#the fact that you spend so much more time reading than watching a movie sort of makes the connection a bit stronger in a way

[littlcdarlin]

Event Horizon

summary: When you start university to do your master’s in physics, you are more than surprised to meet your professor: Joel Miller, an old friend of your parents' who moved away years ago. word–count: 15k warnings: professor kink, power imbalance due to Joel being reader's professor, illegal relationship (overage & consenting), dbf!Joel, big fat age gap (unspecified but written with early 20s & mid 50s in mind), unprotected piv, just overall daddy issues (no use of the word daddy)

note: Okay, time to tell you I am a big nerd and studied physics in uni. Truth is, I quit to pursue a career in the arts, so my knowledge of masters level physics is...a little rusty. Please be lenient with me if I messed anything up. Also, I know most people hate physics, but I promise Joel makes it hot. Warning: explanation of the Dirac equation as foreplay. Also, I'm European and have no fucking clue how the American education system works but I don't care enough to do research. Enjoy <3333

event horizon noun ASTRONOMY a notional boundary around a black hole beyond which no light or other radiation can escape. a point of no return.

Uni felt different at eighteen, when everything was about moving out, drinking beer at frat parties, and kissing boys who didn’t grow up in the same town you did. It was an exciting time, the degree itself fading into the background of all sorts of new experiences, but now that you’re doing your masters, you plan on focusing on your your grades more than on partying.

You enrolled in a new university, farther away from home, with a better physics program, and although you’ve grown up considerably, you still feel that tingle of anxiety you did when you first walked to your dorm, fresh out of high school. This time you won’t have to share with another student, spending your saved money on a bit of privacy that is a single dorm room, but still, you wonder if you’ll make friends here, or if you’ll spend your night hauled up alone, watching trash TV and crying because you’re lonely.

The room is small, blank, but functional with a bathroom you share with another student and a small kitchenette, and immediately you dream of all the ways you could decorate it. You didn’t bring much, just a big suitcase and a few boxes your Dad dropped off earlier. You feel slightly guilty for leaving your parents behind, but the relief outweighs the guilt – you won’t have to come home every Sunday for dinner, visits will be scarce. You love you parents, but the distance is much needed.

You get to unpacking your clothes, reveling in the fact that you can listen to music without headphones in your very own space. You could do it in your underwear, or naked, you could sing and dance along, and nobody would be bothered by it. It’s going to be a tough two years, the program you chose more than challenging, but a childish sort of giddiness fills you – no roommate to be considerate of, no parents to visit and take care of every week. This time in your life is about you, and only you – your career, but also your well-being. You promise yourself to do what makes you happy, instead of looking out for everyone else all of the time, and you’ll start by ordering Thai food and watching the trashiest movie with the hottest actors you can find on the little flatscreen you brought with you.

***

Your first lecture is Computational Physics – the one you’re looking forward to the least. The reason you decided to study physics at all was the predictable logic behind each problem, but the more you studied, the more complex the problems got, until they were impossible to solve analytically. Now you get to solve fluid dynamic equations and simulate quantum systems on a Monday morning instead of having a peaceful cup of coffee and taking a walk around campus.

The lecture hall is big, and you pick a seat that is neither too far away to be able to read the professor’s notes, nor close enough to immediately be pinned as an over-eager teacher’s pet. In the end, you plop down next to a girl who’s sitting alone, something about her shaved head and countless earrings making you think she wouldn’t make fun of you even if you didn’t understand a single thing all lecture.

"Okay if I sit here?", you ask somewhat timidly, trying hard not to sound too much like an eleven year old Ron Weasley boarding the train to Hogwarts.

"Please," the girl answers, "I don’t know anybody here."

"Did you move here, too?"

"Yeah, I’m from New York."

"You look it," you say with a smile, eyes drifting over her clothes and jewelry.

"Thanks…I guess?", she answers, her grin revealing a charming gap between her front teeth. "I’m Alva."

You introduce yourself, thankful to have found someone you can stick to already. Throughout the lecture you find out that apart from being much cooler than everyone else in the room, Alva has a biting sense of humor, and a near endless knowledge of computational physics. You make a mental note to ask her to study together, her explanations much easier to understand than the professor’s.

The two of you spend your lunch break together, and you tell her a little bit about yourself, but way too soon it’s time to go already – you have Advanced Quantum Mechanics in a different lecture hall. This you find way more interesting, basic quantum mechanics was one of your favorite lectures during your bachelor’s degree. As Alva and you sit down, you find yourself hoping you’ll be able to help her out this time, or you’d feel like a leech for making her help you with Computational. She doesn’t seem bothered, though, and keeps babbling happily about a band she recently discovered.

"– Britpop, but they only put out two albums. I think they were like a student band or something? They’re wildly underrated, I’ll send you a song, their debut is called The Sun Is Often Out."

Your thoughts start to wander off a little, eyes drifting over the old-fashioned chalkboards, when the door at the front of the lecture hall opens, and a tall man walks in – a man you recognize.

"Holy shit," you whisper, interrupting Alva’s rant about the Longpigs, and she turns her head to look at what you’re staring at.

"Damn," she says with a grin, "if I wasn’t gay, I’d want a piece of that."

"No," you snort, "I know him. He’s my Dad’s friend."

Alva opens her mouth to say something, but at that moment, Joel Miller steps forward, checking to see if the microphone is working, and introduces himself to the hundreds of students in front of him. His voice is deep, and as warm as you remember it, but that’s where the accuracy of your memories ends – your childish brain failed to register the tanned forearms and rolled up sleeves, the carelessly styled curls, the perfect side-profile. He’s got grey streaks in his hair now, which should send you into a crisis about time passing and your own little life being finite, but instead it makes your stomach swirl with something dangerous. Joel Miller, the Joel Miller, who organized backyard barbecues with your father and bought your favorite vegan sausages when your Dad rolled his eyes at you, who made strawberry lemonade instead of lemon, because he knew you preferred it, who helped you with your physics homework when you were graduating high school and didn’t rat you out when he caught you smoking at seventeen – he’s handsome.

There’s still a familiarity about him, the way he moves and talks, although it’s unsettling to see him in such a different environment. You’re used to band-tee-Joel, beer bottle and tongs in his hands, a breezy smile on his face. He looks different here, in a white button-down, with a stern expression on his face, as he’s reading the names on his list to check attendance. When he calls Alva’s name and she raises her hand, his eyes flicker upwards, but he doesn’t look at you. Still, your stomach lurches. If you listen carefully, you can detect that southern twang in his voice you’re sure most people would miss, and it fills you with satisfaction to know you’re the one who knows him best in this room – you’re sure half the lecture hall must see how attractive he is.

When he reads out your name, there’s a surprised lilt to his tone, and your heart threatens to skip a beat.

"Here."

Your eyes meet, and although his expression doesn’t change, he holds your eyecontact for a second too long. Alva nudges your side and grins.

Your plans about outshining Alva and returning the favor of helping with a lecture are quickly buried by Joel Miller’s beautiful hands – thick fingers holding a piece of chalk almost tenderly, twirling it around when he isn’t writing on the chalkboard. You vaguely register him introducing the Dirac equation, but as interesting as you would normally find it, your thoughts are stuck between memories of barbecues and the realization that you will have to call the man who taught you to drive Professor Miller.

If Alva notices your wandering mind, she doesn’t comment on it, which you’re thankful for. You do notice her throwing you a couple of knowing glances, as you copy down what Joel is writing down, mixing up gamma, delta, and the Dirac spinor.

"Alright, so you all know how Schrödinger’s equation works great for quantum mechanics, but it doesn’t play nicely with Einstein’s relativity, right? That’s a problem because electrons move fast, sometimes close to the speed of light, so we need an equation that respects both quantum mechanics and special relativity. That’s where Dirac steps in."

He’s still got that warm way of explaining things your Dad never managed when you needed help in high school, like he enjoys clearing things up for people. He’s a born teacher, patient when you panicked in the car because you confused the clutch and the break, persistent when you wanted to throw your physics book against a wall. Look, kid, think of it this way: Push harder, it moves faster. Make it heavier, it’s harder to move. If you apply a force F to an object with mass m, it will accelerate a. That’s why your Dad’s car takes longer to stop than your bike. Even now, he manages to make a far more complex equation than Newton’s second law tangible.

"Dirac's equation is like the grown-up version of Schrödinger’s equation. It explains how particles with spin-half, like electrons, behave when they move at relativistic speeds. The gamma mu matrices make sure the equation works in four-dimensional spacetime, meaning three space dimensions plus time. The psi is a spinor, which is just a fancy way of saying that an electron isn’t just a simple wave function, it actually has spin built into its nature. Now, can anyone think of a situation where we would need to use this equation instead of the regular Schrödinger equation?"

Nobody raises their hand, most people still busy with writing down Joel’s complicated notes, and as if on cue, his eyes are on yours when you look up from your notebook. He raises an eyebrow, and you see the corner of his mouth twitch almost imperceptibly. Then, he calls your last name, a formal Miss dripping off his tongue as if he hasn’t called you kiddo for most of your life. It’s almost like he’s making a joke only the two of you are able to understand, and the thought thrills you to your bone. Two can play this game – you smile back.

"Sure, Professor Miller. You’d use it for studying high-energy particles, like electrons in particle accelerators, because it accounts for relativistic speeds. It’s also needed for situations where particles are created or destroyed, which Schrödinger’s equation doesn’t cover."

Again, his eyes linger on yours, and his slightly amused smile turns into a more genuine one at your answer. You let out a relieved sigh.

"Exactly," Joel answers, his attention on the rest of the class again, "Someone payed attention during Basic Quantum Mechanics. Now, here’s where it gets wild. When Dirac wrote this down, he realized it naturally predicts antiparticles, meaning for every electron, there should be a mirror-image particle with opposite charge, which we now call the positron. That was a huge deal because it wasn’t something people were expecting, it just fell out of the math."

For the rest of the class, Joel doesn’t continue that little game between the two of you, but whenever he asks a question, his gaze flickers over you, and your stomach gives an embarrassing little jump. Alva grins whenever this happens, but for most of the class she’s busy following Joel’s explanations.

"I want you to read up on today’s lecture," Joel says at the end of the lecture, and writes down a few page numbers on the chalkboard, "and solve the problems I mentioned earlier. Attendance isn’t mandatory, we’re all adults here, but I urge you to come if you’re interested in graduating in the next three years. Trust me, it’s easier to just do the work here than in your dorms. Now, enjoy the weather, see you Monday."

You and Alva pack up your things, and before she can ask you which class you have next, you pick up your backpack.

"I’m gonna say hi to him," you tell her, nodding in Joel’s direction, "my Dad and him go way back."

"Sure," Alva says, a cheeky smile on her face, "it’d be rude not to."

"Meet you outside?"

"I’ll be at the vending machine. Go get him," she jokes, and you snort.

Joel is packing up his course materials when you make your way down the steps and to his desk, but he looks up when he hears you coming towards him, and immediately his face splits into a smile. If you were anywhere else and ten years younger, he’d probably ruffle your hair.

"Good lecture," you say, "Dad didn’t tell me you’re teaching again."

Joel puts his piece of chalk into a tin box and nods.

"I don’t think he knows. You know how it is, we never get around to callin’ and I haven’t been home in a while."

So this is a new development, perhaps even Joel’s first semester back at university, too.

"What about the contracting? Don’t you miss the…pipes?"

He chuckles at your lack in basic contracting knowledge, his eyes not moving from yours.

"Ah, that was always Tommy, he just needed a little help. Company’s doin’ well now, though, so he’ll manage without me."

You think you remember Tommy – a man good-naturedly chasing you and the rest of the giggling neighborhood kids with a harden hose – but the memory is too vague to be sure it’s really him.

"You’ve grown up," Joel says, almost accusingly, and you shrug and smile. "Doin’ your master’s already. How come you’re familiar with Dirac?"

His accent is much thicker now that it’s only the two of you, and you notice a hint of pride when he asks about your correct answer to his question during the lecture. The satisfied feeling it gives you is still the same as when he high-fived you after your drivers test, or when he patted your back after you solved a problem for school without his help.

"Summer reading," you admit, trying hard not to sound like a nerd, "Basic Quantum Mechanics was my favorite lecture as an undergrad."

Joel smiles at you, and puts his notes into his leather bag. He slings it across his shoulder, and nods towards the door.

"How would you like to grab a coffee and tell me all about what’s been goin’ on with you and your old man?"

Your eyes flicker briefly over his hand, gripping the strap of his bag, and you raise an eyebrow.

"What’s the policy for staff having coffee with their students, Professor?"

Joel holds your gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"I’m actually not sure, Miss, I’ve never had to check before."

He’s playing along, and it feels dangerously blurry – yes, he’s your Dad’s old friend, your childhood neighbor, but it feels like more than just joking around.

"Does that mean I’m your first, then?", you ask, voice sweet and close to flirting now. The smile freezes on Joel’s face, and his gaze becomes almost calculating.

"Am I yours?" he asks you softly, and the double-meaning behind his question isn’t lost on you. You feel a thrilling pang in your stomach – Joel Miller is flirting with you.

***

You do end up getting coffee after you tell Alva you’ll meet her later, Joel reassuring you it won’t get him into trouble, and you’re fascinated to see he still drinks it black. What fascinates you even more is that you remember how he takes his coffee, and you wonder why your brain filed this fact away as important, not to be forgotten.

"So, when did you graduate? Sorry I missed it."

There’s honest regret in his voice, which surprises you. Joel was always a warm person, but you figured he cared for you as much as he would have for any kid living across the street.

"Last June," you tell him, dropping a sugar cube into your cappuccino. "I spent the summer working, and now I’m here."

"How d’you like it so far?"

You give a nervous chuckle, torn between the honest truth and pleasant small talk. You opt for the former – this is Joel, after all, not some stranger.

"To be honest with you, I oscillate between enjoying my freedom away from Mom and Dad, and being scared shitless by starting over somewhere new," you admit, looking at your coffee. You haven’t told people about your fear, and it feels good to finally admit it – the grip your parents have had on you makes your newfound freedom almost uncomfortable.

"What d’you mean, startin’ over?", Joel asks, his voice strikingly gentle. You sigh, and shrug.

"I know the distance is good for me, but it was comfortable, just doing what my parents expected of me. I had good grades, nice friends, and just the right amount of drunken nights for them not to worry about my social life too much," you explain, "and now it’s like…there’s so much room to be someone else, cause they won’t see it anyway."

You look up, embarrassed to have spilt your guts like this, but Joel looks thoughtful, his thumb moving along the handle of his coffee cup.

"Sorry," you mutter, "I know they’re your friends, but they can be…"

"Overbearing?"

You smile at him gratefully and he smiles back.

"Look, I know your parents pretty well. They love you to bits, but as an adult I imagine it must be stiflin’.“

"Yeah," you sigh, grateful for his understanding, "I feel like I don’t know who I am when I’m not…their kid."

Joel nods, and sips his coffee, apparently pondering what you said.

"I promised myself I would only do what makes me happy while I’m here," you tell him sheepishly, as if it’s a secret, and Joel laughs.

"Well, I’m not expectin’ you to hand in any homework, then."

You grin, too, and shake your head. It’s surreal, Joel being your professor, and you wearing your heart on your sleeve for him.

"Don’t worry, Professor Miller, I’m not dropping your class."

"You’d better not, it’d really hurt my feelings," Joel says, eyes trained on yours. Again, that blurriness set in motion by the change of his role in your life: neighbor to professor to – what?

"What about you, though? This your first semester here?"

"Second," he tells you, "but I still don’t feel at home. Once a Texan, always a Texan, I guess."

You cock your head and watch him drain the last of his coffee, the cup tiny in his hands.

"What?" he asks you, curiosity evident in his voice.

"You look so different," you say, and Joel scoffs.

"Well, that’s real nice. Know I’m not thirty anymore, but geez–"

"No," you say with a grin, "it’s not that. I don’t know, I’ve just never seen you teach before. Or dressed this nice – I remember you mowing the lawn in a Fleetwood Mac shirt, not checking attendance in a button down."

Joel’s cheeks go slightly pink, and he scoffs again.

"Well, I can’t show up here in a band tee, can I? Gotta dress the part," he mutters.

"I get it. You suit it," you tell him, if only to see that blush appear on his face again. He looks up at you, holding your gaze for a couple of seconds, then he shakes his head.

"What were the odds of us meetin’ like this, huh? I gotta call your father and tell him."

Something about that bothers you, you’d prefer for your parents not to know. You like sitting here with Joel, reminiscing the old times, without anybody getting a peek in.

"Or not," he says gently, seeing the expression on your face.

"Sorry," you say, "course you can tell him."

"You apologize a lot," he tells you, and you fight the urge to say sorry once again. "It’s okay, I’m not tellin’ anyone, kid. ’S just you n me."

That pang in your stomach again, and you nod.

"Alright," you answer, "just us."

You get a refill for the two of you, and a blueberry muffin to split, which feels strangely intimate, but Joel pats his stomach and jokes about keeping an eye on his figure, so you grin, and ask the barista to cut it in half. Joel asks you about your friends, and you tell him about Alva.

"Oh yes," he says and swallows a bite of the muffin, "that punky lookin’ kid who sits next to you?"

"Yeah, she’s nice. Haven’t really met anyone else."

"Geez, I’m not keepin’ you from findin’ frat boys to hook up with, am I?"

You laugh, the idea of sitting here with a twenty-something year old kid named Cole or Josh instead of him so absurd, you can’t help it.

"No," you tell him, "I’m honestly enjoying the fact that I don’t have to have someone else in my dorm anymore."

"Well, that’s a relief to hear," Joel says, "they’re all dipshits."

You remember him telling you something similar about the boys in high school, and it makes you smile. He’s still got that protective streak, then.

"To tell you the truth, I’m glad you’re here," you say quietly, "if I’m not making any friends, I can come crying to you."

Joel watches you for a couple of seconds, not laughing as you intended, but taking your words seriously.

"Course you’ll make friends. Give it a couple of weeks, and you’ll have forgotten all about physics cause you’ll be skippin’ classes left and right to hang out with people."

You don’t tell him, but you think it’s very unlikely you’ll skip any of his classes. Still, you appreciate his words and how confident he seems to be in your ability to open up to people.

"Well, will you give me the answers to your exams if I skip your class?"

"No way," he says with a cheeky smile, the crinkles around his eyes prominent. "I don’t do preferential treatment. You wanna split another blueberry muffin?"

You grin.

"Thought you were watching your waistline."

"I am, that’s why I’m only eating halves."

***

Your afternoon with Joel leaves you on a high for the rest of the day, feeling much less lonely now that you’ve had a conversation beyond the usual so how many siblings do you have? and where did you do your undergrad?

You start spending your lunch breaks with Alva and some friends she made in another lecture, all of whom are very nice. In the evenings you all go to see a movie or have dinner together in any of your dorm rooms, and although you walk around campus holding out one eye for Joel, you don’t see him for the rest of the week. There is always a nudge of disappointment in your stomach, when you glance in the direction of his office, and the door is closed, but you’re so busy, you don’t dwell on it too much. The days pass in a blur of new lectures, swapping music with Alva, and evenings spent as a group of six, and suddenly it’s Sunday again. You aren’t too sad the weekend is already over, and you know exactly why you’re looking forward to Monday, but you don’t allow yourself to think about Joel any more than you can help.

In the afternoon, while you’re doing Joel’s assignment for the next class, your mother calls, and you answer the phone with a mixture of feelings.

Hi, my darling, how are you doing?

"Hi, Mom. I’m good, just doing my work for tomorrow. How are you?"

Good, good. How was your first week? Did you meet anyone nice?

Hah, if she only knew. It feels deceptive, not telling her about Joel, but you like that for now, he’s just yours.

"Yes, this girl called Alva. We and some guys hang out a lot, there’s a cinema near by, but the lectures are pretty hard, so we only have the evenings off."

Well, I’m glad you found some nice people! Dad says hi, he’s making dinner. Anyway, baby, we miss you terribly. Do you know when you’ll be coming home?

"I just got here, Mom."

You sigh so quietly your mother can’t hear it, guilt already nagging at your heart. Sunday is the day you would usually be coming home for dinner, and you know it’s no coincidence your parents called you now.

Of course, you’re right. It’s just not easy for your Dad and me, you know? You’ve never been this far from home, and you’re our baby.

Yeah, you think, your adult baby. You sigh again.

"I don’t know if I’ll come this month, I’m still sort of settling in. But I’ll let you know if there’s a free weekend next month, alright?"

Sure, that sounds great. Will you send us some pictures of your friends, and your room?

"Sure," you say, but it bugs you that you’re giving in. Already, you’re breaking the promise you made yourself, and letting your parents further into your life here than you’re comfortable with.

"Mom, I gotta go, I’ve still got some problems to solve and I’m meeting Alva for dinner soon."

Okay, darling, enjoy your night! And make yourself heard. I love you!

"Love you, too! Talk soon."

Your kind, clingy mother, whose greatest pain is not knowing if you’re safe. In a way you miss her, and you feel guilty for being annoyed. Still, you know you have to gently nudge her away from you, or she’ll suffocate you one day. It makes you angry with yourself, because you know your Mom would have liked nothing more than to hear all about your week, but as soon as she asked you a question, you felt like your seventeen year old self again, getting yelled at because you stayed up past your curfew, and your parents didn’t know where you were.

Tears of frustration spring to your eyes – the mix of feelings too much for you to handle. You wipe them away with the back of your hand, breathe in shakily, and try to focus on your assignment again, but now you’re riled up, and the tears won’t stop.

It’s hard for you to deal with disappointing your parents, forcing them away when they would like nothing more than to know everything that’s going on in your life. So, instead of preparing for Joel’s lecture, you cry on your bed, feeling lonely and angry with yourself for hurting them. You know your reaction is disproportionate, but everything you kept buried while you lived close to your parents comes bubbling out of you.

You call Alva, tell her you have cramps because of your period and just want to stay in bed. She’s understanding, asks you if there’s anything she can do, even offers to bring you takeout or a hot water bottle, which makes you feel all the worse for lying to her. You decline her offer, tell her you’ll meet her Monday morning. In the evening, you regret not letting her bring over a real meal, eating cold pasta in your underwear, tears still running down your face and making your head pound.

***

On Monday, you feel slightly better, your headache is gone and your face isn’t as puffy as you expected it to be. Still, you’re in a solitary mood, and are glad to find Alva is able to keep up an entire conversation virtually by herself – you just grunt from time to time, or give noncommittal movements of your head in vague agreement. You hope if she notices your bad mood, she just thinks it has to do with your period.

Computational Physics is hell – you dislike it on the best of days, but guilt ridden and tired, you’re barely able to pay attention at all, and the professor’s handwriting is so bad, you end up copying down Alva’s notes instead. She’s kind about it, slides over her notebook at an angle that makes it easy to read, and you make a mental note to thank her for being so kind to you while you’re offering nothing but a scowling expression all day. Maybe you’ll cook for her, or make a mixtape of your favorite songs, just to show her you’re interested in being actual good friends.

Lunch passes easily, as always you sit with Alva and the guys, and there’s enough people for you to stare at your mashed potatoes and repeatedly stab them with your fork instead of eating them. They taste like flour mixed up with water, and you dream up your father’s Sunday dinner instead, but it does little to help with the taste.

"So, you lookin’ forward to flirting with Miller in front of the whole lecture hall again?" Alva asks you, as you’re making your way to said room. You glare at her, but can’t help the corners of your mouth twitching.

"Wasn’t flirting with him," you answer, kicking a pebble, "I grew up across the street from him, I’ve known him practically my whole life."

"Whatever you say, grumpy," Alva teases, nudging your shoulder with hers. You’re overcome with a rush of gratitude for the way she treats you, persistently kind and humorous. You chuckle, your mood lifting slightly.

"He’s probably been waiting for you to turn legal," she continues, and you groan.

"Gross, Alva, he’s not a creep."

"I’m just saying, if your little connection gets you the answers to his tests, you could sell them and become rich."

"I already asked him, he said no," you say darkly, thinking of the nights you’ll have to spend studying to pass his exam. This makes Alva laugh her brilliant laugh, and you can’t help but smile, too.

"Damn," she grins, "I’d try if he wasn’t a guy."

You snort.

"You try with Professor Carter, I need the answers to Computational," you suggest, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

"You’re joking, but I bet once you get her out of her frumpy cardigans, she’s a real–"

"Okay, stop," you grown, the image of Professor Carter taking off her cardigans worse than her keeping them on – if possible. Alva giggles.

"I’ll help you with Computational," she says, "if you help me with Quantum Mechanics."

"You’re good at both," you argue, and Alva shrugs.

"Not like you, though. I spent like four hours doing Miller’s assignment last night."

You want to tell her you didn’t do it at all, but before you can open your mouth, she spots a friend in the crowd, grabs your arm and drags you over to him.

The three of you sit down together, closer to the front than the week before, which gives you a direct line of sight to Joel’s desk. When he walks in, your stomach jumps – he’s wearing a tie today, a dark burgundy or blue, you aren’t sure from this distance, flecked with specks of white. Again, his hair is styled in that carelessly disheveled look you like so much, and the image of him putting gel in it makes you smile. He gets out his materials for the lecture, and looks up, his eyes finding yours – you smile and he gives a small nod. Again you’re struck by how different he acts in front of the class, how serious he seems. You think of his laid back manner when you had coffee, and struggle to make the images align. Joel clears his throat, and the chatter around you stops.

"Quiet, please, everyone. Thank you. So, last week, we found out that Dirac’s equation predicts the existence of antiparticles. But instead of just accepting that, let’s think deeper—mathematically, what feature of the equation forces this conclusion?"

Joel jumps right into the lecture, and just like last week, nobody raises their hands – you curse the people around you for their lethargy, because sure enough, Joel’s eyes land on you. Before you can shake your head to signal to him not to ask you, he calls your name.

"If I remember correctly, you were already familiar with Dirac’s equation last week. What would you say, what does the existence of negative-energy solutions tell us, and why couldn’t we just ignore them?"

You wish you could answer him, know he asked you because he was sure you’d know the answer, perhaps hoped your enthusiasm for the subject would get the rest of the students to participate more, but you didn’t do the assignment, and you’ve already half forgotten his question. You swallow.

"Um…I…I’m not sure, Sir," you say, watching the way his brows furrow, and looking down at your notes. Alva shoots you a curious look, and when she sees your expression, she raises her hand. You’re thankful to have Joel’s attention diverted, feeling like a fool in front of hundreds of students you’re trying to make friends with.

"Dirac’s equation gives positive and negative energy solutions, and at first, the negative ones didn’t make sense. Dirac suggested they represent antiparticles, like the positron, which he predicted. The idea was that electrons could, like, jump into these negative-energy states, creating a hole that looks like a positron, which was later confirmed experimentally," Alva explains instead of you.

"You're close, but electrons don’t actually 'jump into' negative-energy states. Instead, Dirac proposed that these states are already filled, forming what he called the Dirac Sea. A positron isn’t an electron jumping down, it’s actually a 'hole' left when a negative-energy electron gets excited to a positive-energy state. That distinction is important because it explains why positrons have the opposite charge. Good answer, though, thank you Ms. Bennet."

Joel’s eyes flicker over to you again, but you show no reaction, and he continues with his lecture without asking you another question. Alva glances at you inquiringly, and you sigh.

"I wanted to do the assignment yesterday, but my cramps were really bad," you explain quietly, and she nods sympathetically.

"Call me next time, I’ll send you my answers," she whispers, and you smile gratefully. It seems you really hit the jackpot in friendship when you sat down next to Alva.

***

After Joel’s lecture, you and Alva make your way over to the vending machine, because it has the sour patches she likes, and in her own words she’ll combust if she doesn’t eat some right fucking now.

"Shit," she curses, "they’re stuck."

"Let me," a voice comes from a behind you, and when you turn around, Joel is smiling at the two of you. "Took me a while to figure this thing out, too."

Alva steps aside, and Joel bangs his palm against the side of machine. You jump, but the sour patches make their tumbling way down to the dispenser.

"Great! Thanks, Professor Miller," Alva says, ripping the bag open and offering it to the two of you. To your surprise, Joel takes her up on it, and Alva grins at you.

"You were quiet during today’s lecture," Joel says tentatively, when he’s swallowed his sour patch "everything alright?"

You glance at your shoes.

"Um, yeah. I wasn’t feeling well yesterday, and I left your assignment for last, so…I didn’t do it."

Joel’s expression grows worried, and Alva glances between the two of you.

"Hey, I’m meeting Max for coffee," she tells you, "see you later?"

"Yeah," you answer, grateful she’s granting you this time alone with Joel, "see you, Alva."

When she’s gone, Joel is still looking at you with that worried look on his face, and you sigh.

"Sorry about the assignment," you say, "won’t happen again."

"I’m not worried about the assignment," Joel says earnestly, but then he turns his head, and you know he doesn’t want someone listening in. Sure, you can be seen chatting in the university cafe, but this conversation is rapidly blurring the lines between scholarly and – something else.

"I…have some materials in my office that might make it easier for you to catch up with the lectures again," Joel tells you, and you understand the underlying meaning. Let’s talk in my office.

"Thank you," you say, relieved, and Joel nods, eyes still glued to yours, brows still furrowed. You walk to his office making smalltalk about the lecture, which to anyone listening in would seem like a normal conversation between a professor and an interested student.

Joel opens the door to his office for you, and lets you step in first. It’s small, cramped bookshelves on the walls and a sturdy desk in the middle that is littered with notes, pencils, books, and a couple of old coffee mugs. You notice he put part of his books sideways onto the shelves, which you find weirdly endearing. This is the Joel you know – clutter and warmth.

He closes the door behind you, and you turn around to watch him drop his bag and walk over to the kettle in the corner of the room.

"Coffee?"

"Please," you sigh, "if you don’t have anything stronger."

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t answer, just turns on the already filled kettle, and gets two clean cups for the two of you.

"I only have drip coffee," he tells you, "I don’t drink that crap the machines brew up."

"That’s fine, I enjoy the medieval feel of it."

"Watch it," he answers, a smile tugging on his lips, "don’t insult my coffee filter in front of me."

You grin, and walk over to his bookshelf to have a look.

"So, what’s going on?" he asks you while pouring the boiling hot water over the coffee grounds. Again, the Joel you remember – empathetic, but unusually direct. You sigh, turn around and shrug.

"Mom and Dad called yesterday, and I could tell they missed me, but I just…I cut them off after two minutes."

Joel places the cups on his desk, and leans against it. His sleeves are rolled up again, and when he crosses his arms, you feel that familiar pang in your stomach.

"And now I…I don’t know, I feel so guilty, Joel. They’re not even being dicks about it, but I just know they’d prefer for me to check in with them more…and the worst thing is, I know it’s not a big deal. They’ll get over it, they’ve got a good life without me constantly in it, so I don’t know why my stupid brain can’t just let this go, you know? One I miss you, darling, and I’m reduced to this pathetic mess, instead of just, I don’t know, getting my shit together."

You shake your head and clench your teeth, once again embarrassed to come crying to Joel about your parental issues, but he’s the only one you can tell. Sure, Alva would probably listen, but you don’t feel like explaining your family to a near stranger. Joel just gets it. Joel knows you.

He’s looking at you, arms still crossed, and for a second you worry he might not want to hear about your little breakdown, but then he sighs.

"You have your shit together all of the fuckin’ time, kid, I think that might be the problem," he tells you quietly. "You’ve always been so hard on yourself."

He’s right, once again he sees what you struggle to show the world, and his words make tears spring to your eyes. You will your eyeballs to suck them back in, but of course, Joel sees.

"Hey now," he says, taking a tentative step towards you. One tear drops from the end of your lashes and down your cheek, and the dam is broken again – they come spilling in floods. Joel crosses the room in a second, and there is a slight moment of hesitation between the two of you, before you bury your face in his chest, and let your restraint fall. You cry quietly, feel him wrap his arms around you, as he rocks you back and forth.

"You’re alright," he tells you, "Shhh, it’s okay, you’re alright."

"S-s-sorry about the assignment," you manage, and Joel’s hand starts stroking your back.

"Jesus, kid, stop worryin’ about the fucking assignment," he tells you, voice low and worried. "You don’t gotta be so strict with yourself. You’re doin’ just fine."

He smells so much like home, you think you might never stop crying.

"I don’t know what’s wrong with me," you hiccup, "One week here and I’m a mess already."

You feel Joel rest his chin on your head, and his arms tighten around you.

"There’s nothin’ wrong with you, you hear me? You hold yourself to high standards. Creates pressure, kid."

As always, he’s right of course – you want to excel academically, you don’t want to hurt your parents, you want to stay true to yourself and do what makes you happy, you want to make friends without compromising your grades. It’s impossible.

You breathe in shakily, your eyes closed, face buried in Joel’s chest, and for a second he is all that exists – just Joel, all around you, pulling you to the earth. Slowly, your breathing calms, Joel still rocking you soothingly, holding you close.

"There we go," he mutters, when your chest stops shaking, "that’s good."

When you pull away from him, he puts his hands on your shoulders to really look at you, and although you’re embarrassed by your outburst, you’re glad he doesn’t shy away from you.

"I want you to start being a little more lenient with yourself, alright? You don’t need to worry about an assignment on top of everything."

His hands are rubbing your shoulders, his eyes are kind and warm.

"Maybe not about yours, but I have like five other lectures –"

"Okay, so try to stop worrying about my assignments, just mine. Won’t bite your head off if you don’t do them, and I’ll only ask you questions when you raise your hand, alright? In fact, for the rest of the term, I want you to hand them in late."

Despite yourself, your lips pull up in a small smile.

"That’s silly, Joel," you say softly, but he shakes his head.

"It’s not silly, it’s practice to get you out of your comfort zone."

You consider his words for a moment. You do keep a pretty tight reign on yourself, and just the thought of doing every assignment late makes your skin crawl with anxiety. But when will you get another chance to step out of your comfort zone as safely as now, with Joel? He’s offering you a way to try it without actually risking your grades. And who knows, perhaps it actually will take a little bit of pressure off of you.

"Okay," you answer, staring up at Joel with puffy cheeks and teary eyes. "Alright."

He smiles at you, but he still looks worried and you wish he’d pull you close to him again. It’s such a relief to have this sort of human contact with someone who really knows you.

"Feel better?"

You sigh, and nod.

"It’s just a lot, you know, uni and my parents, and every social interaction feels like such a chore, cause I don’t know people yet. I feel like I’m not even relaxed when I’m asleep."

Joel hesitates for a moment, before he speaks, but when he does, he sounds determined.

"Come over tonight, I’ll make us somethin’ to eat, and you don’t have to worry about talkin’ to anyone. We’ll watch whatever you’d like. You still enjoy those crappy horror movies?"

You smile at the shared memory – Joel letting you use his living room to watch slashers your parents didn’t want you to see. One summer, when the heat was so stifling you barely went outside, you practically lived at his place, and when you’d seen all the DVDs he owned, he got you more from the video store.

"I do," you say quietly, the fact that Joel remembers more important to you than his proposal to spend the evening together. You feel significantly less alone, all of a sudden.

"Alright, then. Be over at seven,“ Joel tells you, and you nod, wiping your wet face with the back of your hand.

"Thank you, Joel," you say, and hug him again, because you don’t know how to tell him in words what you’re feeling, and his big, warm body against yours feels more than soothing.

"Course, kid. Just don’t tell Alva, or they’ll fire me."

You smile, your arms still wrapped around his neck, as he holds you.

"But I don’t wanna get you in trouble, what if–"

"No," Joel interrupts you, "no what ifs. No worryin’. I forbid it."

And you accept it, leave it to Joel, because he tells you to – because you don’t have any room in your head for more worries, and because you trust Joel not to do anything reckless. You trust him, period.

***

You text Alva you’re having dinner alone, that your cramps are still acting up, and you do feel slightly bad for lying, but you would never risk Joel’s job. The idea of having dinner with him at his place should make you nervous after your change in feelings about him, but you’re just looking forward to having a meal with someone who knows you, and lets you be yourself.

Joel asked you to be there at seven, so you spend the rest of the afternoon in your dorm room, wondering if you should change your outfit or if it would seem desperate – in the end, you keep the jeans but change into a blouse instead of a sweater. The part of you that stares at Joel’s forearms during class now wants to look pretty for him, so that he’ll ask you over again. You know you’re being ridiculous, but it doesn’t stop you from putting on your nicest perfume.

You’re ten minutes early, so you sit in your little second hand car and try not to panic. You know Joel is merely trying to be a good…friend? Ex-neighbor, Dad’s best friend turned professor? There’s no real etiquette to cling to in this situation, for either of you, and although you’re positive Joel doesn’t have any ulterior motives with you despite his flirting, you know he could lose his job if someone finds out you went to his house. Even if you just watch slashers together the way you did ten years ago. It makes you anxious to know he’d risk something clearly important to him for just that – he moved to a different state, quit his old job, started over completely, and is now willing to endanger that new life just because you’re stressed. At the same time it seems ridiculous anyone could forbid the two of you to spend time together after having known each other your entire life. The thought is absurd, and still, you need to be careful.

You get out of the car before you start to hyperventilate, and ring Joel’s doorbell – it feels strange for him to live in a new house. He opens the door with a smile, and absurd relief floods your veins when you realize he’s wearing an old Led Zeppelin shirt and a pair of worn jeans. This is your Joel.

"I come bearing gifts," you announce, stepping into the house.

“Christ, where did you get this?”, Joel asks, taking the six pack of beer from you, so you can take off your jacket. “I didn’t know they sold Shiner Bock outside of Texas, I’ve been survivin’ on Bud”.

“Brought it with me,” you explain, “figured it’d help if I got homesick, you know, in multiple ways.”

You grin, and Joel shakes his head good-naturedly.

“Old enough to drink, well I’ll be damned. I remember when you begged your Dad to let you have a coke and he asked me if I thought the caffeine would stunt your growth.”

“Did it?”

“It might’ve,” Joel says with a chuckle, “but he didn’t let you have it.”

“Well, he isn’t here now, so let’s put those in the fridge.”

“No," Joel mutters, “no, he ain’t.”

While Joel puts the beer away, you take a look around his living room – despite your reservations about the new house, it reminds you of his old place. It’s got the same masculine and warm feel to it, dark wood, books all over the place, no bells and whistles. Joel is a practical man, and it’s charmingly etched into every part of his life – except for his new work-look. The room isn’t as cluttered as you remember Joel’s old house back in Texas, but you assume he hasn’t had time to accumulate clutter yet. No old newspapers are lying around, no birthday cards stacking up. You wonder if he’s lonely here, teaching all by himself, hundreds of miles away from the place he last grew roots in.

“Do you miss home?” you ask him, when he comes back from the kitchen with two bottles of beer in his hands. He looks at ease, much more himself than back at university. His jeans are faded, his shirt a little too big on his already broad frame, and his hair is clean and curly the way you like it – no gel twisting it into all sorts of un-Joel-like styles. Warmth floods your chest at the sight of him taking a swig of his beer. His crowfeet are a little more pronounced, and his hair has more grey strands than it did back home, but he’s still got that distinctly warm, no-nonsense feel to him.

“Sometimes,” he answers, offering you the second bottle. Your hand brushes his when you take it from him. “But I’m pretty busy here, you know, got a whole lotta lectures to plan, papers to grade and that sort of stuff.”

You nod, and sip at your beer.

“Have you…you know, met people? Made friends here?”

Joel plops down on the couch, and smiles up at you.

“You worried about my social life?”

You shrug, and smile almost timidly.

“You know me, kid, I like bein’ by myself.”

That’s true, for as long as you’ve known Joel, he’s been alone. You know he has nieces and nephews who adore him, and your Dad mentioned a woman once, but it must have been at least twenty years since they were together. You wonder why Joel doesn’t seem to want that sort of a domestic life, surely many women would be happy to let him put a ring on them.

You walk over to the window, and watch a blackbird tug at a writhing worm.

“Have you met someone at uni you wanna be by yourself with?” you ask with a small grin, turning back to find Joel already watching you. “I heard Professor Carter’s still single.”

“She’s very intelligent,” Joel says earnestly. You give him credit for not laughing about his colleague, and suddenly you feel bad for calling her frumpy with Alva. “But I think I’ll leave her to her simulations. Why am I bein’ interrogated?”

“Sorry,” you mumble, and glance out of the window again, “just making conversation.”

“Your turn, then,” Joel answers, and takes another swig of beer. “Any frat boys catch your eye? Or frat girls?”

You glance at him, a smile on your lips, and raise your eyebrows.

“Hey, I don’t discriminate. I thought, maybe Alva…”

“No,” you answer, feeling fond of him for considering the possibility. “Alva’s a friend. The guys are…well, they’re frat boys.”

 Your voice carries enough disgust for Joel to laugh.

“Right,” he says, and his eyes are warm when they meet yours again. “Just us two loners, then."

“Cheers,” you say with a smile.

“Cheers.”

***

Joel’s cooking is a mystery to you – he loves to eat, and when he does cook, it’s always delicious, but he only ever makes one of five dishes. Again, that practicality shining through. Why try something new if you’ve perfected your routine? He made pasta for you, wasn’t sure if you’re still vegetarian and makin’ your Dad’s hair fall out, and you smile into the neck of your beer bottle, when you watch him drizzle dressing onto a carefully arranged side-salad. Throughout dinner, you tell him how much you love it at least five times, because you can tell he put effort into the meal. You know it’s not technically a date, but having a dinner he made just for you, in his home – it feels like one.

You steer the conversation away from heavy topics like your parents. Although Joel offered you this evening to make you feel better, you want to spend it with him rather than in your head, so you ask him about books and music, about his lectures, about Tommy and the kids. You like watching how his face lights up whenever he talks about something he particularly loves. Joel is a quiet man, but you found out years ago it isn’t shyness, but a disinterest in most mundane topics – he doesn’t like gossip or superficial small talk. When he tells you Tommy made him godfather of all of his children, the pride is evident in his voice, and you don’t have to fake your enthusiasm, although it amuses you, too – Tommy loving his big brother enough not to consider anyone else.

"She calls me uncle Joe," he tells you with a chuckle, "Can’t pronounce her Ls yet, but I’ve considered legally changing my name."

When you’re done eating, you help him clear the table, but when you reach for the sponge to do the dishes, Joel shakes his head.

"Let me do that later, kid. You wanna watch a movie?"

So the two of you plop down on the couch with a bag of M&Ms and another round of beer, and Joel hands you the remote.

"Go wild," he says, chuckling when you excitedly turn on he TV to open Netflix.

"Wow, a streaming service? I thought you’d just hoard DVDs for the rest of your life."

Joel huffs, and instead of answering, he leans forward, and reaches for something under his couch table. When he turns his head, he’s got glasses on his face, thick-rimmed and black, and so startlingly sexy, you almost drop the remote.

"You…you’ve got glasses?"

"Yeah," he answers, his eyes meeting yours, and you swallow. "When your eyesight deteriorates, that’s when you know you’re gettin’ old."

You hum but don’t answer, just hold his gaze for a second and look back to the screen. You try to ignore the familiar pang in your stomach at the sight of Joel in his new glasses, and skip through movie after movie, mumbling seen it, seen it, that one sucks, seen it, until Joel reaches over and snatches the remote from you.

"Hey–"

"I can’t read anything if you skip through them that quickly."

"You’re not supposed to read, you’re supposed to go with the vibe of the cover."

He glances at you with furrowed brows.

"Okay, sorry, didn’t know you’re a filmbro," you grumble, but it’s almost entirely fake – you couldn’t be annoyed with him, not when he pushes his glasses up his nose, and carefully considers which button to press on the remote.

"I don’t know what that means," he answers, and starts reading the description of a romantic comedy about Christmas.

"I’m not watching that."

"You don’t even know what it’s about."

"It’s September, Joel."

He huffs again, but finally reaches the horror movies. Surprisingly, it doesn’t take the two of you long to pick one, and the thought of two hours of brainless, scary entertainment on a couch with Joel makes you practically melt into his couch.

You can feel Joel’s eyes on you during the opening credits, so you glance over and he smiles.

"Comfy?" he asks, his voice hoarse from relaxation.

"Yeah," you answer, and smile when hands you a blanket. He’s not exactly close to you, but it still feels a little intimate when you spread the blanket out and offer him the other end. He moves over a little, so that the blanket covers his legs, and when you concentrate you can feel his body heat next to you, so you try hard not to – and instead get lost in the movie.

It’s not particularly good, but the story does get under your skin a little, and when there’s an unexpected shriek, you violently jump and instinctively move closer to Joel. He chuckles, but doesn’t give any reaction to your arm suddenly pressing against his. He doesn’t move away, either, so you don’t, fear suddenly not being the only thing bubbling up in your stomach.

"Jesus," you mumble, the creeping music making you anticipate another jumpscare. You’re right, it does come, but prepared though you are, you still wince, and turn away from the screen slightly. Out of sight, out of mind. Joel turns around, too, and when he sees your widened eyes, he grins.

"How’s that Christmas movie lookin’ now?"

"I’m not scared," you say, and there is some truth to it, "I’m just not good with jumpscares."

When the next one comes, you can’t help it, you clutch his arm next to you, your nails digging into his firm muscle, and Joel glances at you again.

"Sorry," you say quickly, letting go of his forearm now marked with five tiny crescent shapes. "Jesus, Joel, sorry."

"It’s fine," he says, and the amusement is evident in his voice, "you sure you’re into this? There might be some cartoons–"

He stops talking when you glare at him, but his mouth is twitching under his beard. You’re determined to watch the entire movie, and you try not to let any reaction show, wanting to prove Joel wrong.

There is one particularly scary scene – it’s not necessarily violent, but the music and shaky camera movements make your pulse race, and you turn your head slightly, so as to look at something else. Joel glances at you again, but he doesn’t laugh this time, just puts a heavy hand on your shoulder. It’s grounding, the warmth of it, how his thumb digs into your muscle and his fingers spread out over your back and neck.

"You don’t gotta force yourself to watch this, kid," Joel says gently, all teasing humor gone.

"No," you say stubbornly, but move even closer to him. His touch is a welcome distraction from the movie, and although you know it’s stupid and reckless, you lean into him, and Joel puts his arm around you. It’s closer than you’ve been to him except for hugging, and your heartbeat starts to quicken for all the wrong, non-horror reasons. When you flinch, Joel tugs you against his side, and it feels natural to hide your face in his shoulder.

He was never touchy with you, or anyone for that matter, so something must have changed. You wonder if he’s trying to comfort you, or if you might not be the only one who can feel that strange pull between the two of you.

When the movie ends, Joel regrettably removes his arm from around your shoulders to switch off the TV, and although you’re slightly disappointed, you scold yourself for expecting something else.

"Not bad," Joel says with a small smile, and pushes his glasses up his nose. "Very brave."

You scoff, but feel the corners of your mouth twitching, too.

"I used to be less of a wimp, but I guess you soften with age."

"You’re twenty-three," Joel argues, "that’s young."

Yeah, too young. Too young to lean over and kiss him, or climb into his lap, or expect anything other than paternal care when he’s got his arm around you. You look at your lap, all of a sudden feeling stupid and silly for having dreamed up an absurd fantasy about the man in front of you.

"Hey," Joel says gently, "what’s wrong?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, "nothing, I had a really great evening. Thanks, Joel."

You can tell you’ve confused him, but he nods, doesn’t question your sudden change of mood, and stands when you get up from the couch.

"Anytime, kid. You call me if you’re havin’ a bad time, alright? My door’s always open."

He’s so kind, so recklessly, stupidly, lovingly kind, and all of it is directed at you. You curse yourself for it, but again you feel that familiar burn in your eyes. Joel reaches out and easily pulls you towards his big body, hugging you the way he did in his office just this afternoon. He doesn’t ask you what brought on your tears, just lets you cry into his Led Zeppelin shirt that smells so much like home, like a childhood you won’t get back to. You remember whiffs of that smell when you were watching movies on his couch while he was at work, too pissed off at your parents to spend the summer at home. This scent was there when you attended a neighborhood barbecue after fighting with your father and Joel grilled some vegan sausages for you without comment or question. He’s always looked out for you like this, quietly, without demanding an explanation, just a solid, comforting presence in your life.

Your tears stop after a couple of minutes, and you take a step away from Joel, wiping your face. He looks so worried again, brows all furrowed and arms hanging limply at his side. Didn’t he flirt with you, though? Didn’t he prepare dinner for you the way a date would, ask you about your dating life, ask you to coffee? You don’t think you would be able to handle another evening like this one not knowing what Joel really thinks, so in a moment of hazy recklessness, you lean up.

His eyes meet yours, all warm and strangely unguarded, but before your lips brush his, a hand on your shoulder stops you. Without saying something, you move away from him, and nod to yourself, his reaction all the information you needed.

"Sorry," you say very quietly, not managing much else now that you’ve humiliated yourself in front of the only person you really know in a six hundred mile radius. Joel runs a hand through his soft hair, and inhales deeply.

"No," he says, his voice a little strained, "no, don’t be. I just…Jesus, kid."

He rubs his palm over his beard in such a familiar way, your chest aches a little. It’s ridiculous how much you want to touch his face, to feel him again, skin on skin. So you don’t turn and run the way your embarrassed heart is telling you to, just watch him collect his thoughts, standing in front of him like a wet and beaten dog.

"Look," he begins, "I won’t say I’m not flattered, but that’s…it’s a bad fuckin’ idea. It’s…it’s chaos, and on top of that most people would argue it’s wrong."

You swallow. You know all of this, have turned it over in your head ever since you stared at Joel’s rolled up sleeves for two hours on that first Monday, but hearing him say it makes your stomach churn.

"Yeah," you mutter, and trace Joel’s shadow with the very tip of your foot, "yeah, of course. Sorry I put you in that position, wasn’t right."

Your face still feels puffy, and you know you’re probably all red and pathetic looking, begging Joel for scraps of his attention, but all of a sudden, he lifts his hand up to your face, and cups it in his broad palm. His thumb strokes your cheek, and when you meet his eye, the expression on his face is tender.

"It’s alright," he tells you softly, "I can see you worryin’ at the speed of light in that pretty head of yours."

Something in your chest flutters at his words, at the rough and warm cadence of his voice. He reads you so easily, one turn of your head and he knows you’re lost to your thoughts.

"I shouldn’t have let myself toy with this idea," he continues, and your stomach flips. "I should’ve realized you’d pick up on it. It’s on me, alright? It’s on me not to start anythin’."

You can hear the implication – I’m the adult here. It’s not what you want to hear, but just the mention of Joel toying with this idea, as he put it, is enough to lift your spirits. So you weren’t crazy.

"I’m an adult," you say weakly, never having felt more like a child. Joel nods.

"You are, but I’m still in a position of power here. Be wrong, to abuse that."

His thumb is still moving over your cheek slowly, making it hard to think straight.

"So dinner and a movie doesn’t abuse it?"

You don’t want to argue, you don’t know why you keep disagreeing with him, and the way his face falls, you wish you hadn’t said it.

"No, it…it does, you’re right. Jesus, of course it does. I don’t blame ya for bein’ ang-"

"I’m not angry," you say softly, and tentatively turn your head in Joel’s hand. You press a kiss to his palm, his warm skin pressed right against your mouth. "I’m not your student, Joel. I mean, of course I am, but I know you. It’s different."

Joel’s eyes are glued to your face, and he looks so conflicted you wish he’d just throw you out of his house, if only to solve his dilemma.

"It’s still wrong," Joel mutters, his eyes glued to your lips since they brushed his skin "even if you take away the fact that I’m your fuckin’ professor. Your Dad…"

"My Dad is half a continent away and finds a way to be unhappy with whatever choices I make, so I might as well make the ones I want to."

The very first day, before you even met Joel, you decided to do what makes you happy while in university, and although this certainly wasn’t what you had in mind, you know it’s what you want. The only thing you want, in fact.

Joel sighs, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Joel, I’m not trying to…look, if I’m wrong about this, just tell me, but I feel…I just wanna be close to you all of the fucking time," you say quietly, "and it’s okay if you don’t, really. I just…I want you to know it’s not nothing to me."

Saying I don’t just want to hook up with you would feel too straight forward or crass, but you think Joel gets the gist of what you’re trying to say, and he closes his eyes briefly. You study his face behind his glasses, the wrinkles and freckles from years in the sun. You do feel anxious about his answer, but whatever it is, you’re glad you told him. It’s out in the world now, the way you feel when he holds you, and he can do with it what he pleases – you’ve handed him the reigns.

"I…I know what you mean. Me too," he says very quietly after a beat, his eyes open and looking directly into yours again.

A triumphant pang of affection pulses through you, and you put your hand over Joel’s, which is still resting on your cheek. He looks conflicted, but his other hand holds your waist now, and tugs your smaller body closer to his again. He’s solid as a brick wall in front of you, and you figure you’re allowed to touch, so you rest your hand on his shoulder.

"What am I gonna do with you?" Joel mutters, and strokes your lower lip with his thumb. If you had more guts, you’d let it slip into your mouth, but you’re still afraid he’ll pull back if you make a wrong move, so you just let him caress your mouth tenderly.

"Whatever you’d like," you answer just as quietly, and you know it sounds sexual, but you mean it in every way – if Joel wants to be nothing but your professor, you’d take it, and if he wants to keep you here in his house indefinitely, you’d let him. Joel keeps looking at you, taking you in as if he’s considering whether the risks outweigh whatever magnetic or gravitational pull the two of you have between you.

"Stay," he say after a while, and although his face looks slightly regretful, his voice is determined, "just…sleep here tonight. I like havin’ you here."

You want him to kiss you, to pull you onto his lap on the couch, to take you upstairs right now, but Joel seems to be restraining himself, so you just nod.

"Me too," you whisper, echoing his words back to him, and for just a second, his thumb digs into your lip a little harder, but then he pulls away.

"Testin’ my goddamn restraint," he mutters, and takes a step away from you. "I’ll get you something to sleep in."

***

Joel gets you one of his band tees you love so dearly, and just the idea of being enveloped by something that smells like him all night makes it a little easier when Joel tells you he’ll take the couch instead of inviting you to sleep with him in his bed.

"No," you say softly, "it’s fine, you just sleep in your bed, Joel. I’ll take the couch."

He looks critical, so you offer him a soft smile.

"I don’t know if your back could take it," you tease, and he seems torn up between laughing and frowning. In the end, he just shakes his head, mutters something that sounds a lot like bad fuckin’ idea, and gets you a blanket and pillow.

He brings you a clean toothbrush and towel, let’s you use his bathroom (you look at the shower the entire time you’re brushing your teeth, trying hard not to think about what Joel looks like using it in the mornings), and when you’re done changing, you unlock the door again.

He’s there, sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes trailing over your form in his much too big shirt. It’s long as a dress on you, coming down to your naked thighs. Joel visibly swallows and gets up from the bed.

"You got everythin’ you need?"

"Yes. Thank you, Joel."

There’s a beat of silence and you almost think Joel’s about to cross the room, but he just runs his palm over his beard the way he always does, and nods.

"Alright. Just shout if there’s…well, you know. I’ll be here."

"I will."

"Alright. Okay…goodnight, kid."

"Night," you almost whisper, voice soft, and right before you reach the door, Joel clears his throat.

"I…you were right about dinner and the movie. I wasn’t just tryin’ to be friendly," he says quietly, and your stomach swirls. Before you can walk over to Joel and do something about it, he sighs.

"Sleep tight, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

***

You wake to the sound of something dripping, and when your eyes flutter open, you can see Joel’s back from the kitchen. He’s wearing his work outfit again, a white button down and dark pants, sleeves rolled up. It smells like coffee, and with a smile you realize he must be brewing his beloved coffee – no machine, just a filter. He looks broad, even from your spot on the couch, and you enjoy peeking in on him. You study his movements, the way he reaches for a cup, how his fingers absentmindedly drum on the kitchen counter while he waits.

When he turns around, his eyes find yours, and he smiles.

"Mornin’. Did I wake ya?"

"’S fine," you yawn, pulling the blanket up to your chin, not yet ready to get up. "I have classes at ten anyway."

"’S eight," Joel tells you, "Coffee?"

"Yes please," you answer, and stretch your limbs under the blanket.

Joel brings you a cup, complete with a little bit of milk and sugar, and you move your feet so he can sit down on the couch.

"Sleep well?"

You sip your coffee, let it burn your tongue and close your eyes at the taste. When you open them, Joel’s gaze lingers on your face.

"Yeah," you answer, "thank you for…you know."

He nods, takes a sip of his coffee, and looks at his lap. He looks like he wants to say something, but he’s very quiet, and you feel anxiety bubbling up in your stomach.

"Joel, do you want me to leave? It’s fine if you do," you ask him softly, not wanting to make things awkward for him. It would be rational of him to ask you to leave, the smart and ethical thing to do.

"No," he answers quietly, still not looking at you, "I want you to stay."

Stay? On a Tuesday morning, after you almost kissed him and he told you he couldn’t do that, after you spent the night on his couch? When you have classes in two hours, haven’t showered yet, are half naked and wearing his clothes, on his couch under his blanket? When you’ve got friends wondering where you are and probably ten unanswered messages from Alva?

"Alright," you say, agreeing as easy as breathing.

Finally, he looks up, and his expression is so conflicted you reach out for him. Your hand finds his and you squeeze it. He keeps looking at you, his hand limp in your grasp, as if any movement of his muscles would incriminate him.

"You shouldn’t," he tells you earnestly. "Stay, I mean. You shouldn’t stay."

"I know."

You don’t let go of his hand. He doesn’t move his away.

"It’s a really, really bad idea," he adds, and you’re not sure who he is trying to talk out of whatever this is. "It’s risky. Could blow up both our lives."

"Yeah," you say, and watch him sip his coffee, "okay."

Then, a tentative flex of his fingers against yours, and finally, he’s squeezing your hand just as tightly, and before you can process what that means, Joel is leaning over you, dangerously close. Your breathing quickens, you register how soft his hair looks, how strong his hand is. He leans in further and you sit up a little, still cocooned in his blanket. His face is close to yours, his eyes fiery with something you can’t pinpoint, and you sigh, when he closes the gap between you.

He tastes of coffee and toothpaste, and you wish you’d gotten the chance to shower, but the thought disappears almost immediately when you hear Joel groan. His kisses you languidly, deeply, and your fingers come up to his beautiful arm, barely wrapping around half of his biceps. He cradles the side of your face, pulls you closer, makes your stomach clench with need. It feels inevitable, the way he touches you, like you only exist in a physical form to be touched by him.

His free hand peels the blanket off your body, lets it slide to the floor without ever stopping his the kiss, and you moan softly, when his hand touches your waist. The sound makes him break away, stare down at you, pupils blown wide.

"Fuck, you look good in my clothes," he mutters, nudging your jaw with his nose, and pressing a kiss there. "You should really, really go home."

Your head falls back slightly to give him better access to your neck, and he brushes his lips over your pulse point. Your heart skips a beat.

"I – I know," you breathe, fingers digging into his arm. His beard scratches your skin deliciously, and it takes everything in you not to whimper or beg. Joel’s hand slips under your shirt – his shirt – and instead of finding your waist again, he digs his thumb into your hip, stroking the fabric of your cotton panties. The fire in your stomach burns brighter, and you almost buck up into him. Joel Miller, the Joel Miller who until recently had a key to your childhood home, who lent it to you whenever you forgot yours inside – he’s sucking bruises into your skin, and toying with your panties. It’s dizzying, his familiar voice when he hums in satisfaction, even rougher than usually.

His fingers trace the waistband of your panties towards the front, until they find a small, silky bow, and Joel groans. He doesn’t take your underwear off, doesn’t even touch you where you need him the most, just keeps playing with the little bow, until your hips twitch without your permission. A little lower, and he would be able to feel how wet you are, how wet you have been all night. You didn’t do anything about it, not while you were a guest in his house. It would have felt wrong. You can’t imagine anything feeling more right than Joel’s mouth and hands on you, though.

"Jesus," Joel curses, "I should stop bef–"

"No," you whine, all dignity turned to hot air by Joel’s fingers, "please, Joel, please don’t stop."

He curses again, and moves his big body so that he’s not just hovering above you, but actually on top of you, your thighs falling open for him easily. At the movement, his shirt hikes up your thighs, and you know you’re basically on display for him, your soaked underwear leaving little to the imagination. He’s still fully clothed, his perfect button down all wrinkled now.

"Look at you," Joel breathes, lightheaded with desire, "this all for me?"

So he saw, when you moved to accommodate his broad form, saw how soaked you are, knows you ruined your panties just because he kissed you.

"Yes," you breathe, "yes, please–"

Before you can beg further, his finger presses down on your clit, and he watches your face contort in pleasure, as it shoots up your spine. You whimper, staring into his eyes, and he stares right back, as you start to grind your hips against his palm.

Your head feels blissfully empty, all worries about this relationship, uni, your parents, gone from you with a simple, practiced movement of his hand. The whimpers keep falling from your lips, and Joel curses.

"So beautiful," he mutters, "tell me what you need, angel."

It’s not a question, it’s an order.

"I – fuck, I need you i–inside," you groan, and Joel’s lips find yours again.

"Yeah? Need me to fuck you good, even though they’ll throw us both out?"

It shouldn’t turn you on. You’re jeopardizing both your own and Joel’s career, and he’s turning it into dirty talk. Still, your pussy doesn’t lie, and the way it throbs for him, aching to get him inside, makes all doubts disappear from your mind.

"Yes," you answer, unable to say much more as Joel keeps drawing tight circles into your clit.

Your hands drift from his arms towards his front, and Joel curses, when you paw at his belt buckle. It takes you a second, but then it’s open, the sound of the metal exciting you – it sounds like a promise.

Joel finally tugs your panties down, and for a second you’re self–conscious about not being clean shaven, but the second he sees you bare and glistening for him, his fingers dip into your folds, gathering your wetness with no hesitation.

"Fuck me," he groans, bringing his hand up to his face and tasting you, holding eye–contact the entire time, "prettiest pussy I’ve seen in my life."

You twitch under him, dragging your gaze away from his eyes and to his fingers. A moan escapes you, your hands have gone slack on his waistband, and Joel smiles down at you. Then, he does the same motion again, drags the tips of his thick fingers through your sticky arousal, but instead of sucking them clean himself, he holds them up to your mouth. His eyes burn, when you wrap your lips around them without a moments hesitation, and he feeds you your own slick.

"Taste so sweet, huh?"

You don’t answer, just swirl your tongue around his fingers, and suck on them. Joel watches your mouth intently, lets you take your time.

"Good girl," he praises you, and you clench around nothing, "so fuckin’ needy for me."

He drags his fingers from your mouth, and finally pushes into you, the stretch much tighter than with two of your own. Your head falls backwards, and Joel curls his fingers.

"No, baby, look down here," he orders, and immediately you lift your head again, and watch him pump two thick digits in and out of you. It’s dizzying to think it’s the same hand that waved to you from over his fence for years and years. You feel a coil building in your stomach, and you moan.

"Fuck, Joel," you moan, his name leaving a delicious aftertaste in your mouth. His beautiful forearm flexes with every movement, your slick is dripping down his fingers, and those damn sleeves are still perfectly rolled up.

With a few more curls of his fingers, you gush around him, barely having time to warn him, and he praises you, calls you his good girl, drags his fingers against that spongey spot inside of you until you see stars.

When he slips his fingers out of you and holds them up to your face again, you clean them up with your mouth as Joel watches with bright eyes. To think that he’s the same man who taught you Dirac not twenty-four hours ago – already, you want him inside again. When you’re done, he fumbles with his own clothes, and you watch him this time instead of helping.

"You look so good like this," you mumble, eyes raking over his broad form, "Professor."

His eyes snap up to yours, and you grin.

"Fuckin’ Christ, kid," he mutters, popping open the buttons on his shirt, "you can’t say shit like that."

"You don’t like it? You know, I watched you during your lectures and dreamed about…well, about this."

His expression is unreadable, but if you’re not mistaken, his hands move even faster now, and then he shrugs out of his shirt. You almost moan at the sight of his naked torso, so broad and solid.

"You need to pay attention in class," Joel answers, as he opens his pants. Your breathing grows a little shallow when he reveals his boxers underneath, his bulge huge.

"Can’t," you mumble, "not with you looking like this."

He chuckles at that, at the honesty and need in your answer.

"Don’t worry," he says softly, "I’ll fuck it outta you. Won’t be needing’ me in class, not if I’m still leakin’ out of you."

Your lips part, your pussy clenches – a smile tugs on the corners of Joel’s mouth at your reaction. He drags down his boxer shorts, and your eyes snap towards his cock, so thick and dripping in precum. You whimper, you can’t help it, and Joel’s smile widens.

"We’ll make it fit, baby," he says, reading your mind, and then bends down and kisses you again. You try to tug your shirt upwards, but Joel’s hands find your wrists and he holds them tight.

"No, want to fuck you in it," he breathes against your lips, and you press your hips upwards until he groans. He pumps his fist over his cock a couple of times, and aligns it with your entrance.

"Deep breath, baby," he mutters, and you obey, staring up at him as he starts pressing into you. It’s tight, much tighter than his two fingers, and your eyes glass over with pain, but Joel goes slow. His hand strokes your tummy, helps you relax, while he pushes on consistently. You feel like he’s punching the air from your lungs, eyes wide with the stretch of him, as he nips at your jaw and neck to distract you.

"Know it’s a lot, but you can take it, angel."

"Y-yes," you moan, and screw your eyes shut, "please don’t stop, Joel."

 Joel’s breathing is ragged with restraint, and suddenly his hips snap forwards – and he’s fully buried inside of your tight body, nestled right against your cervix.

"Back to Joel, are we?" he teases, and gives you a couple of seconds to get used to him. You whimper and claw at his arm.

"I – ah – I’ll call you Professor Miller ’f you want," you slur, as he starts dragging his cock out of you again. You tremble under him, the feeling almost more intense than when he pushed inside of you.

"Yeah? That get you off? Or – fuck–  is it the fact that I’m friends with your parents?"

It really, really should be a turn off, to be talking about your parents right now, but the way Joel says it, the way he points out just how debauched it is what you’re doing – you can’t help but moan. You blush, too, can feel the heat in your face, but you’re tired of being ashamed of wanting him the way you do.

"Both," you answer, and this time Joel groans, his hips snapping into you at a rougher pace. The head of his cock hits your spot every time, and you let out little sounds of pleasure with every drag of his cock, unable to form a coherent sentence. Joel’s hand finds your clit again, rubbing circles as his other one pressing down on your stomach.

"Feel that?" he asks you, and you do, you feel him all up in your guts, "you take it so well baby, take all ’f me."

"Yes," you answer, eyes glassy with pleasure, "want all of you, Joel."

He bites your shoulder, keeps rutting into you, and soon you feel another orgasm building.

"Close – ah – so close," you whimper, and Joel speeds up his thrusts just slightly. You clench around him, right on the edge.

"Come for me, angel, give it to me."

You do, your hips bucking, back arching.

"Ah – fuck, Joel, Prof–"

"Say it," Joel orders, fucking you through the waves of pleasure.

"Professor."

He comes, too, twitching deep inside of you and spilling rope after rope of come. It feels right, like you’re his. His groan is rough, his thrusts sloppy, and you feel your pussy spasm around him in a third, weaker orgasm, or maybe it’s just aftershocks from your second. You’re limp underneath him, letting him use your body how he needs to.

"Fuck," he curses, "did so good for me."

He slips out of you, and you can feel his spend drip out of you. You’re weak, soft like jelly, sweaty and entirely satisfied.

"Jesus," you breathe, when he falls down next to you, his couch mercifully being big enough.

"Yeah," he answers, "Jesus."

***

Turns out, Joel Miller is a dirty talking bastard during sex, and a big softie afterwards. He makes you tea, strokes your hair while you sip it, then carries you up to his shower and gently washes your body his his sponge. Throughout, he’s quiet, and you wonder if it was too much, the mention of him being your professor, of your parents, but you’re too afraid to ask. He brushes your forehead with his lips when he dries you off, and pulls another of his shirts over you head. Your panties are entirely ruined, it’s all you’re wearing.

When you’re clean again, and relaxed, Joel pulls you onto his bed, wrapping you up in his arms.

"Did you…was that too much?" he asks you softly fingertips tracing over your thigh lazily.

"It was just right," you answer quietly, and he hums.

"You didn’t feel like you…I mean when you called me Professor, you wanted to do that, right?"

You look up at him, and press a soft kiss against his jaw.

"Of course, Joel. Wanted everything we did, I promise."

He nods, but you can tell there’s still something bothering him.

"You know that’s not what you are to me, though, right?" Your voice is soft. "You’re just Joel."

He brushes the top of your head with his lips.

"I mean it," you press on when he doesn’t answer, "it’s like a costume, Joel. I know it’s your job, but it’s…I don’t think of you as like, an authority figure or something. I just thought you looked hot in that slutty shirt."

"Slutty–?" he sputters and you laugh.

"Sure, you know, with your sleeves rolled up, and that first button popped open."

"’S not slutty."

"You showed your forearms. Half the lecture hall felt like a victorian man seeing ankles for the first time."

Joel makes an exasperated sound, half amused and half offended.

"I mean it," you say again after beat, humor gone from your tone, "and it’s not just sex to me. You know that."

"Yeah," Joel answers slowly. "’S more to me, too."

It’s a hell of an admission.

"What are we gonna do?", you ask quietly, and Joel sighs.

"You’re gonna go to class," he says, voice dark, "and I’ll try very, very hard not to call your father and tell him I’m fallin’ for his daughter."

You bury your face in his chest. With anyone else, it would be too much, too fast, too intense. But this is Joel. It’s not fast if you’ve known him your whole life, is it? You kiss his chest, and he seems to understand.

"We’ll figure it out," Joel says quietly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

For a second you do want your parents to know, want them to see that someone does treat you like an adult, want to look them in the eye and say I’m with Joel now and there’s nothing you can do about it. I have my own life now and it includes this kind man. It’s childish, you know it is. You lean up, catch Joel’s mouth in a kiss.

"Yeah," you answer, “We’ll figure it out, Professor.”

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: What’s an adoption paper or two between bros?

Danny is starting to realize that since Jazz left the house for university, his parents aren’t really good at well, being his parents. They’re obsessed with his alter ego to the point that they ignore his normal ego, and that uh, hurts his feelings. Like, a lot. Meal times have gotten weirder and more inconsistent, and he’s starting to wonder if they suspect what’s really going on with him.

They’ve started to say “You know you can tell us anything” these days when he sees them outside their lab (which isn’t frequent) but the normal amount of ghost hate speech hasn’t changed. If anything it’s gotten worse. Just like everything else.

Danny joined the whole-ass justice league to fill his spare time after high school and his parents are literally none the wiser. Like, he's a part time high-school senior at 17 and a full time international hero. His parents only comment on the fact that the menace Phantom is costing them a lot in airline tickets as they try and apprehend him all over the world. Hell, they caught Ellie for a second when he was in Morrocco and it got ugly fast. She's a junior member now but mostly spends her time with some doofus that has a magic traveling house.

And really, he's fine with his schedule of going to school, going ghost and making a difference, and then returning to a dramatically silent house. Really.

Then one day his new friend and co-team lead Red Robin makes a brief mention about his own childhood of neglect and Danny makes a joke, "What, no adoption papers for the homies?"

He laughs as he says it but something in his leader's eyes looks sharp, and Kon is sighing in the background something that sounds suspiciously like dear Rao you've done it now.

Next time Danny is on the Watchtower, he's brought into a meeting with Red Robin, Batman and various other JL team leaders.

"Adoption papers are very much for the homies. I've also included the option of emancipation, as you'll see in the green folder, but I am one hundred percent serious about adopting you."

"Red, you're like, 3 months younger than me." Danny deadpans.

"Adoption is for the homies and I'm emancipated. And If i'm reading Batman correctly, you're facing three outcomes right now."

"Three?"

"One: I adopt you and you become my legal dependent. Two: Batman adopts you and I become your legal brother. or Three: You emancipate yourself while allowing us to provide for you while your housing situation is sorted out."

"... Uh. Door one?" Danny is having too many feelings. Why does batman look disappointed? What is Jazz going to say? What on earth???

"Welcome to the Drake Family." Red shakes his hand up and down, the grin on his face feral and the plan towards being emancipated from the Fentons and adopted by his boss is a weird one.

But eventually, a few weeks later, he's had a pretty delicious dinner by his new adoptive grandfather-tler and is watching a movie with Tim and Kon on the couch and he's just so happy and comfortable and warm...

"Will this make Kon my dad if you two get married?" Danny laughs and it's the closest he gets to being disowned.

[love-and-war-on-cybertron]

Teach a bot to kiss: Rodimus

I rewrote this a couple times and I might just do so again. buuuuut for now.~

Rodimus taps against his desk, venting out a rush of hot air. His focus is far from the stack of data pads and he is trying to keep it even further away from the human sitting on said stack. Your focus is on your own human size data pad, trying to help him out. Optics lingering on your mouth, your lips. The shape, the color, the way they purse when you're thinking too hard. He wonders if they are as soft as your hair. Or more plush like your body when he carries you. Your lips move as you silently read to yourself, a flicker of your tongue behind teeth makes Rodimus give up any attempt to focus on work.

A few nights ago, Swerve hosted a human movie night. You had called it a rom com. Swerve and you loved it. Most were perplexed, but the snacks and drinks were worth a stay. Then there was the scene where two characters embraced each other and started smashing their intakes together. Being the only human aboard, and thus defacto human expert, the bots asked you questions about the strange act. The closest any of them came to understanding your flustered explanation was a data transfer without cables… and data. Just sensitive nerves of the lips.

Rodimus spent every night since tracing the lines of his derma, wondering what it would feel like to kiss. More specifically, what kissing YOU would feel like. Curiosity leading to more research of rom coms. More research leading to more curiosity. Curiosity leading to want. There was one teeny tiny problem. Actually there were multiple problems, including the fact he was the captain of the ship. No doubt in his mind that Ultra Magnus could pull at least ten codes on what that was not permitted from his memory. The biggest problem, is the smallest.

You. You are small.

Most organic species are diminutive compared to Cybertronians, humans especially so. Rodimus thinks it's adorable, who knew there was something smaller than a minibot? You are tiny and soft and fragile. One wrong swipe of his hand had already sent you to the med bay. If he picks you up and squeezes too hard, if a bot isn't paying attention to where they are stepping, if you fall off their shoulders. Just being around his kind is risky. When has Rodimus ever shied away from risk?

It wasn't like you two hadn't been dancing around some sort of mutual attraction. Snarky innuendos, compliments, any excuse to spend time together. There was something there. Rodimus may not be able to do a data transfer with you, but he had a mouth, and you had a mouth. could he kiss you? Would his size be an issue? what if he didn't like it? What if you didn't like it?

"Can you show me how to kiss?"

Looking up from the datapad, you give Rodimus a questioning look. Clearly doubting you heard correctly, "What?"

He carefully takes the datapad between his thumb and index, placing it to the side, his optics focused on you, "Show me how to kiss, like in the movie."

"Oh… Oh um…. wow." You take a moment and run your hand over your hair, "You want to… learn how to kiss?" He could practically hear you panicking internally. See your temp rise the same way it did when he would teas you.

"Yeah. Cultural exchange." Rodimus chuckles, tapping his digits against his face plate. The way he says that has you narrowing your eyes and catching onto his game.

"Cultural exchange?"

"Cultural exchange."

"Alright… pucker up."

After explaining why you said that, a little bit of snark, and a little bit of thinly veiled flirting; Rodimus had you in his hands, lifted up to reach him better. Your eyes flickering over his helm, his finials, the lines of his hands. Anywhere but his optics.

"Nervous?" he asks.

You pause, a hand on his chassis to steady yourself. Eyes finally meeting his gaze, "Yeah…"

His spark flutters at the soft tone you take. "Yeah… me too." Rodimus watches as you find a comfortable position, glancing up at him. He doesn't want to say too much and make you change your mind. "I'm gonna… just… you stay still, okay?"

Rodimus nods and keeps himself still as possible, feeling the rapid beat of your heart through your hands on either side of his face plates. Carefully lifting yourself close, his other hand comes to steady you. It reminds him how fragile you are. A kiss to his chin doesn't give much sensation, but Rodimus' spark still jumps and chases his thoughts away from those thoughts. A kiss to his helm and he dims his optics with a hum. Intakes hitch when your lips find the corner of his mouth, making him turn his head. Brushing against your mouth before he jerks back.

"Sorry." He mumbles, shifting slightly. Patience was a virtue he struggled with. One kiss in and Rodimus wants more, to kiss you back, like they did in the movie. You just offer him another smile and kiss again. The metal here has some give to it, smooth, warmer than the rest of him. Which was a lot to say for a bot that already ran hotter than most. From the corner, to the center; small pecks trace the seam of his mouth.

Rodimus dares to give in and kiss you back, his movements restricted and stiff. Hand flexes slightly against your body. He doesn't like being passive, and shifts, hand still cupped against you to avoid another trip to medical. Every peck from you is followed but a gentle nudge back from him, the puckering eludes him. Doesn't stop the bot from pressing against your cheek, trying to mimic what you did earlier. It takes a couple tries to properly judge how much pressure he needs. It's more nuzzling that your typical kiss. A good first try for a cybertronian. Soft. So soft. All of you, but your lips especially so. Rodimus gets bold, trailing kisses. With enough nuzzling to find the right spot, your neck. His engine revs in response to your gasp. That was a good sign, he was doing something right. Another and your muttering something, pushing him away.

"That's for another day Roddy." You press your forehead to his chin and ignore his pout.

Rodimus presses a kiss to your cheek again and you can feel him purse his lips, getting a little better, "So I'm the greatest kisser you ever had, right?" "Oh my god…"

[enwoso]

how do i say goodbye | alessia russo

WARNINGS: upsetting themes, talks of death, overdose, suicide, grief etc. please do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable.

masterlist

read pink skies first before continuing!

"so how you feeling?" alessia asked a slight wince on her face as she asked, she knew it was a sensitive topic. something you always tried to deflect whenever asked but she wasn’t asking about you personally - well maybe she was kind of - but she was more directing it at your injury.

as she flopped onto her bed in the room she’d called home for the past five days while being on international camp. you on the other line, your room dimmed as you lay in your bed the soft hum of your tv playing in the background. the room you hadn’t left in three days.

getting called up to play for you country was a special feeling that never went away each time it happened but playing with your best friend for england, well there was no feeling like it.

so naturally when alessia seen your name also on the team sheet she was ecstatic, however that quickly went away within four hours as it was quickly announced that you’d withdrawn because of a knee injury and would instead spend the international break rehabbing at arsenal.

alessia had, had her suspicions about your knee injury that seemed to of popped up out of nowhere but nevertheless pushed it to the back of her mind and instead just focused on trying to help you get back into the swing of playing football again.

little did alessia know in that moment was that you’d already played your last match together.

“yeah it’s- um its getting there” you nodded, but it coming out as if you were trying to convince yourself that your knee was getting there. alessia humming with her usual bright smile as she gave you some positive notes to help spur your recovery on quicker. the words going over your head quicker than she said them.

alessia spent the next hour telling you everything that had happened that day, like she’d done the past five days. filling you in on every detail from the silly jokes ella had told her that made her laugh, to her telling you about how grace reminded her of a sloth cause of how long she’s hug her for to even the coffee she’d drank this morning with lotte.

you sat listening to her little ramble, the way she couldn’t tell you the jokes ella had told her without a giggle slipping out in between each word and the way she tried to sound so agitated by graces hugs you could see the adoration in her eyes and the way her lip quirked.

some of her words morphing into one as you lay, an empty feeling filled your chest as you laid in your room, the same hoodie on with the same toothpaste stain on it, your hair in the same messy bun from days ago that your hood covered.

“and your still coming to watch tomorrow right?” alessia asked, the match being a late afternoon kick off at wembley as you hummed a small response as alessia’s smile grew just that little bit bigger.

“yeah.. think leah said she had the tickets and all that sorted” you told alessia as she made a little joke about your organisation skills, you not being one for planning more just someone tells you the time and date and you would show up.

“good, well i’ll come by yours after and we can watch man on fire” alessia smiled, knowing a groan was going to come from you about the choice of movie. it being the blondes favourite at the moment meaning you had seen it at least six times already.

“you and that film! i’ll agree only if you bring the jammy dodgers!” you say with a small smug smile, knowing the blonde couldn’t resist and the fact they were your favourite biscuits — alessia couldn’t say no.

“fine! i’ll stop on the way and get them for you!”

YOURNAME🩷 good luck today lessi, go show wembley how much of a star girl you are!

delivered 01:44pm

YOURNAME🩷 and sorry i can’t make it to see you play — just not feeling too good today.

delivered 01:45pm

maybe if alessia had of seen that message the day wouldn’t have progressed the way it did but she’s didn’t see the message. she thought you were sat in the stands with leah, like you’d told the blonde the night before.

instead the game kicked off, the scheduled time of two thirty. alessia in the starting line up even getting herself a goal as she celebrated with the fans and her teammates. pointing to the corner where you were supposed to be sat.

expect you never got to see the goal.

as what alessia didn’t know was that while she was kicking a ball around a pitch in front of ninety thousand people that there were a group of paramedic’s trying to shock some life back into your body.

coming to the end of the game the team was doing there usual lap of honour as alessia spots leah in the corner of her eye with one of the coaching staff which works with england but as the blonde scanned the area for your face you were no where to be found.

“leah? where’s y/n?” alessia asked concern laced her voice. a small flash of confusion took over leah’s face as she paused her conversation with the staff member, “did she not tell you?”

“tell me what exactly..?” alessia trailed off hurrying leah into an answer as she didn’t exactly know what leah was trying to get at.

“that she couldn’t make it, said she didn’t feel too great. i thought you knew already, she told me she had messaged you” leah shrugged before walking off and leaving less stood slightly confused - did leah not ask why you weren’t coming?

“wait- leah…” alessia called out but leah couldn’t hear the blonde. an uneasy feeling took over alessia’s body. something didn’t feel right as the whole stadium seemed to fall silence in her ears as she made her way over to the tunnel. the fans scream for her as well as a couple of her teammates calling out her name but it was no use alessia didn’t hear them.

getting back to her spot in the changing room, she rummaged through her bag for her phone. a sigh leaving her lips when she saw your message but still her mind was still filled with panic.

it wasn’t like you to just message out the blue that you weren’t coming to the match and even if you couldn’t make it you’d watch and live update her through messages.

alessia refreshed her phone thinking maybe your live updates hadn’t come through but no, nothing. just the two messages.

by this point the rest of the team was coming back into the changing room as alessia rushed around trying to get changed and on her way to your apartment. her mind not seeming to be able to rest without knowing if you were okay.

“less you don’t need to be in that much of a hurry we aren’t going out till six!” ella joked as she sat beside the blonde, a little giggle coming from the brunette but soon her smile dropped when she saw her best friends look of panic.

“what’s wrong?” ella asked as alessia sighed, “nothing i just promised y/n i would go and see her”

“right. how's her knee?” ella asked as alessia hummed a small nod, “it’s good- erm i need to go tooney. i’ll call you later yeah” alessia rushed out and before the brunette even had a chance to respond the blonde was out the changing room door.

a few glances to the door from the other girls as they then looked to ella who just shrugged, not knowing the answer to their questions that their faces were asking without even saying a word.

three knocks of the door was all it took before the door slowly opened, a face appearing which was definitely not who alessia thought would be answering the door.

“oh- alessia?” your mum slight surprise in her voice, clearing not expecting the blonde to be stood at the door. alessia stood her hands filled with all your favourite things that you like when your not feeling too good as well as your beloved jammy dodgers.

“hey mrs y/l/n, is um y/n in- i told her i was coming by after my game..” alessia trailed off, noticing the slight change in your mums face. a sadder look appearing as your mum looked towards the floor.

“i’m sorry alessia, i think it’s best you come inside” your mum took a deep breath in as she moved deeper into your apartment, alessia clicking the front door shut with her foot.

there being a strange feeling in the air as she walked down the small hallway, it being littered with small reminiscences of you. your shoes that you would always leave by the door, alessia forever tripping over them any time she came over.

the place felt eerie as alessia followed your mum deeper into your apartment. alessia had a strange feeling in her stomach, the same stomach dropping feeling when you get caught breaking your mums case a child.

expect this was worse.

a vase could be glued back together. a life, not so much.

“take a seat love” your mum pointed to the couch as she sat on the one opposite alessia as she sunk into the soft couch.

your mum taking a few deep breaths still looking at the floor before looking up towards alessia, tears building in her eyes. alessia’s head was spinning, something had happened. but what, well she was probably wishing the day never happened.

“um there’s no way to really say this but- um y/n, she’s-” your mums voice was shaky as she spoke, alessia on edge as her knee bounced up and down awaiting the next words.

“is she okay?” alessia asked it coming out as a whisper as her bottom lip began to wobble, fear taking over her body. watching as your mum shook her head no.

“i’m so sorry less.. but she’s gone”

the words fell on deaf ears as alessia almost didn’t hear what your mum had said it seemingly not wanting to go into her head but once it did her body crumbled like a brick wall. as her tears fell, your mum getting up immediately and wrapping the young girl in a hug.

“no, no- she, no” alessia choked out over her tear as your mum tried her best to soothe alessia as they both cried in each others arms. "she's at peace now sweetheart" your mum whispered into alessia's hair as she soothed the blonde as she sobbed.

the pair stayed in each others arms both choked up with tears, as once grieved the lost of their daughter, their own blood while the other grieved the loss of their best friend, a sister maybe not by blood but sisters by hearts.

alessia was the first to move as she looked to your mum with puffy red eyes, your mums face mirroring the same puffy eyes. "how'd- she. just how?" alessia managed to get out, part of her didn't want to know how or what you suffered but the other part would put her head to rest knowing you were not longer in pain.

"she- overdosed, they tried - they really did try to save her but she was already gone" your mum explained as a shiver went down alessia's spine as an image appeared in her brain as she shook her head trying to rid of it.

"i should have realised- with the injury she supposedly had- i-" alessia rushed out as she brought her hands up to cover her face, a pout forming on your mums face.

"alessia its not your fault, you weren't to know, y/n wouldn’t have blamed you." your mum comforted the blonde englufing her in a hug, "she's no longer in pain anymore"

the two of them stayed like that for a few moments later until alessia calmed down a little, your mum offering to make her something warm to drink. the afternoon had been a lot of the blonde to have to come to terms with.

your mum had walked off to make alessia a cup of tea, the blondes eyes wet as her bottom lip jutted out as she wondered her way towards the bathroom, stopping slightly as she reached your bedroom door.

her fingers lingered on the door handle as hesitation filled her body wondering if she should actually cross the threshold. a small movement and her foot was across the carpet as she made her way deeper into your room. her eyes filling up with tears once again, it smelled just like you.

alessia's hand dragged across the bedding which was made neatly, the room was spotless which for you was a rare thing. the softness of the blanket as alessia gripped it, as her legs seem to get weaker and a single tear slid down her cheek as her body slipped down the side of your bed. she stayed in your room, not wanting to move from the comfort of what was once your space.

alessia couldn’t tell you how long she stayed slouched down the side of your bed, in your room. maybe it had been ten minutes, three hours or maybe even a week.

she’d sat and cried with your mum and then she came and sat in your room, where many of days and nights had been spent. alessia’s eyes felt heavy, they were dry and puffy and most definitely red.

as she sat taking in the memories as she stared at the wall where small little photos scattered across the wall, as sense of emptiness filled the room. replacing the usual warmth she would get each time she entered. boxes already filled the room with your things packed in like you had never even existed.

alessia sat her legs outstretched, her fingers toying with the edges of two letters one had just been folded over, the other had been placed in an envelope. alessia’s name written in the nearest of handwriting, a little heart as the dot on the letter i in her name.

she’d read the one that had just been folded over, it being a short goodbye letter. one you probably scribbled in less than twenty minutes but it did reference the other neater letter having the answers that alessia would probably want to the questions that circled in her head.

like why. why’d you leave so soon. why didn’t you tell alessia you’d been struggling for so long. just why.

but she couldn’t bring it in herself to even open the other one, she didn’t think her heart could handle it reading it right now.

“oh less, i’m so sorry” alessia’s head slowly turned to the soft coo of the voice, it was her mum. a sad smile across her face as carol came closer. alessia not making any attempt to move, she couldn’t.

alessia’s mum wrapping her in a tight hug as the walls crashed down again, “she’s gone mum, what am i supposed to do without her..” alessia choked out through tears and sniffles as carol shushed her trying to calm her daughter down.

“let’s get you home, yeah?” carol asked as she pulled away from the hug, alessia still filled with tears as she nodded. small hiccups coming from her as she tried her best to pull herself up from your bedroom floor.

the envelope still held tightly in her hand, as she took on last look around your room. knowing it would probably be the last time she’d ever step foot in there.

a heavy sigh coming from alessia as she looked towards the small teddy that was laid in your neatly made bed, a little bunny that you couldn’t sleep without. every away day, every tournament that small bunny would come with.

alessia took a step towards the little bunny teddy, a little hesitant at first but then slowly reached out to it picking it up and lifting it up to her face. the soft fur as it sunk into her skin, it still smelling just like you. it feeling like you were stood right in front of alessia and boy how much she wished you were and that this wasn’t the reality she was facing now.

but unfortunately it was.

the drive home was long even though it was only a fifteen minute drive, the rain tapped against the glass as carol tried her best to converse with her daughter but alessia was having non of it just the occasional hum as her head leant against the cold glass.

alessia felt empty. she'd cried enough tears to fill a bathtub twice over and now she just felt numb. her eyes were sore, red as well as puffy. she'd lost a part of her.

when alessia finally got home she changed into different clothes feeling a little lighter but her whole body soon felt heavy again as she sat on her couch, your small bunny stuffy in her hand as she looked at the photo of the two of you from the euros final that held pride of place on the blondes tv cabinet as the blonde picked at the food her mum had made for her.

“are you sure your going to be okay on your own less? i can-“ carol asked as she stood leaning against the kitchen island, having sorted out alessia some dinner making sure the blonde actually had a hot meal in her especially after todays events.

“yes! i’ll be fine mum, i just- just need some time. i’ll message if i need anything” alessia’s tone coming across as snappy at first but once she realised she mumbled a small sorry before her tone got softer again. carol opening her mouth to say something but alessia quickly shut her down. “i promise mum, i will”

with that carol nodded, making the blonde a hot drink before leaving, kissing alessia on her head as alessia watched her mum walk out of her front door, waiting the door to click shut.

as soon as it did, she scrambled around placing the hot drink on the coffee table as she found her phone. her eyes glossy as she tapped away at the screen looking for a certain contact, a voice she needed right now.

“hello?- less?.. less?” ella paused, a hint of confusion as to why alessia hadn’t said anything.

“ella-“ alessia voice was shaky and she knew if she said more than two words she’d crumble again.

“less what’s up? how’s y/n, how’s her knee?” ella rattled out as the background noise got quieter, alessia wincing slightly at the sound of your name as she let out a few sniffles — it obvious to ella that something was up with her best friend.

“less, what’s happened? are you okay?” ella spoke fast as she was trying to get answers to her questions. the panic in her voice was evident.

“its y/n- she’s- she’s um” alessia tried to get out fast as she sobbed but she couldn’t bring herself to actually say the word as it hadn’t even processed in the blondes head that you were actually gone.

“woah- slow down less, you not makin’ any sense!” ella tried her best to calm alessia down, telling her to take deep breaths on the other side of the line, as her mind raced with what the end of the sentence was going to be.

“y/n- she’s gone.”

“what do you mean she’s gone? gone where?” ella asked her mind freezing as it hadn’t clicked what alessia meant as in reality that was the last thing she expected her best friend to even mean never mind actually say.

“she’s dead, ella.”

alessia

liked by leahwilliamson and 1,092,635 others

alessia today has truly been one of the hardest moments of my life - stepping back onto the pitch and not seeing you there. not being there to walk out onto the pitch with. not being able to watch you eat your jammy dodgers on the coach there.

y/n, you were one of the truest friends i ever had.

when you lose a true friend, the hardest part isn't the big moments, it's the small ones - the ones you take for granted. it's the everyday things which were boring but they made so fun, and so meaningful.

we were european champions together, we travelled to the other side of the world and made it to a world cup final, we played together for the same club. we did so many cool things. but you know what i miss most?

is just seeing you everyday, sitting for hours drinking coffee, your passion, your energy each day even when maybe i wasn’t in the best of moods — you knew how to brighten my day.

you touched so many lives in just 24 years. you wanted to change the world more than anyone i've ever known. you wanted football to be for everyone. this is very close to my heart and everyone who knew y/n personally. i'll be honest it's taken me a while to actually type this, it's still very raw for me.

with y/n y/ln in your life you were never alone. she was always there for others, she always found a way. she was always the one cheering the loudest for others. if you could bottle her energy, the world would be a much better place.

but with a little help her spirit, her warmth, and her legacy will live on. we will make sure of that.

i'll miss you forever. keep painting the skies pink my friend. i love you.

with love, your alessia<3

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[starkspondwater]

how abt Kenny period comfort 😈

or whatever idk if you've written for Kenny...😭

Uh, yes i will write this! I made it fluffy because I feel like Kenny would be so sweet for this sort of thing! Also might've used my own experiences in this, so keep that in mind I used to lay on the bathroom floor a lot okay it helped

It's a little short, so I hope that's alright!

Summary: Period pains suck, but Kenny is too sweet a boyfriend not to help in any way he can! (fluff)

Warmth (Period Comfort)- Kenny McCormick

You groaned, hands grasped around your stomach as you tried to reel in your pain. 

This was something you had dealt with for a good portion of your life, beginning quite suddenly at 12 and continuing every month up to now. You should be used to it, but instead here you were curled up on the cold bathroom floor with tears spilling from the corners of your eyes. 

At least there was something nice about the cold tiles, soothing even. While your insides felt as though tiny gremlins were repeatedly stabbing you from the inside out, you could at least find comfort somewhere. If only that buzzing would stop, it was starting to get annoy- oh. 

Dragging yourself up off the floor and to the sink, you grabbed your phone and grimaced. 

1 Missed Call- Kenny <3

2 Messages- Kenny <3

You forgot he was supposed to come over today, your work schedules lining up for once to allow a mutual day off. When you suggested the plan to go out and see a movie as well as a little lunch Kenny had been so excited, eyes shining at the thought of spending time with you. And now your body is ruining it.

The relationship was still brand new, the two of you only seeing each other for about a month, but you could say with confidence that he’d been the best boyfriend you’d ever had. Kenny was attractive, that was a fact, but he was also incredibly attentive, reading you like a book even when you attempted to close yourself off. He was funny and flirtatious, but also earnest in a way that you didn’t dare doubt his intentions.

Your fingers hovered over the phone screen as you hesitated. It wasn’t like you were embarrassed to be on your period, it was a perfectly normal thing, just…with everything being so new, you didn’t want to overshare too much. You recalled how skeeved out past partners had been, and those had been much longer relationships. Sighing, you typed out a quick message saying you weren’t feeling well and left it at that.

_____

Loud knocking at your apartment door pulled you from your deep sleep on the couch. Slowly making your way to the door, you silently cursed whoever had the audacity to interrupt the one thing keeping your mind off of the pain. To your surprise, and slight horror, the offending party was none other than Kenny McCormick, a small smile on his face as he held a plastic bag in his hands.

“Hey, doll! How are you feeling?” Stepping around you into the apartment, he made his way to the small kitchenette, setting the bag on the counter. “I wasn’t sure what you would need so I just grabbed anything that I thought could be useful.”

You just watched as he emptied its contents, first some cough medicine, then some sort of decongestant, and with every item you felt a grin grow larger and larger on your lips until it eventually broke, laughter spilling forth. It took a few seconds before you could look at Kenny again, a warmth spreading in your chest at his concern.

“I’m uh…I’m not sick like that…” All of a sudden you felt bashful, your eyes darting to the side to avoid his own. This sort of thing was never the easiest to bring up, but if he cared enough to buy essentially a drug store for you, you at least owed an explanation. “I’m having cramps today. That’s why I cancelled.”

You watched as his eyebrows scrunched for a second, taking in what you said before smoothing out. He simply nodded in understanding as he finished up with the bag in his hands. 

“Aunt flow, huh? Should’ve told me, I could’ve bought something more useful,” with a chuckle, he opened up his arms which you happily stepped into. One thing about Kenny you thoroughly enjoyed was how warm he was, almost like a human heater. As another cramp rolled over you found yourself struggling to keep standing straight. “Whoa, you alright? Let’s get you laying down.” 

You weren’t entirely sure what to make of the blond man moving around your small home, you just knew you liked what you were seeing. Kenny had a focus about him you didn’t normally see, his carefree attitude almost always on display. Now, however, he was digging into a few drawers looking for the heating pad you were sure you had purchased when you initially moved in. 

“It’s alright, Ken, you’ve already done enough,” you said, watching from the blanket he had cocooned you in. On the coffee table in front of you sat a steaming mug of tea, the aroma warm and soothing. 

Kenny sat up from his hunched position in front of a lower cabinet, popping his back slightly. Now that he had discarded his jacket and hoodie, you could finally see those delicious arms of his, flexing slightly as he stretched them upwards.

“Well, didn’t hurt to at least look for it,” padding over, he moved around the blankets until he was practically underneath you before grabbing the remote. “What do you wanna watch?”

“Kenny…you don’t have to keep me company. I’ll be just fine on my own.”

“I know that,” flashing that signature smile of his, you felt yourself flush. “I want to spend time with you, whether that’s out and about or at home. And this way I can show off those sick boyfriend skills of mine!”

“Yeah, yeah, just put on whatever you want,” giggling you cuddled up to him, relishing his body heat. 

The movie was some sort of drama, not that you cared as you started to lightly doze. It hadn’t taken long for you to turn and rest your back onto his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist in a comforting embrace. It was easy, this sort of thing. With Kenny it always was. There was never any sort of pressure to be on all the time, he made it okay just to be. 

The pain in your lower stomach persisted, Kenny noticed, as each time another wave hit your body tensed. He wasn’t a stupid man by any means, he had girlfriends over the years and had seen how painful this sort of thing could be. While he knew he couldn’t just take away that pain, he at least wanted to ease it, if only that damn heating pad had actually been found.

Heat. A thought popped into his mind. He was an overly warm person, something you had lovingly mentioned several times now, and perhaps he could put that to use. 

You smiled as you felt one of Kenny’s large, strong hands settle onto your lower belly, warmth seeping from it right into you. It felt wonderful. Loving even. It was when you felt a slight pressure that your mind kicked on. The pain that had persisted through the day was still there, that wouldn’t go away for a while, but the sharpness behind it began to dull. 

“Is it helping?” You could feel the vibration of his words through your back as he spoke.

“Y-yes, it feels…so much better.” Something about the thoughtfulness in his actions had you feeling shy all of a sudden. 

“Good,” he hummed, his thumb rubbing into your stomach as he kept a constant pressure on you, “go to sleep, doll. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You couldn’t keep yourself from following orders even if you tried. As your eyes closed and slumber gripped you, the thought that maybe this dreaded time of the month wouldn’t be so bad anymore with him by your side. The last thing you felt were his lips pressing a kiss to your hair, the whisper of love so quiet you weren’t sure if you even heard it at all.

[nualaofthefaerie]

I just read your melvik headcanons, and I love them! They're just *chef's kiss*

Do you perhaps have some skyce headcanons for us?👀

Skyce! - SFW/NSFW headcanons ( •ॢ◡-ॢ)-♡

A/N: I've been itching all over to actually do the Skyce headcanons but every time I get lost in giggling and kicking my feet like crazy so instead of actually doing it I sit down to doodle them. I have like 4 other asks asking for Skyce headcanons and @acedragontype asked me also, so let's actually do it this time. Season 1 Skyce ONLY (Same as the Melvik ones, I assume exclusivity) headcanons because for season 2...you'll see, I have been working on something for the past three weeks. If I finish it will be so worth the wait.

Melvik version

Also THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO FUCKs WITH MY SILLY CRACKSHIP!!!

SFW headcanons

When Viktor first sneaks Sky into the Academy there is a period of time where Jayce disapproves of her involvement, especially because he thinks she is giving him the cold shoulder. Sky's first impression of Jayce is that he is a genius, although quite eclectic. That rubs her wrong. Mix that with the fact she is shyer than Viktor and these two get off on the wrong foot purely due to a misunderstanding.

The idea to incorporate plants as test subjects was Sky's. She spends about thirty minutes rambling about the ways the boys could use a certain strain of carnivorous plants, which forces Jayce to realise he had been a fool for ever doubting Viktor's judgement in hiring her as opposed to any of the Piltover pupils. When Jayce sides with her and convinces Viktor, their relationship becomes better.

Jayce helps in the botanic garden when the forge is too suffocating. It's a big and bright space and he can still use his physical strength to think and tire himself out so he likes it. Sky ignores that he prefers to do that job in the same way he does his forgery work - half-naked. She also ignores that it makes her heart flutter, constantly trying to remind herself that getting involved with the big boss is not good for anyone's resume, but he makes it VERY difficult on her.

They are quite oblivious to how close they are becoming because each of them thinks they have a crush on a different person.

Sometimes their age difference shows up in unexpected ways even though she's just two years younger than him. She'd make a trendy reference and he'd look at her dumb while holding his chin in faux thought (he has no idea what she just said. He's too much of a nerd to know anything 'trendy').

Ximena Talis LOVES Sky Young because she learns every dish Ximena teaches her and she is full of warmth and enthusiasm. She notices they have a level of chemistry but doesn't really say anything. They move in sync and they don't even notice, so Ximena thinks that if it's meant to work it will. They are both good cooks.

At some point, Sky begins spending more time with Jayce than Viktor simply because his schedule is fuller.

Both of them are cinephiles. Sky is certainly more pretentious than Jayce. He loves to watch all sorts of movies, and she has a more 'refined' taste. When their crushes didn't pan out they kind of thought they'd go through it together so they sat down to watch the Piltover equivalent of 'Mean Girls' (Sky had never watched it), but she was so sad she fell asleep on his shoulder. Jayce picked her up, carried her to his bed and slept on the couch (he too begins to ignore how much it makes his heart flutter in almost a childish way).

They are also very competitive at board games and Twister. Viktor and Mel usually tap out but these two will go on until their muscles are sore. Sky has better flexibility, Jayce is bigger so he takes up more space. She does cheat. She'd blow air into his ear or jokingly whisper something sexual into his ear to win. He never says anything because he's too busy blushing (she doesn't realise it has an effect on him)

She is almost like a shadow in public. It didn't bother him, but when he realised he likes her close to him he starts looking for her and gets frustrated and grumpy when he can't find her.

She finds his tick of rubbing his neck quite attractive, he finds her pushing up her glasses cute.

Despite looking very sweet, they bicker a lot over things that definitely don't matter cause they find it makes them run hot (especially before they ever make any romantic moves).

The one time he took her to a gala with him (Mel and Viktor did not have the time) she spent her entire time promoting the Hexpartners project. It was also the time they almost kissed but Jayce recognized he was too drunk and he was far too upright to take advantage of drunk Sky even though she consented. He takes her home while she giggles and tells him about how much she likes how he does different things and proceeds to list the most minuscule details about his behaviour.

They have been in the opposite situation as well. He has been drunk murmuring sweet nothings into her ear. She tosses it off to him probably mistaking her for Mel. (do you notice a pattern with these two?)

By the time they kiss, they're like kettles about to explode. Their first kiss happened at Jayce's apartment, during one of their weekend evenings. He wanted to show her the prototype of a vase for the flowers they use that could essentially water itself using Hextech. 'To make your life easier, you know. You already don't sleep enough.' he'd say and proceed to explain in detail how it works. She'd be so moved over the fact he thought about her, it would be an instinctive action, more of a peck and she immediately tries to apologise but it's difficult to apologise when a man the size of a mountain is kissing your apologies away. He basically crushes her into his arms upon the realisation kissing Sky Young is no longer off-limits.

There is no little spoon in their relationship because Sky sleeps on top of Jayce.

NSFW headcanons (now watch me lose my fucking mind)

Aftercare: Jayce Talis is the best aftercare giver in the game. He can get quite out there when he wants to pleasure his partner and that's not lost on him, so he makes sure there's water and something sweet by his bedside so she doesn't lose consciousness.

Body part: Those arms and slightly crooked smile could drive Sky crazy. Jayce loses his mind when she isn't wearing her glasses cause then she's bating those big doe eyes at him. When they fuck glasses are off no matter what. Also he takes off that fucking bun. He can't stand it. He loves to watch her curls bounce on top of him.

Cum: They don't mean to be messy, they promise they don't, but they are. She is on the pill, and although she tries to convince him to wear a condom that man has a creampie kink, there's no way she can convince him of anything. And one thing about Jayce Talis - he can be painfully convincing when he sets his mind to.

Dirty secret: They pretend like crazy in front of Viktor. They feign unfamiliarity but the moment he isn't looking Jayce would either sneak a hand around her throat, without any pressure or squeezing, just to prove he can and watch her expression grow stiff and frustrated.

Experience: Relative experience, they know what they're doing. Sky has had Zaun partners who've been quite...rude and rough with her so she can't really figure out how when Jayce is rough it feels good. Jayce Talis fucked bitches his whole life, I'm tired of pretending he hasn't.

Favourite position: If you ask Sky she prefers to feel his weight on top of her until it's suffocating, but Jayce loves when she clings to him so he prefers fucking her standing, while she holds on for dear life to his neck.

Goofy: they can be goofy in that Sky would get freaked if she's just hanging midair, but if the fucking is post argument it's deadly serious. She'll touch him a bit more, he'll squeeze a bit harder, a game that has to be won.

Hair: Jayce Talis grooms himself once every two weeks. He doesn't like hair on his face because it's not 'presentable' but he doesn't mind a well-maintained happy trail. Sky Young certainly doesn't mind it. She used to shave but switched to wax once every three weeks when she moved to Piltover, so some hair can grow but it's often little and more reminiscent of fluff than actual hair. Hair doesn't bother either of them, they're adults.

Intimacy: I've said it once, I'll say it again, they run St. Valentine's like the Navy. So they are very intimate. He'd steal a kiss when no one's watching, she'd rub his hand if he's nervous. That extends to their sex life. He'd whisper her worries away, she'd hold him impossibly close.

Jack off: Sky is a small hour of the night-pleasing herself type girl. Even if it's in her own apartment, she tries to keep very quiet, especially if her mind trails to his smile or his hands or his chest, like she is ashamed of how lewd her thoughts can become when it comes to him. Jayce is a rare mastrubator to me. He is more of a sufferer. He'd let the images run through his mind but would grip his working tools and go in the forge unless it was during one of those nights when she falls asleep on his shoulder or just looks at him for a moment too long, then he has to rub one off in the closest private space to be able to breathe.

Kink: Jayce is a pleasure dom to Sky, so overstimulation is a main kink. Another main of his is creampies, he loves to watch his cum trail down her trembling legs. He also has an unhealthy oral fixation (both giving and receiving). He likes to role-play situations in which she holds all the power over him and lets her do what she wants. Sky is not dominant by any means but she learns she enjoys to top once in a while. With time she develops a certain bratiness to her - deny his orgasm, scratch his back a bit too hard, mock him a bit, all in the name of her head being thrown on the pillow and fucked stupid. Oh, also both of them are really into shower sex for some reason. Really into it - wet and licking water off her collarbones, it turns them on.

Location: Jayce's apartment. Sky's is too small, he's too cramped in there they can't move freely. But Jayce's apartment is a sanctuary for both of them and his bed is big enough to toss each other around.

Motivation: If they argue, like actually argue, fucking is close. If Sky's cheating at a game, fucking is close. If Jayce rests his head on her shoulder and begins to nibble on the skin while she works, fucking is close. She's not good at expressing her needs explicitly but if she hooks a leg around him while they watch something, chances are she'll straddle his waist and kiss him without saying anything. It's embarrassing, but he doesn't need her to say it. He'll always ask her if she's sure and then they're off to the races.

No: He'll never in a thousand years take advantage of her nativity even if it turns him on, even if he finds her oblivious passion for her subject super hot, he would never ever take advantage of her boundaries. So BDSM is a no. She can do with him whatever, he doesn't mind, but he could not handle seeing her in pain. Even when she's asking for his hand around her throat, he never squeezes too hard like he knows he can and has done before. Sky is very strict about public PDA. Small caresses are fine, when her office door is locked it's okay, but nothing that could jeopardize their careers, reputations or projects.

Oral: Both of them have a thing for receiving and giving oral. Jayce would beg to eat her out if he has to, just to feel his nose pressing against her clit while she tugs on his perfectly ordered hair, moaning and pleading. Sometimes he'd eat her out to soothe his own unrelated frustrations. But there is nothing Jayce Talis loves more than to force Sky to sit on his face - suffocate him, hands wrapped around her thighs, pulling her as close to him as possible, pressure his head between her thighs, it's a sweet way to die. In return, he loves watching her work her mouth on him. She's far too good at sucking him off, it almost makes him jealous thinking she had to acquire this technique somewhere. In the beginning, he wasn't with deep-throating her, but as time went on he got comfortable with it. Watching her gag as spit and precum run down her chin and those pleading doe eyes looking up is enough to make him cum in minutes. He can fuck her for hours, but if she puts her mouth on him he's a goner in minutes. Sky herself loves watching him eat her out messily, juices dripping down his chin, cheeks flushed as he always grips her as if she's a meal he can't afford to skip. She also learns to ride his face properly for her own gain as he tells her to. 'Don't worry about me' is their mantra when it comes to oral. It's a good day if her nose is pressed to the hairs on his pelvis, eyes rolled to the back of her head from the stretch on her throat. It's also a good day when she gets to tease him about how weak he is to her mouth. He'd cut himself or just run a loving hand on her cheek and she'd bite on his thumb or suck on it slowly just to prove she can and then let him go back to his duties. It's the only form of public teasing she is okay with but it's more than enough for him.

Pace: On special occasions, it's slow, deep and filled with loving confessions and giggling, but more often than not it's messy, fast and rough.

Quickie: Not big on quickies. They like to take their time, to taunt each other physically, to watch their eyes grow droopy from pleasure and overstimulation. If it's too much or they need fast relief they masturbate.

Risk: Not very big on risks. Jayce wouldn't mind if Sky didn't mind as much as she did, but he respects her wishes.

Stamina: That man is a bull. And you know what? Sky Young can handle going for seconds and thirds. They're both athletic and healthy. They match each other pretty well.

Toys: I don't see them being really into toys. More like they both have a clothes kink - her underwear in his pocket/or as a way to gratify himself, his tie to bind his hands to the bed frame or keeping her socks on when she wears those wool knee highs people wear inside the house during winter.

Unfair: To be fair he teases intentionally more than she does, but she is a bigger teaser unintentionally - she'd fix his cuffs without him having to ask, or grab his face when he wants to shave and do it for him, sway her hips, if it's really urgent she'd kiss his knuckles secretly to help him calm down before a speech (it riles him up). His teasing is more gently picking her chin here and there, a remark in her ear, those types of things. He'd leave himself looking a bit shabby to tease her about always making him look properly good.

Volume: Together they are very loud. He loves hearing her under him, it's like a reward for a job well done. During those times he's still more of a moaner and broken cries type of dude. (looks at s2 Jayce...he's a different story)

Wild card: She has shown to work with his shirt tugged in instead of hers without telling anyone (all of hers were dirty). It trickles into Sky Young role-playing as a councillor, wearing only Jayce's councillor coat while riding him into oblivion.

X-ray: As a friend said Jayce Talis packs a weapon we are not ready to discuss. Is it more girth or more length, god knows, but Sky Young will tell you she swears it gets to her stomach and she's not a short tiny little lady.

Yearning: Pretty normal I'd say, a few rounds like twice a week. Whenever, even though they always yearn for the touch of the other.

Zzz: Both of them are quick sleepers. They are more morning people than night owls. They fuck, they cuddle, giggle about something stupid and in 15 minutes they're both out.

A/N: You know my inbox is always open for Melvik and Skyce thoughts.

[thicc-ray-of-sunshine]

Does Your Mother Know?

Posting this on here since it's already up on AO3. I'll update this once I have the smut also but for now it's PG.

Summary:

Stan's first time back in Boston in more than 30 years. While trying to make his own fun some young wild thing approaches him at a bar, good thing he knows better. Right?

It was really weird being back in the city. Hell, he hadn't been in Boston for more than 40 years. Obviously he didn't really have much of an opportunity to travel after his second falling out with Ford, but before the portal he had been banned from the state entirely. For what he couldn't really remember, time sort of just slipped together after all these years. Plus some of his memories were still a jumbled mess knocking around in his skull even more than a year after the whole Weirdmaggedon escapade. Regardless, it didn't matter anymore since Ford had made a nice little arrangement with the Feds after the fact to wipe both their records clean from any and all of the criminal activity.

He wasn't quite sure what to do with himself now. They were making a pit stop here so that Ford could meet up with an associate, a doctor of some kind, someone he knew from his years in college. Didn't matter and it wasn't his business.

He needed a break from spending every waking second with Ford anyway and in all honesty he really didn't have the patience in him to wait out all the nerd talk that was bound to happen between the two. So here he was, wandering around the streets of downtown Boston aimlessly. He briefly considered going to a bar but a cursory glance around himself told him that most, if not all of the surrounding dives were college spots. He already felt out of place enough in the young crowd in his meandering outside, he'd stick out like a sore thumb actually in one of these places. A sour look crossed his face as he imagined himself sitting at a bartop, a room thrumming much too loudly with some pop song he'd never even heard of, shoulder to shoulder with kids just barely old enough to drink. No thanks, he'd pass on that. Maybe one of the Irish pubs? He cast a look at one of them, peering through the over the top banded windowpanes. Yeah, not interested.

Turning on his heel he started the trek back to the boat, it wasn't too far from where he was. Ford's doctor friend had directed them to berth her right past the aquarium where all them fancy yachts and houseboats were. He tried hard not to think about how lonely he was inevitably going to feel when he got there and Ford was still gone. Maybe he'd make the most out of it and grab a couple beers on his way back, make his own fun so to speak. While contemplating what kind of beer he should grab and from what cornerstore something caught his eye.

It was a woman. She looked completely out of place, possibly more than he did. Actually to be more accurate she looked out of time as she stood next to him. She looked like she had walked straight out of the late seventies. Wearing a wispy little dress that didn't go anywhere near her knees with long flouncy sleeves that fluttered as she walked and paired with a set of off white platform gogo-boots that accentuated her legs in a way that made his knees weak. He watched as she snapped her head right and then left; checking the street. Her hair bounced with the movement, swishing in the wind as she crossed. He was still watching as she met up with another similarly dressed woman outside of what appeared to be a nightclub or some adjacent venue, bouncing giddly as she brought the other woman into a tight hug before turning to the bouncer. Stan was in far too much of a trance to really feel creepy about the whole situation.

Looking up he could see the sign above the place, below the colorful lettering that labeled the building there was one of those old movie theater signs that told you what show was playing. In big black letters it read “Gimme Gimme Disco. Disco Night Tonite, $20.” He laughed to himself. Casting his gaze back downward he found that this somewhat-less-mystery-woman had gone inside, leaving him to consider his options. Without too much thought past ‘ah what the hell’, he crossed the street and reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet.

He was at least dressed for the occasion he thought as he crossed the threshold. He had on a pair of camel colored slacks with a matching suede jacket, brown leather shoes and a burgundy dress shirt. He had felt the need to be well dressed among Stanford's colleagues, wanting to seem more dignified than he actually was. He shook the nasty thoughts of his self worth out of his head as he walked towards the bar, unbuttoning the top three buttons of his dress shirt and adjusting the gold medallion around his neck.

Observing the scenery he could see that this was typically a music venue for small shows. There was a small stage area with a pit surrounded by a more elevated surface that wrapped around up to the stage where there was a full bar against both walls. Correct in his earlier assumption, the majority of the crowd was young, probably college age. Among them were some people his age, possibly a bit younger. There was no real congregation of the older folks in any particular place, which he had somewhat hoped for but oh well. He wasn't really planning on talking to many people anyway, just here for something interesting to do and a couple overpriced drinks. To soak up the feelings of nostalgia for a bygone era and wash away the lingering feelings of inadequacy with some most likely watered down liquor.

There weren't too many people actually sitting at the bar, most just taking their drink straight to the dance floor. So it was pretty easy for him to just sit and observe while he nursed a twelve dollar whiskey sour. The music was loud, enough to feel it in his bones as it rattled up his body from where his feet touched the floor but not enough to make his eardrums pop. Currently they were playing ‘Hot Stuff’ by Donna Summers which the women in particular seemed to enjoy.

It was a sea of glitter, bell-bottoms, boots and blazers. Every shirt was low cut, every skirt and pant flared. It was truly amazing how people could accurately recreate the discotheque look, hell even the smell of cheap cologne and hairspray was period-accurate. He had a feeling that this was a regular thing for some of the people here. He could see some clearly vintage pieces, all tassels and suede amongst a fair amount of cheesy Halloween costumes that just screamed tacky. As long as people were having fun he mused

He'd been there for a good bit into an hour before he saw you again. You hair was tousled and your face was flushed with exertion, clearly you had been dancing and perhaps a little tipsy. He watched you as you waited in line for a drink. You were still swaying a little bit to the music, the skirt of your dress fluttering hypnotizingly around your thighs. Stan shook his head, he shouldn't be looking at you like that, he didn't want to come off as some creepy old geezer. He really couldn't help it though, something about you was just mesmerizing to him.

You had made it to the front of the line, chunky earrings clacking loudly as your head snapped towards the direction of the person manning the bar. You said something to them that he couldn't make out, a compliment maybe, as you fished out cash from your small purse. He turned back to his drink sitting on the bar next to his arm, taking a lingering sip before going back to people watching. His breath caught in his throat when he looked up.

You were looking at him. Your pretty eyes sparkled, refracting the various colored lights that bounced across the room, as you flashed a coy little simper his way before making your way back out into the crowd with two drinks in your hand. For some reason seeing you with that second drink left a bad taste in his mouth. The idea that you had already found somebody to spend your night with came with a certain displeasure that he had no right to feel. Not for someone so young. You looked young at least, no more than late twenties he'd wager. Not being able to help himself; his eyes found you again.

You were leaning against the far wall near the stage area, talking rather animatedly to an equally young man. Your hand was on his shoulder as you leaned up to practically yell something into his ear, the music to loud to communicate in any other way. Stan's grip tightened on the cup in his hand, watching you give the man a cheeky look as he laughed at whatever you said. He didn't know why he felt jealous, he truly had no reason to be and he felt gross in doing so. He chalked it up to him feeling lonely and being surrounded by the echos of his youth, making him feel a tad emotional. One thing he couldn't blame it on was the alcohol, having only just started his second drink of the night. Feeling that much more sober when your eyes met his again through the throng of people.

This time however you did not pivot in your heels and sink into the crowd. His eyes followed you as you clapped the man on the shoulder, telling him something before settling your gaze back to where he sat at the bar. Stan felt panicked and feverish as you strode gracefully across the club floor towards him. He feared briefly that you were coming over to tell him off, yell at him maybe for being some perverted old creep. However, these thoughts were dashed as you threw him that look again, that same little smile from before. You were interested, he realized. He felt a nervous sweat bearing at the back of his neck at the thought as you hopped up onto the barstool next to him, placing an arm on the counter to balance your chin in your hand flawlessly.

“Well hey there stranger. Don't think I've ever seen your face in here before “

You batted long black eyelashes at him, the glitter on your eyelids shining bright in the club lighting. He swallowed back his nervousness as he remembered how to be suave.

"Just passin through.”

Deciding to play along, he turned up the charm. What harm could some casual flirting do? He took another long sip of his drink, lilting a brow at you as his lips turned into a smirk.

“Now tell me, what's got some hot young thing like yourself comin and talkin to an old man?”

He looked at you from over his drink, eyebrow still raised playfully as you smiled dazzlingly and put your index finger on your chin thoughtfully; pretending to think about it.

“I just thought you looked like a good time.”

The look you pegged him with had his throat feeling extremely dry despite the alcohol still on his tongue. He must've made a face because you laughed and patted the space on the bartop next to his hand

“It's alright sweetheart I don't bite.”

You waved your hand dismissively, clearing the air. The comment didn't make him any less nervous but he could feel the adrenaline zipping up his spine and mixing with the alcohol in his system; dispelling any real anxiety. He could play this game.

“Ya got a name Sugar? Or ya gunna leave me in suspense?”

He grinned as you cocked your head at him and let out an airy little laugh. Straightening your posture and shot out your hand to him, offering your name. He gave you his name in return, shaking your outstretched hand in his own larger one. Your hands were soft against his, long painted nails scratching gently against his palm as you withdrew.

“So Stan, what brings you to my part of town?”

His name sounded good in your mouth, sticky sweet as your free hand drew circles aimlessly onto the countertop with your nails. You listened intently as he told you about his twin brother, his big wig doctor friend and his afternoon in the city. You both chatted for a little while longer, joking and laughing together with ease. His nervousness had completely dissipated and was replaced by flirty banter.

Unfortunately this couldn't last. He was far too old for you. He had tried to sneak a peek at your ID when you had flashed it to the bartender when he bought you another drink but his cataracts wouldn't allow him to read the nearly miniscule text there. Even without that information he knew you were still far too young for him to be chasing, even if you were interested in him. That on its own was hard to believe, even with your hand placed atop his own on the bar. He was just too old.

His train of thought came to a grinding halt as a hand appeared on your shoulder; it was the man from before. He could feel his right eye twitch behind the frames of his glasses as the guy leaned down and closer to your ear to whisper something to you. His gut twisted as he watched you laugh and hit his lithe shoulder, the hand that was touching his own moving from its place as you stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of your dress. He forced a smile onto his face and schooled his expression when you put a hand on his shoulder, winking at him.

“You've been a real peach Stan. I'll try to catch you in a bit, I've still gotta make my rounds. It would seem I'm a very popular lady tonight.”

You gave him a little wave as you turned, hand in hand with the smooth young man to your left before disappearing into the thicket of dancing bodies on the main floor. He couldn't help but feel disappointed, the sudden lack of company opening up a hole in his chest that stung.

He felt foolish, some like some old man trying desperately to reclaim some part of his youth. Deciding to be an adult for once, he sighed and leaned heavily against the wall behind him.

It had been probably about thirty minutes since he had last seen you, popping in and out of conversations with probably about a dozen different people. It made him feel a little better knowing that you were actually a hot commodity and not just trying to find an out from talking to him. It wasn't hard to imagine that that's what you were. You were beautiful after all; and from what he could tell, witty and extremely amicable. It was rather enjoyable seeing you find friends wherever you found yourself within the space, even if it made him feel a little less special.

Out of the corner of his eye, through the mist of sequence and bell sleeves he caught a glimpse of that fluttery little dress again; finding you in the middle of the dancefloor. He was surprised to see you by yourself there after he had seen you chat up so many people. He watched as you swayed your arms and hips to the rhythm of the song, dancing gracefully under the light of the disco ball above you; shimmering almost angelically as the sleeves of your dress twirled around you.

The track switched again. From the first few notes and the peppy instrumentals he could tell it was another ABBA song.

"You're so hot, teasing me

So, you're blue, but I can't take a chance on a chick like you

That's something I couldn 't do"

The irony of his current predicament paired with the song choice was not lost on him; though he was left little time to think about it. His breath caught in his throat again as your head snapped back to the bar almost viciously, looking directly at the spot where you two had been chatting earlier. He observed with rapt attention as your eyes surveyed the surrounding area; landing square on him.

"There's that look in your eyes

I can read in your face that your feelings are driving you wild

Ah, but girl, you're only a child"

Your face breaks into a wide grin when you spot him, clearly very amused that he was looking at you already. You tossed a rather saucy look his way and started walking towards him. He just barely contained the lunch in his stomach that told him to run as you reached where he had perched himself. Wasting no time, you grabbed his arm and leaned in so your voice would reach his ears.

“Come dance with me!”

He very nearly gaped at you, just barely managing to keep a cool exterior as you hung off his arm. Not quite being able to grasp that you still wanted to spend time with him. He couldn't. More accurately, he shouldn't. He should walk away right now and leave you and your perfect self behind and go straight back to his boat. That's what he should do, but alas he was never a man known for his restraint. He knew he was a goner when you batted those big (Y/E/C) at him and fluttered your lashes exaggeratedly, feeling his restraint wash off of him like rain.

“Sure thing Sugar.”

He let you lead him to the dancefloor, eyes glittering with excitement. He couldn't help but match your giddiness as he slid next to you.

“Alright Stan, show me what you got!”

You were beaming at him as you started swaying your hips to the beat. This was something he could do, something to impress you. With a flash of teeth and a wink he found his rhythm.

"Well, I can dance with you, honey, if you think it's funny

Does your mother know that you're out?

And I can chat with you, baby, flirt a little maybe

Does your mother know that you're out?"

He was still painfully aware of the song choice and the situation he had let himself get into as he widened his stance. Moving with a surprising amount of grace as he put his limbs to work at a very impressive rendition of the hustle, bumping his hips in time with the music. You clapped wildly when he did a little spin, ending tastefully with his right arm pointing towards the ceiling above.

“Wow Stan! You've been holding out on me! If I knew you were this good I would have dragged you down here earlier.”

Stan felt his chest puff out with pride, your praise going straight to his head; among other places. Now he felt in his element, feeling like the smooth young man he once was; being transported back into a time where such an interaction was not particularly uncommon for him. It was exhilarating to say the least, he really was having a great time.

"Take it easy (take it easy)

Better slow down, girl

That's no way to go

Does your mother know?"

Your bodies were nearly touching now. He could see the shimmer of the lipgloss you were wearing as you mouthed the lyrics. Lights bounced off of the glitter of your now hooded eyelids, further attracting his attention the sultry look you held there. Said look pinned him in place for a moment before you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into you. While doing so you faltered a bit on your feet, so, dutifully he placed his hand on the small of your back to keep you afloat.

“Dance with me.”

He tried to keep it polite, he really did. Even in the haze of the alcohol the words of the song rang loudly through his skull as he tried to remember. It was difficult, his brain sending him a million signals when you stared almost hungrily back at him.

"I can see what you want

But you seem pretty young to be searching for that kind of fun

So maybe I'm not the one"

Briefly, he feared his heart would stop beating in his chest when you brought your bottom lip between your teeth and batted those gorgeous eyes up at him again when he dipped you low. Again he tried to remember himself, the lyrics in the song a clear reflection of the thoughts he should be having. He twirled you around again so he didn't have to face the intense look you were giving him, and to stop himself from thinking about how soft your lips would be against his own.

"Now you're so cute, I like your style

And I know what you mean when you give me a flash of that smile (smile)

But girl, you're only a child"

When you were facing him again your eyes were closed, a soft laugh leaving your parted lips as you let him guide your movements, clearly reveling in his attentions. You cracked your eyes open at him, winking as you let your hand slither up to the lapels of his jacket, grasping the smooth fabric between your fingers.

“I really like this song. It's my favorite one of theirs.”

Your lips just barely touched his earlobe when you spoke, he could barely hear you above the music and the thumping of his irrational heart. His pulse thudded loud in his head as your hand slipped down to trace around the medallion sitting on his sternum.

"You know what else I like?"

"Well, I can dance with you, honey, if you think it's funny

Does your mother know that you're out?

And I can chat with you, baby, flirt a little maybe

Does your mother know that you're out?"

Your lips finally brushed the shell of his ear, sending a shudder zinging down his spine and raising alarm bells inside his puddle of a brain.

“You.”

One word. One word was all it took to rip the very last vestiges of his restraint as he finally gave into his desires to take you up on your very clear interest.

"Take it easy (take it easy)

Better slow down, girl

That's no way to go

Does your mother know?"

“I think this song fits us pretty well don't you?”

Instead of responding, he decided to beat you at your own game. Catching the hand you had on his chest he brought it to his lips, barely brushing the skin of your knuckles as he watched you blush. Instead of placing a kiss there; he kept you on your toes, quite literally, as he spun you around by the hand he had stolen. Stan took full advantage of it, using the momentum to twirl you right into his arms, completely flush to his chest. You stared wide eyed at him before narrowing them, a somewhat smug smile fighting it's way onto your face.

“You sly old dog I knew you had it in you!”

You lips had tilted up into a small smirk as you regarded him with a mildly sardonic expression, giggling a bit. He laughed with you, tension oozing out of his body along with his inhibitions and any common sense as your other hand found his waist.

"Take it easy (take it easy)

Try to cool it, girl

Take it nice and slow

Does your mother know?"

“Yeah this dog knows a few tricks, s’pecially for a sweet thing like you.”

His hand smoothed slowly down your waist, faintly playing with the pleats in your dress as they moved lower to skim the hemline teasingly. Your throat went dry and you felt a little off kilter, feeling the control you had on the situation slip between dainty fingers. You wouldn't let go that easily though.

“Like what?”

You leaned back a bit, peering up at him through you lashes and watching intently as his adams apple bobbed in his throat. After a moment he matched you flawlessly.

“Ain't nothin I can do here Dollface.”

The hand on your dress flexed, emphasizing his not at all innocuous statement. Clearly a switch has been flipped somewhere and you had every intention of seeing just how far you could take it.

“Come with me.”

You weren't listening to the song anymore, you knew how it ended. It didn't matter that it was your favorite; what mattered was the hand you were pulling and the man attached to it following you through the horde of people crowding the dance floor. Pushing your way through the masses with a singular focus and holding tightly onto the hand in your grasp.

The cool night air was a welcome change from the stuffiness of the air inside the club. The breeze was pleasant on your flushed skin and a balm to your inebriated state. Stan seemed to have similar thoughts as he found his place beside you, closing his eyes and sucking in a breath.

“Ya sure ya wanna do this?”

He ran a hand through his hair in an exasperated gesture. You could see the trepidation in his face, clearly a part of him still on the fence about the whole thing. Delicately you took a hold of both of his hands, squeezing gently while looking into his eyes.

“Very, but I'm not gonna hold it against you if you're uncomfortable Stan. We don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

He shook his head at you. You were really too sweet, he really didn't deserve it. He let you reach out to him, to take his face in your hands as he leaned down to close the distance. The kiss was just as sweet as you were although extremely chaste. Just testing out the waters and nothing more. His brown eyes burned into yours from where they loomed above you, just inches away behind the thick frames of his glasses. One of your hands slipped forwards to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck, rubbing the skin there, watching as his lips split into a grin briefly before his mouth was on yours again. The second kiss was even better; Stan seemed more confident and sure against you. Lips sliding over and between your own leisurely as your mouths molded together into new and interesting shapes. You found that you had zero qualms when Stan's tongue pressed against the seam of your lips, humming contentedly as you let him pass.

Tongues danced languidly together, his hands finding their place; his right on your waist and then his left snaking into your hair to pull you infinitesimally closer. Both your cheeks were rosy when you pulled away, lips slightly puffy from kissing as you both caught your breath. When you opened your eyes Stan was already looking at you, his gaze smoldering and accompanied by a rather sultry smirk.

“So, yer place or mine? I ain't got a problem with makin the boat rock with ya.”

Stan let out a breezy chuckle, his new self assured countenance unruffled by his scandalous comment that had your blush intensifying tenfold. His hand on your waist slipped downward to sit teasingly just above your ass while his other played with the ends of your hair.

“Mine. It's less walking and I don't actively live in the same room as my twin brother.”

You laughed and poked his chest chidingly, forefinger lingering to trail through his exposed chest hair.

“I'll even pay your train fare, think of that.”

That pulled another laugh from him, his barreled chest jostling slightly under your hand to release it.

‘Y’wanna get me in yer bed that badly huh Sugar?”

He raised an eyebrow at you in a playful manner, voice dropping an octave into a sexy little rasp that put a pulse between your legs.

“Among other places Mr.Pines.”

Your voice was a honeyed purr, eyes twinkling with mischief as you hooked your index finger through the gold chain around his neck, pulling him that much closer. Calling him that did more for him than he was willing to acknowledge, feeling his cock twitch in his pants at the honorific.

“Careful now Sweetheart or we ain't gonna make it that far.”

The hand in your hair moved to skim your jaw with his knuckles lightly, you nipped at his thumb when it brushed against your lips.

"Promises, promises. Saddle up then cowboy, we got a rodeo to get to. C'mon follow me."

Your tone was light, chastising, as you pulled yourself from his grasp, cheekily squeezing the hand above your ass.

"Lead the way Toots."

His grin was wide, gesturing ahead of himself to urge you to direct him to your dwelling. Snatching his hand in yours, you pulled him along.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Going To A Pumpkin Patch With All Might

Yagi "All Might" Toshinori X FemReader

Rating: G

Warnings: None it's all fluff

Word Count: 2.1k

(A/N:) I had a lot of fun writing this if y'all couldn't tell by the word count. XD Slowly but surely I'm breaking down the writer's block wall so keep being patient as I try to write all my Halloween ideas and not make them crappy! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The hallways of the college were decorated for Halloween and excitement could be felt through the whole building as students discussed plans and costumes. While Halloween was one of your favorite holidays you were not as excited this year as you didn't know if you were going to get to spend time with your boyfriend. Dating All-Might, Japan's most anticipated hero, had it's difficulties. Not just from the fact that he was an exchange student but he had become super popular, not just at school but the surrounding area. He had a heart to help anyone and everyone. It's one of the main reasons you liked him as well, but sometimes you wish that you both could spend more time together. You sighed and readjusted your books, when said books were scooped from your arms.

"You need to invest in a book bag," a deep voice spoke.

You laughed, "Why would a I purchase one when I have you around?"

"I guess that's one of the reasons why I am here," All Might agreed while wrapping your shoulders in one gigantic arm. "Thinking about anything in particular?"

"Just Halloween. It's coming up quickly and I honestly don't know what I want to do. It's looking like I'll be staying in and watching scary movies."

"You don't want to do something together?"

"It's not that I don't want to with you, but you are always so busy and need I remind you that you are pretty far behind in your studies," you elbowed him in the ribs.

"You and Dave keep reminding me about my school work," All Might grinned sheepishly.

"That's because failing grades are scary Toshi. It is Halloween but that's no excuse."

"Think the teachers will give me a break if I tell them I'm tardy all the time because I'm doing hero work," he sounded hopeful.

While you knew some teachers understood, you could think of at least two or three who more than likely sold their kind hearts for a strong cup of coffee.

"It's not looking good for you," you finally replied causing the giant of a man to groan.

"That's besides the point. We'll spend Halloween together no matter what happens," Toshinori straightened up lifting you up with one arm while the other still held your books. You laughed slapping at his arm.

"Even if someone needs the great All Might," you asked and he deflated. "I'm teasing. You wouldn't be you if you didn't drop everything to go help someone."

You brushed dust from his cherry blossom jacket and picked a few specks of debris from his golden hair.

"Want to go and do something together today," All Might set you back down.

"Let's make a deal. You do really good in your classes today and we'll go to the pumpkin patch once we're done. I've been wanting a couple pumpkins to carve and I heard they have all sorts of fun things to do and delicious treats. It's a little bit of a drive but I think it'll be really fun."

"Sounds like fun let's go. But we aren't driving I can get us there much faster!"

"I thought you couldn't fly," you glared thinking that he lied to you when you first met him.

All Might raised his hands in surrender, "I can't but I can jump really high and really far really fast."

"Do you want me to get whiplash?"

"You'll be safe I promise," he flexed and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Okay I trust you. It'll save me some money in gas anyway and I'll get a big bag that you can carry so we can bring everything we buy back to the dorms."

All Might walked with you until you both arrived at the door of your first class. He handed back your books and leaned down enough to where you could kiss his cheek and he returned one on your forehead.

"See you after school," you whispered already missing him as he turned around.

"It's a date," he waved his broad shoulders seeming to hold up the hallway alone. You worried one day those shoulders would carry too much of a load and break him down.

Class always seemed like it went by really fast but since you had plans that you were excited for, the day dragged along and you were beginning to get antsy. Impatiently you were the first out of the door and headed straight to your dorm to find a bag for All Might to carry the pumpkins back. You eventually had to borrow one but you found a smaller backpack for yourself so he wasn't the only one being treated like a pack mule. Racing through the halls and exiting out into the courtyard there stood the larger than life hero in training. He was doing squats and jumping in place, warming up for the journey.

"You made it," he grinned widely and you couldn't help but smile big in return.

"I did and I found a bag," you held up said bag. "It should be big enough for you to wear and have plenty of room for a couple of pumpkins. I also brought a bag for myself because it wouldn't be fair to you."

All Might scoffed, "Who's the boyfriend here?"

"Obviously not you," you retorted and he laughed loudly.

Shrugging on the bag he opened his arms waiting for you to come close. An autumn breeze brushed past you causing you to shiver.

"Hold on I need to go grab a hoodie."

Before you could race off All Might slipped off the bag and removed his plus ultra jacket before holding it out towards you. You started to protest but he plopped it onto your shoulders and waited for you to place your arms in the sleeves. Once you did he nodded in satisfaction and put the backpack back on. He waited again with his arms stretched wide and this time you stepped close. He scooped you up carefully, cradling you close to his warm chest. He gave you a gentle squeeze and brushed hair from your face before he braced his legs and jumped into the sky. You screamed taking handfuls of his shirt in your hands and clung to him tightly. Your hair whipping around in the wind, it felt like you both were floating before he started plummeting back to the earth. You screamed again, causing him to laugh. You could have punched him if you could release the death grip you had on his poor shirt.

"You didn't say this would be that scary," you screeched. "We keep falling and I'm pretty sure we just left my stomach on the ground back there!"

"It's fun! Open your eyes!"

"Absolutely not I may lose those too!"

"You won't I promise. I have everything in control okay."

You eased your eyes open but you didn't ease your grip. Holding on tightly you gazed at the sky you both were soaring through. The ground seemed so far away but the view was amazing. Birds passed by, squawking in annoyance at the man in their skies but you finally let loose laughing and screaming every time you both would fall back down towards the ground. True to his word All Might was in complete control. He never crashed down and he made it to the pumpkin patch gate in record time.

Placing you back onto solid ground, he held your arm until the jelly in your legs solidified. The elation and fear had you so wobbly it took a long time for your nerves and adrenaline to calm. Laughter came from children and adults of all ages inside the fenced in area. When you were finally ready All Might took your hand, lacing your fingers together and lead the way.

"I've never been to something like this before," he said while taking in all the sights.

"Never," you seemed surprised.

"Japan guy here. I came from a big city," he replied.

"Sorry I forgot," you flushed in embarrassment.

"It's okay. What do you want to do first?"

"Let's pick out pumpkins last, cause there's so much to do and with it being your first time let's explore everything," you pulled him towards a petting zoo.

With goats, bunnies, pigs, and animals of all shapes and sizes All Might got to pet all sorts of little animals. The rabbits were both your favorites as their ears reminded you both of All Might's hairstyle. A goat tried to eat his jacket he was letting you wear. But when a volunteer brought you both handfuls of food, the goat forgot about eating your clothing. After the petting zoo you saw a few games everyone was playing. All Might won first place in the strength game and fortunately asked for the smaller prize since you both would have to carry it back to the college. Next you spotted a corn maze and you both bet on who would make it out first. You were in the lead for the longest time until All Might jumped into the air and landed at the end startling a bunch of parents and children. It took thirty more minutes until you made your way out to see him standing there with a couple bottles of water and a smug grin.

"You totally cheated," you accused.

"I reworked the rules," he replied holding out a water bottle to you.

"Cheater cheater pumpkin eater," you taunted and he pulled the bottle away. "Okay okay I'm sorry!"

All Might chuckled giving you back the water bottle and kissed your cheek gently. His stomach rumbled and you decided it was time to get some delicious treats. It was starting to get late and it would take some time to make it back and the college did have a curfew for the students. Sipping on hot apple cider and munching on kettle corn you and All Might finally made it to the pumpkin patch. Orange gourds as far as the eye could see and you wanted the two most perfect pumpkins.

"Divide and conquer," you asked tossing your empty cup into the trash can.

All Might shook his head, "I rather us enjoy this together. We already made the corn maze into a game. We won't get to stay much longer."

"Hand in hand then."

He nodded. The sun was starting to wane as you both looked amongst the rows for the best pumpkins. All Might spotted one first and with a nod of approval from you he plucked it up and placed it into the bag on his back. Not much longer after him finding one, you were able to find one. Perfectly round and orange it would become a perfect jack-o-lantern. All Might took it from you once you picked it up from the ground and placed it in the bag with the other pumpkin. He didn't let you get far before taking your hand again. Making your way to the entrance you paid for the pumpkins and said goodbye to the volunteer.

All Might scooped you back up and instantly was back in the air. You weren't as scared this time, though you still clung to him tightly. The weightlessness feeling and the warmth of All Might was comforting. You gazed across the horizon as the sun set further. The sky transforming into an orange and lavender sky, you could smell the new season in the air. All Might gave you a light squeeze as he heard you sigh. You didn't want the day to end and as he landed on the campus lawn you wanted to go back in time immediately. You gave him back his jacket and turned to go back to the front doors when All Might spun you back around. He kissed you deeply there on the front lawn. His cheeks wind kissed and your hair tussled into knots it was perfect. You didn't know what had happened to him, to bring All Might to America but you were thankful he was there every day. You held on tightly, not wanting the kiss to end but eventually you had to pull away. He brushed a tangled lock away and gazed at you lovingly.

"I'll see you tomorrow," you asked.

"Tomorrow," he replied before kissing you again. "And the next day and after that and after that and forever after," he laughed still giving you gentle kisses.

"I'll hold you to that," you warned teasingly.

"Please do."

When you closed your dorm room door, you melted. Halloween had become one of your favorite holidays once again and you wanted to spend every single one of them with All Might.

[wondrfuls]

— YJ COLLEGE AU! JACKIE TAYLOR .

— College Au! Jackie head canons .

— Modern AU + College AU , no crash . NSFW under cut.

— Bot here !

SFW !

— CollegeAu!Jackie that always spends her free time either in the library, or her dorm room, buried in textbooks and her headphones plugged into her ears.

— She doesn’t try to stay up all night, her face illuminated by the soft glow of her lamp, pencil scratching against the paper.

— she’s smart as hell . total academic weapon.

— She’s completely oblivious to the world around her, humming a catchy pop tune that she hasn’t been able to get out of her head for the past few days.

— Top of her classes with her grades, straight A’s and all the professors love her because of it. She’s a teachers pet, too.

— She parties a lot more than you think she would. Considering she finishes all of her stuff the day or after the day they’re assigned.

— Gets the worst hangover imaginable but still pushes through her tests and absolutely aces them because even hungover, she’s still the same academic weapon .

— She hates to admit it but sometimes she does appreciate your help more than she likes to realize it. you’re smart in ways that she’s well aware of, and you’re the only person she’d actually ask for help.

— Really sweet . Like, she’s super sweet even if she’s in a bad mood.

— absolutely loves watching movies. you’ll find her randomly on her laptop watching a new movie at least every other day if she isn’t studying or anything like that.

— She doesn’t talk that much, but she tries to start conversations with you because you two are roommates, and you’ve got to get to know each-other eventually.

— she hardly ever thinks before she speaks .

NSFW !

— accidental hookup the night of the party. You two made out, and eventually her hands were in your pants in a small bathroom.

“Jackie— ” Her name falls from your lips like a curse, your brows furrowing together as her fingers move in a sloppy rhythm, her eyes all bug and wide as she just stares at you, ranting.

— She’s alot more experienced than you thought she’d be. You thought she was the typical nerd who did nothing but study, read, eat, sleep, repeat. Not to mention, and was also a virgin, and she definitely wasn’t a virgin.

“s’like .. like that.. right?” She mumbles into your ear, her body language all sloppy before she lets out a giggle, shifting her hands so it’d reach deeper, that way you’d feel it just where you like it the most.

— After the hookup, she didn’t know what to do at all. She had the worst hangover, and not to mention your arms wrapped around her waist like a vice.

— You two were sort of confused, but then again Jackie wasn’t exactly complaining.

— After coming to conclusions that this whole hookup thing wasn’t just out of being drunk, you two might’ve had sex a few times. The people in the same hall as you guys definitely hated you.

— Back to the fact that she isn’t a virgin. She’s been experimenting, basically trying to figure out her sexuality before she actually figured out if she liked girls or not. That doesn’t make her a hoe or anything—she’s only dated two other people besides you.

— she’s experienced even if its her second time doing anything with someone, and you wouldn’t even be able to tell that it was only her second time.

— The poor girl has got to do something will all of that stress built up against her shoulders, and you shouldn’t be surprised if a drunken Jackie is scrolling through X on a random night, hands in her pants.

[reallychaoticwoo]

Would it be too much if I asked for another one? Could you please write something for ateez with a dyslexic partner struggling to learn Korean? Love you 🥰

Omg yes absolutely! I'm also dyslexic myself so some of it might be speaking from experience haha😂 this one may be a bit on thr longer side.

As before, this is SFW. Fluff, slight angst, lots of words of affirmation here.

Hongjoong:

Hongjoong knew how you were feeling, well, at least for the most part. He'd remembered how long it took him to learn English, and even still, he knew he still had more to learn. Seeing you sitting at your desk, shoulders deflated, writing, and erasing again and again. He came up behind you and rested his hands on your shoulders, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. He pulled up a chair next to you, and for the next hour, he tried finding ways that would help you learn how to write without struggling. After that hour was up, he made you take a break, turning on a k-drama. You smiled, cuddling into him, knowing that even when taking a break, he was still helping you learn.

Seonghwa:

He's been sitting next to you for hours while you studied. He refused to leave your side, even after you insisted he didn't need to stay with you. He took it upon himself to provide you some sort of comfort and company while he kept himself busy building his newest Lego addition. After a while of him watching you become more and more frustrated, not understanding why, when you spelled a word, it wouldn't translate correctly. He decided to step in. Pulling you onto his lap, he laid out some of his loose Legos and helped you spell out different words with the small pieces. You were beyond grateful for him.

Yunho:

When you told him you planned on learning Korean, he immediately knew that he'd be spending all his free time helping you. He'd seen how easily learning a new language could frustrate his band members and even cause them to self-doubt. He wasn't going to let you think bad of yourself, especially knowing you'd struggled with dyslexia your whole life. He made fun games, movie nights, and even dates all around you, learning in the most stress free way possible.

Yeosang:

Yeosang didn't really understand why you didn't ask him for help in the first place. You knew he loved learning and even teaching, especially if it meant more one on one time with you, away from everyone else. When you finally came to him to admit your defeat, he hugged you gently. He took every single chance to reassure you that you weren't less than. In fact, you were extremely smart for how much you've already learned in a short amount of time. Just because you were struggling to write didn't mean you weren't learning how to converse. And he was in awe of how well you spoke, looking at you with love in his eyes every time you asked him a question in his language.

San:

He'd spent every single night he was available laying on your bed, quizzing you, giving you head pats and sweet pecks on the cheeks after you got an answer right. He'd also struggled with dyslexia believe it or not, and he brought out all the techniques he used to use to help him when he was learning English. You felt so much better knowing how he had overcome it and spoke so fluently now that you would have never known he struggled if he hadn't told you himself.

Mingi:

He had walked in on you one night while you were sobbing over your laptop. You'd felt like you would never be able to fully learn Korean no matter how hard you tried. Speaking it was one thing, but reading or writing it? You were far too stupid for that. Why wouldn't your brain just work correctly? It shouldn't be this hard to just write what your prompt were asking you to. God, you're so stupid. He knew that look all too well, and it broke his soul seeing you feel that way. He shut your laptop and lifted your chin to face him. With the most sympathetic look in his eyes, he pulled you into the biggest, warmest hug and rubbed your back in small circles. Telling you with the softest voice, "Don't let that voice in your head win. You are so so smart. We just have to find what works for you. I'll be here every step of the way."

Wooyoung:

Wooyoung decided to open up to you about his struggles learning English when you'd mentioned how hard it's been for you to learn Korean. From that night on, you both decided to study together, helping each other out when you didn't understand something. You came to realize a few study dates in that he was also dyslexic and didn't even know until you brought it up to him. Continuing your study dates, you both would find new ways to help each other learn, eventually leading to the two of you learning faster than either of you thought you could.

Jongho:

He'd been waiting for this moment, probably for a little too long. He'd done research on dyslexia and some of the best ways to help things click for you. While he was a bit more stern in his approach to teaching you, (a set schedule he absolutely would not let up on) he didn't fail to consistently remind you how proud of you he is and how well you were doing. During your breaks, he would bring you coffee or tea and ask you about things that made you happy to ease some of the mental load. To him, you were not only full of kindness and love but you were also full of so much knowledge you weren't even aware of. He was in awe and oh so proud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is purely fictional and does not represent the mentioned idols in any way.

Thank you for reading ✨️🖤⛓️

[attyisavailable]

Any random headcannons you have for Cole and Anon? Those two are also my faves.

Sorry this took a while to answer. My drafts kept getting deleted, and it was a pain in the yk to keep rewriting it 😞🙏

ANYWAY- Cole and Anon headcanons (both with and w/o Marshmallow!)

Cole🔪

-He has a tendency to clean the entirety of his house often. Sometimes, his (totally normal) hobby makes it so he gets stains on his clothes and in his house. He can't have anything be dirty, especially when you visit! God knows what wrong ideas that'll put in your head.

-Prefers psychological horror rather than supernatural horror. It thrills him much more, plus he loves seeing what messed up things people come up with.

-Also loves thriller movies. I mean, how silly is it to watch a movie in which there's a dangerous person around? You won't have to worry about that, there's not anyone like that in the city.

-Knows how to bake, cook, and do all sorts of neat tricks with food and cooking supplies. Can make a delicious velvet cake, though sometimes you'll see the stains on his clothes but not a single cake in the kitchen.

-Isn't too into arcades or places like that, he just prefers reading at home or doing something where there aren't many people nearby. Genuinely, he just doesn't like interacting with people much.

-(If you're AFAB or have a uterus) He's pretty educated on female anatomy. He doesn't find it weird when someone is on their period, God no, he'd be a jerk if he found simple human anatomy odd. Well, there are odd parts about anatomy, but not that. Plus he's great with cleaning up blood—don't ask—so you wouldn't have to worry about stains.

-Knows all sorts of weird facts, like how it takes around 75 to 155 espresso shots to kill someone.

Anon👾

-Along with being a germaphobe, he's also a neat freak. Likes having things in certain places where he can always expect them to be. That way, it won't be such a hassle to look for something so small, like his glasses.

-Constantly tries getting you to play different games, none of them similar to the others. One day, he'll try getting you to play Resident Evil, the next he'll make you play Animal Crossing.

-Ever since turning into a lemur, he never got rid of the urge to swing from branches. To fix this issue, he often goes to a nearby playground to hang out on the swings and play games on his phone.

-SPEAKING OF PHONES AND LEMURS, he once accidentally dropped his phone as a lemur.. while he was climbing a tree. He was absolutely devastated, especially since there's no way he could get it repaired without having the employees look at him weird, wondering why an animal was in the shop.

-He can't focus on games while you're around (also mentioned in his phone-fling I believe), he'll constantly try stealing glances and that'll make him lose whatever game he's playing. If you ever mention it, he'll go on a ramble about how you're more attractive than a game with good graphics.

-Knows how to draw but doesn't know anything about animation. He wants to learn how to animate in order to create a game of his own, though it's difficult when he spends most of his time playing rather than working on his own project.

-Has a collection of fatass plushies in a corner of his room. He calls it his cuddle corner, but he mostly just collapses onto it if he doesn't wanna bother with his bed.

[peapodbond]

that was us part five

aka tease tidbit tuesday

but once again it is a full part and ah, thanks to @leashybebes for saying that she's kind of lowkey obsessed with this, because so am i.

who decided the first wedding anniversary gift should be paper? what do you even get for that?

it's paper or clocks, depending on the list you look at.

clocks are better?

depends. if you think of them as keeping track of all the time you've spent together, yeah.

god, you're such a romantic.

abby spends the rest of the day sending photos of watches to tommy. they immediately nix any watches that are skinny or square; abby's never seen sam wear one and they all look sort of… industrial. she bets it's exactly the type of watch that his firm would give out for the big anniversaries.

tommy vetoes a few companies because they're ripping off their designs from someone else. when abby asks when he got into watches, he tells her that jordan has a collection.

that's interesting. tommy had dropped jordan's name a few months ago, mentioning that he'd met a guy at the bar and they'd been on a few dates, but not much since. she's assumed it was going well because there was no text about them breaking up, and she and sal haven't been recruited for another bachelor style grindr lineup, but it's nice to know it didn't just fizzle out after a few dates.

now that she's got a watch picked out, it's time for her to do a little digging on tommy's new beau. even sal has been tight lipped, which has meant problems in the past — mike, for one, but there was also colin — though, to be fair, a lot more had been wrong with colin than just the fact that he didn't like tommy's best friend. in the list of crazy exes, colin was definitely at the top.

what's sal think of jordan?

they get along, abby, relax.

how well?

they're at the race track together right now, actually.

sal's into horses?

no, they're both into go karts.

aren't those for kids?

go karts, not bumper cars. they can still go pretty fast.

oh brother.

yep. gina and i are going to have dinner while they're out.

say hi to gina for me! it's been a while.

she says hi, and you still need to tell her what you thought of the time traveller's wife.

talk to you later, tommy!

do you two think eight months is too soon to move in together?

tommy, no, that's a reasonable amount of time.

it's kind of slow, actually.

sal, you asked gina to move in three months after meeting her.

we never officially lived together but sam asked me a few weeks after our six month anniversary.

aside from her questionable taste in supernatural movies, haven't regretted it once.

you watch twilight every year on her birthday.

sal, that's adorable. tommy, if you want to ask jordan to move in, you should.

she watches them, i read. and yeah, you should ask him. i think you have a good shot at landing the guy.

i hate you.

what happened?

abby, two days ago i walked in on those two in the middle of — well, let's just say it wasn't a pg rated movie.

don't exaggerate, sal. besides, you were the one who came in without knocking.

tommy! don't you lock your door?

i have a key. which i am debating returning.

that'll teach you to wait for someone to come to the door.

he's got a point, sal.

i'm leaving you weirdos now. gina and i have plans.

chicken shit!

i have to run too tommy, i've got to pick the girls up from the barn. just ask him! it'll be great.

thanks, abby. no thanks to you, sal.

jordan's out.

sal's text comes in just before a flurry from tommy, and abby scrolls through them curiously. ah, home renovation questions. once they'd started talking again — really talking, not the quick catch ups at bar nights — tommy had told her that most of the changes he'd made to the house had been done between relationships. she wonders if he's clocked why he does it that way, but she is very much not a therapist. she's also not going to get into that with her ex-fiancé.

he wants to know if she thinks a pale grey could work in the downstairs guest room (study, she'd suggested when he bought the place, even though neither of them had had an office job) or if it would clash with the yellow she'd picked for the living room. abby checks the time and gets him on a video call, making him walk her around the house. they decide that the grey will work, and abby reminds tommy again that he's been meaning to get rid of the tile and wallpaper combination in the laundry room.

sal is busy sending abby a rundown of everything that's happened in the last twenty eight hours. it's — a lot. tommy and jordan had gone out to dinner, some little indian spot that was jordan's favourite, and right before tommy could ask jordan to move in, jordan had told him that he'd gotten a promotion that meant he'd have to move to sacramento.

they'd argued — mostly about the fact that jordan hadn't mentioned a move and a promotion was a possibility, but also about the fact that jordan had suggested, once tommy said that he'd wanted him to move in, that tommy come to sacramento instead. tommy had asked if jordan expected him to give up his seniority in the fire department, his house, to follow jordan to sacramento, and jordan had said that he'd probably be moving again in a few years so it wasn't as if it was permanent —

and tommy had come home single after dinner instead of planning a day for jordan to move in.

i mean, it's not like i can blame him for taking the promotion, tommy texts later, when abby manages to get him talking about it. i knew his job was important to him. we just never talked about what that would mean. he didn't even talk to me first. not that he had to, but—

it would have been nice to have been asked.

if i'd known he was approaching la as an expiry date, i wouldn't have hoped for so much in the relationship.

that's just the kind of guy you are, tommy. one day someone is going to want that as much as you do.

yeah, sure. any chance you and sam want a platonic third?

i need someone to help me with the girls' show tack in two weeks, but we're good. besides, since you don't want to move, you should really ask sal and gina that.

[shattered-world]

They utterly despised each other in real life. And they're Irish twins, not actual twins.

They sure did! I did a bunch of reading after I watched the movie so you, my dear anon, are about to get a ramble of questionable organization that you did not ask for.

First off, yep. Irish twins; siblings born within 12 months of each other (neat term, I didn't know that). Caracalla was born in April 4th 188 AD; Geta was born a year later on March 7th 189 AD, 11 months later. Fun little fact!

Second, I don't know if it would be possible to overstate how much they hated each other. Like, wow. As far as I can tell, this likely partially stemmed from how their father dealt with their succession (although I am by no means knowledgeable on the subject, so take this with a grain of salt if you don't already know this lmao). Emperor Severus gave Caracalla the title of Augustus or co-emperor when he was 10, but Geta had to wait more than a decade longer even though he was only a year younger. I'm sure there was other stuff too, but I can't imagine he was pleased about having to wait— or that Caracalla was very happy with suddenly having to share power he'd had for 11 years.

They did almost reach a compromise of dividing the empire in two and each ruling half, but for a reason I don't understand their mother convinced them not to. Who knows, maybe Caracalla wouldn't have murdered Geta if they'd done that (I doubt it). They also split the palace between them and lived in constant terror of being assassinated, and for good reason given that Caracalla tried and failed to kill his brother, organized a peace meeting, and then had Geta killed in his mothers arms. Insane.

Also when their father died neither of them were in rome so they had to journey back and on the journey they never once stayed at the same place or shared a meal. And they only ever met in their mother's presence. And Caracalla declared a damnatio memoriae, attempting to erase his brother from history (he did a pretty good job too). And a lot of other things that are not relevant to this ask!

Side fun fact; Caracalla is a nickname! He was originally named Lucius Septimius Bassianus and then renamed Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. The nickname comes from a tunic he wore.

I can't imagine what the two would think of this fandom lmfao. Maybe they'd finally be in agreement re: killing us all. Thankfully, they've been dead for 1800 years and I don't think they care. Also thankfully, while the historical guys fucking hated each other and weren't actually twins, the ones I care about are fictional. Fictional, twins, very pretty (seriously their designs oh my god), and with a fascinating relationship.

Also, I'm choosing to take this ask in good faith, but if sending it to me was some sort of attempt to convince me to stop shipping them... sorry! Maybe direct your attention to things you enjoy instead of spending your time worrying about what others do; i guarantee your life will be more enjoyable. But if you did send it just to tell me some cool facts, I'd love to keep talking about them!

[ominus-potato]

Rebound search- cut scene

In the latest part of the pining Mario series, there was a scene I began to write where Mario and Mr Puzzles would go to the movie and accidentally hold hands and all that junk. However, I decided to cut it out because it wasted too much time and was mostly a whole load of nothing.

Anyway, here is that cut scene:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mario thought to himself for a moment before his face lit up with an idea. He turned to Puzzles.

"Hey! We don't-a need to base today on some silly romance movies. The people in them are clearly stupid and boring if those are the type of locations they meet their true love." He gestured to the notepad for emphasis, "We should pick somewhere entirely new! Somewhere that no silly romance character has ever met their love interest."

Mr Puzzles looked at Mario with curiosity; a confused smile appearing on his screen.

"Okay then... did you have anywhere in mind?" He asked.

Mario froze. His mind went blank and his face buffering as he tried to think of at least ONE place they could go to meet someone.

Meeting someone. That was the goal of this whole thing wasn't it? Mario knew this and he wasn't intending on skewing from Mr Puzzles' plan; but so far, his feelings for the TV hadn't changed in the slightest. If anything, they had only grown stronger! Going shopping, having lunch, spending time alone-  just the two of them, talking, laughing... Mario was having an amazing time with Mr Puzzles.

The Italian turned to take in the sight of the TV standing in front of him, looking down at him expectantly.

"Well? Where do you suggest we go?" He asked again.

Mario snapped out of his thoughts and stammered.

"Uhh... w-we should go..."

The, already small, logical side of his mind desperately tried to think of a place where he could actually meet someone new. Somewhere that would allow him to finally move on from the TV and see him as nothing more than a friend. That would be the healthy thing for him to do.

Unfortunately, Mario was anything BUT healthy.

He was just too tempted by the prospect of him and Puzzles spending more time together! Selfish as it may be, he didn't want to move on. At least, not right now. Mario just wanted to enjoy what little time he had alone with Mr Puzzles. Even if it was just platonic.

"W-we should go to the movie theatre!!" Mario declared with false confidence.

Mr Puzzles gave him an odd look, tilting his head slightly as he stared at the Italian, dumbfounded.

"Why would we go there? The whole point of a movie theatre is to sit in silence and not talk to anyone. That doesn't seem like a great place to meet someone."

Mario looked around nervously as he tried to come up with some sort of half-assed explanation as to why the movie theatre was actually a great place for meeting new people!

"Well, err- Mario thinks the movies will be a good place to go because... Mario really likes TV! We already know this and the movie theatre is really just one big TV screen that everyone watches! Plus, there's food which Mario also likes so that means that whoever is at the movie theatre has lots-a in common with Mario!"

Mario gave Puzzles a nervous smile, hoping that he wouldn't detect the uncertainty in his tone or notice the sweat beading at his forehead.

Puzzles' eyes narrowed as he looked down at the shorter man, seemingly trying to read his expression. A deafening silence fell over them before eventually, Mr Puzzles spoke up.

"Alright then..." he said cautiously.

Mario's face lit up and without thinking, he grabbed Mr Puzzles' hand and began to lead him to the movies.

Only once they had arrived did Mario properly register the fact that he and Puzzles had their fingers intertwined. He hurriedly let go, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he looked away, a light blush on his cheeks.

Once he had calmed down Mario cleared his throat, "Uh... so what movie would you like to see?" He asked, smiling nervously at the taller man.

Puzzles glanced down at him and let out a huff.

"Mario, we're not here for the leisure of seeing a movie. Look around! See who's here on their own and what they're going to watch. Then simply buy us tickets to the same movie." Puzzles explained.

He looked around, trying to wean out anyone who was there alone. His attention darted to the digital ticket booth where a man had just began selecting a movie. Puzzles grinned, grabbing Mario by his shoulders and spinning him in the direction of the man.

"There! See? There's someone. Go over to him, talk to him, then get us tickets to the same movie. I'll get us some snacks."

Mario was unsure as he looked between Puzzles and the stranger he was supposed to approach. Was this really the best way to go about this?

"Mario doesn't think that-"

"Just trust me Mario. This is going to be your best chance at meeting someone at the movies." He crouched down to Mario's level, looking him in the eyes with that screen; and Mario thought it was just oh so pretty.

"You want to move on from your feelings don't you?"

The question was meant to be rhetorical. Mario knew this. But as he stared deeply into Mr Puzzles' hypnotic screen, he found himself getting lost in the bright colours and captivating shapes. The question repeated in his mind as he mindlessly gazed into Puzzles' digital eyes.

Does he want to move on?

Mario wasn't sure anymore. These feelings were so confusing. One minute he hated them, the next, he was eternally grateful to have them. One minute he wanted to do nothing but wallow in a ball of self pity, then he'd be enthusiastically following Puzzles to the ends of the earth. The love he held for the TV had been putting him through hell these past few months but now, being alone with the man, Mario had just forgotten about all of the pain and anguish he felt over him. And all he could think about was how good it felt to be in his presence.

"Well I'm afraid this is going to be your best chance of moving on."

Puzzles voice snapped Mario out of his daydream and brought him back to reality. He blinked, slightly dazed before sighing.

"Okay..." he said.

Mr Puzzles smiled and stood up, making his way to the snacks whilst Mario watched him leave. He eyes remained fixed if the TV man for just a moment before he turned around to go and buy their tickets.

As Mario approached the digital ticket booth, he saw that the man Mr Puzzles had spotted earlier was finishing off his purchase. Mario hopped over his shoulder to get a peek at which movie he was here to see.

Lady and the Tramp

Mario mentally scoffed. Of course. Rerun day. Every so often, the cinema reran old movies decades after they first aired. It was stupid in Mario's opinion but what did he know?

Mario pushed aside his opinions and instead mentally prepared himself to talk to the man in front of him. This is what Puzzles asked him to do after all.

The Italian took a deep breath and was about to make conversation with the stranger before he was suddenly met with an overpowering stench. Mario shut his mouth instantly and scrunched his face in displeasure.

This guy STANK!

My god did he even know what a shower was??? Mario probably wasn't one to judge but that didn't stop him. There was no way he was going to talk to this stinky loser.

Eventually, the guy left and Mario bought two tickets for Lady and the Tramp. Even if he wasn't planning on talking to that guy, the movie could be pretty good! He just needed to make sure he got seats that were far away from him.

[anime-fan-05]

Hey taking advantage of the fact that there are people asking for headcanons of nana, could you make headcanons dating Ren?

Nana ~Boyfriend headcanons~

Manga/anime: Nana

Warnings: nothing

(Y/N): your name

H. Ren

Ren is a very insecure boy, even if he covers this insecurity with a veil of bravado and by acting tough. In fact, when you two are alone, he's much more shy around you than he's in front of other people: he sometimes just needs to be reassured and consoled and advised by you

What does Ren like to do most with you? Nothing. Or rather, everything. He enjoys doing every activity with you, from cooking dinner to doing laundry with you. In fact, whenever he's available, you two can do all sorts of activities together

Ren loves when you come to see Trapnest's concerts, and he always gets you tickets in the best seats and access to their dressing room: there's nothing he likes more than seeing you come to him after the concert is over. Furthermore, he would also like you to listen to his band's rehearsals, but Takumi the other members are against it because he gets distracted watching you, so he doesn't play well. Plus, know he wants to take you on tour with him every time, and, if his managers are against it, he'll insist until they allow it

I think Ren's first love language is quality time: since he's always very busy with Trapnest, he thinks the best way to show you affection is to spend as much time with you as possible. In fact, whenever he has free time, he stays with you, doing all sorts of activities together with you, like cooking, teaching you to play the bass, reading or watching a movie

Ren doesn't call you by any particular and imaginative nickname. In fact, he usually calls you by your name, but he sometimes uses classic nicknames for you, such as "love", "darling" or "dear". However, he only does this in some specific cases: for example, when he's jealous, he uses "darling"; when he comes home upset from a busy day, he calls you "love" (sometimes also "my love"). Instead, when he's in a particularly sweet mood, he calls you "beauty"

💮 Rules 💮 Masterlist 💮

[flightfoot]

Hey dude! I'm in dire need of a little help. For you see, I have been writing a fanfic for the past couple of months (ML fandom) and have come to the jarring and embarrassing realization that I *clap* don't know *clap* what *clap* I'm *clap* doing *clap.*

It's my first baby and sometimes I want to throw it against a wall. The words just don't come when I need them and I can't even finish half a chapter in one sitting.

Anyways, I was kinda maybe hoping you could throw some ML fic recs my way? I'm scared I'm gonna mess up the romance aspect (which is half the story), so it would be super awesome and magnanimous of you if you could recommend some fanfiction with good chemistry between Marinette and Adrien. Preferably, as either their civilian or their superhero selves since those are the main pairings I'm working with.

Thank you for reading, have a good night, bless your ML-loving heart.

Huh. I mean, there's a lot of great Adrienette and Ladynoir fics out there... hm. I've got some that I think are good to learn from. I tried t avoid ones that are too AU, since the circumstances don't map on as well.

Not A Monster At All by @book-sandwich

Adrien Agreste overhears a conversation he shouldn't, and a revelation sends him falling onto the terrace of the only person he can trust: his good friend (?) Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Senti-person Adrien fic that takes place sometime after the first two episodes of season 5!

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Fate, Destiny... A Hamster? by @mostmagical

After finally moving into his very first apartment per Ladybug’s suggestion, Adrien stumbles upon something no movie or TV show could have ever prepared him for: someone else's hamster. At least now there’s an excuse to talk to the new neighbor. (Adrinette Never Met AU)

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Blue Crayons by @talkstoself

After the eventual defeat of Hawkmoth and spending five years away, Adrien comes back to Paris to find his friends don’t blame him the way he blames himself, in fact they’re happy to have him back. Nino and Alya are married, Chloé’s nice now (sort of), and Marinette even had a baby!

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Into The Unknown by NUMBER1ANGIRL

Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been Ladybug for 12 years now. She’s been fighting Hawkmoth by herself in this time, without the partner she was promised. When Hawkmoth is defeated, she starts fighting a new villain, and the strange ache of something she wasn’t aware was missing.

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Evergreen by Tanyatakaishi

Everything was gone. The entire cityscape had been obliterated, leaving them in a valley of trees. Blue mountains, peaks dressed in snow, stretched tall in the distance and at their foot lay an array of vineyards, miles wide with no civilization in sight. AKA: two heroes lost alone in the woods with no cheese.

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Someone To Watch Over Me by @dfcfanfics

Adrien is used to his father taking him for granted and treating him poorly, especially since his mother's disappearance... but it's never been anywhere _near_ this bad before. Between that and trouble at school, his life is in quite the downward spiral. He's been putting on a brave face, but he's struggling... and his friends are starting to notice. One special friend in particular. Marinette is determined to help him, any way that she can -- with _and_ without her mask. But when Akumas fly towards Adrien, he soon finds himself more deeply entwined in Marinette's life AND Ladybug's private life than he'd ever imagined. Can Adrien possibly decide between the two angels who are making his life worth living again? Can Marinette process Adrien's crush on Ladybug AND his growing feelings for her? And can Gabriel stop laughing long enough to launch his master plan? A fluffy DFC - buggachat Ladrienette jam. 10/15: Our story is now complete with the posting of Chapter 24, the epilogue. Thank you so much for reading, as always.