... I guess you just needed some attention, huh, Professor?" he chuckled out, his voice ragged. "You look so damn good like this, bent over like a little slut for me, and you don't even have it in you to fight back." He tutted, feeling your walls clamp down and squeeze around him.

"I'm...I'm..."

"What's that?" He asked, still teasing. "You're what, Professor?"

"Cumming! I—!" You saw white before you felt it. Hot and raw through your veins as your orgasm soared through you.

Patrick swore as he felt himself come undone, not giving a flying fuck about pulling out.

"God, you feel so good..." He muttered through gritted teeth. "I knew you just needed a good, hard cock to get you to behave."

His rough hand pulled away from your clit and landed a harsh slap against your ass before he pulled out.

You felt used and abused and honestly didn't mind it, especially not after having your brain fucked out of you (albeit it being from your worst enemy)

He chuckled breathlessly, collapsing in the chair that was usually reserved for you. "Jesus, Professor... I gotta say, I didn't think you'd behave that quickly, I guess a day at the top will do me wonders."

You felt utterly pathetic as you peeled yourself off the table, your face sticky with previous endeavours. Pain burned hot between your legs as you stood up, blouse popped open, pantyhose ripped, and thighs soaked in cum.

Patrick had to pinch himself to make sure he didn't die and go to heaven, though he'd never admit that you looked like a pervert's wet dream. His wet dream.

You shimmied your panties back up your thighs, even though it took you time to get it to move from it being stuck between the nylon and your thigh, and grabbed and slid your skirt back on.

He watched you pull your clothes back on, looking like an absolute mess. "You gonna go tell the rest of the faculty how your supposed work day turned out, Professor?" He sneered with an amused smile.

You shot him a sarcastic smile as you tried your best to fluff out your hair. "I'm sure Professor Donaldson would love to know, y'know?"

Patrick's face fell for a moment before he schooled it with a grin. "Funny."

You made an amused sound, before turning to your drawer and grabbing your lecture hall's keys, tossing them at Patrick. "Lock up, will you?"

He caught the keys and sighed, shaking his head. "God, you're insufferable..."

You gave him a grin before you began on your slightly wobbly walk out the lecture hall.

He grumbled, his eyes not able to resist the urge to watch your hips sway with each step you took.

"See you next week, Professor..." he called out, trying to school his voice back to his usual teasing tone.

And well he did.

Anger and annoyance etched onto his face as he watched you leave Professor Donaldson's lecture hall. The guy looked all bashful as you left, your fingers in your hair, trying your best to fix it.

Oh you did not.

[waldau-archived]

congrats on your new milestone!! i really enjoy reading your work♡ could i please request mingyu+'we're in completely different leagues'+'i'm not sober enough to talk about this'

just the two of us — kim mingyu | 7,009 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

i typed up a mammoth sized story (to me, at least) because i had so many thoughts. behold my longest fic ever written, patiently beta-read by the wonderful @tomodachiii. thank you for your help, tomo! ily <3 and thank you, anon, for your request!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader has massive self-doubt, gets drunk halfway through the story.

“the next time i even think of going on a date, just take my phone and force me to go out on a walk. reconnect with nature. touch some grass, maybe,” you say, kicking your feet against mingyu’s cupboard from where you’re sat on his counter.

“did you have a bad date i wasn’t aware of? was it the guy with the blue streaks?” mingyu asks, pushing the bowl of cake batter towards you. he never shies away from reminding you of the repercussions of having raw dough — that too in excruciating detail. salmonella. e. coli. things he could skip but doesn’t, just because he likes annoying you.

he lets it slide this time. you’re allowed just one big spoon, and the next time you’ll see the rest of it is when it’s baked and topped off with handmade frosting. courtesy of kim mingyu. your best friend as well as part-time chef.

“…no.”

“don’t lie to me,” he says, tilting his head. “you wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.”

“ugh. it’s just that…every time i even think of going out on a date, i have to reset my expectations. because men can’t clear the bar, no matter how low it is.”

you take a nibble from the spoon, and it tastes so damn good. it’s crazy how mingyu manages to find time to make new recipes and perfect them despite being a world-famous model that’s modelled for almost every major fashion house. you’ve lost count of how many magazines he’s been on.

it started out as a joke when you complained about all the magazines for his first ever gig having sold out. he’d taken it upon himself to get you a very special, signed copy that you have on display with the rest of the books in your glass bookcase. just the one, though. the rest of them are all piled up under your coffee table, much to mingyu’s chagrin. at least they’re in chronological order. and you’re making sure they’re not collecting dust.

that first edition is pretty much the only thing mingyu ever teases you about, tattered as it is, and on display for whoever comes to visit you. but you’d never get rid of it, not even for a new copy. it’s a milestone mingyu deserves to be celebrated for.

“does it taste good?” he asks with a small smile and a nervous smile. as if you’d have anything except praises to heap on him. this isn’t even the first time you wonder if he’d talk like this to you if you were together — endless smiles and warm cuddles under the covers and conversations about the most random things and stolen hoodies because you’re actually dating, and not just you being a guilty friend whose imagination runs a bit wild sometimes.

he does all of those with you. but he just doesn’t like you the way you like him.

how would he be, when he’s the kim mingyu? he has his fans falling to their feet if he so much as posts a picture of his hand. he’s the most charming human being you know. he’s tall not just because of his genes but also because of all the love he holds for everyone he knows.

you’re another moon that gets to orbit in the path of the admirable planet that he is.

sometimes you don’t even know how you managed to remain friends with him after university ended. the two of you started off as being part of the same friend group, having a few shared classes and some interests that kept the two of you together apart from your friends. by the time you graduated, both of you knew enough about each other to be able to hang out without needing your mutual friends. and it was hardly your fault that you felt drawn to how warm mingyu was, how easy it was to talk to him, and how happy you felt just by being around him.

so when it came to the topic of finding a place to live, the two of you decided it would be better for you to be roommates than find a complete stranger to share a living space with, and you went from friends to best friends soon after that.

mingyu’s always been your support system for whatever you’ve wanted to do, encouraging you to do what you wanted, regardless of how it would turn out or what others would think of it. in the same way, it wasn’t anything when you encouraged him to try out a modelling gig he’d signed up for and was unsure of how he’d fare.

long story short, the shoot was a pretty good success, and soon enough he got multiple gigs, managed to earn enough money to move into a bigger house, and even offered to pay your part of the rent because he wanted you to live with him — something that made you smack him.

you no longer live together now, mainly because of mingyu’s insistence on not wanting to disturb your sleep and your daily routine with all the schedules that keep him flying over the world. you did miss the breakfast he’d make for the two you every morning, and you’d managed to work out a compromise where mingyu became your personal chef on saturdays just so he’d have some time to spend with you.

it’s far from the worst arrangement in the world, and moments like these — him putting icing on your nose — make you realize how lucky you are to have him. you generally watch movies together, or he teaches you recipes, or he listens to you talk about your life, reciprocating with his own stories. things haven’t changed that much, even though you don’t live together anymore.

but part of you wishes things did change. that mingyu would, just once, look at you the way you look at him. it’s a wonder he hasn’t once caught you staring at him, because you’ve done that more times than you can count. but you can’t help it, because he just so happens to be your whole world.

but how long is this utopia going to last for? when is he going to realize you’re just plain old you, and that maybe he’s suited for more glamorous company? people who can probably pronounce the names of all his fashion houses correctly, people he models with, people that can hang off his arm and look like they belong there? not people who like wearing shorts and an old shirt as pyjamas and have bouts of self-doubt strong enough to crush entire mountains?

“…is it that good? you zoned out a bit there,” mingyu says, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes.

you blink out of your daydreams. it’s not even his fault that you’re so head over heels for him, although it kind of is. no one asked him to be so good looking and polite and so damn lovely that it became easy to imagine a future with him. just like lee youngji can imagine having a future with hong jisoo because he opened a carton of milk for her, you wonder how you haven’t yet succumbed to those thoughts when mingyu is such a big part of your life. you wonder at what point you knew you were fucked.

maybe it was when you and mingyu became friends, although you’ll never know for sure.

“no.”

“are you sure?”

“your ego doesn’t need to get any bigger,” you quip, finishing off the rest of your spoon.

he just laughs. “good to know. let’s just wait for an hour till it finishes baking, okay?” he hands you a baking sheet to line the pan with. you work in silence as he fiddles with the knobs on the oven, ladling out the batter into the pan and sticking it inside once the oven’s warmed up enough.

“want to do something while it bakes? watch a movie?”

“i was thinking we could go for a walk,” mingyu says, taking off his apron. he looks ridiculous, a hulking six foot two man wearing an apron that’s comically small for him, but he takes kitchen etiquette very safely. he hangs it up on the hook behind the door. “the weather’s good, and i don’t think i’ve been out for a walk in a while.”

“what about all those texts you sent me about missing bobpul? i wonder what your fans would’ve thought of that.”

“you’re not supposed to bring that up,” he whines, and you can’t help the giggle that makes its way to your face. he’s a grown man. and he’s the most adorable one you know. “that was a moment of weakness.”

“and you trusted me with it.”

“because i trust you.”

“i…fine,” you sigh, because what can you really say to that? “it’s cute, that’s all.”

mingyu wiggles his eyebrows. “you think i’m cute?”

“i swear—”

“kidding!” he walks you out of the kitchen, hands on your shoulders, and you love it as much as you wish he didn’t do it. “we’ll be back within the hour. the cake should be ready by then.”

he hands you one of his hoodies that’s lying on the sofa before you head out. you look up at him when he presses the fabric into your hands.

“it’s cold,” he explains, but it’s muffled by the messy way he’s pulling his hoodie over his head.

“and i can deal with the cold just fine.”

“no, you’re going to stick your cold toes on my legs when we sit down to eat, and i’m not going to bear that. even if you’re my best friend.”

and no matter what excuse you make to avoid wearing mingyu’s clothes, it’s never enough. he has to see you bundled up to make sure you’re not going to freeze in front of him, although that’s a tad bit dramatic. this is one of his newer hoodies, and you can tell by the way it doesn’t smell like him just yet. maybe it’s a good thing. maybe you can stop thinking about him like that. one step at a time.

“some best friend you are,” you mumble, wearing your shoes. you look up and mingyu’s frowning at you. not the usual way; there’s a tiny frown that would’ve been imperceptible if you didn’t know him the way you do, but you’re not going to ask what’s up. he tells you things if they’re really bothering him, so you’re going to let him let you know in his own time.

he wasn’t wrong. it really is windy. you’re glad he made you wear the hoodie. you pull the sweater paws over your palms, loving the way your palms instantly become warm. mingyu flips the hood over your head and you’re about to thank him for it before he draws the strings together and ends up blacking out your vision. he finds it funny for about two seconds till you stumble blindly and end up jostling him in the stomach.

he's still wincing when you undo the strings, and you can’t help but laugh. “sorry, gyu.”

“are you, though?”

“…no.”

“thought so.”

“was it my fault?”

“no,” he says, and smiles, and you feel your heart flutter again. “not your fault.” it’s so pretty. even his smile’s so pretty. you love his canines, his little fangs that he feels weird about sometimes. if it were up to you, you’d do anything to make him love them just as much as you did, even if that something were kissing.

whoa. not again. not when he’s with you.

“so, about failed dates,” he says, looking at you. “are you actually looking for something, or do you just…go on them to pass your time?”

mingyu does this thing where he can read you to filth without even trying. it’s like he knows what’s running in your mind, or at least has the vaguest idea of it, and he says things that are basically truths you don’t want to admit to yourself out of fear of not knowing what to do about them.

“why does it matter?” you ask, a bit defensive.

he frowns. again, that little frown. you wish you could remove it. “because there’s so many other things you could be doing to spend time instead of creeping yourself out every time you go on a date. and you don’t need to keep getting yourself hurt like that if it isn’t leading to anything.”

“are you dating someone?”

mingyu pffts. “what, i can’t have advice for you without being in a relationship?”

“no,” you say immediately, backtracking. of course he can. “sorry. i know you didn’t mean anything by it, but…”

“but?”

“i just wish i—”

you’re cut off by the sudden bark of a dog. you look around to find the source of the sound only to see a dog running around in circles with its leash in its mouth. it looks adorable.

“hey, buddy,” you say, crouching down in front of it. it looks up at you and barks. a happy little yip! before it continues running along in circles.

“are you lost?” mingyu asks softly, crouching down next to you. he reaches out a hand to pet its head, and the puppy leans into his touch completely. it looks familiar for some reason.

“do you have any idea whose dog this is?” mingyu asks. you shake your head. maybe you’ve seen a dog like this, not the dog itself, but you’re really not sure. he’s in the process of searching the dog’s collar, but someone yelling in the distance makes him pause. he gets up and tugs the dog by its collar. it has the name tag jamie inscribed on it.

the person yelling out for jamie is none other than one of your neighbours. you know her well. as well as you can for someone you don’t interact much with. not if you can help it.

she’s the kind of neighbour that always pokes her nose into matters that don’t bother her, the neighbour that outright shows she’s not interested in something if it doesn’t get her anything. the two times you tried to initiate a conversation with her as you waited for the elevator to reach your floor are a stark reminder of the fact that she’s not the kind of person you’d ever be friends with. you don’t know what you’ve done to rub her the wrong way, but she doesn’t look like she’ll even give you a chance.

you watch as mingyu hands over the dog to her, and once she’s done making sure jamie’s okay, she looks him up and down.

you don’t blame her. you’d do the same, a bit more subtly, but it does sting to see the way she’s probably the kind of person he should be hanging out with.

“thanks for finding jamie,” she says, all smiles. she really doesn’t need to be smiling that much.

“no worries,” mingyu says with a smile of his own. “and it wasn’t me who found jamie, by the way. it was them.” he points to you with a jerk of his thumb. you smile at her, but feel icy inside when she looks you up ad down.

“oh. are they your…” she trails off with a smile on her face that screams no fucking way. you suddenly wish you could just run back to your apartment and leave the two of them down here.

“partner? you think so?”

“just…you two look like opposites, that’s all. sometimes opposites don’t attract, but you never know. life’s funny sometimes.” she simpers a little, and your hands ball up into fists by your side.

what you don’t expect is for mingyu to throw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into himself. “yes, actually,” he says, leaning into you in a way that most definitely exaggerates your height difference. “you could call them my better half. and don’t they look good in this hoodie? it’s mine, by the way,” he says, and you can recognize the smile on his face — it’s a fake one, the corporate one he adopts when he’s in a situation he doesn’t like.

his words keep buzzing in your mind as you walk past your neighbour and back upstairs to your apartment. he’d said you were a couple so easily, even though you were not. better half? really? the way he’d leaned into you so easily, the fact that he told her it was his hoodie. it’s…weird. and too much for you.

you don’t speak much as you help mingyu remove the cake from the oven, getting it ready for frosting. he manages to get an indignant sound when he manages to get some on your cheek this time, but the rest of the evening is spent thinking about the interaction you had.

is it really so unbelievable for people to imagine the two of you together?

“hey,” he says, bumping your side with his. except he miscalculates his strength (or does it on purpose) and ends up making you stumble a few steps away from him. you don’t even have it in you to be mad when you see the giggle on his face. “you good?”

“yes. sorry,” you say, opening the refrigerator to take out the food mingyu had made last night. he cooks enough to feed a family of four even though you’re the only one that lives at your place, so it’s useful for when you don’t feel like cooking.

“who was she?” mingyu asks, setting down the plates on the table. “a friend?”

you shudder at the thought of her being your friend. “a neighbour. she lives in the flat down mine. she’s not really the kind of person i’d be friends with, but jamie’s cute. i keep seeing him around sometimes.”

“hmm.” you get the smell of reheated noodles as mingyu works at the stove. “she was…weird.”

“that’s an understatement.”

“is she always like that?”

“rude?”

“yeah. that’s not something you’d say to a couple you see, even if you don’t like them.”

“she certainly doesn’t seem to care,” you say, a bit more forceful than necessary, setting down two glasses as well.

“well, i think we’d make a cute couple,” mingyu says, a little smile on his face as he reaches out to ruffle your hair.

you swear your heart dies a little right then and there. you stare at him unblinkingly. “do you ever hear the stuff that comes out of your mouth?” you ask, regaining your bearings and filling the glasses with water.

“sorry,” mingyu says, sheepishly. “i just don’t like the idea of anyone talking like that. especially with you. especially when you’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

your heart warms at that. “thank you, gyu,” you say, reaching out to squeeze his arm. bad idea. you’d forgotten how much he’s been working out recently, and how big he is. “i’m glad i could one-up her this time.”

“just call me the next time you want to do it again.”

“yeah, sure.”

the rest of the night is spent watching this show that’s been on your watchlist for a while, and you don’t mind if mingyu conks out in the middle of it.

sure enough, you hear his soft snores after you finish your dessert, and you turn to see this big man that’s also your best friend craning his neck on the sofa as he tries to keep himself in the blanket that’s certainly not big enough for the two of you.

sometimes you wonder if he’d cuddle with you to save space and keep himself warm, and this also happens to be one of those times. You get up and reposition him as gently as you can, so that his back doesn’t hurt in the morning. His nose twitches when you rest a hand on his hair, wishing him a silent goodnight.

It's not the first time you wish you could kiss him, dangerous as that thought is.

you can’t stop thinking about the interaction you had a few days ago. sure, your neighbour isn’t someone whose behaviour you’d count on to matter, but was she right when she said she can’t see two people like you together? people as opposite to each other as you and mingyu?

sure, you’re not the usual kind of crowd he hangs out with, but is it so bad to imagine something between the two of you? was that just the sign to stop thinking about mingyu, get over him and resign yourself to a life without love?

as much as you complain about going on dates, there’s something that’s your fault too — you look for mingyu everywhere. none of the men you’ve gone on dates with are mingyu, and that’s the crux of the problem. none of them smile the way he does, none of them give you their jacket when you’re feeling cold, and it’s unfair for you to expect them to understand everything about you.

you can’t have mingyu, and you’re going to have to learn to accept that.

Which is why you’re at this party with your friend seungkwan. it’s not your usual scene — you’d much rather be curled up in bed with a book and some takeout, or cleaning your bookshelf while listening to music on the television — but you’re not complaining. seungkwan was right. you need to let go once in a while, just enjoy yourself before you inevitably spend weeks together keeping to yourself, immersed in your work.

“dance with me!” seungkwan yells out to you over the din of the crowd.

“i can’t dance! not like you!”

“that hardly matters! let’s have some fun, come on!”

seungkwan is nothing if not persistent. finishing off the last of the drink, you let him lead you out onto the dance floor. he rests his hands on your shoulders as he sways you to the music. it’s fast paced and something you’d be caught doing in the privacy of your own house, your own little concert, and for once you don’t care about the fact that people can see you. you’re lost in your own little world with seungkwan, and more importantly, you’re happy. the stress of whatever the fuck happened last week between you and mingyu, with him calling himself your boyfriend without knowing how down bad you are for him, is pushed to the back of your mind as the beat changes. seungkwan starts clapping to the rhythm, making you realize you’re dancing by yourself.

you’re not half bad at this. a little under confident, sure, but not bad. you could try making this a monthly thing and having fun with it.

eventually you end up too exhausted to dance to another song, and seungkwan guides you to a seat, your shoes in his hand as he asks you to catch your breath and wait for a while more till he finishes dancing with some other people.

you’ve ordered a basic drink for yourself when someone slides in next to you. you don’t pay them much attention, focusing on relaxing a bit and finishing your drink, but you have to turn around and look at them when you can actually feel their eyes piercing into your side and— boy, is he a sight for sore eyes.

he looks boyishly handsome, completely in place in this club as he watches you with his chin resting in his hand, eyes glinting in the light of the fixture above the two of you. he’s pretty, and just as handsome, and his eyes are the loveliest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

“saw you dancing out there,” he says, his words a bit of a drawl, and accented. “you were pretty good.”

“you don’t need to lie if you’re trying to flirt,” you jest, finishing your drink.

“i’m not in the habit of lying,” he says, smiling at you. “you looked like you were having fun.”

“i…was, actually,” you say. he’s still smiling, looking at you like he’s searching for something in your eyes. you feel warm. gosh.

“can i get you another drink?”

“no, thank you, actually. i need my head to remain intact if i want to get home in one piece.”

“suit yourself,” he nods, and asks the bartender for the same drink you had. the bar is in hell, but you’re impressed he backed off immediately. you watch as he makes quick work of his drink.

“so, you come here often?” he asks, wiping the back of his mouth.

“not really. my friend dragged me out tonight because he felt i needed a break from my life.”

“just a friend?” he asks, eyes following your line of vision to see seungkwan still dancing with some strangers, looking like he’s having fun.

“why, you interested?”

“depends on who you’re talking about.”

“him?”

“cute, but no.”

“me.”

“maybe.”

you trace the ring of condensation your drink’s left on the table. “but i’m not looking for anything, honestly. i’ve sworn off dating for a while.”

“that’s fine. we could just…talk.”

you look up at the man. you don’t know if this is his way of trying to get you to go home with him, but it’s the most genuine someone’s been. “you never told me your name, by the way.”

“me? vernon. nice to meet you.”

you give him your name in return, and like the way it rolls off his tongue.

“so…can i ask why you’ve sworn off dating?”

seungkwan’s still going to take a while, going by the previous times you’ve been here, and vernon definitely seems interested in talking to you.

“you ever…had a crush on your best friend?”

vernon winces — an actual wince, like he’s seen something terrible, and it makes you laugh. “yeah…once. it sucks.”

“exactly.”

“you’re trying to get over them?”

“trying being the keyword, yes.”

“then how are you trying to get over them if you’re not into dating?”

you sigh. vernon’s a perceptive one. “trying to think of other people even if i don’t necessarily go home with them. just anything to get my mind off him.”

“anything? how bored would you be if i started talking about why i think star wars is excessive but also misunderstood?”

you don’t find vernon boring, in fact. you find yourself drawn to him speaking, the way his eyes light up and his hands get a life of their own as he lists out every single point in aid of his stance, and encourages you to contribute to the conversation. it feels like he’s an old friend, and not someone you met hardly an hour ago. it’s fun.

“…so maybe we could go out to watch that movie? it’s coming out next week.”

“go out?”

“as friends, of course. i’m not looking to take someone home, either. if anything, i came here to keep my friends company, but…i think i lost them in the crowd.”

you look around, and seungkwan’s sitting at a table surrounded by a bunch of girls, and it makes you grin. he doesn’t need you sticking with him anymore.

“you were saying?”

“does next week work—”

“it doesn’t,” says a new voice. a familiar voice. there’s two hands on your shoulders, a familiar weight. “we’re hanging out at my place next week.”

“mingyu!” you exclaim, pulling him out from behind you. “don’t scare me like that.”

“sorry,” he says, not sounding the least bit sorry. “you have no idea how much time i spent searching for you only to find you hidden here.”

“why were you looking for me? how did you know i was here?”

he looks at you like you asked him something stupid. “because it’s late, and because seungkwan’s most definitely not driving you home.” ah. seungkwan must have asked mingyu to pick you up, given that he was your ride here.

“well,” you say, directing him towards your conversational partner. “this is vernon. my new friend.”

“hi,” he says, curt, and you frown. mingyu’s generally nicer.

“hey,” vernon says coolly. then he turns back to you. “can you give me your number? i’ll text you about it later, when you’re free. think i’ll search for them now.”

you hand vernon your own phone, given he’s had less drinks than you have, and it hardly takes a minute for him to enter his details before he saves his number and claps your shoulder, wishing you and mingyu a good night.

you find mingyu watching vernon making his way through the crowd. “so, who was that?”

“new friend. vernon. like i said.”

“a new friend? seriously? he just asked for your number.”

“so? he wasn’t hitting on me or anything. he just asked me so we could go see this movie we’ve been wanting to watch.”

mingyu’s eyebrows rise. “a movie? together? doesn’t that sound like…a date?”

you frown. “two friends can go watch movies, mingyu. don’t we do that all the time?”

“Yeah, but that’s because you know me. he’s just some random guy you met today. at a club.”

either mingyu’s being obtuse, or you’re not thinking correctly. “are you saying i don’t know how to read people’s intentions?”

“you’re drunk,” he says bluntly, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders. “you don’t know what he wants.”

something about his tone makes you angry. he wasn’t even here the whole evening. “as if you do. you didn’t speak to him at all, mingyu. you don’t even know what we talked about.”

“didn’t you say you wanted to stop going out on dates?”

the coldness in his voice makes you freeze. you’ve never heard him sound so hostile, not with you. “what do you mean?”

“why did i have to find out from seungkwan that you were out here at this club just a week after you asked me to make you touch grass if you so much as thought of a date?”

“but it wasn’t a date!” you exclaim, feeling more and more annoyed. to your horror, you feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “are you saying i’m—”

“you’re drunk. you don’t know what you want. did you seriously expect to make friends at the club of all places?”

this isn’t your mingyu. he’d never judge you the way he’s doing right now. you take his jacket and throw it on the counter, turning around and marching out. you’ll call a cab to take you to your place. you don’t need him dropping you home.

“hey,” mingyu calls out, jogging towards you, jacket in his hand. “it’s cold. take this, please?”

“i don’t care about what you have to say,” you sniff, wrapping your hands around yourself. “don’t talk to me.”

“listen, you can be angry with me all you want, but just take my jacket. i don’t want you freezing out here when you don’t need to be.”

“maybe you should’ve thought of that before saying all that shit to me,” you spit. “why do you want to talk to me now? just insult me some more, why don’t you?”

mingyu huffs, but says nothing. he just looks at you.

“come with me.”

“where?”

“to my car.”

“why should i?”

“i won’t leave you here by yourself. i want to make sure you’re safe. let me drop you home and you can be mad at me all you want. please.”

“what, your night’s going to be a waste unless i come with you?”

“no,” he says quietly, and it makes you pause. mingyu is anything but quiet. “It’s never a waste. but it’ll just put my mind at ease if i know you’re safe, okay?”

you see the logic in his words, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. “fine,” you say, taking his jacket from him and slipping it on.

“thank you,” he says, opening the passenger door for you.

the drive to your place is quiet. you can tell mingyu wants to say something, start a conversation, but you keep your eyes resolutely fixed ahead.

“come on,” he says, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out when you reach your building. you follow him upstairs to your apartment. he unlocks the door for you and makes way for you to step inside first.

“do you need water? food? anything i can get?” he asks, taking off his shoes.

you turn around to look at him. he’s big, as always, but for once it feels like he’s taking up all the space in your apartment.

“i’m not that drunk,” you say finally.

he stands up straight to look at you. “but—”

“yes, i had some drinks, but i know my limit. i had my last one just before i started talking to vernon. i hate that you thought i wasn’t capable of making my own decisions.”

he swallows. “i didn’t mean to undermine—”

“but you did! and you don’t know how terrible it feels. i’m not a baby, gyu. i know what i want and what i’m doing. i’m hurt. and,” you say, taking in a deep breath, “if you really want to know something, know this — we’re in completely different leagues.”

mingyu frowns. “what do you mean?”

“i—” there’s so much you mean. you can’t possibly recount all the thoughts you’ve had about feeling inadequate, all the nights you’ve spent wondering how long it’ll be before he realizes you’re not as cool as you should be. “i’m not sober enough to talk about this.”

“you just said you weren’t that drunk.”

“this is my home,” you say, a bit harsher than needed. “you got me here safe, and that’s all you wanted to do. this is me being mad at you, so if you respect me, you’re going to let me sleep. okay? goodnight, mingyu.”

“goodnight,” he says, and you hate how small his voice sounds. “sleep well.”

and you do sleep well. well enough that you sleep through your alarm, and wake up almost when it’s ten. at least it’s a saturday, so you’re not freaking out as you brush your teeth. you have some work to do today. and hanging out with mingyu is on the agenda as well, but you’re not sure if you’re keen on going through with it, especially after what happened last night.

if you were delusional, which you’re most definitely not, you’d say that mingyu had been jealous that you and vernon had exchanged numbers in front of him. except there’s no reason for him to be jealous. like he reminded you, you’re not looking for any relationships. there’s no one he has to compete with, so to speak.

so why was he that upset last night? and what about the things he’d said to you?

you’ve had fights before, fights that ended up with both of you not wanting to speak to each other, but this was different. he’d never been angry like this.

you’re the one who’s upset, you realize, as you walk to the kitchen to fix yourself some breakfast. you’re going to talk it out with mingyu once your head is clearer, and you’re going to see what he has to say for himself.

except mingyu’s already here. you can smell the delicious scent of tteokbokki wafting through the room. mingyu’s set out two plates, two glasses — the usual. you’re feeling woefully under dressed in front of him in your pyjamas, despite the fact that he’s seen you like this multiple times before.

“morning,” he says. his voice is hesitant. It’s never hesitant.

“hi. morning.”

“slept well?”

“yeah, better than…what exactly are you doing here?”

“cooking you breakfast,” he says, waving his spatula around.

“i can see that. i meant here. in my place. didn’t you go back home after dropping me off?”

“no. i felt too tired to drive back home, so i decided to crash out on your couch. and i’m making you breakfast now. isn’t that a win-win?”

you can see one win, but you’re not sure what the other is. you take a seat at the table and pour yourself a glass of water, wearily trying to assess the situation. mingyu had pretty much scolded you last night. like a parent who didn’t trust you to make the right choices despite having free will. and now he’s cooking you breakfast like last night just didn’t happen.

“can i ask you something?” mingyu says, pushing a plate of tteokbokki towards you along with a pair of chopsticks.

“don’t think i can stop you, can i?”

mingyu huffs. “hey. if you’re upset with me, just say no.”

“what is it?”

“what did you mean by yourself being out of my league?”

you set your chopsticks down. “you’re serious? you’re really asking me that?”

he frowns. “yes.”

“mingyu, you called yourself my boyfriend a week back. your…better half.”

“that was to make your neighbour leave. she was being weird.”

“sure. and then we went back to life like nothing had even happened.”

“because…it hadn’t? i thought we talked it out that night itself? what happened now?”

“i don’t think you understand how that made me feel. especially when you said—” you say, voice trembling. “you called yourself my boyfriend last week. like it’s something you throw around naturally. and last night you acted all…weird, as if i wasn’t allowed to have a normal conversation with someone who wasn’t you. why are you so confusing?”

“would you hear me out if i said i had a reason?”

“you’d better have a damn good reason.”

mingyu sets down his glass and looks at you. “i’m sorry for everything i said yesterday. i truly am. i didn’t mean any of it. i was just…jealous.”

that catches your attention. “jealous? of?”

“that guy. vernon. you seemed like you were having a good time talking to him and i thought about how if you got together you’d probably leave our relationship behind because you liked him so much.”

“whoa. slow down. i told you i wasn’t looking—”

“you weren’t. i know that. but the way you looked at him made me feel something.”

“what?”

“i’m saying…” mingyu takes in a deep breath, and focuses on something past your shoulder. not meeting your eyes. “i’m saying i like you.”

you blink. “i’m sorry?”

“i like you, and i was jealous because you seemed to be having so much fun talking to him. if you have to know, there’s no guy who possibly deserves you. i’m not saying i do, either, but i’ll try my best to be the guy you deserve.”

it’s still too early in the day for this. “stop joking, mingyu. i don’t want to go through it again. just—”

“i’m not!” he exclaims, coming over to your side of the table. “thinking i could be with anyone i wanted is a bold thing to say. how do you think i feel every time i go out for company dinners but all i want to do is spend time with you? have you as my plus one every time?”

your heart’s fluttering very fast. you feel almost breathless. “i wouldn’t even look that good by your side.”

“says you. have you ever seen yourself?”

“i have, actually, and i look—”

“so gorgeous,” mingyu cuts you off, eyes twinkling as he says so. as though he’d been holding onto it for so long and finally found the right time to release it. “you look exactly like the person i want to spend every single day of my life with.”

you almost expect cameras to pop up out of nowhere and film your reaction to what he’s just said. “the…rest of your life? you do know that’s…a long time, right?”

“i do. and i’ve already spent four years with you. eight, if you’re counting the time before we became best friends.”

it’s everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. what he’s offering is so close to you, just an arm’s length away, but you can’t convince yourself to reach out for it. you hide your face in your hands. “gyu…”

“i’m serious,” he says, gently peeling your hands from your face. his hands are so warm as he holds yours, and his boba eyes are so close to yours. he’s adorable. “give me one chance?”

“what if we…mess this up? what if you realize i’m not that fun to hang out with every single day?”

“what if you realize everything you're thinking is wrong? what if you realize there’s no way i’m going to let things go wrong, especially when it comes to you?”

you don’t know what to say. you don’t know what the future holds in store, and you have no answers to your questions just like you don’t have answers to his.

“i know you think…not so greatly of yourself sometimes,” mingyu says, squeezing your hands. “and i want to be here to tell you that everything you think in that regard is wrong. i like you because you’re you. why do you think you’re the only one who’s been my best friend for so long? you’re the only one i can be myself around completely. tell me you know that.”

“i…didn’t know that.”

“then i clearly didn’t do a very good job at being your best friend. maybe i can fix that now.”

now. now that mingyu likes you. now that you have the chance to see your relationship blossom into something more.

“you’re not even going to ask me if i like you?”

a slow blush spreads across mingyu’s face. “shit, sorry. um, do you…like me?”

“of course i like you, gyu,” you smile, feeling giddy at the way he gets redder.

“good. can i, um, be your boyfriend, then? would you like that?”

“you’re not taking me out on a date first?”

mingyu’s eyes shine and he leans in till his nose is inches away from yours. “hi,” he whispers, and you actually whimper when his lips brush yours the slightest bit. embarrassing. mingyu doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“g-good morning, gyu.”

“the best, actually. even better if you let me take you out on a date today.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched

@minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You gnaw on your cheek as you read over the letter. Final warning. You really didn't think much of the first five but that word catches your worry; litigation.   

Your mother grunts and clicks her pen, dropping it as she curses under her breath. She tosses the crossword book away from the chair. For all your life, you remember her working on her puzzles. Now, she can hardly hold pen steady enough to put in a single clue.  

"Mom, you want another coke before I head out?" You ask.  

"Where are you 'headed out' to?" She scowls.  

"Just outside. Try to figure out the mower."  

"Piece of shit," she sneers and for a moment, you're not sure if she means the machine or you.  

"So..."  

"Just go," she snips.  

You purse your lips around the cut of her tone. You leave her in her recliner and you go down the hallway to the back door. You shove your feet into your stained vans and let yourself gently outside.  

You come down the steps and cross the overgrown grass to the garage. You prop the door open with an old paint can and drag put the mower. You haul it over to the little patch of pavement by the house as the sunlight raises beads of sweat across your forehead.  

You shade your eyes and squint. You don't get the thing. It's not even motorized, it just started catching. You can't push it hard enough to make it go. It only bounces uselessly across the ground.  

You squat and put it on its side. You examine the blades, nervous to dig between the mulching teeth. You grab a stick and poke around. It breaks and you rip it out.  

"Dang it," you whisper.  

You stand up. It's too hot to think. As much as you miss the sunshine in the grim winters, the heat is less than welcome.   

"Hey, excuse me," a voice startles you. You ignore it, thinking maybe it's just the neighbours on the other side of the fence. "Um, miss?"  

You turn towards the voice and find a man peeking through the loose slat in the fence. You sigh. Yeah,   

that needs to be fixed too.  

You stare dumbly. You recognise the man. It takes a few seconds to remember where you saw him. He was with the realtor. You hadn't see much yet, not that you ventured outside often. The sign changed to sold and that was that.  

"Hi, uh, so this," he touches the plank, swiveling it on the hanging nail.

You nod and go to the edge of the patch of pavement but no further. You nibble your lip and search for something to say. Talking to mom is easy, you know what to expect, but strangers are different.   

"Gonna fix it," you assure him flatly.  

"Yeah, well, I was actually thinking, I'm just doing a few touch ups right now and I could spare a couple nails or two."  

You tilt your head and bring your hands together, mashing your palms anxiously, "it's rotted."  

He wiggles the wood and little slivers fall away. He hums disappointed, "sure is." He smiles as his blue eyes shine in the sunlight, "no problem then. I'm sure I can find something at the hardware store."  

You hesitate. You should mention you can afford even half a plank. Grandma left you the house and enough to cover property taxes, but mom's monthly cheques are already stretched thin. If he doesn't ask, you won't offer.  

"Steve," he stretches his arm through the opening.  

You look at his hand. Your stomach flip flops. You don't want to be rude as much as you don't want to touch this strange man. Well, no use in making another enemy around here.  

You lift your feet as you trudge through the high grass. As you near, the sweat slakes down your back. You gently shake his hand, just for a second, and pull back.  

"And your name? Neighbour?" 

You stare at the collar of his grey tee shirt and eke your name out. 

“Is it just you over here?” He asks. 

You shake your head. You bend your arm to pick at your sleeve. You don’t mind introductions but you’re not much for conversation. You don’t need him prying into things. If anyone really saw inside those walls, they’d only feel bad for you. You’d rather their apathy. 

“Oh, you got kids? A husband?” 

You wince. It’s almost a flattering assumption yet a reminder of everything you don’t have. You’re not old enough to really think about all that anyway. 

You glance back at the side of the house. You should hose that down and get rid of the mildew. Another tick on the endless list. 

“Mom,” you say. 

“Ah, makes sense. You in school?” 

You shake your head again. He’s quiet. You sway listlessly. 

“Anyway...” he says. 

You put your head down and back away. You go back to the mower, bending down to fiddle with it again. You could see if anyone would lend you one but that means asking and as much as the neighbourhood paints itself in friendly smiles, they aren’t genuine. The letter on the kitchen table is proof of that. 

“Not working?” The man, Steve asks. You cringe and stand up. He’s still there. 

You shrug as you look at him. You turn back to the mower and lift it by the handles. You try to ignore the nosy neighbour and line it up with the grass. You push and it doesn’t move easy. You grunt and it rolls over the grass. You think maybe it’s working but as you turn, you notice the grass stands back up, only slightly bent. 

“You know, I got a nice electric one. Isn’t here yet but I can bring it tomorrow on the truck,” he offers, “I wouldn’t mind doing a once over, if you need.” 

You huff and push the mower over. 

“Can’t pay you,” you stomp back towards the house. 

“I didn’t say anything about money,” he chimes. 

You stop by the steps and cross your arms. You look at him, “too much.” 

“Well, if you change your mind, you can just come knock on my door,” he says. 

You nod and spin around again. You climb the steps, fighting to keep your steps even. You want to run inside and hide but you don’t want him to see how desperate you are to get away. 

The screen door snaps shut behind you. You kick off your shoes and go down the hall. Your mother huffs from her recliner. 

“You figure it out?” She asks. 

“No,” you flop onto the couch. 

“Knew ya wouldn’t,” she snorts as she stares out the window. “Man’s back. Musta bought the place.” 

“Uh, yeah,” you lean back, pulling the collar of your shirt over your face to sop up the sweat. “It’s hot.” 

“Nah, you’re just whiny,” she snickers. 

You don’t respond. You know better than that. You let her have her truth. Whatever she thinks of you, you can’t disprove. The world is she says it is. 

🏠

Your bedroom window shines yellow with the noon sun. The heat beams down on the folding table, warming your hands as you scratch charcoal onto thick paper. You still have grass stains on your fingers from another fruitless attempt at fixing the mower. Another day and you expect another letter isn’t far behind. 

As you focus on the lines and curves left by the pencil, your anxiety subsides. Drawing is the only thing that helps you forget. Really forget. You don’t think about the house or the lawn or the HOA or your mom. It’s just you and the pencil. 

You lean your forehead in your hand as you cross hatch the shadows. The chirping birds and the soft breeze deepen your trance. The world around you is distant and dim. You’re only awoken but the sudden and unfamiliar ‘ding dong’. 

You sit up. It takes a moment before you realise what it was. The doorbell? No one ever rings it. No, even Marge from the HOA waits until you come out to get the mail to accost you. 

You put the pencil down and get up. You go out and peek down the hallway. You creep along and stop at the doorway to the front room. You mom sniffs and wipes her eyes. She must have fallen asleep in her chair. 

“Who is it?” She snarls with grogginess in her throat. 

“I don’t know,” you go to the door and pull the curtain away from the long window beside it. You peek out at the figure on the porch and quickly hide behind the fabric. Too late. “It’s... the neighbour. I think he saw me.” 

“Ergh, don’t be stupid, girlie,” your mother barks, “help me up.” 

“Oh, uh, okay.” 

You go to her and offer your hand. You get her to her feet. She slightly hunched and slow but she makes her way to the door. She pauses and turns to the mirror above the little bench against the wall. She tidies her hair and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 

She leans on the door as she grips the handle. She opens it and the man from next door, Steve, greets her with a grin. 

“Hello?” She sweetens her tone. 

“Hello, miss, sorry to bother you,” he says, “I just moved in next door and I’m getting settled in. I was just about to do some lawn work and I thought maybe I might offer to do yours? It’s no trouble, I just thought I’d offer.” 

“Oh, what a honey you are,” she preens, “of course, that would be lovely of you. My daughter,” she sighs and shakes her head, “I’ve been nagging her for weeks to get it done.” 

“Really, it’s not a bother,” he assures her, “I’m Steve by the way.” 

His smile is just as charming as his introduction. 

“Holly,” your mother returns, “I’ll make you some lemonade for your trouble. It’s a hot one, isn’t it?” 

“Sounds good,” he agrees, “I’ll try not to make too much noise.” 

You peek out from behind your mother. Steve’s eyes meet yours for an instant before she blocks her out, no doubt eager to hide the state of the house from him. You back up as she turns to you.  

“What’re you doing hanging on like a rodent?” She hisses, “go make some lemonade.” 

[idlerin]

LOVE SICK

a suna rintarou social media au

pairing. suna rintarou x f!reader

synopsis. cupid! calling cupid! as the resident matchmaker slash hopeless romantic of tokyo university, you are the person people look for to get love advice or to set them up with the love of their lives. when suna rintarou comes to you asking for the opposite, to help fend people away from trying to get with him, to the extremes of even asking to fake date you, you couldn't refuse! mostly because you did owe him since he was on the receiving end of a bunch of your clients’ unsuccessful love efforts (hey, you do warn them your matchmaking only has a 62.3% success rate).

tags. social media au, college au, fake dating, matchmaker, romance, crack, humor, fluff! (mostly), very light angst, kind of self destructive behavior, hopeless romantic emphasis on hopeless!

warnings. time stamps are irrelevant !!, foul language (aka cursing), drinking/alcohol

status. on-going (02/15/24 —)

— playlist.

teasers

[name]’s reading list | suna’s playlist | [name]’s in trouble !

profiles

ppl who think love sucks + [name] | inarizaki dogs

episodes !

chapter names may be subjected to change as the fic goes along.

( ❥ ) — has narrative parts

( the email )

ACT I

01. romance 101 w [l/n] [name] !

02. aren’t you like, cupid

03. absolutely insane

04. sweetest girlfriend

05. it’s all cliché and full of obvious red flags ( ❥ )

06. passion is a passing thing

07. pretty please ( ❥ )

08. we can be friends ( ❥ )

09. relationship lore

10. ur like an exothermic reaction ( ❥ )

ACT II

11. ultra galactic curse

12. for the act

13. lol didn’t think u were mine

14. attachment issues showing

15. the grumpy x sunshine trope

16. shitty romance books

17. will they/won’t they

18. i wanna want you

19. touch some grass

20. and the world stills

ACT III

21. being with you is ecstasy

22. mega ultra galactic curse

23. you hate me? so enemies to lovers?

24. dead, shattered, devastated

25. keep your eyes on me

26. i’m just a girl

27. supersonic love

tba !

taglist is CLOSED !

to be added to the taglist you can just send in an ask or comment :)

notes. hi so this was like supposed to be posted on valentines but i got impatient and hey its still the month of love so whatever ehe will not start till i finish nonsense since i need to learn how to do stuff one at a time! but yeah super excited to make this bc i love fake dating and i love suna rintarou hohoho thank you guys sm for 400 followers i love you all <3

icons used as pfps are not mine but the content of this smau is. please do not repost this on any other platform. © idlerin 2023

[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "Loving words from your person"

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to find a message meant to reach you at this time. The message may come from your future spouse/destined person/long time partner or even closest friend for some of you (you may still have to meet them).

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

1 2 3

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1

Things are getting rocky at the moment, right? Yeah I know it. Try to not let this excessive amount of emotions sweep you away. Try to ground, try to stay present and in you. It's hard work indeed, ofc, I'm not saying it's easy but... please, even if it feels so difficult ans scary, do not give up. Do not let all this take the best of you. Stay in touch, stay in control... touch the ground and the grass, stay present, keep yourself rooted physically. A good news is coming in soon, maybe a new endeavour you know, just do not let this stress you even more than you are. Right now you need to find your inner focus, your center, and to meditate. Until we meet, until I will be able to help you, take good care of you. Or let someone else help you.

[romantic partner for many of you but not everyone; very big on physical affection/hugs in particular -gives very good safe hugs-; good big heart; you may be feeling lonely/feeling down/needing a bit more of love or affection these days or you will need: they'll offer you loads of that with a bright smile; sweet young kinda feminine/nurturing energy; the "excessive amount of emotion" mentioned in the reading may relate to something you're healing atm: I just heard "keep healing patiently"]

song: stay ready (what a life) | jhené aiko, kendrick lamar

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 2

HEllo hello my sweetheart! Things are changing as times and leaves, and so your emotions need to adapt to all this. We totally need to stop letting them block us and be more real, shouldn't we? It is indeed time to make a new start, to level up. So take it slow but leave this pain behind. Okay, okay, the choice is yours but you know... it's better to make mistakes and really live even for just one day than to just hide behind a wall and observe others having the time of their life and then feeling so unworthy of everything, right? Go out of the shell and try to feel as worthy as them. Try to be your real self (I know who you are inside, don't play with me, you cannot hide :)). Go slowly, go at your pace, but try. Little by little. One "hello" at time. I am waiting for you to try and say hi first. I am here waiting just for you, not going anywhere.

[romantic partner or friend, or both; funny positive accepting wise person: "it's okay to make mistakes, they're cute" when I wrote the first hello with the E and didn't want me to correct it "it's so me"; prolly clumsy but in a cute way; very pensive/thoughtful; may know many words/has a way with words or is a book lover/nerd; may wear glasses and touch them often; may sit weird; loves to write/journaling; thinks before speaking but writes on a whim and makes typos maybe also in messages to you -some are fun; you may laugh a lot together-; only for some: they may already "be in your life" as you may "see" them around often -eg. school, jobplace, subway, fav pub/place, park...- or they may be your crush/someone you find interesting, as in the song's mv]

song: you don't know my name | alicia keys

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 3

It's time to take a pause and wait. Things not always go as we plan them or as we'd like them to, but it's not always that bad. It's often a matter of realigning, of realizing that maybe something wasn't supposed for us, and it's better this way. It's maybe a matter of taking a break, grieving our desire in the way we planned it to be, and then go back on track and working for a new different way to get it. It's often a matter of having to wait a little longer, of having to be a little more experienced and prepared. Maybe it's the same for us, don't you think? Maybe we thought we had met but it wasn't us. Maybe we're just meant to work on ourself first a little more, on our feelings and how we see them and perceive them, on our strenghts and self confidence, before we can really shine and meet. Before we can really be able to be seen by the right people: me by you and you by me. And trust me, it's gonna happen. We'll make it happen.

[older or wiser romantic partner or friend; feels like has had many life's experiences; very grounded; masculine energy for the most; very concrete and has an intriguing mind; may have lot of air in their chart or be Mercury dominant, still has a lot of control on their thoughts and is very determined; may inspire you and guide you through a lot and help you grow or heal; will probably need you to help them let go a bit of control cause maybe sometimes -at least for some- they may tend to be a bit more serious and go deep within and get lost in their mind; may show a bright smile on the outside but may feel hurt inside, give them time or talk with them, help them feel safe in communicating their real thoughts if you can: they just don't want to cause pain to others but forget that generally people feels good when being of help to a lover/friend and not burdened; you may share some traits or have mirror energy]

song: island in the sun | weezer

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Hi there! First, I wanna say I absolutely love your works; they are all great, and I enjoy reading every one of their reactions!

Can I request to see HLC (including professors) react to MC sniffing them (out for many reasons, but mainly they want to remember their smell)? Just genuinely curious about what they would usually smell like :) Thank you! And wish to see more works of yours!

A/N: laughing so hard the whole time writing this 🤣

HLC REACT TO MC SNIFFING THEM

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: Old books and smoke. He smells like a stack of forgotten tomes that were set on fire. He raises an eyebrow and laughs. "You're not going to lick me next, are you?"

OMINIS GAUNT: Clean linens and a touch of mint. "...did you just sniff me?" One would think he'd be used to MC's weird behavior by now. Alas, he is not.

ANNE SALLOW: Wild flowers. She smells like she's been laying out in a meadow in spring. She smells her own robes. "What? Do I smell bad?"

IMELDA REYES: Broom polish and various wood scents. She gives MC a strong side-eye glare. "What are you doing?"

NATSAI ONAI: Incense and fresh cut grass. She gives MC an unsure look but smiles anyway. "You're acting strange. Even by your standards."

GARRETH WEASLEY: He smells like an apothecary shop threw up on him, that also exploded. "What? Do I still smell like burnt rat hair? I thought I got that out."

LEANDER PREWETT: Cheap cologne that screams "try hard", but at the same time isn't overly offensive. He side steps away from MC. "Please, stop that."

AMIT THAKKAR: Parchment and spilled ink. He startles when MC sniffs him and he jumps away like a startled cat. "What was that about?"

EVERETT CLOPTON: Depends on the day. There is no consistency with him. Some days he smells like a pack of dung bombs, others he smells like a summer breeze. He sweats nervously, hoping that MC doesn't smell dung bombs.

POPPY SWEETING: Ever smelled a horse with feathers? That's her. She watches MC curiously. "What are you sniffing around like a niffler for?"

~~~

ELEAZAR FIG: A well kept library. Old leather and parchment. He sniffs MC back. "I'd say we're both due for a wash after all the running around we've been doing."

MATILDA WEASLEY: Orchids, her favorite floral scent. She gives MC an unsure glance. "You could just ask what perfume I use."

CHIYO KOGAWA: Leather and sweat. Even with quidditch canceled, she's always out and about the grounds. "Don't sniff. That's rather rude."

AESOP SHARP: The wizard equivalent of Old Spice and a hint of fire whiskey. He just rolls his eyes. He doesn't get paid enough for this.

ABRAHAM RONEN: Sugar and cinnamon. Always smells like he just came back from Honeydukes. "Oh my, do I smell bad?" He's genuinely concerned and smells his own robes.

MIRABEL GARLICK: A garden. Flowers, soil, pottery; the whole shabang. "I was repotting mandrakes with the third years today. Sorry if I smell a bit ripe." She laughs.

MUDIWA ONAI: Incense and palm oil. She offers MC some incense. "Would you like to burn some for your dorm? You smell like you could use it."

BAI HOWIN: She works in beast pens all day. Enough said. MC doesn't even need to get close to smell her on some days.

DINAH HECAT: Amazingly. Nothing. Her time as an unspeakable has taught her to be undetectable, even by smell. Old habits die hard.

CUTHBERT BINNS: He doesn't so much give off a scent, as he does a cold chill if MC gets too close.

SATYAVATI SHAH: VERY faint smell of cherry blossom. She's very guarded of her personal space, so MC will have a hard time catching it.

PHINEAS NIGELLUS BLACK: Expensive cologne and hair tonic. He steps away from MC. Ew. Students.

[freyjas-musings]

How does one know Gywn is open to intimacy?

It was Gywn who asked Nesta if the sex was good , does it sound like someone who is uncomfortable with the idea of intimacy ? It was rhetorical .... so don't be a moron and answer that.... its obvious she isn't uncomfortable. People just don't want her to heal and grow since it threatens their ship some feminists they are.

Also , she did show an interest in romantic books .... 📚there you go ... another little snippet that she is slowly opening up again .

How do we know what Gwyns sexual orientation is ? How do we know she is into males?

"Never had a chance to lie with a male" - Answer enough?

Last about her interest in Az ? First of all two characters can be shipped based on any number of things ... Feyre and Rhys shippers existed before ACOMAF 😅 .... all that banter and connection and interaction between Gwyn and Az was there for a reason ... Though with Gwynriel and SJM being a fated mates author ... That bonus was enough to know they are end game .

Please I need people to go touch grass , read other books , get some hobbies....