#the teachers will go into hour long debates with each other or a few students honestly

[wierdfanficwriter]

I’m not even an academic but this is weirdly relatable

people who don't know anything about academics: man y'all are stuffy and boring what's up with that? actual academics: *too busy fist-fighting each other over the beryllium problem or the existence of a dentistry profession in ancient egypt to reply*

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Teen Villain Alliance Chapter 6

When Fenton had given Damian his task of attending classes and picking a team, he hadn’t expected to start enjoying it. 

Which was a miscalculation on Damian’s part. Damian had always enjoyed learning; his mother had been indulgent with what he learned as a child, sending tutors in everything that caught his interest, from art to world history to veterinary medicine. It wasn’t until his education in assassination began in earnest–around his 7th birthday–that his interests were stifled. And when he’d been sent to live with Father, it ground to a halt.

It took months for Father to deem him “tamed” enough to introduce him to the public, and even then he was  not allowed an education. While Damian was grateful that he wouldn’t endure public schooling, Father didn’t even allow tutors on the premises. Instead, Damian attended “online school” which consisted of video lectures and multiple choice quizzes on topics he’d covered years ago. In addition to the online school, he had daily lectures on “ethics” and “societal norms” from either Pennyworth or Grayson, neither of which were experts in the area. He’d asked. 

The TVA was different. Better, if he were honest, but he’d never admit it aloud. The teachers were ghosts, experts in their fields. Who else could say that they learned chemistry from Maria Skłodowska-Curie, or battle tactics from the first Amazonian, Pandora? The ghosts around him were not stuck in the past, nor apathetic to life on earth; instead, they kept learning, kept evolving, with a careful eye on the world outside the Infinite Realms. 

And despite himself, Damian even enjoyed having classmates. No class was large–most didn’t have more than 10 students per teacher–and many classes involved a debate aspect that allowed them to get to know each other. Just the other day, Damian had spent over an hour discussing the methods for creating a locked door murder with Shadowblade, a 14-year-old ninja from Japan. 

There was no competition, with the exception of combat classes. In the League, and at Wanye Manor, he was always competing. To be the best so he wouldn’t be replaced, to be strong to live up to the name of Al Ghul. Competing for Father’s attention, his approval, over the ingrates that make claims to a birthright that is not their own. With Grayson, Todd, Cain, Drake; each of them stronger, faster, better trained, better behaved. 

Trusted. 

Was it any wonder that Damian had jumped at the chance to prove himself?

Dr. Fenton–Danny, the man had insisted–trusted him. He wanted Damian to lead his team in the field. In his hand was a list of all the members he would work with, and the paper was tacky with sweat. Taking a deep breath, Damian knocked on the door to Fenton’s lab. 

After a few minutes, Fenton opened the door. He looked frazzled, hair astray and lab-coat half on. “Damian!” He said, smiling brightly. “I wasn’t expecting you, come in! I just reached a good stopping point for my latest project.” He invited Damian into the lab. “What can I help you with?”

Damian held out his list. “These are the four members of the TVA that I thought will work best as your infiltration squad.” He’d thought long and hard about who had the skills to join and, more importantly, who he could tolerate working directly under him. 

Fenton smiled. “That’s great! Have you started talking to them? Making friends?”

“...Some,” Damian decided on, thinking back to Shadowblade. “Everyone on that list has skills or abilities that would enable easy information gathering. I have yet to approach them though; I thought you’d prefer to determine if I’ve made the right choice.”

“Fantastic! I’ll give them to Jazz in a bit, see if there’ll be any conflicts. How’s everything going for you? Have you enjoyed all your classes?”

Damian nodded, but looked away. There was another reason why he was here. “May I… ask you something? I’ve encountered a conundrum that I could use advice for.”

“Of course! I’m always willing to ask. But if I may ask, why don’t you ask Jazz? She’s mentioned that she hasn’t seen you in her office once, and she gives fantastic advice.”

Damian made a face. “I see no reason to submit myself to brainwashing when I am already a loyal member of this organization. There’s no need for me to attend.”

Danny’s eyebrows rose. “Okay, we’ll come back to that eventually. But what’s bugging you, Damian?”

Damian swallowed. Suddenly, all the anger from the thought of therapy drained out of him and he sagged. “Is it… bad? That I am happier now than I was before?”

“What do you mean?” Danny asked, leading Damian over to a couch near the entrance of the lab. It was clearly a recreational space, with a gaming system in front of a TV. Damian sat beside him as he considered his words. 

“I… enjoy my time here. I like it more than I’ve liked anywhere else. And I should not. I shouldn’t be enjoying this life while leaving the people who raised me behind. My mother, my grandfather—this feels like a betrayal.” His father would be so disappointed in him if he learned how affected these villains made Damian. 

Danny’s face softened. He took in a deep breath, turning in his seat to face him. “I can understand that. Did something similar to my folks when I joined Phantom, you know.”

“...Really?” No one knew about the Wolves' pasts. Many of his fellows speculated, but no one knew for sure. The top theory for Fenton was that he was a mad scientist on the run from the government. 

“Yeah.” Danny nodded, glancing down for a moment before meeting Damian’s gaze. “When I was your age, I... betrayed my parents too. Not in the same way as you, but... my parents were ghost hunters. They spent their lives teaching me and my sister that ghosts were dangerous, evil. And for a long time, I believed them. But then they built a portal to the Ghost Zone, and ghosts starting coming through, and Phantom happened, and…” He looked away, swallowing. “I realized how wrong they were.”

He paused, gauging Damian’s reaction. The boy was listening, quiet but intense.

“I ended up siding with the very things they want to destroy,” Danny continued. “They want to indiscriminately massacre an entire species. They even co-authored a law that makes it legal to experiment and execute ghosts in American territory.” 

“What?” Damian couldn’t believe what he was saying. There couldn’t be a law that so blatantly breaks the Metahumans Protection Act, right? The Justice League–Father–would never stand for it. 

“It’s true,” Fenton said, as if to counter Damian’s thoughts. Damian boosted his mental shields just in case Fenton was a telepath. “There’s a whole government organization dedicated to ‘researching’ ghosts. Of course, they’re more interested in dissecting them.” Damian shuttered. “See? It’s clear that they’re in the wrong in this instance. That helps me some, when I keep thinking about how I betrayed my parents. But even knowing I was doing the right thing, it still hurts. Sometimes the people who are supposed to protect us and put us first end up hurting us the worst.”

Fenton placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “You’re a good kid. You’re so smart, and you have so much potential. But what your grandfather did to you was wrong. What your mother did was wrong. And you have every right to distance yourself from any situation where you feel unsafe.”

Damian looked away. “They were just trying to make me stronger,” he muttered. 

“Would you ever do what they did to someone else? Even to make them stronger?”

Damian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his mind swirling with memories of training, the endless demands for perfection, the blood on his hands. He thought about how much he had been shaped by the League, how much he had been forced to be something he hadn’t chosen. And then there was his father. He had felt so out of place, constantly trying to meet expectations he didn’t fully understand, let alone agree with.

“No,” Damian whispered, the answer clear. “I wouldn’t.”

“Then there’s your answer,” Danny said, smiling gently. “It doesn’t matter what they wanted for you. You’re not betraying them by living a better life or by choosing a path they wouldn’t have chosen for you.”

Damian stayed quiet for a moment, absorbing Danny’s words. A small weight lifted from his chest. He didn’t need to feel guilty for enjoying this life—this better life—away from the constant pressure of the League, or from the expectations of his father.

Danny leaned back again, folding his arms behind his head, the familiar goofy grin returning. “And hey, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing pretty awesome here. You kicked butt in those combat drills last week.”

Damian flushed, suddenly embarrassed. “You saw those?”

“Yup,” Danny popped his lips, grinning smugly. “Sam and Phantom are so jealous you’re on my team instead of theirs. They’re planning to poach you, but I trust that you’ll dismiss their bribes.”

A small, rare smile tugged at Damian’s lips.

[byizoyas]

© byizoyas

SFW | soft hcs when they get jealous (in a relationship) with alhaitham, itto, cyno

✰ ALHAITHAM

› alhaitham doesn’t express his feelings a lot, he just does it when needs be or when he wants to

› but as much of a careless loner he likes to think he is; he actually does care, especially when it’s about you

› and even though you get his full trust, he doesn’t like a lot to find other men around you

⸻

you argued with alhaitham about three days ago and none of you texted back since then but as much as you missed him, you knew you wouldn’t be the one doing it, since you weren’t so in the wrong during your debates.

college was hard without alhaitham to encourage you and comfort you, but you were doing pretty fine. even found a working partner for the latest project your teacher gave you.

usually, you did your homework with alhaitham but since he didn’t intend on coming back for now, you had to take care of yourself.

and that’s how you ended up in the college library with your new working partner.

you usually didn’t talk a lot in class, and he didn’t either so you guys didn’t know each other a lot —not to say at all— but somehow, the conversation was flowing.

you kept on laughing to his jokes and he laughed to yours.

only after hours of talking and studying together did you notice your boyfriend on your left sitting with his roommate. kaveh was talking to him but alhaitham seemed to barely listen to him, with his eyes stuck on you.

the eye contact kept going for a few minutes before he went to you.

‘hi. could we talk ?’ he only said, not addressing a single look at the man sitting before you, and instead keeping his eyes on you waiting for your answer.

you agreed, following him into a little room not far from the library. alhaitham locked the door, probably so you could freely talk without the fear of being interrupted in the middle of your conversation.

‘you didn’t text.’ you started saying since alhaitham wasn’t saying a single word for the two minutes you’ve been spending inside of that office.

‘i… was busy.’ he only said.

you shrugged your shoulders. you’ve been waiting for him to initiate the conversation he needed to have since he came to disturb you and your new friend. but he wasn’t saying a thing. instead, only looking at you with a stoic face as if he was waiting for you to speak more.

‘still hard to express yourself huh ? see you.’ you waved at him before going towards the door to go back with the other student you’ve been working with for the past few hours.

‘i despise seeing you with him, who obviously likes you.’

‘i do not like him !’ you yelled at him, turning back to face him thinking it’d give more impact to your confession. ‘i like you ! fucking dumbass !’

‘i love you y/n’

these words weren’t expected. it was indeed the first time ever he said it to you, and you couldn’t blame him since you guys started dating really not long ago. but imagining alhaitham confessing his love in a tight room next to the college library was still hard to believe; even while you were living it right now.

‘i love you, and i don’t want to lose you to that asshole.’

you didn’t find strength to say anything; instead only kissing him.

he was jealous. you told yourself your whole life, that you would despise a jealous man, but to have the man you were feeling undying love for, feel threatened to the point of confessing right away; was absolutely astonishing.

✰ ITTO

› so you’ve been in a romantic relationship with itto for a while now and he pretty much never expressed any jealousy

› itto is just super confident and he believes you when you say you love him

› but there are times where he finds it hard to compete with the others, as if they were better people for you than him

⸻

a few days ago, itto called you, suggesting he’d organize a whole festival for your incoming birthday. he couldn’t help it, that man simply loved you too much to not prepare anything for you.

as much as you liked your friends, the idea of spending a whole night with all of them wasn’t your preferred option; especially after you thought of a romantic date with your lover.

and as much as seeing him all happy and enthusiastic about it was melting your heart, you didn’t feel like keeping your thoughts to yourself.

‘itto ?’

‘mh ?’

the two of you were hanging out, walking around inazuma streets. the sun was high in the sky and hitting your skin a pleasant warmth.

‘did you find something you want ? because i worked hard to buy you a gift you’d like !’ he exclaimed in the middle of the street. and the few people turning around to look at you pretty much always seemed judging. except for grandmas who thought you looked cute together.

‘no itto i- don’t want a birthday party’ you quickly said.c stopping you in your walk so you could avoid itto’s face. you spent all night imagining his face turning into disappointment and couldn’t bear to see it.

‘what ?! how could you not tell me before y/n.’ he screamed. more than disappointed, he seemed worried that you might not enjoy your day as much as he wanted you to.

after that, it took a few twenty minutes for him to stop repeating how sorry he was for not seeing it before. and you ended up talking about complete opposite things.

and when you finally got to start thinking about your birthday plans; your phone rang; ayato’s name appearing on the lockscreen.

his calls were pretty rare, so you only showed the name to itto for him to understand why you were picking a call instead of focusing on him for your special moment together.

‘ayaka and i have been planning a huge party for your birthday. i hope you’ll be free on [second day after birthday date] to celebrate you.’

‘well i-’ you started stopping him in his idea, but he quickly interrupted you, which was so not his usual behavior

‘don’t say no. i’m almost begging you to not cancel. ayaka has been working on it for months now, and she truly wants you to be here, y/n, please think about it.’

after his begging, which was, once again, typically not like ayato; itto obviously asked what was going on with that sudden call.

‘the kamisato have been organizing something for my birthday…’ you started saying. obviously, you didn’t like he idea of refusing his plans to agree to others. but ayato insisted a lot and that was what you said to itto, hoping he would understand

but he only nodded. ‘i see.’

you felt bad the minute you talked about it. now itto’s face was truly not giving his usual good vibes.

‘you think their party will be better than mine ?’ he asked, looking at you before looking away ‘cause i would’ve done better. for you.’

you smiled after hearing these words, especially knowing that itto wasn’t one to speak words he didn’t mean.

was he jealous ? you asked yourself. ‘itto, i wanted to spend my day with you only.’ you said, to reassure him a bit, but it wasn’t a lie. you truly wanted to be with only him, in his loving arms and all.

‘you did ?’ his eyes suddenly full of sparkles looked back at you. but he coughed, quickly taking off that genuine happiness expression from his face. ‘i mean, as you wish y/n.’

you chuckled to yourself before throwing yourself into his arms, which welcomed you right away. ‘i only need you itto.’

you stared fondly at him before his lips crashed onto yours. ‘i’m glad to hear that. your birthday will be the best of your life, your birthday date (me, he added) will make sure to.

‘i’m looking forward to it.’ you only replied, offering your full trust to him and stealing him another kiss.

✰ CYNO

› cyno jokes around a lot,this is one of the multiple things you like about him too

› but he also takes some things RLLY seriously; to the point where it’s written all over his face that he’s not joking at all

› so when you’ve seen him walking towards you; with that face you learnt to recognize right away after spending so much time together with him; you knew exactly where it was going

⸻

you’ve been talking with a friend of yours for an hour now, yet time didn’t seem to move that fast to you.

it’s only when you’ve seen cyno from afar that you realized; you failed him. you indeed planned to go to the cinema together, but since you arrived earlier and had to wait, you went to a cafe on the other side of the road.

‘am i bothering you ?’ he only said after walking to you and your friend.

you were both sitting facing each other, while cyno was standing next to the table almost between the two of you.

your friend looked at him before his eyes rolled back at you, his gaze expressing confusion as he only let out a hesitating sound.

‘[friend’s name] he’s cyno; my boyfriend who i was supposed to join fifteen minutes ago now… i’m sorry.’ you whispered the end of your sentence while looking up at your lover who was still not talking much.

obviously he didn’t appreciate finding you laughing with another man while he, was outside waiting for you to come which you never did.

sure he could’ve waited, but you guys didn’t get to see each other for a moment now since cyno had a job taking almost all his time; and he was missing you a lot.

‘you should get going then.’ your friend only said, smiling and waving at you while you stood up with your stuff in hands.

cyno said goodbye to the other man, coldly though, but at least he had been polite. you walked next to him and held his hand when walking out of the cafe.

‘how was your day ?’ you asked trying to make conversation since cyno would obviously not be the one to.

‘could’ve been better. i’m starving.’ he said it as if it was the only problem and perhaps his working day truly was hard to handle; but you knew something was off.

‘what’s the matter cyno ? he’s just a friend.’

he looked right ahead as he kept on walking despite the serious conversation that you just started.

‘i know. that’s the problem.’

‘how is it the problem ?’ you exclaimed as if you didn’t expect such response from him.

he stopped walking and looked back at you after you two crossed the road. ‘you kept on laughing at his jokes. how is it you don’t laugh at mine then.’

now the atmosphere really lightened around you. you felt pain until he said this; because tou truly didn’t understand what you did wrong.

but cyno loved his jokes. he was proud of them, and every single one of them had the goal to make you smile at least but generally you just teased him with the fact no one laughed. and it didn’t pain him; until he saw you laugh to another man’s jokes.

‘it is my job to make you laugh; so if he’s only your friend and does it but i don’t, what makes me better.’

‘cyno… you can’t be serious now.’ you chuckled but got closer to him, placing your head on his shoulders when wrapping your arms around his chest.

‘i love you.’ you only said, as he caressed your cheeks. you didn’t get to hear him say the same words to you, but the way he pulled you closer to embrace you was enough.

[specialagentlokitty]

Mr Evershed x Student!reader - recovery is a long road

Hello, I love your images. If it is okay, I was wondering if I could request a Mr Evershed x Suicidal reader. If not, then I completely understand. I hope you have a good day 💛 - Anon💜

TW: mentions of suicidal thoughts

You weren’t sure when the last time you went to school was, you couldn’t even remember what you last did it had been that long.

Sitting on the wall in front of the building complex, you were debating on what to do for the day when a car pulled up.

You saw the two teachers and you jumped down, making your way back inside the building.

“(Y/N)!” Mrs Carter called.

Ignoring her, you made your way into the lift and spammed the button so the doors closed on them and quickly made your way back inside your flat.

You were hoping that that would be the end of it but a few minutes later there was some knocking at your door and it was pushed open.

You glared at the building manager lightly and he raised his hands.

“Sorry kid.” He shrugged.

The two teachers walked in and looked around the messy flat.

“This is trespassing…” you mumbled.

Laying on one of the sofa’s, you grabbed the Xbox controller and started to browse through YouTube as the two teachers took a seat on the other sofa.

“We’ve been sent to bring you back into school.” Mrs Carter spoke softly.

“Good for you.” You replied.

“(Y/N) this is serious, you’ve not been in for weeks. You’ve missed so much and if you don’t come back now you could fail the year.” Mr Evershed sighed.

You shrugged slightly and got up, walking into the kitchen you came back with some snacks and set them on the table, making a gesture at them and the teachers shook their heads

“(Y/N) you need to come back in.” Mrs Carter sighed.

You didn’t say anything and they looked at each other before turning back to you.

“What’s going on? You’re not normally like this.” She said.

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“I don’t think this sums up to fine, do you?” Mr Evershed asked.

You scoffed.

“Please you’re just some new teacher who doesn’t know anything.”

“(Y/N).” Mrs Carter warned.

Sighing, you kicked your shoes up on the table and rested your head on the back of the sofa.

“It’s fine, I don’t need school.”

“Oh really? And why’s that?” Mr Evershed asked.

You shrugged a little.

You weren’t going to tell them then anything else.

They tried for about half an hour to convince you to come back to school but it didn’t work and they just sighed.

“Do you at least want us to bring email your work over? Get you anything?” Mr Evershed asked.

You shook your head and they just left, speaking about what their next plan of action was going to be.

They did try emailing you work but they never got anything back from it, so they were trying to think of something else to do.

It has been a few days since they came around, and finally you found yourself stood on the bridge, looking down at the ground below as you swung you legs back and forth.

Bowing your head, you took a deep breath to calm yourself down.

Your body was screaming at you not to do it, but you mind was overruling it all, almost running on autopilot.

You phone was buzzing like crazy with calls and messages but you ignored it.

You closed your eyes and took another deep breath. You shuffled forward a little bit until you were right on the edge.

“(Y/N)….” Someone called softly.

Whipping your head around, you saw Mr Evershed stood there with a couple of police cars nearby.

You glared at him slightly.

He held his hand out as he walked over.

“We can talk about this, okay? We can talk about whatever makes you feel like you need to do this but you have to come down.” He said quietly.

You shook your head, shuffling forward just s tiny but and he froze, the officer step forward, but when they saw the position you were sat in the stopped.

One wrong move.

One wrong move and it was all over.

“(Y/N) you don’t want this…” the teacher whispered.

You looked down at your feet and he shuffled a little closer before he stopped.

“What if I do? What if this is all I’ve wanted for a long time?” You grumbled out.

“What about your friends? Sam? She’s the one who told me. She found the letter on your table.”

You shrugged a little.

“She’ll be okay…”

“No one will be okay. You’re a bright young kid, you can go so far in life. I heard stories about you from last year, boisterous, happy, smart, sassy. I’d like a chance to meet that side of you, you just have to come down. Its all I’m asking for now.”

You looked at Mr Evershed, he still hand his hands held you to you, and he wore a soft smile on his face.

“I just… I want to feel okay…” you mumbled.

“And we can help you feel okay, I promise you right now it’s going to get better.”

It was quiet for a few minutes, only tragic in the distance and birds could be heard.

“Come down please.” He begged.

You shuffled back a little and turned around, swinging your legs so they were over the other side, and you looked down at the ground once more.

Mr Evershed took his as he chance and he rushed forward, pulling you from the wall and into him making him crash to the floor.

He took a deep breath of relief and sat up, holding you in a hug as you trembled.

“It’s going to be okay…”

Pushing yourself away, you looked at the officer who were now walking over and crouching in front of you.

“Are you going to take me away…?” You asked quietly.

“I’m afraid we have to under the mental health act and at the schools request.”

You simply nodded and stood up, brushing the dirt from you as you turned to Mr Evershed who stood up and did the same, giving you a smile.

“Thank you.” He whispered to you.

“Will you and Sam come see me…?”

He nodded his head.

“Of course.”

You didn’t have a choice, you went with the police officers and you were placed in a ward.

For the first few days you weren’t allowed any visitors and you barely left your room, but when the nurse came by saying you had some people who wanted to see you, to wrapped your blanket around your shoulders and followed her.

She took you to the front where Mr Evershed and Sam were stood holding a bag.

“We’ve got you some stuff.” Sam smiled.

She handed it to the nurse who took it through to your room.

“Do you guys have time for a drink…?”

Mr Evershed and Sam looked at each other before they smiled and nodded.

They followed you through to the visitors rooms and nurse made you all a drink before she left.

Sam told you everything you had been missing in school while Mr Evershed sent an email to Mrs Carter, letting her know how you were doing.

He turned his attention to you.

“How’re you feeling?” He asked softly.

You looked at him and gave a small smile.

“Better I suppose.”

“You can come out in a few days.” Sam beamed.

“I.. I think I’m going to stay… I need this…”

They both nodded and promised to keep visiting for however long you were there and they did.

They visited every day after school, sometimes sneaking you in snacks or bringing you some work to keep you busy.

When it was time for you to go home they left you leave with Mr Evershed, and he carried your bag into your flat before taking his blazer off and rolling up his sleeves.

“Sir?” You asked.

“Let’s get cleaning, come on out some music on.”

You smiled a little and did as he asked, and he held you work through the mess of your flat.

Recovery was a long road, but something told you it was going to be okay

[mjmagics]

Time Loop prt 2

Note: took me long enough

Summary: a young teacher’s father causes a time loop paradox. Rick Sanchez, the smartest man in the universe, attempts to fix yet another mistake not caused by him.

Word Count:2k+

Rating: Mature Minors do not interact

Warnings: its rick and morty, don’t be stupid. Family drama I guess, mentions of the superwholock fandom (I know it can be scary for some people), slight bullying (like friends picking on each other), mentions of emotional trauma from parents, Rick calling Morty stupid

This is chapter 2 of The Mechanic’s Daughter

Chapter 1 is here

Shortly after the awkward confrontation between Emma and Rick, the two were huddled together over a notebook going over a plan. Summer and Morty watched from the doorway connecting the house and garage. It was silent for a few moments until Emma groaned in frustration and stormed out of the garage into her driveway.

 “I hate this,” She wailed before taking a long breath and returning to Rick’s side. He didn’t question her or mock what she did, but simply let her read the process over again. 

“What do you think is in that notebook?” Summer asked her brother, picking at her cuticles. Morty was sipping on a juice box that he found in the Appleborn’s fridge. 

“I guess I don’t know,” Morty sighed as he crushed the cardboard container with his fist. “Rick always said he wouldn’t mess with time. I-I had him make me a do-over gadget before and I was just killing myself over and over again. I hope he isn’t pulling some kind of joke on her like that.” Morty shook his head before standing up. “I’m going to check on them.” 

Morty strutted over, hands in his pockets. “So,” The boy stated, leaning on the workbench in what could be considered an attempt to act cool. “What's the p-plan?” 

Rick scoffed at Morty’s shameless attempt to impress his teacher before he snatched the notebook up from Emma. “She won’t let us come with her so I’m trying to teach her how to use the machine but she’s as stupid a-as your dad.” 

“Hey!” Emma exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Rick, that is not fair. I am not stupid, I just have never done anything like this before!” 

“Yeah, Rick,” Summer shouted from her spot in the doorway. “Emma isn’t used to this. I’m surprised by how well she's hanging on.” 

The old man rolled his eyes at the younger group. “This is all bullshit. If you just let me drive the time machine you can do all the dirty work.” He then slammed the notebook on the counter, sliding it back to Emma. “Last chance before I simply do it myself. My way, which does not guarantee I fix your dad’s mistake.” 

This made the woman debate in her head for a few short minutes. She wanted to keep Rick and the Smith children away from the mess of time travel. Rick seemed really against it and as a teacher, it is her duty to keep her students away from danger. Everything circled in her brain, she wanted to give up. She knew her best option– but a clammy hand on her own pulled her out of the thoughts brewing. 

“Let us help you,” Morty stated. His hand was on hers and even though at first it was weird, she found Morty to be comforting. 

“Okay,” Emma breathed, looking at the group. She closed her eyes and took a few more shaky breaths. “Mr. Sanchez, please help me. Again. More. I don’t know what the right way to say it is.” 

Rick scoffed before turning away, “get in the car.” The younger two began to walk that way but Emma stayed back for a moment. 

“Thank you, Rick. You’ve done so much for me,” she stated. 

“I haven’t done- eeeugh- shit yet,” the man stated, walking to the car. “Hurry up, I’m bored.” 

Once Emma was in the passenger seat of the red car something occurred to her. “My dad must be in 1998. The year I was born.” 

“‘98? Damn, woman, you’re a child,” Rick scoffed before pressing buttons on the dash board that Emma was fairly certain were not there just a few hours before. “Like the refurbishments? Pretty c-c-badass, huh?” 

“Uh- yeah. Could you teach me?” Emma pondered, reaching out to touch the buttons. The man slapped her hand, and the sound of the movement echoed through the car. 

“Damn, Rick!” Morty exclaimed, “you’re r-really touchy.” 

“Yeah, gramps,” Summer began. “Tone it down on the physical violence.” 

“I tapped her hand!” Rick rushed to defend himself, his hands being thrown in the air. “She was touching the control panel, Emma could have slaughtered us all!” 

“I didn’t mean to!” Emma protested, crossing her arms over her chest, lip pouting like a child. “If you just taught me-” 

Rick scoffed as he put the car into drive, the engine vibrating. “If I taught you? You rage quit, sweetie. You have the temper of a five-year-old playing Fortnite, Appleborn. You really think I want to do this?” Rick pressed on the gas, releasing the break and they jerked forward. Emma screamed, assuming they were going right into the garage, but when she opened her eyes they were driving in a bright beam of light before they slammed to a stop. “We’re here.” 

Although the two were bickering, Emma was too focused on the world outside her window. It was their town but less developed. Kids were playing in the yard, jumping through sprinklers. Parents sat together gossiping, and sipping sangrias. There was not a smartphone in sight. 

“This is insane,” Emma stated under her breath. 

“So how do we find Emma’s dad or do we just wait for him to find us?” Summer questioned from the back seat. 

“Emma, where were you born?” Rick questioned. 

“The birthing center at the medical school in Seattle,” Emma quickly answered. “It’s really good, and my dad was a nurse there.“ 

“Buckle up kids, we’re going on a drive,” Rick muttered, slightly annoyed by having to search. “I landed on your birthday so do not touch any babies at the center, Emma. Could erase you from existence.” 

“Oh no,” Emma sighed sarcastically. “Not being alive is such a bad experience for me.” 

Summer snorted but tried to cover her face. “Wow, Emma, you're so emo.” 

“Y-yeah, like so dark and b-b-brooding,” Morty chimed in. 

Rick had a little grin on his face as he too thought up an insult to tease the woman. “Listen to too much -eugh- My Chemical Romance while your brain was developing.” 

Emma rolled her eyes at the man before turning and looking at the kids. “First of all, I’m not the biggest fan of ballads so MCR isn’t my thing. Have a few goodies but really not into it. Also, being depressed doesn’t mean your ‘emo’ it just means you have no joy in life.” 

“Woah, why are you always such a buzzkill, miss ‘no joy in life?” Rick pondered, shaking his head. “I barely even know you but you get on my nerves.” 

“Maybe that’s why, ‘cause you don’t know me,” Emma stated before Rick slammed on the brakes, causing her to lunge forward, but the seatbelt on caught her. 

“Wow, Emma wore her seatbelt,” Rick pointed out. “You know what that means?” 

“That I clicked it so you don’t get a ticket?” 

“No, that you care about yourself,” the scientist began driving again, slowly building up speed.

Morty was the next to chip in: “You seem the type to talk about how ready you are to die but I know the look in your eyes. You are afraid of death, so don’t talk as if you don’t care what happens to you.” 

“Wow, thanks,” Emma huffed. She felt childish, she made a harmless joke and her student was lecturing her. “Anyways, Morty, what do you know about being afraid of death?” 

“A lot more than a boy my age should know,” Morty stated. There was a hint of sadness in his voice that tugged at Emma’s heart. She always felt deeply connected to Morty and Summer, she never knew why. Maybe it was their broken family dynamic, or the way Summer reminded her of Natalie (Emma’s older sister) and Morty reminded her of herself. Emma chose to reflect on it, and the car was silent other than the radio that Rick stated had to be playing. 

By the time the group got to the hospital, Emma was starting to feel the effects of time travel. Her head was pounding and her bones felt like they grew too large. Her heart was racing with the fear of seeing her biological parents, and even the fear of facing her father. The scientist led the way through the parking lot, his lab coat flapping in the wind. Morty followed closely behind Rick while Summer and Emma had the same stride. Once they hit the building they stopped at the front desk, Emma walked up. 

“Anna Straight, please. She is my aunt. She is giving birth,” Emma stated. 

The receptionist raised her eyebrow. “Name?” 

“Hmm?” Emma tilted her head as if she was puzzled by the woman asking for the name. 

“Your name? I need it in order to see if you’re on the list,” 

“Oh, my name,” Emma let out a breathy giggle and then looked towards her feet. “My name is Phoebe Straight,” she answered. 

“Okay, I see you are listed. Can I get the name of your friends?” 

“Oh, yes.” She grabbed Morty’s shoulders, pulling him to her side. Morty gasped in surprise and moved to where she wanted him, his cheeks flushed as his gaze averted to his feet. “This is Thomas Straight, he also should be on the list. It’s Anna’s son.” 

“Okay, I see him,” The receptionist responded. 

“This older gentleman is my uncle, Steven Straight and the girl is my sister, Emma Straight.” 

“Okay, you’re all set,” 

The group was waved through, only getting one look from a security guard. 

“Who are all these people, Emma?” Summer asked once they stopped at the elevators. 

“My cousins and grandpa. Also, I guess my half brother but I don’t know a thing about him.” Emma laughed and then let out a sigh of relief. “I expected to be stopped and kicked out.” 

“So you’re named after a cousin?” Rick questioned. 

“Yes.” Emma replied. 

“Was she a cool person?” 

“I wouldn’t know. She died the day I was born.” The elevator doors opened and a small bell sounded. Emma was the first to step on, and she stepped in. The group followed in silence until the doors shut the four in. 

“Emma,” Summer started. “You seem upset, did something happen?” 

There was a moment of pause as the elevator started to make its way up the building. First floor, second, third, and so on until they landed on the tenth floor, the baby floor. 

“I am okay, I’m just worried. What if I can’t fix things?” 

“We can, grandpa al-al-always has a solution,” Morty voiced, eyes filled with concern. 

Rick sighed as he grabbed Emma by her hand. There was a sharp prick a few seconds after their skin made contact. “OW!” The woman exclaimed. “Rick, what was that for?” She asked in a hushed voice as she realized the nurses were looking at her. 

“It's a bit of your DNA. If we mess up and you end up disappearing. I can bring you back.” 

“But I won't exist,” The woman sighed. Emma looked up at Rick, her eyes filled with sorrow but also acceptance. “My father won't give up.” 

“What does that mean?” Summer questioned. 

Rick sighed again, then cleared his throat. “Emma’s dad is already dead. We can’t save him but we can stop him from deleting Emma.” 

“Wait but isn’t this Emma’s birth? She would have al-already been born, he is just going to stop her from being raised by her bio-bi-bio.. Biologeee- her real parents.” Morty exclaimed, his face flustered from the stutter and inability to say a word he usually can pronounce. 

Rick didn’t answer, he just kept walking the hallway before stopping at the window to the nursery. 30 medical grade bassinets were shown, but there was only 23 with names on it. Emma stood next to Rick, swallowing hard.

 “Morty, we’re early,” Summer stated as her brain processed the names and birth dates of the babies. 

“What do you mean?” Morty asked, squinting to try and figure out why everyone was looking at the babies. 

“I at first thought that Emma’s father went back to ‘98, when she was born. You all forgot that Terry has another daughter, one a bit older,” Rick’s face was grim, an expression he often hid when it was a matter this dark, yet he showed his emotions.  

Morty’s eyes scanned the room faster before landing on the bassinet, middle row second to the left. There was a little girl, Natalie. “No,” He whispered. 

“My dad didn’t come to save me. He came to save her,” Emma’s voice was calm, and when she looked at Morty and Summer she was smiling. Her world was falling apart, she could feel it in her gut. “Today my mom and dad meet. Today is when Nat’s life goes to shit. The day she was born because of my dad. Or that's what my adopted mom always went on about. A bitter truth. My beginnings will lead to Natalie’s demise.”  

It didn’t take long for Emma to notice Morty walking to her. He was the more emotional of the bunch. As his teacher they created a bond, and she often was a safe person for him to vent to about his home life. Hearing her talk about something so heart wrenching (to Morty but not the others) he wanted to show her support. He took the woman’s hand and cleared his throat. “Emma, I promise we will figure this out. We will save you.” 

“So, what do we need to look out for?” Summer hummed, turning from the window to look down the hallways. “Like your dads or your mom?” 

“I don’t really know.” Emma sighed, feeling defeated so soon. 

“I know,” Rick stated as he too turned away from the window. Babies were gross. He let out a burp before continuing. “Two of us stake out the hospital room, the other two tail Emma’s sperm donor.”  

Rick split up the group, Emma and Summer at the door of the room and Rick and Morty watching over Emma’s biological dad, Jacob Marco. Rick already looked a bit like a doctor due to him having a lab coat, so he found extra scrubs in a store room. He dressed Summer and Morty in them, even if Morty looked a bit young to be a nurse. He also handed out sheets of blank paper that he claimed to change into whatever you said it was. 

“Like in Doctor Who?” Emma pondered.

“No, not like in Doctor Who at all. I’m so tired of everyone comparing me to him. First, I don’t time travel, second I don’t give two fucks about the human race. If something was coming to destroy Earth I don’t give two fucks. I can always go to another dimension. Not to mention, the Doctor doesn’t even have a portal. He has no idea about the multiverse.” 

“Pretty sure he does,” the woman shot back. “And I’m pretty sure that's -eugh-  bullshit.” Rick laughed. “So you weren’t emo growing up, but you’re a- wait what's the word… superwholock?” 

“You wish,” Emma spat back. “I never cared for Sherlock.” 

“What!” Rick exclaimed, “Its the best out of those three. You got to be shitting me right now, Appleborn.” 

“Guys?” Morty spoke. 

“I don’t like shows about men who think they're better than everyone.” 

“And the timelord doesn’t do that?” 

“Grandpa,” Summer stated. 

“The Doctor is a good person.” 

“He is using Earth to hide from his own people.” 

“Grandpa Rick,” Morty called. 

“His people are dead!” 

“What about the master?” 

“Okay there is one more survivor, also its the mistress now!”

“Rick Sanchez.” This time it was Summer calling for him.

“How far behind in this show are you, Emma?” 

“Why wont you listen to us!” Morty groaned. 

“When did the old guy come in?” 

“EMMA!” Summer shouted. 

The woman jumped and then looked at the kids. “Yes, what is it?” 

“Terry was down the hallway!” Morty shouted, already running towards where he spotted the man. 

Rick swore, running after the kid. “Why didn’t you say something, Morty? Are you fucking dumb, this is a life or death situation, kid! Emma could die because of your fuck up, Morty!” 

To be continued in chapter 3! 

[twicecorner]

Teachers Assistant: Prologue

A/N: Hi! I’m back and I’m trying something different out with this mini series. I hope you guys like it... I wrote a little prologue for the plot of the series and who will be featured in it. My hope is to get it going and release on a little schedule so look forward to the main parts :) I know I haven’t been very active lately, but I’m glad you all are still here and supporting me! Cheers and enjoy Teachers Assistant

Word count: 1,075

*This part doesn’t include smut however, the main series will ;) this is just a lil teaser to get your minds going about what may come - also big thanks n shoutout to @subfortwice for helping w the story development/brainstorming😌

It’s your big shot this year. Your university is known for its highly exclusive Love Lab, not only for the numerous studies they’ve done but also for their admirable professors. Each professor in the department is known for their own research on love and all of its components. Since the courses are in high demand, the professors are always in need of teachers’ assistants (TA’s) each year. However, this position requires the passing of a test that is supposedly harder than the Bar Exam. Even before getting to the tests, it’s a privilege to even have your application accepted. Out of the 10,000+ applicants, the professors handpick 50 to go through the trials. Participants are sworn to secrecy about the trials themselves, but it’s said that each trial is some one-on-one test with a set of professors. Out of the 9, a participant must get through at least 4 to pass.

This year, your senior year, your application finally got chosen. A week before classes officially started you received a mysterious letter with a date and time to be at the Love Lab. You’d guess it would be for an interview of some sort, but it was still weird that it came in letter form and it was literally just a date and time. You didn’t think much of it and you made your way to the school on the specified day.

Upon arriving, you saw a line at the entrance of about 30-40 other students, you’d guess they were all there for the same reason. Someone came out at exactly 8 am and let everyone into the auditorium and collected everyone’s phones. Inside the auditorium, all 9 professors stood on stage, arms crossed, and watched with hawk eyes through their glasses as you and the rest of the applicants piled in. 

Professor Park is the first to take the mic, “Ahem, good morning students. Welcome to the Love Lab trials. I will be honest, looking through the applications this year, there were not many standouts. However, my colleagues and I decided to take the benefit of the doubt and continue with the trials. Professor. Im will now explain how all of this will work.”

Professor. Im moves to the front of the stage as Prof. Park hands her the mic. “As most of you know, these trials will be one-on-one interviews, each professor has something different in store for each of you so it will be different every time. In order to pass, you will need to get the approval of 4/9 professors. At this point, you’ll be given a paper with your name and your date and time slots. Each professor and student will have 3 hours to complete the interview…” 

Whispers started to circulate through the crowd. No one expected an interview to be 3 hours long and to get through four of them. 12 hours at least.

“Excuse me.” Professor Im clears her throat and taps her foot on the stage. “As I was saying, since each interview is 3 hours, this will take the full week before school starts, so plan accordingly. A few of you have a slot for today, so with that, I’ll hand the mic back to Professor Park. Good luck.”

You can feel yourself start to sweat when you see that you have the second time slot of the day with Professor Im. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do until then, you didn’t prepare anything. You start looking around and seeing similar expressions on the people around you. Some start freaking out, some debating whether to back out. You take a deep breath and try to relax, try to tell yourself that you got this. It’s four interviews… four 3 hour interviews… Looking back at your schedule you see that your first four professors are Prof. Im Nayeon, Prof. Minatozaki Sana, Prof. Myoi Mina, and Prof. Park Jihyo. You mentally prepare yourself for the next few days, if you get past the first four you’ll be done, you’ll be in. 

Professor Park steps back into center stage. “You’ll now all be sworn to secrecy. We take this very seriously here, so don’t even think about trying anything funny.” The rest of the professors stood up and lined up next to her. Professor Yoo Jeongyeon took the mic and read from a small sheet of paper.

“Please raise your right hand and repeat after me…”

After reciting an oath like we were being initiated into some sort of secret society, we were told to head to the table in front of the stage and to sign a waiver of consent and secrecy. You skimmed over the waiver, something about legal action being taken if rules were broken caught your eye. Damn this shit is serious you thought to yourself. You scribbled your little name onto the paper and looked up to see Professor Park, move her glasses down the bridge of her nose to look down at you. You must have been crazy but it looked like she even had a little smirk on her face. 

Once everyone had finished signing the waivers, Professor Kim Dahyun grabbed the mic, “Finally, we’d all like to hank you for your cooperation and wanting to participate in this program. We look forward to meeting and working with you.” The 9 professors take a short bow of appreciation and receive some applauds in return. A bell rings and you look at your watch, it’s 9 o’clock, the first time slot on the paper. 

Professor Park says, “Those of you with time slots today, stick around. There will be food, drink and activities provided while you await your turn. Our current assistants will be here to aid you as well. To the first 9 participants, please make your way to the exit where you’ll be escorted to your interviews.” A small bustle burst out as the nine tried to find their way out and the rest of us scattered through the auditorium. I saw a large group of people walk to the main exit, assuming they didn’t have time slots today. The rest of you grouped together and murmered about what just happened.

Soon some assistants bring out snacks and drinks and your mind relaxes. They bring out games, books, movies… You, along with the handful of participants left in the auditorium are put at slight ease for now. Now all you can do is wait until noon.

[palbabor-writes]

Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, student/teacher sex, tw.dubcon, tw.sub/dom dynamics, brat taming, fingering, masturbation, a table is pretty roughed up in this, so pls hold a brief moment of silence for it    

Words: 12,857

“So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Notes: the title was selected because it’s got the word cum in it. ahhh, the things that crack me up. anyhow. 

this is part of the BNHA Degeneracy server’s 9 to 5 collaboration! i had a ton of fun participating in this and thank you guys for making this so freaking awesome! special shoutout & thanks to @albinoburrito​ & @kugutsuu​ for their beta edits! this was a departure from what i usually write about and i appreciate all of your notes and help!  

Practicum prac·ti·cum /ˈpraktəkəm/ noun a practical section of a course of study

It’s your senior year, they said. Live a little, they advised. Stop and take a breather, you’re practically home free! Take some easier classes. Focus on what’s in front of you, it’ll be over before you know it! On and on and on. 

Spring semester is almost here. You’ve applied for graduation, the cap and gown ordered, and you have a shiny class ring sitting on your pinky. It’s in the bag. Just breeze through four more classes and you’re out. Well, it would be an easy shot, if you hadn’t put off this one class. 

It always popped up, so it’s not like you could plead ignorance. Your advisor warned you, each quarterly meeting, that you needed to get it out of the way. Take it seriously, he cautioned, clacking out his notes, typing down that you’d failed to heed his sage advice, again. If you wait too long, you’re not going to get the professor that you want.

That was the other problem. You’re a procrastination superstar. If there was some kinda award for putting off assignments, you’d have won it ten times over. You liked the heart pounding race to the deadline, the sleepy boasts that you’d tackled the project within hours of its due date. 

It’s a stupid habit. Every semester you promise yourself that you’ll do better. You won’t wait, you’ll tackle things one assignment at a time and turn them before the hard cut off at 11:59 pm. Who the fuck did you think you were kidding? Certainly not your friends, or your advisor. He could read you like a book. Hell, he’d even sent warnings. 

‘Don’t forget about the deadline for senior registration!’

‘You don’t want to be on a waitlist. You especially don’t want to take one of the harder professors. These are freshman level classes, they’re designed to flunk undergrads. Don’t forget (Y/N), chew them up and spit them out tactics are employed.’ 

But you had. You’d set an alarm on your phone, then neglected to give it a title, so you’d only chuckled and smacked the chirping into silence that morning, snoozing the all important deadline away. 

Fuck. 

Most of the classes for biology are wait-listed. No, scratch that, all the classes for Intro to Genetic Biology are wait-listed. You opt into the waitlist for all of them, just in case, and a week later your phone alerts you that one has an open seat. Actually, it has several open seats, too many open seats to be natural. However, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so for now, you’re enrolled in BIO 1208: Principles of Cell and Organismal Physiology - For Non-Science majors. 

Perfect.

Yeah, no. You’d looked up the professor, since the whole open seat thing was still giving you the heebie-jeebies, and your heart dropped. You’ve heard of him, most of the student body has. His classes are notoriously small. Not because the university limited them, or planned for smaller class sizes. No, his classes are tiny because he is infamous for failing students. 

Most, when they realize they’re scheduled for his bio classes, frantically drop, taking the withdrawal and praying for better luck next semester. Others, brave souls who think they can come out unscathed, attempt to grit their teeth and push through. But, by midterms, they’re war torn and haggard, shaking their heads and praying for a ‘C’, at best. Fewer still, pass.

This pedagogy isn’t a sign of good teaching; quite the opposite, in fact. You don’t want your student body failing. Yet, year after year, Professor Tomura Shigaraki keeps teaching the same Intro to Bio class. It boggles the mind, but you’ve never had to worry about it. Well, until now. 

When you’d received the notification that you’re enrolled in the B section and spied the name Shigaraki under the professor listing, you’d scarfed down your suddenly flavorless lunch and dashed up the steps to the student advising hall, praying there was some way you could wiggle your way out of this growing disaster.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to take it earlier and to take it in the fall when there are more freshman level classes available. I swear I said that to you. And, AND, I even sent you emails, several times if my sent inbox is to be believed, to NOT forget when senior registration ends.” 

Your advisor is peeved. You don’t blame him. He’s right, this is your fault, but there’s gotta be some kinda loophole. Something, fuck, anything, that can pull you from this mess. 

“I know, I know! I’m so sorry. You’re right. But, I mean, can’t I just hold off for another week? See if the waitlist clears?”

The man that you’ve known for four years, that’s seen you progress from freshman to senior, steeples his long fingers and purses his lips, likely debating on a tactful scolding, or a firm rebuttal. He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but sink into the soft cushioning of the chair, your nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

“Do you know how many students we require to take BIO 1208?”

“No,” you gulp, nibbling on your lower lip nervously. 

“Over 7,000. Do you want to hear the statistics that would need to shake out in your favor for you to miraculously avoid taking this specific class? Nothing is going to open for you, it is this class, or no class.”

You sigh, and your advisor nods, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well then, I suggest you brush up on your study skills. Find a classmate that you can compare notes with, join a study group, go to the student union and ask for a tutor. I would hate to see you back here for the summer semester. You’re scheduled to walk the stage this spring and you’ve worked hard for this, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”

You’ve attended this university for four years, but the first day of term always gives you the jitters. It doesn’t matter that you know your way around, or that you know ten professors by name, and bump into several friends on the way to your next building, you’re always buried in your phone, checking and double checking the next class’ room number. 

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

In your defense, it’s your first time stepping foot in the Graduate & Research building and the whole concrete block is a fucking maze. There must be a basement because the numbers don’t match up with the floors and they seem to jumble further every time you round a corner. Like what the hell? How can this next room be GR 3.03.05 when this is clearly only the second floor and GR 2.03.11 was right down that other hallway?

Exasperated, you lean against the nearest wall and tug your phone out again. Shit. Class started ten minutes ago. 

Part of you wants to call it a day, end the search here and try again on Wednesday. Maybe take a few extra minutes to scout out the building next time and have some idea of where you’re going before the start of class. 

Ugh, why is this so stressful? 

It’s the first day of classes. Surely Professor Shigaraki won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late; besides, if you’re lost, others must be too. 

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and resume the hunt. Two hallway turns later, you find your mark.

Your hand pauses beside the heavy wood, and you take a steadying breath. Again, why are you so nervous? Just go in and take a seat, it’s easy, stop freaking out over nothing. 

The door groans open, hinges protesting the sharp push, and you stumble into a darkened room. The low glow of the projector doesn’t help your blurry vision. Ah, shit, it’s one of those older rooms, so it’s built like a bad movie theater. Oh well, better get to a seat before he spots you. 

Swiftly, you make your way toward the raised steps of the aisle and the second row of chairs, plopping into the first one you reach that’s empty. You’re too busy fiddling with the zipper of your backpack to notice that the speaker has stopped his rasping preamble, but as you pull your laptop out the ominous weight of that heavy silence hits you and you toss a hooded stare toward the front of the lecture hall. 

Immediately, your eyes land on the professor’s and you feel a low shiver shake up your spine. 

He’s watching you. 

The gleam of the overhead projector makes his red eyes flash, and he openly scowls at your gaping expression, his lips curling into a dark sneer.

“Well, thank you for joining us, Miss…?”

He’s waiting for your response and you squeak out your last name, mindlessly rubbing your moistening palms against your thin skirt. 

“Ah, Ms. (L/N). Now that you’ve graced the class with your belated presence, may I continue?”

“Uh,” you gasp out, your mouth dry, tongue sticking to your teeth, “I’m sorry. I got–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation, or in your case, an excuse. Or are you now attempting to disrupt this class purposefully?”

“Wha– I-I’m–” your words stumble to a halt, voice failing under the intense glare that he’s giving you. “No,” you finish lamely, ducking your head, nails digging into your sweaty palms. 

“Thank you. Do me a favor, stay after class.” His voice is gravel, threatening and low. You don’t like the edge in his tone. It makes your skin prickle and your knees knock. He sounds like the kind of guy that you don’t want to run into in a dark alleyway, or a classroom, for that matter. Even so, it’s not your fault, and despite your feelings of unease, you can’t tamp down your need to protest his unreasonableness. 

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

“If I need to repeat my insistence for silence, I’ll make things easier on both of us and fail you now.”

Stunned and fuming, you bite your tongue and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms and blinking back mounting tears of frustration. Great, just great. It’s the first fucking day of class and it looks like you’re already on his shit list. And for what? For being late on fucking syllabus day! What an ass. 

You look over at him as you defiantly finish setting up your computer, hoping each pull of a zipper or screen reboot will grate under his stuck up skin. He’s not inordinately tall, or old. In fact, he looks like he might only be in early 30s. He has long white hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail and, from what you can make out in the dim lighting, some kinda skin condition on his forehead. That, or he’s prematurely wrinkled, and let’s be honest, if he’s gone through life with that big of a stick up his ass, he deserves each and every pull on that mottled skin of his. 

You linger in your seat when class is over, lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed. Finally, when the last student has left the room, professor Shigaraki flips a switch beside his elevated podium, filling the lecture hall with a sharp, fluorescent light. He pauses by his raised computer system and clicks off the overhead projector, blanketing the massive room in an uncomfortable silence. 

“Since you missed the part of class where I go over the syllabus, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Under no circumstances will I tolerate tardiness. If you do it once more I’ll mark you absent and three absences knock you down a full letter grade.”

Glumly, you cross your arms and peer up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face. Your first observation was correct. His skin is sharper around his forehead, but his wavy white hair does a pretty decent job of covering up the imperfections. He has two scars: one nicks across his right eye and the other splits down his rough lips, parting the skin and granting him an even more foreboding appearance than his already gruff demeanor does. He’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans and he’s wearing a low slung v neck shirt. It’s a brilliant red and it brings out that otherworldly glint of his red eyes. Shit, you think bitterly, while he’s not conventionally handsome, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes either. 

You shake your head against these unproductive musings and curtly snap out a clipped, ok.

“What was that?” Shigaraki scoffs, tilting his head at your sullen figure. “Speak up.”

“I said,” you bristle, eyes narrowing and chin lifting, “Okay, I apologize for interrupting your lecture, it won’t happen again. But, in my defense, if I’m allowed to do that in this class, I’ve never been in this building before, and it’s not like–”

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then you’ve had four years to figure out the layout of this university. The excuse of ‘being lost,’ isn’t an option for you. You know the buildings and you’re fully capable of turning up early to sort out the rooms.”

You let out a long sigh and look away, mumbling vague protests. This guy is ridiculous. You’re not a science major and it’s not your job to know the ins and outs of each building. How fucking stupid. Who does he think he–

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

You bite your lip and look back at him but he’s moved in that distracted moment, silently stepping down from his raised platform and is now leaning over the first row of chairs, looming over you. You can’t help your sudden flinch as you sink further into your chair, away from him.

“If you’re gonna complain, Ms. (L/N), I’d much rather hear it. Don’t you think It’s rude for you to mutter under your breath about me? You don’t see me doing that to you.”

“Fine,” you blurt out, turning away from his insistent, and all too close, gaze. “I was saying that I’m not a science major. I get that I’m a senior, but you can’t seriously expect me to know every nook and cranny of this campus.”

“No, but I can ask for you to be a little more thoughtful. I put time and effort into my lessons and I won’t have you undermining them by bouncing in here with those legs and that flouncy little skirt.”

You’re about to counter his little haughty speech on politeness when you finally process that final comment he’d breathed out. Flabbergasted, you raise your head back to his, but he’s already moving away, snatching up his shoulder bag and waving you a curt goodbye as he presses open the squeaky door. “Next class is at 10 am sharp, so be on time Ms. (L/N).”

You’re still slumped in your seat when the door glides shut again, your eyes wide and jaw no doubt comically unhinged. 

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

Obviously, for the next class, you’re early. You’re so early that you’re the first one in the lecture hall. You select a seat toward the back and fiddle with your computer, checking your messages, adjusting your brightness, replying to old emails, anything to keep your head down and attention occupied. 

The door opens and, despite your best efforts, your head flies up, expectant and tense, ready to meet those red eyes of his head on, to show him you’re here and he better… oh. It’s not him. It’s two chattering freshmen. One of them gives you a quick smile, but they both quickly take their seats, a few rows over, and continue their soft conversation, leaving you to fall back onto your earlier distraction tactics. You twiddle with your phone and shoot off a few texts, change your wallpaper, accidentally close an app you meant to leave open, and then the lecture hall door reopens.

He steps in slowly, completely ignoring you and the other scattered students, opting to sort out a few papers and set up his login on the school computer. The minutes tick by and you can’t seem to jerk your eyes away from him, suddenly fascinated by his languid movements. He looks more relaxed than he did on Monday, looser and fluid, completely in his element. True to his word, at ten am on the dot he begins class. 

Professor Shigaraki has an interesting voice. It’s low, calculated, bordering on a rasp. It’s one of those tones that makes you want to lean forward and listen up, even though he’s only discussing cellular biology. Which isn’t exactly the sexiest topic for that shockingly dulcet timbre of his. 

Wait. Sexy? 

Your pen falters against your notebook, and your eyes drift up to his frame. He’s switched the lights off again and the shine of the overhead projector is the only illumination in the hall. His white hair gleams in the dim lighting and his long hands animatedly illustrate his points, elegant fingers opening and closing, gesticulating about the intricate nature of the human genome. You’re so focused on watching his movements that your elbow partner has to push the slip of paper onto your collapsible desktop. You blink at the sheet, your pen nearly clattering from your hand, and you twist to peer at the unfamiliar student beside you. 

“It’s the attendance sheet and, um, I think you’re the last one,” they whisper, careful to lean away after they finish their explanation, not wanting to draw professor Shigaraki’s ire. You maneuver the paper under your pen and scribble down your name, biting your lip and silently berating yourself for your poor selection in seating. Great, now you’ll have to take the paper down to him after class. What if he talks with you again? Shit. 

At 11:25, class ends. You collect your things and plod down the steps, the attendance sheet clutched between your fingers. He’s just snapping the projector light off when you reach his podium. 

“I, uhh, have the attendance. You want me to just leave it here, or…”

“I’ll take it,” his hand is extended toward you and those red eyes are fixed on you now. It’s not the same disgruntled stare he’d given you on Monday. No, this look is a little more curious. Again, you’re taken aback by your reaction to him. He’s not even saying anything, just patiently waiting for you to deposit the sheet into his open palm, but there’s something about him that’s making your heart race. 

Maybe it’s those eyes of his. 

They are an unusual color and they have a strange intensity to them. Right as they narrow, the vermillion shining under the sharp lights; you press the paper to him and he pulls it from you, studying the names that are listed. 

You want to say something. Maybe toss him a quick, friendly, goodbye. Or apologize for the other day? Ugh. What can you even say? ‘Gosh, so glad I was on time today! All that fascinating information about the genetic code! So glad to be here!’ No, that sounds stupid and a little patronizing. Besides, why do you want to talk with him at all? He’s an ass, remember?

“Did you need something?”

His question snaps you out of your stupor and you numbly shake your head at him, already lowering your gaze, but his exhaled chuckle makes you pause, your fingers curling around your backpack straps.  

“I know I upset you the other day, but I appreciate you taking the effort to correct your mistake.” 

“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes finding their way back to his. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m a senior. Gotta take responsibility for myself someday.”

“Ah,” he smirks, that long scar on his lip quirking upward. “Seems like you’ve got some determination after all. You might be more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

“God,” you scoff, popping out a hip and crossing your arms at the bemused leer on his face. “Just come right out and say you think I’m a bad student, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he amends, tucking the attendance sheet into his shoulder bag and snapping the clasps closed. “There’s plenty of time for you to end up right back at square one with me.”

He’s already halfway out the door by the time you right yourself from the shock of his last comment and you follow him, a string of low curses falling from your lips. 

The spring semester always flies by, and before you realize it, a full month has bled away. You’ve kept that same seat in Shigaraki’s class and at the end of each session you head down to his little platform, attendance sheet outstretched. Each day of class has a different ebb and flow. Sometimes he chats with you and it’s gotten easier to talk with him, both of your eyes holding and lingering, lips raised into calculating smiles. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s flirting with you. Other days he only spares you a curt nod, his white hair curtaining his expression from your curious gaze. You’re not bothered by these silences, not when you’ve got your secret weapon. 

The days that you like best, the ones that you plan, sorting through your closet until you’ve found the perfect choice, are the days when you wear one of your skirts. You’d even gone on some skirt shopping sprees as of late. On those days he doesn’t just make some sort of fleeting eye contact with you, no, on those days he stares. 

At first, you’d tested out your theory, staggering your outfits, careful to not screw up your suspicions with a hasty miscalculation, but as they say, the third time’s the charm. How did he expect you not to notice? He never bothers to hide those sharp ogles and recently you’ve made a point of dramatically gathering your things when you wear these cute little ensembles, bopping down the steps so his eyes have to work to follow the line of your hips and the long paths of your bare legs. One rainy afternoon you’d worn over the knee stockings, that came to an abrupt halt over the plush skin of your upper thigh, under your mini skirt and he’d practically leapt over the podium to grab the sheet from you, his eyes hooded and dark, almost wild.

“Test, on Friday,” he warns, eyes finally rising to meet your bemused expression. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, brushing at a rogue fold in your skirt, luring him back to your legs. 

He scoffs at you, that jagged scar arching into a smirk. “Humph. You’re dressed up. Most of the students just wear the sweats, or pjs, and call it a day.” 

“I like to put a little effort in all that I do,” you retort, grinning up at his vermillion stare. 

“Yes, so I’ve noticed. You certainly look the part…and you’re keeping up with the workload of this course.”

“Ahhh,” you crow, clapping your hands excitedly. “Are you saying I might get an ‘A’ in this class? Be the first time someone’s done that in a while, from what I’ve heard around campus.”

Shigaraki sneers and tuts out an inaudible reply, leaning a little closer to you, making you inadvertently fall back a step. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Awe,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m doing ok on all the quizzes and the classwork.”

“So far,” he taunts, his pearlescent hair falling over his broad shoulder.

“Tch. Don’t be like that. I’ve been studying.”

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

“Oh?” you smile, raising your chin. “What else should I be doing, professor?”

“We’ll know that after Friday, won’t we?”

God. 

You’d felt so confident when you’d turned in your test and that stupid, horrible, sexy little quirk of his lip scar that he sends you, when you’d handed him your papers, carries you on some strange, half aroused cloud all weekend. Maybe, just maybe, this class won’t be so bad after all.

The tests are handed back the following Friday, passed from row to row so everyone can fish out their papers and marked Scantrons. Yours, since you still occupy that final seat on the back row, is the last. Biting back a grin, you flip it over, so ready to see that A, that grade that you worked so fucking hard for, that… wait.

The gross flash of red across the top of your paper leaves you reeling, your breath catching against the back of your throat. It’s not a terrible grade, well, it wouldn’t be, but there are only three tests in this class, so it’s going to plummet you down to a B. One more fuck up will leave you with a C, or worse, an automatic failing grade. 

No. No, no, no, no. 

You can’t afford a bad grade, you honestly can’t even let yourself slip to a B. Your fucking cap and gown have just come in and with them that cord that you can wear around your neck at graduation. The one that marks you as honors cum laude. Fuck. You’re already pulling one B, in one of your other classes, because you’ve been focusing so much time and effort on this one. Another B will strip that cord from you, leaving you barren, with a less than ideal GPA. 

God fucking damn it.

You glare up at Shigaraki, who’s busy taking the rest of the class through a review of genetic mutations, but you can’t hear him anymore, too incensed, too overwhelmed to even care about what he’s saying. The test crumples under your fingertips, the paper shaking in your hands, and you seethe, your teeth biting your lower lip to pieces. 

It’s not fair. You’d paid attention. You’ve taken all the notes. Read all the chapters. Drilled and studied till your eyes had drooped, heavy with exhaustion. You’ve done it all right. Plus, he’d been so fucking flirty, so open with you. You’ve never chatted with a professor this way, never gone out of your way to wear clothes they like, that make them watch you, their eyes hungry pinpricks as you walk to them, mindful of the luscious sway of your hips. 

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

Before your elbow classmate can leave, you ask for them to hand in the attendance sheet. You barely hear their response, too busy slamming your laptop into your backpack. As you storm past the podium, you can feel his eyes on you. The distant sensation of his gaze makes your flesh prickle, but you ignore your involuntary reaction and shove your way out the door.��

“(Y/N), you can’t switch classes this late. It’s almost midterms. Besides, I don’t think anything has opened up and if you’re going to drop it, you’ve gotta get the signature of the professor,” your advisor tells you, blinking at your stony expression over his thick glasses. “I don’t get it. Why do you want to drop it? Your grades are alright and it’s just one test. You can always try–”

“Gimme the paperwork.”

Shigaraki’s office is on the top floor of the research building, tucked away down another winding and weaving hallway that once again requires your careful inspection to navigate. When you finally hit the right set of doors, you slowly make your way forward, counting the numbers up as you pass. His door is wide open, a yawning cavern that’s filled with the distant light of a lamp. You brush a hand down your skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles and steadying your nerves. 

You’d tossed on the skirt this morning, before you’d gotten the grade, and you hadn’t thought to go home and change, too consumed by that simmering rage bubbling within you. And now, like this fucking class, this skirt felt like a mistake, something stupid and vapid that you wished you had time to change out of. He’d told you he liked your attire, liked that you put effort into your outfits. At the time, you’d been so thrilled and excited that he’d complimented you, but now you wish you were confronting him in baggy jeans or lazy sweats, anything that would turn that avid gaze of his away from you. 

Lost in thought, you waver beside his open door, nibbling on your lips and tugging at your clothes. It’s now or never. No point in putting it off. What’s the worst that can happen? What can he do now? Or, a darker side of you whispers, what do you want him to do to you? What? That’s a stupid thought, you scold yourself, lifting a hand to the wall and rapping against the beige paint, announcing your presence. 

When the sound fades away, swallowed up by the empty and darkened hallway, you poke your head around the corner, searching for him. His head is tilted quizzically, and he blinks twice when he spots you, that all too familiar smirk lifting his lips. 

“Ah, Ms. (L/N), what can I do for you?”

His voice is softer than usual and your name sounds like honey, his tone resting on the syllables and consonants for a beat, almost as if he’s savoring their lift, their sound. You can’t help but swallow heavily at his appraisal. Suddenly this may be a terrible idea. 

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N). 

“I-I need you to sign this withdrawal paperwork,” you finally reply, digging in your bag and tugging out the thin leaflet, holding it out to him. He’s silent after your demand, meditatively threading his fingers and peering up at you, his red eyes bright. 

“Step inside and shut the door behind you,” he instructs, his gaze never falling from yours. Despite the simplicity of his request, you can’t help but bristle at his imperious tone. Why does he always have to sound like that? Like he’s seconds away from taking control of the situation, or of you? He’s always one stupid step ahead, and no doubt he’s going to try and talk you down. Or, he’ll sign it and say that he always knew you were a screw up, someone who only did things halfway, who could never match up to his lofty expectations. Humph, the sooner you’re outta here and out of his class, the better. So, you obey, closing the door and petulantly flopping into the unsteady chair that sits in front of his low desk. 

He maintains that uneasy quiet, his red eyes whisking over your disgruntled face, waiting, watching. Unable to take this strange standoff, you push the university paperwork toward him, sliding it as close as you dare to his bent elbows. “I would like to withdraw from your class,” you repeat, lips setting into a thin line. 

“Why?” he asks, cocking his head so his loose white hair falls a little further down his rough brow. 

“Something came up.”

“Hmm, I can try to work with a new schedule, if it’s your job, or home life,” he counters, eyes narrowing as he sharpens his observations of your brittle expression. 

“It’s not that,” you smart, crossing your arms. Great, he’s going to make this difficult. 

“Then I suggest you tell me what’s on your mind,” Shigaraki replies, mirroring your movements and leaning back in his chair. 

“I don’t think this class is working out for me.”

He exhales a soft laugh at your lie, and you watch that tiny mole at the edge of his chin lift in his quiet mirth. “This is a freshman level course and you’re a senior. You’re in my class because it’s likely the last pre-rec that you need to take before you graduate.”

“Um, yeah. But–”

“And now, you’re wanting to drop it because of one poor grade.”

You grind your teeth and fix him with a stark glower. “I–”

“There will be two other tests. If you read your syllabus, you’d know this.”

“I read the syllabus. Your tests are worth a stupid amount of points and it only takes one of them to tank my grade.”

“Frankly, you did better than most of the class. You only need to work on practical application. I said that the written portion would be a major component of the exam. I also provided you with a review and a rubric. So I’m not sure–”

“Your grade drops me to a ‘B’, and that ‘B’ pulls me from the honors list. And… well… I thought that…”

“Oh? What did you think?” he presses, his voice suddenly dropping to that lower octave it had drifted into when he said your last name. 

“I thought I’d get a better grade,” you spit out, turning your head and biting at your lip again. 

“Why?” he counters simply. His obtuseness is making your blood boil.

“What do you mean, why?” It takes all of your will to not slip a ‘jackass’ into that question. 

“It’s not a hard thing to answer. I graded you fairly and according to my rubric. Why exactly do you feel you merit a different grade than the one you earned?”

You fall into a frustrated silence. You can hear your heart pounding against your ribs and you want to scream at him, to leap over his desk and shake him until his teeth fucking rattle. Your shoulders are rising and lowering disjointedly and his vermillion eyes are honed in on your face, shifting over your pinched expression with a distant interest. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes and you hastily rub a fist over them, brushing away any rogue drops of moisture.

“How can you ask me that? You think I didn’t notice you staring at my legs? Or that you always had something to say to me when I was wearing a skirt? What was I supposed to think, huh? I fucking thought shit like that was gonna help, ok? God, I’m so stupid. I can’t… fuck.” 

Shigaraki arches forward when you finish, a deep sigh leaching through his parted lips. His teeth snap together when you look up at him, your eyes gaining back some of that earlier defiance, and he gives you a quick grin, clearly pleased by your shift in attitude and pushes your paper aside, fixing you with a dark look. “Here’s a thought, since you feel you’re so different, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a chance to make up the score.”

“I don’t care about the score anymore. I wanna drop your class,” you snap, but it’s a halfhearted barb. Something has changed in his demeanor. He’s dropped the concerned professor act and is leaning so close you can hear his steady intakes of air. He’s only a few inches away; if you want, you could touch him.

“I doubt you want to attend a class in the summer. Besides, they won’t let you walk if you haven’t finished your freshman level courses. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to graduate, to earn that cord that lets you into the honor cum laude. So stop pouting and hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever like anything about you,” your voice is sharper than you mean it to be, but the challenge makes Shigaraki smile. As it crosses his cracked lips, it pulls that scar up and it makes those eyes of his glow. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream and you’re not sure how to respond, so you cross your legs and wait for him to make the next move. 

“You sure about that? Well, I’ll have to change your tune then, won’t I? But that can wait, lemme tell you what my requirements are. I’ve got a copy of the textbook in here. I’ll have you review some of the major concepts, you’ll read the passages aloud so I’m sure you’re on the right track, you’ll hand the book back to me, and then I’ll verbally quiz you over the material. If you answer them correctly, I’ll bump you to an ‘A’ on your test.”

You have to actively work to keep your mouth closed. “So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands. 

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin. 

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Your eyes boggle and you have to clench your thighs tighter, your stomach churning, you feel light-headed and you can feel your core fluttering with your sudden arousal. “Wh-what did you just say?”

“Stop gaping at me like that, you’ll make me blush. Now come on.”

Your jaw snaps closed and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind from your whirling emotions. He takes this reaction as a surrender and stands, stepping toward a marred table that rests a little ways away from his desk. He licks his thumb pad and flips through a few pages before finally settling on an appealing section. Once he places it on the table, he twists back to you and crooks a finger your way. “Come here,” he orders, his voice deep and languid. Obediently, you rise on unsteady feet, hands tugging at the length of your skirt, careful to keep it pressed down as you walk toward him. 

He makes space for you to stand in front of the book and shifts back, one hand resting on the table, propping him close to your bent figure. You look up at him, but he only nods his head toward the table, a wicked smile curling the corners of his lips. Blink a few times but finally, the words clear and you can see the block of text that’s in front of you. It’s passages on DNA encodes and RNA proteins, hefty stuff, things that you had to make flash cards for. This isn’t going to be easy. If anything, he’s picked some of the harder concepts, the ones that take steady knowledge in the foundations. Flustered, you look back to him, but he’s moved. He’s leaning against the wide window beside the table, a dark mark against the glass.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a laugh bubbling in his tone.

“There’s no way…” you stammer, shaking your head at him. 

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

“I should ask what kinda curve, but knowing you, it’s likely gonna be something terrible.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he rumbles, stepping away from the window and leaning close to your stiff form. “It just takes an open mind and some enthusiasm on your part.”

“Enthusiasm?” you question, trying your best to withstand his closeness. You can feel the heat radiating off of his broad shoulder and if you tilt a little nearer, you could graze against him, or feel his breath on your skin. 

“You’re right,” he amends, his forearm contacting your side. You startle at the touch, a gasp falling from your lips, but you don’t pull away and you can’t stop staring up at him, your eyes wide. “Obedience is a better word. From here on out, whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to obey it, although it’s not exactly, ah, school approved.”

“You want me to suck you off or something?” you sneer, hoping to stumble him off his guard, even if it’s only for an instant. Too bad he’s always one step ahead. 

“Don’t be vulgar. Think outside of the box, (Y/N). Do you think I’m going to go for something so short sighted when I could have you bending to my will? Obeying every little demand that I make? I’d much rather see if that skin of yours tastes as good as it looks, then simply have you on your knees. No, I want you to fucking scream for me while I stuff you full of my cock. But first, you need to put in some work. You should know that by now.”

Oxygen is suddenly very hard to come by and you can feel your mind hazing over as you stammer up at him, your mind flitting from word to word disjointedly. Shigaraki grants you a wolfish grin, and he dips his lips beside your ear, whispering over those tiny hairs that rest against your tender skin. “I’ll make this part easy. Nod and I’ll give you the first set of instructions.” 

What did he say? Nod? What happens when you nod? Fuck, why are you letting him do this? Is your grade really worth it? Are you that desperate that… that… 

Shigaraki is whispering other promises over you as you war with yourself, speaking his words gently, slowly, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. It’s like you’ve fallen under some kinda spell and before you realize it, your traitorous head is bobbing up and down, letting him know you want him to keep going.

“Perfect,” he sighs, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear, jerking a shiver from you. “Now, lean forward and put your hands against the table.” 

You do as he says, but he’s not satisfied with your positioning, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and yanking you forward, jutting your ass out and pressing your chest down, maneuvering you until your nose is right above the pages of the textbook. “There we go,” he rasps, pulling away so he can admire your splayed form. “Hmm, your legs are too close together. Spread them.” Knees trembling, you obey, gasping when he runs a palm against the curve of your thighs.

“You’ve got such nice legs (Y/N), so let’s put them on display, shall we?” His fingers search against the top of your skirt and they still when he reaches his prize: the zipper. When he pulls it down, you let out a sharp squeak of protestation but he silences you with a swift pinch to your side. 

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You nodded, remember? Besides, you could have left when I told you I’d give you a curve but you couldn’t help yourself could you? You want me to keep going and to do that, I need you to take this skirt off. No, don’t move. I’ll get rid of it for you. Why don’t you focus on the task at hand, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be reading for me?”

You arch away from his fingers and he chuckles at your impudence, one large hand hooking under your chin and pulling you toward his face. His red eyes blaze as they find yours, the dark pupils threatening to swallow up that deep vermillion. “Let’s start with the second paragraph. If you do well, I might grant you a reprieve.” 

Jerking your face from his grip, you twist back to the text, trying, and failing, to ignore his inquisitive fingers, unable to resist sighing as he works one up your inner thigh. He pauses when no words fall from your lips and you grumble out a few low curses before acquiescing to his silent demand. 

“The flow of genetic information in cells from DNA to mRNA to protein is described by the Central Dogma, which states that genes specify the sequence of mRNAs, which specify the sequence of proteins. The decoding of one molecule… the… the… molecule… by spec-specific…”

He’s slipped your skirt down over the swell of your ass, but he’s taking his time, flexing out the front of the material and dipping his fingers over the bump of your lower stomach, kneading into the delicate flesh that’s stretched out for him. You can’t help the twitch of your spine and you involuntarily wiggle, palms slipping forward, dragging you further along the tabletop. Shigaraki chuckles above you, running his rough lips over the back of your neck.

“You’re so sensitive. I’ve barely touched you.” 

He circles his hands back to your skirt and edges it along, lowering it sharply on one side and then giving the same treatment to the other. You’re doing your best to keep up with your stammering readings, but it’s difficult when he keeps sighing and running his long nails across your newly bared skin. Finally, he works the skirt down and it thumps against your bare ankles; the fabric tickling your skin. 

Meanwhile, his other fingers skitter against the elastic band of your rapidly dampening panties. Once he hooks the lace under his hand, he yanks them along your legs, trailing them sinfully slowly, ensuring that they glide down the billow of your thighs. His teeth nip at your ear when you stumble to a halt in your recitation and your hands tense over the grains of wood beneath them, your nails pinching into your palms. “If you stop, I stop,” he warns, his head bumping against yours, his sharp nose pressing against your pulse.

“You’re not exactly making this easy,” you grumble, doing your best to ignore his renewed pets and strokes. 

“Stop complaining,” he smirks, leaning away from your head to peer at your newly exposed flesh. “You better pay attention to what you’re reading or you’re not going to pass the questions I’ll be asking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, ow!” you squawk, whipping your head around to glare up at him. He fucking pinched you again! This time, he’d slipped his hand between your spread legs and tweaked your inner thigh, painfully. 

“Read,” he repeats, running those guilty fingers upward, lingering beside the heat of your cunt, careful to not get too close. When you start on the next sentence, one of his hands tugs up the fabric of your shirt, snaking upward until he’s thumbing against the wire of your bra. Once again, you falter to a halt and exhale a wavering breath. 

Goddamn it. This review is no review. You’ll be lucky if you can even recall what a cell is if he keeps this up. You hear his ominous intake of air and quickly resume your recitation, mumbling something about RNA and mRNA differences. 

Wait. Didn’t you just…  

“Looks like you’re having trouble listening to me. I told you to read aloud, not to repeat the same passages over and over.”

“Hey, at least I’ll have a firm grasp on those. You should ask me something about that s-section… ah–”

The hand that was resting under the cup of your bra has made its way underneath the lightly padded material, and his thumb and index fingers have trapped your peaked nipple between them. As soon as your snarky comment left your mouth, he’d twisted the bud, squeezing it until it throbbed. 

“Pay attention,” he commands, shoving your bra upward, freeing the globes of your breasts and cupping both of his broad hands under them. Your abused nipple stings and the mixture of sharp pain and jarring arousal goes right through you, stoking that coil that pulsed within your core, and sending a tacky flush of your essence down your spread thighs.

The next few words are a struggle. The text keeps blurring and your breaths are coming in fast and heavy. Shigaraki is still feeling you up, keeping his lips close to your ears, rasping sharp commands to you and dealing out lightning fast rounds of pinches and squeezes each time you falter. 

“I–I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore,” you bemoan, your hips pressing against the edge of the table, legs trembling as you attempt to keep them apart. He’s deliberately ignoring your throbbing clit and a desperate edge is creeping into your voice. 

“Are you always this whiny? Fine. I’ll give you a moment to read without any distractions.”

Thank God.

True to his word, he slips away from your back and you’re left shivering against his sudden absence. Despite your quaking, you’re determined to make the most of this chance and you quickly read out the paragraphs that are on the second page. As you ramble down to the last bit of text, you realize you can’t hear him anymore and when you finish the last sentence; you start to really wonder where he’s drifted off to. A tense silence follows your completion of the material and you arch up on the tips of your toes, jutting your ass out and stretching the stiffened muscles of your lower back. 

“Didn’t say you could stop reading, and judging from all of your complaints, I don’t think you got some of those earlier concepts, so I’d suggest doing a quick review,” he taunts, the sudden rasp of his voice startling a low gasp from your lips. 

He’s close; somewhere behind you and to the left from the sound of it. You try to twist around, your chest lifting from the table, and when he notices, his hands return, creating a rough pressure against your neck as he forces your body back down. His weight plasters you to the surface, scraping your partially exposed stomach and tender breasts over the nicked wood. Shigaraki is merciless in his swift correction, his breath puffing out angrily behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, either.”

Stunned, you freeze. Your arms are arched awkwardly, but he keeps his weight against you, flattening your breasts and forcing your back to arch into an awkward bend. Fuck, you think, how are you supposed to stay like this? Your legs are already aching and if he shifts away again, he’s likely going to expect you to maintain this absurd pose.  

“Yes,” he groans, his voice catching against the word, “Good girl. Now, stay just like that.”

Damn it.

“Go on, read the first part again,” he instructs. 

“The entire genetic content of a cell is known as its genome and the study of genomes is gen-genomics. In eukaryotic cells, but… but not in p-prokaryotes, DNA forms a complex with histone proteins… with histone proteins… sub-substance… of…”

His teeth have latched onto your neck, and he’s sucking bruises into your tender skin. He’s still pinning you to the table, but his hands are widening their explorations. He’s started dragging a fingernail across the puffy folds of your cunt, teasing against the dripping and swollen flesh, chuckling when you buck against his hold. 

“You always seem to lose it when you get to cellular modulations.”  

“I–I–It’s not… I can’t help that you keep…” you whimper, your fingers curling under your palms, head shaking back and forth. You can’t think. He’s not being fucking fair, and you can’t even string your goddamn words together. Shit. “Y-you’re not being fair,” you accuse, falling on the only thing that keeps running through your mind, your splayed feet shifting uncomfortably under you.

“Not fair? Not once did I say fairness would come into this arrangement,” he lifts himself off of your back and leans beside you, one arm planted beside your crooked elbow. His fingers trace over the curve of your ass, cupping at the thickest part of you and squeezing. 

“But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a little satisfaction out of this arrangement. I bet you look good when you cum. And you’ve been working so hard to get my attention these last few months. So careful to do what I tell you. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, all wide eyed every time I catch you looking at me. And don’t even get me started on your lips. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking bend you over after class, especially when you started wearing all of those cute little skirts for me. Ahhh, don’t moan like that, I won’t be able to help myself if you do. Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?” 

Without warning, he slips his longest digit into your cunt, groaning loudly when he’s sucked into your welcoming heat. Your pussy, hungry for any kind of scrap, ripples around his intrusion, clamping and pulling, desperate for more. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his weight falling against your shoulder. “You’re soaking.” His elegant digit pushes deeper and you roll your hips under him, urging him closer, sighing when he sinks to the last knuckle. As he pulls his finger back, he adds another, swiftly v-ing the two before curving them together as they slip back out, dragging a steady line of pleasure from your quivering cunt. Shigaraki whispers another round of awed praise against your ear, his voice dark and breathless. 

A third digit is added on another trip out, and it creates a ragged sensation within you. It’s close to what you like, but he’s stretching you too far and it’s starting to hurt. He either needs to speed up, or give you a little more pressure. If you can hump your clit against the edge of the table, maybe it’ll give you the friction that you need. When you mindlessly buck your hips, your thighs threatening to lose that spread, he stops, holding his fingers inside you, laughing as you agitatedly try to shift him back into his earlier rhythm.

“So eager. I’d say you’re ready for my questions.”

“W-what?” you gasp, wholly focused on making him restart the push and pull of his fingers inside you. 

“I’ll start you off with something easy. What’s the cell membrane?”

“W-what? The cell… ah–” 

“Answer me. Now,” he grunts, leaning forward, re-steadying you as his fingers pull outward, dragging against your sensitive folds and schlicking through your arousal lewdly, loudly. You moan and your eyes roll back, completely ignoring his demand as you fall into the haze of pleasure that comes after his movements. 

His free hand travels up your neck and he tangles his fingers into the tendrils of your hair, yanking and jerking at the strands, demanding your attention.  

“I said, answer me.”

“Shigaraki–I–fuck. I can’t even… ugh… think right now!”

“Do you want the grade, or not?” he questions, his voice tense. “Answer correctly and I’ll give you what you want.” 

“I–I don’t think I can,” you whine, pressing your hips back as he thrusts his fingers forward again, curving them upward, searching for the spongy pad of nerves that rest against the front of your pelvis. 

“Oh? What happened to wanting that A? What about your graduation? You gonna let me fuck up your entire college career? I can do it, you know. I’ve done it to so many simpering freshmen. I fail kids left and right and you’re no different, (Y/N). 

The university lets me ahh–there it is! God, you’re so fucking wet. 

Where was I? The university can’t say no to me; they let me do what I want. I bring in too much money, too many tempting grants, and that’s all they really care about. So what’s it gonna be? Let me see that you can answer this basic crap and I’ll pass you. Or would you like for me to tie you down and force it outta you another way?”

He’s picked up the pace of his fingers as he rambles over you and a swift press against that newly discovered spot inside you has you falling to pieces in his hands, popping up onto your tiptoes and rutting yourself against the surface of the table. “O-ok, God, ok! Just–fucking repeat the goddamn question,” you pant, head slumping forward, forcing his fingers to tighten against your hair to hold you upright. 

“What is the cell membrane?” 

You wince your eyes closed, trying to rack your brain to focus on something other than the heavy pressure of the three fingers that are teasing their way across your dribbling pussy. He’s moving his presses with a lackadaisical, inconsistent rhythm now and it’s hard to fucking think. You can’t tell if his next thrust will be hard, or soft, or so rough that it’s bordering on that bittersweet line of pain. 

You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the mounting pressure that he’s building inside you and the ache of your neck and legs. Finally, after another sharp tap against that secret bunch of nerves at the front of your cunt, you latch onto a vague remembrance. 

“It… it’s a double layer of–of phospholipids that make a boundary between the cell and t-the surrounding… ugh… it controls the passage of materials.”

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

He’s unrelenting in his domineering treatment, twisting and frigging his fingers each time your breath hitches, and your arousal is leaking down your legs, making your skin stick and pull. It’s too much, you can’t! How can he even ask this? Words are falling from your lips incoherently, and all too soon you’re gasping out his name rather than reciting the answer. 

“Cellular–oh, fuck, Shi–Shigaraki–Please, keep–don’t stop! S-Shigaraki, God that… feels… ah–keep going!”

He ignores your request and pulls his fingers away, robbing you of that sweet pressure that he’s so carefully mounted within you. 

“I’ll count that one as incorrect. Your ‘A’ is swiftly becoming an ‘A’ minus, (Y/N)” he snarls, his teeth gritted, hands falling to the swell of your hips, wet fingers digging into your soft skin. 

“What? No! You didn’t give me enough… e-enough time! How can–can you expect me to answer that qui-quickly!”

“Let’s try another.” 

It hurts. That ache that he’s drawn out of you is starting to sting and throb and he’s being such a dick about it! You twist and grind under him, and he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“I don’t–” you protest weakly, your legs trembling and chest heaving under his weight.  

“Do you want this? Wouldn’t you like to pass this class? To graduate with honors?” he growls, leaning closer, his hands braced against you, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the supple crest of your hips. 

“You’re such an ass! Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then answer another question. What’s diffusion?”

“D-diffu-diffusion is the process by which molecules move from an a-area of… of… fuck- of high concentration, to low concentration. Shigaraki!”

“I should count that as another miss, but you got the major concept correct.” He removes his fingers from your waist and yanks your ass toward him, keeping your overeager hips away from the fleeting relief of the sturdy table. “Pop your legs together,” he commands, one hand wrapping around your arched throat, squeezing until you obey. His other hand drops to that thatch of curls that rest between your quivering thighs and he gathers up your gossamer strands, rubbing against your clit for one hazy instant, sending a flash of spots across your vision.

“Mmm, now that’s a pretty sight. Good girl, don’t move,” he reminds you and you want to scream at him. Right before you can spit some frustrated vitriol out, he’s releasing your neck, his hands dropping from your skin and letting you fall back to the uneven surface below. Just before your chin contacts the wood, his hand is back in your hair, tugging you upward, holding you a few inches above the table. The sharp pain makes your scalp tingle and you unconsciously rut against the tempting heat that’s now plastered to your ass. He’s hard. You can feel the stiff bulge of his cock straining against the front of his dark jeans, pressing into the cleft of your posterior. 

“T-that’ can’t be comfortable,” you pant, twisting your head so you can look up at him from the curve of your shoulder.

“Oh? You worried about my cock?” he asks, his red eyes flashing down at you challengingly. You don’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting instead to grind your ass up, catching against the jut of his length, earning yourself a low groan. His lips curl when you repeat the motion and you realize you love watching that smug face of his drift into a look of tense pleasure. It makes his scar on his lip flush and those red eyes of his fall to a lazy half mast. He spies your arched brow and pleased grin and pushes himself off of you, leaving you alone and open on the table.   

“Keep pushing your luck. I’m more than happy to drop you back to a B.”

“What?” you scoff, teeth clinking together as you clench your jaw. “I didn’t move!”

“No, but you’re trying to take control of this and we can’t have that can we?” Shigaraki sneers. “Now, how shall I punish you?”

“P-punish me?” you stammer, a chill racing down your spine. 

“Ah, I know. This’ll really piss you off,” he twists from your strained gaze and walks back toward his desk. What? What the fuck does he mean? You can’t see him from this angle, not with the way your legs are stretched and back is lowered, but it doesn’t stop you from trying, your chin lifting upwards as you do your best to keep him in focus. 

Ugh. It’s no use. He’s slipped past your field of vision. 

Hearing is likely your best bet, so you shift your forehead back to the table and listen, straining your ears to pick up any morsel. Something opens and closes and you catch the sound of the wheels of his chair as they shift, squeaking across the floor, and the groaning of the springs when his weight is applied to the cheap leather. 

Okay, so he’s in his chair. Is he just gonna look at you? That’s not… wait… 

There’s a faint clicking sound. 

It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to your ears, but once the teeth slide over the last pull, you realize. It’s a zipper. 

Oh fuck. Is he going to jerk himself off? With a gasp, your head whips back around. He’s still positioned himself away from you, and you can only just make out the sounds that are accompanying the undoubted rise and fall of his fist. All you can see is a tiny sliver of his body, but you catch sight of the coiling muscles on his neck and you notice that his head is dipped forward, pearl white hair settling across the cut of his collarbone. The one red eye that meets yours is blazing and hungry, it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up.  

God, he’s staring at you, watching you, getting himself off as you’re half naked and bent over a desk in his office, fully subjugating yourself to his whims and fancies for the sake of your grade. 

Damn it, (Y/N). This should not be a fucking turn on. You should be disgusted, but the flush of slick that drips down your thigh says otherwise. 

He lets out a choked moan, picking up the pace of his hand, letting you hear the click and slip of his palm as it strokes up and down his cock. A shiver echoes up your spine and your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding your clenched thighs over the dip of the table, easing the clenching pulsations that your cunt is shuddering through you.

“Look at you, so desperate for my touch that you’re humping the fucking table. Such a dirty girl, and so disobedient. You’ve only answered a few of my questions correctly and yet your slutty little mouth and body keep pushing at me. Making me put you in your place. Let me ask you something, why should I go out of my way to fix your grade when you can’t even prove to me you understand the simplest concepts? 

Ah, here’s a thought. What if I told you I’ll wave the other requirements; no more readings, no more quizzes, but I won’t let you cum? What if I just get myself off? You’re putting on a such a good show for me! Why should I bother with seeing that you’re satisfied when that table seems to do the job for you? Sound good? Or would you like for me to come back over there and make you cum?”

“I–I don’t… I don’t want…” You can’t get the words out, your tongue feels leaden between your lips and you can’t think of anything but the steady itch that’s spreading from your clit. 

“Speak up,” Shigaraki demands, slowing his jerking fingers. The chair he’s sitting in groans as he leans forward, and his eyes wide as they take in the delicious sight that’s propped before him. “You don’t want to cum? Is that it? You’d like for me to get myself off and leave you there?”

“No!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the scuffed wood of the table. “I-I want you to make me cum.”

There’s a sharp clatter and you jump at the abrupt noise. It must be the chair you think, your heart pounding against your chest, waiting for Shigaraki’s next move. He only lets a few seconds drift by before he presses himself back to you. He leans his broad chest over your back, the front of his legs pushing against the back of yours. His exposed length is wedged firmly against the cleft of your ass and its tempting hardness makes you squirm under him, but he’s propelling you forward, pinning you against the rough wood, and you can only flail uselessly under his control. His lips skim over your neck and he bites into your skin, sucking and licking bruises as he inches closer to your pulse.  

You say his name pitifully, wantonly, and he lets out a shaky gasp. Something about your tone has shifted something within him and you can feel his cock swelling, dripping a rope of wet pre-cum down your shaking leg. 

He leans away, removing his sticky hardness from your ass. “Seems your priorities have shifted. You’re a little preoccupied right now, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice gravel scraping against your overwhelmed senses. You let out a weak moan and he snaps into action, his fingers pushing under your flattened stomach and tugging against the fabric that he finds. He yanks you upward, pulling your shirt up as he goes. His palms dip under your half lifted bra, and he cups at your breasts, massaging the rounded bulbs and plucking at your peaked nipples. Your head lolls back, and he sucks at your earlobe again, his breath warm and rasping as it passes by. 

“Hold still,” he commands. 

It’s not an easy position, this stretched upward arch that he’s forced you into, but it’s worth it when you feel his cock pushing between your tensed legs. He doesn’t thrust into you, opting to run his weeping tip against your slippery folds, pressing until his bulbous head is twitching against your pulsing clit. 

Goddamn it, you think as he stills, his lips smacking open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, it’s not enough. You wiggle your hips back and forth and he abruptly exerts a firm pressure against your windpipe, leaving you sputtering and gasping. “What’s wrong? Not happy with this? Do you think you deserve something more? Do you think you’ve earned that?” He shoves you back against the surface of the table, his broad chest following the plane of your back, trapping you under his heavy form. 

You’d replied, you know you must have, but you can’t hear yourself anymore, your attention attuned to the warm length that’s pressed against your shuddering folds. You’d likely thrown in a please for good measure because Shigaraki rewards you with a quick peck to your shivering neck and his thumb, swirling it around your clit, creating a cresting ache that leaves you mumbling incoherently, a thin line of drool slipping from your parted lips. As he keeps that faint osculation up, your fingernails scrape over the wood of the table, your feet lifting you onto your toes, curving your back, and shoving your leaking pussy into his open palm. 

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki says, a breathy desperation lingering around the edges of his rasping voice. “But it’s just not enough, right?” 

You nod, licking up some of the excess saliva that’s built under your heavy tongue and crane your head back at him. His eyes are the first thing you see. They’re wild, ravenous and glinting with a roughness that makes you whisper out a soft whine. Fuck. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to want him this badly. Goddamn it. Now that he’s caught your gaze, he won’t let you look away, and he presses himself closer, his cock twitching and warm, the tip rubbing back and forth, keeping time with his circling thumb.

“You gonna fuck me, or not?” you finally ask, unsticking your lips and smirking up at his hardened face. 

“Tch. Don’t rush me,” he grumbles, removing his hand and teasing cock from your cunt, watching as your body convulses under him, your pussy quivering against the excess stimulation that he’s wrought over you. Your thighs burn, aching to break free from his control, to rub against that throb, that tingling that keeps shuddering outward.

“One more question,” he tells you, lifting his dripping thumb to his lips and sucking off the traces of your arousal. The sight of him licking his pink tongue over his gleaming knuckles almost makes you lose your balance, your arms shaking precariously under you. 

“A-another? Come on,” you pout, your eyes following the curve of his wicked lips, watching as his scar quirks upward, amused by your useless defiance. 

“Make you a deal, answer it correctly and I’ll give you my cock. Sound fair?”

“Ugh, whatever, just hurry up,” you snap, so impatient and turned on that you can hardly think. 

The tip of his cock presses against your sopping entrance, pushing forward just enough to part your dripping folds but stopping before he clears that first, tight ring of flesh. The promise of his dribbling tip makes you lose any semblance of self-control. You thrash under him, but he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“No! Don’t stop! Come on Sh-Shigaraki–Don’t be such a fucking–ah–” 

“Do you want this? Do you want my cock?” he growls, leaning over you, his fingers squeezing down, no doubt leaving bruises in the supple crest of your hips. 

“Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

“They… they’re n-nitrogenous base… fuck… base that pair… that pair with guanine during D-DNA replication… I–please, please, Shigaraki! Fuck me! I want your cock! Fuck me, fuck me!”

Thankfully, he either takes pity on you, or can’t control himself anymore, his hips surging forward, gliding his thick length into your cunt and snarling at the mind numbing heat that waits for him. He keeps driving upward until he bottoms out, sharp hipbones grinding against the plushness of your ass. 

He’s not gentle with you, no he’s animalistic and raw, his thrusts papping into you with a terrifying strength. You would have liked something slower, something that lets you enjoy each imperfection and dip that raced along his cock, but this, oh, this is an exception because this is perfect. It’s not what you want, but it is what you need. 

The heavy fullness that he’s stuffing you with leaves you breathless, but you somehow manage to gasp out a string of nonsensical praises each time he drives back into you, overwrought by his roughness. 

This coupling isn’t kind, isn’t right, and is not healthy, for either of you. No, not with the way he’s using your shivering body, distracted with slacking that euphoric thrum that’s making his cock pulse and swell inside you.

But fuck it feels good and you can’t help but tremble with delight. These intoxicating thrusts of his ram him up against something that’s buried deep inside you, and each time he hits it another star of bright pleasure races through you. The familiar coiling of release is steadily mounting with each rapid fire rut he gives you and if he could just, ah, there’s something that’s… no, fuck, it’s, it’s not going to work. It feels good, but it’s missing one vital ingredient, one thing that he’s neglected to pay attention to, to notice. 

Your clit needs to be tweaked and rolled, and right now it’s pulsing away against the table, beating a sad tattoo into the grainy wood. Oh well, you think, head fuzzy, lost in the euphoria of his powerful cants, grinding your ass into his hips as he digs into another teeth chattering thrust. He’ll likely finish soon, and you’ll probably need to get yourself off later. It’s not something new, and it’s not like he’s going to care enough to focus on that, on you. This whole thing has been about control, so there’s likely no room for your own pleasure.

“What’s wrong,” he gasps out, his fingers lifting from your hips to curl beside your turned head. 

“What? N-nothing–I–” you pant, eyes rolling back as he hits that spongy patch of nerves again. 

“Tch. Hold on,” he interrupts, his voice rasping and breathy. He pulls himself out of you with a grunt and yanks you upward, hauling you onto the tabletop and flipping you on your back, bending your stiffened legs and bracing your knees against his lean forearms. 

He holds you apart, spreading you open with his powerful hands. You can see him properly now, and the sight makes your breath catch against the back of your throat. Fuck, he looks good. 

His long white hair is draped across his bare shoulders and his eyes are blazing pits of hunger, devouring the sight of you with those red irises. His jaw is clenched, and he glares down at you from his imperious height, his nostrils flaring as he drags in a quick intake of air. To your shock, he gives you a little time to acclimate to this new position, opting to languidly step forward, letting his slippery cock head press and tease at the dip of your opening. But right when you think he’ll move again, he stops, his eyes roving over the lines of your face. 

His sudden stillness makes you peer quizzically up at him and you scoot closer, your feet lifting from the table. The movement snaps him out of his stupor and he grabs your ankles, roughly pinning you back down.

“Keep still,” he snarls through clenched teeth, that scar of his lifting. 

You nod mutely and he rewards your unquestioning obedience with another powerful thrust, sinking his swollen cock back into your waiting cunt. He lets out a sharp groan and grabs at your hips, jerking you forward, already drifting back into that all-consuming rhythm he’d started earlier. His ruts are a little slower from this angle but, in no time at all, that familiar ache pools in your core, stoking and building at an alarming rate. The driving force of his hips soon has you blinking back spots and distant stars, and this time he adds the all important pressure of his thumb, circling the finger pad over your clit and dragging a broken moan from your quivering lips. 

“So that’s what you needed. You close?” he grits out, his lips set in a curled scowl. He’s lost some of that early control, his hips stuttering as they connect with yours, his power lessening, cooling, as he looks for your release. 

“I–I think–oh fuck, do that again. Yes! Just–ah!”

He angles your hips upward and gives your clit another quick oscillation, pressing down until you’re gasping. “There you go. That felt good. You’re getting tighter,” he laughs, looming over you, shoving your heaving chest downward as he jerks your hips into him, forcing your body to do most of the motion, making your shoulder blades scrape across the uneven wood. “Cum for me. Fucking cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum and I’ll give you your A, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your spine arches as you break around him, your cunt greedily pulling him deeper, slipping him past the barrier of your tender cervix and earning you a weak shout of praise from Shigaraki. Seconds later, he’s pulsing and twitching against your walls, the warm pooling of his cum filling you up and spilling down your spread thighs. 

His head drops to your shoulder and the rough skin of his forehead sticks to your sweat dampened flesh. For a long moment you’re both still, each of you struggling to catch your breath, luxuriating in the tingling sensation of release. 

“I fucking hate you, you know,” you gasp out, your arms circling his back, fingertips etching vague patterns over his neck and shoulders. 

“Ha,” he snorts, “I’ll have to remember that. Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll pay you back for that little remark next time.”

“Oh? Next time?” you chuckle, moaning as he twists out of your hold and pulls his softening length out of you. 

“I’ll fail you on every assignment if you try to keep away,” he threatens, his eyes falling to the gaping mess that he’s left behind. You cross your legs, denying him the satisfaction of leering at your dripping pussy. 

“Fine. But next time, fuck me on something softer than a damn table.”

tags: @spicy-skull​, @xwildskullx​, @yixxes​, @ghstmthr​, @rekoii​, @diaouranask​, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love​, @libiraki​ <--- i’m coming for you. you’re gonna have to read for this, lady. so, uh, i’m officially noneconing you here. 

notes: you made it! this thing is a monster & i’m so sorry i can never stfu

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Mimic Chapter 7

Following the attack on your classmates, you discover the history of your quirk and who you will become.

Words- 2150

Reader x MHA (Platonic)

Warnings: Injuries and death mention

“She needs to know.” “We’ve been over this multiple times she isn’t ready.” “She has contacted Toshinori?” “She saw us with him.” “She unlocking more of this power.”

Voices spoke all debating over something as you slowly blinked your eyes open, you weren’t back in the house like your other dreams. You were in an empty room that seemed to be floating stars and bright lights moved quickly through the dark sky. Looking to your left seeing multiple chairs with people sitting down but none were recognizable all shadowy and foggy in appearance. The only person who you could see was the woman from your dreams. You see her turn from one of the shadow people to see you looking at her.

“Y/n…” She smiles and the other people look over at you to see that you were awake. You push yourself to your knees feeling weak all over.

“Where am I?” You ask and the woman smiles.

“A place for those before you now rest for guidance and memories.” She waves her hand around the room and you’re shocked she actually responded to you. There are eight chairs which six occupy and there were two people in the back facing away from you all.

“Do I know you from somewhere? What is my quirk? Who is Toshinori? Who is supposed to find me? Who are the people I keep seeing?” You spew out questions hoping to get an answer from these people who now talk to you.

The woman gives a sad smile and shakes her head, “Sadly you aren’t ready for all those answers, we are only part of your full power. A block is stopping us from revealing our purpose Y/n. But listen to the guidance you receive. It all has a reason.” The room cracks slightly and it starts to fade and each person in the room beginnings to disappear.

“WAIT! Don’t go please I need to know more! What do I do?!” You cry out. You look down seeing the ground beneath your cracks pieces fall away. You look back up but as shocked seeing someone else staring back at you parts of them covered in a shadowy haze.

“Midoriya?”

Midoriya turns to where you lay still asleep. He could have sworn he heard you say his name.

“Young Midoriya are you alright?” All Might asks his student laying in his own bed. Midoriya is silent for a bit before nodding laying back down.

“Yes, All Might I thought I heard something.” The three of you were in Recovery Girl’s office, Midoriya needing his legs healed, All Might having his injuries, and you had passed out after everything problem from the energy you used when doing that insane move with your quirk.

“The situation being what it was…I can’t scold you two this time.” Recovery Girl says while the two were troublemakers what you all went through was their pass.

“I think…I’ve probably shortened my time limit again…I’ll be lucky if I still get an hour a day.” All Might says sighing, fighting that Nomu and helping people in the morning he had overworked himself. Pushing himself to sit up he groans, “Whaddya gonna do! Bad things happen.”

The door opens and in walks in a Detective Tsukauchi, starling both All Might and Midoriya. “Pardon me. Long time no see, All Might”

“Tsukauchi didn’t know you were here!” All Might says and Midoriya is looking between the two shocked.

“All Might! Is, uh…is this okay?! You’re” “Yeah! It’s fine! Why, you ask? Because this is my favorite detective on the force, good old Naomasa Tsukauchi!” All Might introduces the Detective to Midoriya who nods in greeting.

“Not to rush you, but I’d like to ask about these villains, All Might-” Tsukauchi starts,

“Wait. Hold on. First…are the students all right and Aizawa…Eraserhead and Thirteen?!” Always the hero thinking of others like his fellow heroes and his students.

“Besides your two friends over there, the students have got nothing more than a few bumps and bruises and the two teachers are out of danger, for now,” Tsukauchi reassures All Might, “If you three heroes hadn’t put your lives on the line…the students wouldn’t have made it out unscathed.”

All Might is silent for a second before looking back at Tsukauchi, “I see but…you’ve got one thing wrong, Tsukauchi. In this fight, the students put their lives on the line too! To be thrown into a real battle so young…and survive. Now, these first-years know how scary the big bad world can be. Have you heard of such a class?! Those foolish villains picked the wrong fight! Because the members of Class 1-A are going to be mighty heroes indeed! I’m going to make sure of it.”

A sharp gasp draws the eyes of the four people to you sitting straight up staring at Midoriya intensely. Both you and Midoriya are in an intense staring match, why did you see him in your dream? Who were these people in your head? Why did you only have a part of your quirk? Your gaze shifts from Midoriya to the person sitting behind him and you see a skinny dude who looked familiar and it clicked when you saw the wispy strands of hair in front of his eyes.

“All Might?” He nods and your jaw drops the number one hero wasn’t really the same person, he was this thin weak guy in front of you.

“Ahh, so this must be L/n you’ve changed a bit in your file.” The person standing by the door says, “Detective Tsukauchi.” He introduces himself and you nod slowly.

“I’m sorry what?” You look at the three of them confused and Midoriya reaches grabbing his phone from the small table next to his bed and hands it over to you. Seeing that the camera was open your jaw drops seeing yourself on the screen.

“What the fuck!” You shout bringing your hand up to touch your hair, sections of it were white like platinum white then it’s normal h/c.

“It happened after you destroyed the Nomu.” All Might says and you look over at him who was looking at you and you remember what you saw before you passed out your dream and everything that had happened in the last 24 hours.

“What the hell is going on, why is my hair turning white, why is my quirk like this, why did that villain know me, how come you were in my dream, who is Toshinori-” You ramble off feeling yourself beginning to panic.

“Wait a second Young L/n what did you say about the villain?” All Might says and he looks concerned only hearing the rambled bit.

“He knew me,” The shock that was on the three of them was evident as Tsukauchi quickly pulled out his voice pressing the record in voices memos. “Tell us everything.”

“It first started with these dreams I was in this home I don’t know, the people in it knew me I don’t know. I kept seeing this woman, she was tall, with dark hair, and a mole right by her mouth. She would tell me to let him find me or get guidance from Toshinori-” You start but are cut off when you talk about the woman.

“Toshinori Yagi,” All Might and the full name is what you couldn’t remember and you nod slowly how did he know this person, “I am Toshinori Yagi.” Your eyes widen hearing the confession, why did the woman want you to get guidance from All Might.

“The woman you speak of is Nana Shimura, my old mentor…your grandmother.” What. The woman you’ve been seeing was your grandmother. Why didn’t you remember her and how was she All Might’s mentor.

“My grandmother…” You breathe out looking down at your hands, no that makes no sense your family die when you were a child you shouldn’t be able to remember her, you’ve never seen this woman.

“Y/n L/n or Shimura, family died in a freak accident leaving you orphaned bouncing around the system until you emancipated yourself at fourteen leading yourself to where you are now. Your father is the son of Nana Shimura former hero but passed away before you were born.” Tsukauchi reads of your file he had with him. She was a hero?

“How could I have a clear memory of what this woman looks like if she died before I was born. This still doesn’t explain my quirk or how Shigaraki knew who I was.” You say pushing hair out of your face as you get frustrated.

All Might place his hand on your shoulder making you look at him, “There is a lot for you to know in due time.

He turns to look at Tsukauchi who nods, “I’ll try to see what information we can get on Shigaraki and this League of Villains.”

Tsukauchi leaves and Recovery Girl gives you some water and crackers before leaving as well, having to do other work elsewhere. You look between Midoriya and All Might before speaking.

“So you’ve always looked like this?” You nod at his very sickly form and All Might nods.

“My time between the form others see has decreased exponentially since my youth and since…giving my quirk to Young Midoriya.” He says and you choke on your water hearing him say that. Gave him his quirk? Is that even possible?

“You gave him your quirk?” You say and he nods looking over at Midoriya,

“My quirk is called One for All, passed down from the first wielder to Young Midoriya, it stockpiles the power and quirks of its past users. It is a powerful quirk but also dangerous. Nana Shimura, your grandmother was my mentor and passed it along to me, which I, later on, passed it to young Midoriya.” He says explaining the background on his quirk and Midoriya’s.

“So how does this involve me, and how can I see Midoriya and my grandmother in these dreams?” You ask and he looks at you trying to think of how to explain it.

“Just as quirks are genetic and can be passed down through blood. There is a possibility that you were given a piece of One for All as well but not the exact extent of like myself or Young Midoriya. While One for All stockpiles power this sort of mutation in you allows you to copy one’s quirk,” He says and you look down at your hands seeing the small scars you gained from your first using your quirk. The power you felt using it and how it feels unlocking this power,

“With aspects of it, it might explain how you saw your grandmother and Young Midoriya, as One for All is not just a quirk, but somewhat living and contains the power and memories of the past users.” This would explain how you have never seen your grandmother in real life but in your dreams, you can picture them perfectly. As well as those other people you saw in that room.

So you and Midoriya were somehow connected to each other because of this quirk in both of you. You look at Midoriya who is watching your movements if you would freak out or be confused.

“So who else knows about this quirk we apparently all share somewhat?” You ask.

“Recovery Girl, Nezu, and now you. I must warn you now learning of this power you hold, you mustn’t tell anyone in fear of what villains could be searching for it,” He begs and you nod. You weren’t going to betray this man’s trust after going out of his way to explain who you basically were after everything that happened.

“I promise I won’t tell a soul.” You look over at Midoriya who seems excited to have someone who relates to him, “Guess we are going to be getting a lot closer now huh, broccoli head.” He smiles nodding.

You spent the rest of your time learning more about this quirk of yours and hearing about your grandmother. Since the accident of your family was when you were quite young things sort of faded and your memory of your family wasn’t always the clearest and you couldn’t remember fine details.

Locking the door to your small home behind you the trials of today finally hit you and you felt exhausted. Changing out of your uniform, you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth. Looking in the mirror you lift the strands of hair that were white, how the hell were you going to explain this to everyone tomorrow. ‘Hey no yeah, I just dyed my hair after our class almost got killed.’ You sigh, maybe you can wear a hat or something. Laying in your bed the call to sleep pulls you quickly and darkness envelops you and for nothing but soothing dreams follow.

Taglist:

@jazzylove @coochiehaitachi @galaneiaeris

[bushdivingbushranger]

What was going to an all girls school like, if you don't mind me asking? :)

OK anon im so sorry this is so long and so convuluted I actually got so carried away jdbKJBGKSDBGH. i'm not even sure i properly answered your question i just got overwhelmed with Love for my same-sex schooling DHGKJSDFBHG anyway, if there's anything more you want to know lmk and I will try to be concise next time 💀

Essentially, my own experience at a single-sex secondary school was fantastic—however, I know my experience isn’t universal, especially since my school was a little bit different to most, I think.

That being said, I still think that sending your daughters to female-only secondary schools is something every parent should strive to do if they can. No other learning environment will ever be as good for girls as a same-sex school.

In terms of school staff, mine was about 95% female, and 5% male. The few male teachers we had were genuinely competent men and decent teachers, they were also watched like hawks. Our principal was female, all leadership positions in the school (such as House Leaders, Year Level Co-Ordinators, Department Heads, even the chaplain) were held by women. Our school psychologists, our nurses, our library technicians, our café ladies, our career advisors, our tutors—all were women. Our school houses (think like Harry Potter houses) were named after important women in our country’s history.

I went to a co-ed primary school. And whilst at twelve you might not have the words to describe it, graduating from a co-ed space, into an all-female space is really a giant weight off of your shoulders. You don’t realise how suffocating co-education is until you’re no longer having to bear it. It feels so much more natural, so much more free! You are welcomed as you are. You can be loud and unashamed of it. We joked frequently with each other and our teachers, laughed loudly and cared not whether our laughs were ‘ugly’. I found that teachers were far more supportive than they were in my co-ed school. For example, in a co-ed school I had been told frequently to ‘pipe down’ or to ‘reel it in’ from teachers, and more vexingly to ‘shut up’ from boys due to my boisterous personality. In high school? My teachers encouraged me to audition for the play because I had ‘great projection’. In every school programme (more on those later) that I was involved in, I was the one asked to give speeches about them at assembly. I was asked to be the lead of our house chants during our sports festivals. I was asked to join the debate team because of my passionate nature, which in primary school, had me known as ‘difficult’.

Likewise, I had a friend who was by nature quiet, and loved to draw. In primary school she’d doodled on the back of a work booklet, and when her teacher returned it, she’d taken off two points and had written a comment saying something about teachers in high school not accepting work that was drawn on.

Do you know what happened when she got to high school? Our English teacher had seen the eye she’d drawn on the back of our Romeo and Juliet test and had written, ‘beautiful!’ above it. The next test, she drew a two-headed cat with witches’ hats on both heads (I remember the left head was called Turpentine and the right head was called Esmeralda). Our teacher wrote, ‘wonderful!’ above it, with a smiley face.

The next day she got an email from our art teacher that had a PDF flyer of information on both in-school and local art competitions.

Anyway, she had questions and that teacher answered every single one of them. She also personally helped her select the works she wanted to submit. She ended up having two pieces shown in the school gallery, along forty pieces made by other girls. About five years later for our final year, on that art teacher’s recommendation (and tutelage!) she took all of the visual art subjects on offer. When she graduated, her final piece was shown at a public exhibition in our state’s capital city, that honoured the best pieces done by select graduating students in the state.

So yeah. Our teachers were pretty amazing. Of course, there was the odd teacher or two you would butt heads with but that’s just a universal school experience. Our humanities classes, like history, for example, often had a unit that would focus on the female experience of a certain time period. For example, when learning about WW2, we did projects on female resistance fighters et cetera.

We had health classes that were actually focused on female health. We learnt about female anatomy (even the clitoris! Though we were all about thirteen/fourteen at this time so we found it incredibly awkward to talk about), as well as symptoms of PCOS during our menstrual unit. We learnt about contraceptive methods and devices (however, as a Catholic school they did have to tell us that whilst these methods are available, the church-sanctioned method is of course, abstinence).

Whilst the majority of the girls shaved their legs and wore makeup, as someone who did neither of those things I rarely felt judgement about it (albeit, I think there was a little for my lack of makeup, but this only lasted the first two years). A good portion of our staff also did not wear makeup, I don’t recall this ever being commented on. And, by the time we’d reached about our third year, a good portion of my year level and the ones above did not wear makeup on a daily basis. Leg hair was not looked down upon by any of us I don’t think by this year either. In fact, if you were particularly hairy often your hairless friends asked to rub your legs!

We were never short of female role-models, our staff made sure of that. We had multiple days per year when guest speakers would come and talk to us, mostly these were women who were experts in their fields—whether that be neuroscience or computer science, linguistics and literature or mathematics, politics, et cetera. The only times we really had male guest speakers was when police officers (one male one female) came to give us an assembly about sexual peer-pressure and laws around sharing nudes that was basically, “these are common (male) manipulation tactics used to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do, don’t fall for them”.

We were encouraged to take STEM subjects, and those of us that had taken interest in computer programming were sent to coding programmes in the city during school hours! That’s how keen our teachers were to get more women into the field! This was the same with the girls interested in politics, who got to go to Model UN events, as well as mock parliaments in the country’s capitol.

We had a lot of programmes generally. A few overseas ones for girls who were in LOTE (languages other than English) classes. A few interstate ones, too. And of course, local programmes and excursions. Most of them (aside from the LOTE ones which focused on immersion) were volunteer programmes aimed at helping women and girls. The rest were about furthering our own skills or learning new ones. Majority of these were year-level based, but a few depended on the clubs/groups/classes you were in. For example, I was part of the Writer’s Club, and we took an excursion to the state Writer’s Festival and listened to female writers as well as feminist panels. We also had self-defence programmes every year.

In terms of peers I generally found everyone to be quite amiable by the time we’d reached our third/fourth year. There’s a common myth about all girls schools being filled with ‘catty’ girls who are constantly bitching about one another, but I really did not find that to ring true. There were a few fights and arguments in the earlier years, I was part of quite a lot lol but that’s honestly… just something that happens at school, at any school. Largely, we were good to each other. If someone was crying there was always someone who’d ask her what was wrong. If you missed the notes on the slide, there was always a girl willing to share her notes with you.

I think going to an all-girl’s school, and not having that much interaction with the opposite sex generally for that six-year period truly does something, I think, to your psyche. We are socialised to look down on our fellow woman, socialised to look down upon ourselves. But actually being constantly surrounded by women, and almost ONLY women, really helps to undo that. Even now I could not describe the fierce love I have for all those women and girls I came in contact with during my time there—even the ones I bickered with. Each and every single woman I met there enriched my life in some way or another. I think that is the effect of consistently spending time in any female-only space: developing a true appreciation for women. It is the only reasonable conclusion to come to.

I have been out of high school for two years, and in university for one. Among the many men I have met since, none of them have even been able to hold a candle to the any women and girls I know.

Anyway. TLDR: it slapped, send your daughters to same-sex schools!!

[leviiattacks]

teacher!levi and teacher!reader headcanons please 🥺

author note :: i expected for this to be better but idk,,, um, you know maybe it’s just me who wishes i executed it better but i wrote this at 3am that’s my excuse. ANYWAY I HOPE U ENJOY ANON :-))) i know it’s not headcanons but here!! also my ask box is always open to feel free to drop by !! 

word count :: 5.4k (after i had to severely cut the word count down because my tumblr wouldn’t let me post the longer version with more detail,,,,)

honestly you’ve never fit in well with the math teachers in particular but you’re still amicable with most

however, there’s one unbearable member of the group that happens to want to play jump rope with your patience constantly

and that person just so happens to be mr ackerman

every single staff meeting the both of you sit furthest away from each other whilst silently exchanging bitter glares

maybe it’s his stony disposition or his unrealistically harsh grading system that makes him seem so off putting to you.

or perhaps it’s your soft and gentle approach to teaching that drives him up a wall

but to make matters simple, the two of you have never got along. nearly everything he says you disagree with and nearly everything you say he has to rebuke.

every outlandish suggestion of his at meetings is met with firm disapproval from you and every time you bring up wanting to provide the children with more time for extracurricular activities he sneers in annoyance

today he’s proposing a plan to set exams as soon as possible

???

you wonder if he’s even thinking with his head attached to his neck because it’ll be impossible for the children to handle all of the content in the form of an exam paper so soon

the workload he’s been pushing onto his math class has become far too ridiculous for your liking and you want to put an end to the man’s reign of terror

it just so happens your classes are scheduled in the blocks next to each other meaning he always sees your students an hour before you do

it’s got to the point where your pupils trudge into english class completely EXHAUSTED

the other day a boy fainted because of lack of sleep and now mr ackerman has the audacity to put forward the exam dates???

“we need to instill these children with discipline. taking them by surprise will give them a much needed reality check.”

you groan at his speech and raise a hand

“may i interject?”

professor ackerman’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek the irritation is painted on his face but he nods although he seems reluctant

“these children do not need standardized exams to-”

“would you like for me to completely scrap exams from the curriculum?” without even allowing for you to present your argument he has to cut you off with a mocking grin

“levi, i think-”

“that's mr ackerman to you.”

his blunt correction has you rolling your eyes because YES!! you understand the two of you aren’t exactly the best of friends but he doesn’t even want to be on a first name basis with a colleague of two years??

his pettiness has your blood boiling in searing displeasure

“you have to stop going so hard on these children.”

he’s shuffling through some paperwork not even batting an eye in your direction.

“personally, we aren’t hard enough but of course the english teacher has trouble understanding that.”

the jab he makes at your job only causes the anger inside of you to bubble up again

why does teaching english have ANYTHING to do with this???

“you teach math yet you can’t calculate the reasoning behind your subpar love life. do not insult english.”

personal insults are your favourite to throw at him because he always gets so riled up

and actually for once you have the answer to a math question.

the reason why his love life is so uneventful has to be because of this :

his personality + his obnoxious humour + his looks = a good looking but undatable man

his jaw clenches and the grip he has on the stack of papers in his hands strengthens

ok,, that is kinda hot but that is not relevant at all

you’re able to make out miss ral one of the other math teachers make a move to speak and god you fight the urge to punch her every day because she’s always gushing about mr ackerman

seeing as you don’t want to punch her or anyone for that matter you turn to give her a “if you speak right now i swear to god i will lose my shit” look

she gets the memo incredibly quickly because her mouth closes shut immediately

mr ackerman takes a sip out of the cup of black tea next to him. “i would appreciate if you just sat back and let me do what’s best.”

“children fainting in my lesson is not what’s best.” your rebuttal catches him off guard and he seems more than a little surprised

“wait- fainted??”

you eyes flick over to mr zacharias, you had told him to pass the message on but the way he’s sheepishly looking at the floor avoiding your eyes clearly tells you all you have to know

“looks like someone forgot to pass the message onto you but the other day falco fainted in english.”

“is he- is he okay?? did he say why?”

eyebrows raising you’re quite surprised to see any sort of reaction from him let alone concern

“he stayed up all night completing your homework.”

lips pressing together into a fine line it almost looks as if he’s guilty

“i’ll talk to him about it later.” his voice is back to its usually plain tone and any trace of his previous worry has been masked.

an awkward silence follows. he coughs choosing to not continue the discussion about exams.

principal smith takes the hint and moves on to discuss planned school trips

HOORAH victory!!!

yet another day where you’ve saved your students

“who is fallacy and why are they pathetic?” a few snorts and giggles are heard around the class and you force yourself to laugh at falco's miserable attempt at a joke

you’ve noticed falco’s been cracking more jokes around his new seat mate gabi.

she’s small but feisty always willing to debate and she’s really a joy to teach although she can get a little bit aggressive with the others at times

honestly it’s quite obvious that falco has a fat crush on her. well, actually it’s been obvious from the moment she step foot into your class

and... you couldn’t just ignore the way falco looked at her could you?? and there was an empty space next to him too sooooo, what harm would there be in placing the two together?

it seems as if your attempt at getting the both of them to talk has worked. gabi and falco compete desperately for the top position in the class and are two of the best students you’ve had in a while

also after the day falco fainted in class gabi has been noticeably nicer. things like asking if he’s drank water or how much he’s slept

you have a small inkling that she may like him back

and the budding romance is adorable to you because you too once had childhood crushes

it feels rather nostalgic to see the two interact

but today you notice the two aren’t in

in fact, you notice half of the class isn’t?

“where are the others?” your question sends a jolt through one of your present students but he stays silent choosing to pretend to clean his glasses as a distraction

crossing your arms over your chest you walk over towards his desk

“udo, you can tell me what it is.”

“professor ackerman said not to tell.” udo looks petrified and you’re just kinda wondering what in the hell is going on

lucky for you his resolve is thin and he quickly cracks under pressure

“okay. you can’t say i told.”

nodding in agreement he looks around making sure no one else hears what exactly it is he’s about to disclose

“he’s kept some people back to talk to them about something top secret. i don’t know what but he asked for the students who like you.”

at that you feel a little bitter because if he asked for the student who liked you why on earth is half the class still here??

but oh well, you guess you can’t please them all

“oh no, no, no. you’ve got it wrong. we all wanted to stay but he didn’t let us.”

udo looks genuine so you let it slide

either way it doesn’t really matter as long as the majority prefer you over that sick and twisted math teacher you’re alright

“he does know he’s cut into my class time right?”

“falco told him that and he whispered something about how you’re bothersome.”

you???? bothersome???

WHEN HE’S THE ONE BOTHERING EVERYONE?/!:£:!/)

you don’t even look back as you walk out frankly furious at what’s happened

english is important

ACTUALLY!!!

ENGLISH > MATH

you will stand by that till the day you die

your knuckle meets with the wooden surface of your sworn enemy’s classroom door and almost automatically you’re able to hear the shuffle of chairs and padding of numerous footsteps approach

the door swings open and you step aside to allow your missing students to pass through

they look nervous but one look at your reassuring smile lets them ease up and relax

“well.” a voice behind you snaps “look who paid me a visit.”

“we’re talking about this later.”

you try your best to sound serious but you don’t know if you pull it off as well as he does because he just ends up giving you a disappointed sort of look

“y/n. stick to being the good cop it suits you better.”

“we are not on first name basis. you said it yourself.” is your narrowed comeback

finally turning to face him you’re surprised when your eyes travel to the triangle of space behind him and you’re able to get a peek of what looks to be a list of books on his whiteboard

pride and prejudice

wuthering heights

jane eyre

ville-

before you’re able to read the rest he moves in front of your line of vision

he’s got quite the selection but,, when did he of all the people on this planet start showing any interest in literature?

“the books on the board what’s that about?”

your inquiry flies over his head and he shuts the door behind him completely

his face doesn’t move and if it does it only shows the slightest hint of confusion

“what books are you talking about?” he replies and don’t know why your knees feel a little weak when he looks you straight in the eyes

snap.

out.

of.

it.

“i saw books on the board.”

“you saw wrong.” he barks back and he’s getting agitated now

maybe you did imagine it...

and you have to get back to teach your class so okay fair enough you’ll let it go because you do know you have a habit of daydreaming randomly

however that doesn’t stop you from giving him another skeptical look before you leave because there is NO WAY you imagined it, but it is you and it really could be a possibility

the click clack of your heels against the floor sound out as you remove yourself from the conversation

you assume he’s returned to his classroom

that’s why it catches you by surprise when you hear a hesitant voice behind you

“there were no books on the board.”

you don’t know why he has to tell you that again because it only makes himself look all the more suspicious

“but if they were a list of book recommendations then what would you recommend i read?”

the question is peculiar coming from him

are you in an alternate universe?

is this a dream?

are you talking to a clone?

a robot?

because this can NOT be the same man you’ve been working with for two years

maybe he’s having a change of heart?

but that sounds unlikely

maybe he’s planning to read the book and somehow with that big brain of his formulate a calculation to score it a measly two out of ten

yeah. that sounds more likely.

nevertheless, you still want to give him a recommendation, maybe he’ll find out he’s into books this way

“you should totally check out pride and prejudice :-)”

for once you’re smiling at him and he doesn’t know what to do because the change is sudden but he doesn’t say a word after that

instead he retreats into his classroom

god.

now you’re sure he’s just asked to form a stupid calculation or whatever the hell it is math teachers do.

“he likes you.” hange has a shit eating grin on their face and you can’t help but narrow your eyes and sigh in exasperation

no he does not like you but you don’t try to correct hange because you know they’re firm in their stupid belief

“would you ever date him?” hange fiddles with the last of their potato salad absentmindedly waiting on your reply

the question literally has you choking on your lunch

“i would rather fight for survival in the wilderness. thank you for asking.”

“oh come on... he’s got a thing for you. you read romance novels all the time you should be able to tell he does.”

“yeah and that thing he has for me is wanting to shove my head onto a pitchfork. you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.” shoving a piece of pasta into your mouth you sigh dreamily at the taste. it serves as a momentary distraction

you get one lunch break and you are not!!!! in the mood to talk about him whilst you’re on that break

he’s attractive

and you have to admit he looks handsome in his crisp white button up and pristine black suit AND his cologne is really...

okay, you are digressing from the point

none of what you just said means anything!!!

at surface level he seems like a catch but it’s what’s on the inside that matters and he said he finds english stupid

that’s more than enough of a reason to dislike the guy?

he thinks stuff like the pythagorean theorem and y = mx+c are entertaining

y = mx+c ??? over literature???

you read books to teach and you read books for your own enjoyment

it would be a complete travesty if you had a crush on a book hater

and levi ackerman most certainly can be classed as a book hater.

a pessimistic book hater if the specifics are needed

“OH! SORRY Y/N GOTTA BLAST MOB’S OVER THERE!!!!!”

you don’t even get the chance to say goodbye because hange makes an eager run towards moblit

hange and moblit are inseparable, both are the shared heads of the science department and since he’s been off on sick leave recently you understand why hange’s rushed off to greet him

you wish you had a teacher friend like that but the sad truth is you’re pretty much a lone wolf. the other english teachers are wrinkly old pickles and talk about antiques or quiz shows :-(

“this seat free?”

no way.

it’s not him

it can't be

what does he even want??

“um, well yeah it is free b-.”

“good.” he takes the seat without you even inviting him and now you’re stuck in an awkward situation you didn’t even expect to be in today

you're about to burst into tears because is it too much to ask for a peaceful lunch period???

mr ackerman clears his throat and places a book in the center of the table. “pride and prejudice although not my cup of tea was... mildly enjoyable.”

wait...

is this him...

admitting defeat!??

HELLLOOOOO

you are over the moon right now because you know he really had to have enjoyed it a lot and is simply choosing to withhold that information for his own reputation

“i’m happy to hear you took a liking to it.” you’re munching away at your pasta a little more upbeat now

“okay but the start of the book assuming all single men want a wife? no, all i want is a good night’s rest for once. also mrs bennet needs to calm down, elizabeth can marry who the hell she wa-”

“someone’s a little passionate aren’t they?” you giggle into your glass of water and you catch mr ackerman frowning

“i liked it okay.”

“i thought you said it was only mildly enjoyable just now?” grinning and looking at him through your lashes his cheeks become red

you guess he’s angry or something but that’s the usual with him

“yeah, whatever. i just wanted to play fair and apologise.”

“apologise?” oh wow, now your interest has really peaked because never in the past two years has he apologised to ANYONE

not even principal smith for the one time he flipped out and nearly cursed at a mouthy student at parent's evening

grimacing a little before he does it he finally speaks again.

“english is important. i’m sorry.”

your lips tug up into a bright smile

well???

this is a great interaction??

an apology coming out of levi ackerman of all people

“apology accepted! i’m glad to know you liked the book but now that we’re a tad bit friendlier with each other i wanted to ask for a favour.” your eyes gleam and he swears he can see specks of shining stars in them

“...okay, it depends.”

he’s warming up to you so he considers it

“please don’t cut into my lesson time levi.” his name slips out of your mouth but it’s so natural you don’t even care to correct yourself

“i’m sorry about that too y/n.” your name now ventures out of his mouth too as it tests the waters

wordlessly the two of you agree to first name basis

BUT more important matters are at hand such as how he’s issued you yet another apology?

this is satire surely

because why is he so willing all of a sudden...?

well, that's the power of pride and prejudice, wow you’re really thanking the heavens for blessing this world with jane austen’s existence

jane austen. a woman capable of remarkable things, she's even managed to make an unmoving book hater somehow become a lover

poking at your tuna pasta you and levi are now quiet.

“soooooo, any opinions on mr wickham?” you ask the question hoping to initiate a longer conversation than before

and luckily for you your attempt works

SUCCESS!!

levi pinches the bridge of his nose and the creases on his forehead show he clearly isn't particularly fond of wickham

“don’t get me started he’s so indescribably annoying?”

ok, ok, ok

you don’t even know how it happens but you and levi really hit it off

weeks have passed and you and him have even become lunch buddies

it was so shocking to moblit at first that he dropped his lunch on the floor when he saw you and levi enthusiastically exchanging words

then again, two mr wickham haters are bound to get along

you’re seriously wondering how the two of you ever survived as mortal enemies

yeah, you still disagree a lot but you’re getting there!!

sometimes he helps you out when your computer stops running and in exchange you’re willing to offer him book recommendations

he swears he doesn't want any recommendations from you but you know he enjoys it

yesterday he got microsoft excel out and showed you how useful it really was and you went :O because you never really understood the need for it at all

you’re a little bit of a granny when it comes to tech...

and just today at lunch you recommended he checks some plays out but his nose wrinkled at the mention of shakespeare so the both of you went through a long list of dramas and eventually you were able to interest him in j.b. priestely's an inspector calls

another victory for you!!

anyway, right now the two of you are sitting inside of the staff room seeing as it's that time of the month again.

time for the monthly staff meeting

it's the first one you've had since you and levi became friends and you're worried the both of you will be back at it butting heads

wait, are you friends?

well, you wouldn't mind if that were the case but to be honest you would like to be a little bit more than friends mayb-

no!!! no!!! no!!! stupid thought!!! you retract that statement immediately

no you do not want to be more than friends with levi ackerman, yes he's lovely to a degree but you are not going to elaborate on why it's a terrible idea to fancy him

okay wait, let's elaborate for the sake of elaborating

he's surprisingly charming and wittier than you thought he would be. the fun conversations are making your days now and to be honest it is nice to have someone to spend lunch with (hange usually skips out on lunch all together to tinker in the science labs and set up experiments)

wait... weren't you suppose to explain why you don't want to get with him?

you're an idiot and you don't notice how dumb you really are until everyone just kinda gawks at the both of you because it's so odd seeing you in the same room let alone within a three feet radius of each other.

fuck, you completely forgot you and levi sat at opposite ends of the room

principal smith enters and even he looks visibly shocked at the change in seats but he doesn't mention it and you're grateful he doesn't because you didn't purposefully sit here it just happened on accident

erwin turns in your direction and smiles

"would you like to start off with your proposition for extracurriculars?"

nodding your head you begin passionately.

"well, i'd like to say i don't think we offer the children enough. we have spare funding so why not open another club? cooking perhaps? i understand many of you may not understand the importance of teaching them how to cook but-"

"do you have an obsession for setting these children up for failure?" tensing up you notice it's levi who's spoke and he doesn't sound remotely happy

blinking once and then twice he realizes his tone isn't the best and he mutters an apology "sorry, go ahead i'll add in when you're done."

whispers travel through the room straight away

"did he just say sorry?"

"actually why are those two sitting together?"

"do you think they're you know...?"

miss ral who's sat a little further away is the next person to disagree with you

"i understand the intention but would it not be better to let them have extra math lessons?"

"oh, so you can get a pay rise?" the comeback you make is aggressive and dripping in displeasure

she sits up face burning up

"no- no- absolutely not i take pleasure in teaching all of my classes." flustered and trying to hide her nerves she takes a sip out of her water bottle

you want to pour all of the water out onto that ginger hair of hers

the reason why her interjection is getting on your nerves is due to the fact you overheard her and another one of the math teachers plan to bring this specific point up

and you are well aware that her reasoning behind it has nothing to do with the children

she couldn't care less about them

"do not make me repeat what you and mr bozado were chit chatting about earlier today."

the threat is enough to silence her and just when you think you've handled the situation levi has to give his input

"let's ignore petra's motivations and talk about how teaching these kids how to cook means nothing if they have no tradable skills to offer in the real world." levi's not looking at you. he's either too annoyed or too preoccupied with his thought process

at that moment you feel naive, you thought maybe he would try to understand your opinion seeing as he's been spending so much time with you as of recent but that looks to not be the case

murmurs of agreement fill the room at his statement and you feel pathetic

it's practically the entire room against you now

genuinely how is it these people can manage to be such spoiled sports about everything?

"recently, i asked all of my classes to write an essay about school stress. maybe you won't understand my views because you haven't read their pieces but they need a fucking break." the expletive flies out of your mouth without warning and you flush in embarrassment

that

was

not

professional.

"oh god, i'm sorry i got worked up i shouldn't hav-" fumbling over all of your words you feel even more mortified

the principal raises his hand signalling you stop and you clamp your mouth shut. you're in huge trouble that's for sure

but,,, in spite of the clear difference in opinion between you and the other teachers, soft and well spoken principal smith says the unthinkable

"i have the final say and i believe you are coming from a good place after reading your student's work. how would you feel about running the new cooking club?"

scanning his face for a second you can tell his question is legitimate and the wave of relief that washes over you has never felt better than ever

sighing contently you agree and as the topic of conversation shifts to something else entirely you sense your heart rate picking up

you feel like you're back to square one with levi.

it's yet another day where you’ve saved your students and you should be feeling overjoyed but if anything you feel a little deflated

you wish he would have come around and understood but you can't teach and old dog new tricks

again, the feeling of disappointment wears you down

two weeks have passed since then and your favourite time of year has come. it’s spring term meaning MACBETH

the english curriculum includes plays and it just so happens that today is your first lesson covering shakespeare

and you LOVE shakespeare

something about all the intricate foreshadowing always has you excited

but some children are missing

and it’s way too many to blame on sickness

so you wait for a few minutes but it's consistently radio silent

the last time this happened the culprit had been levi and he promised to never cut into your lesson time

but you could count on him to break his promise after the fiasco that was the monthly meeting

is he back to hating you and hating literature?

well, that's his loss if that's the case!! and no!! you will not upset yourself over the loss of the budding friendship

sighing you get to your feet making a beeline to the door but gabi and falco rush to stop you

awkward chuckles activated they wave their hands to get your attention “OH NO, they’ll only be five minutes!!” their sentence comes out as one big blur of words but you manage to understand them

now you’re doubtful because you know falco and gabi would usually ignore you and allow you to walk out

giving them a knowing glance the pair look between each other

their eyes are clearly communicating and asking if it’s alright to tell you

“i promise i won’t be mad.” you sigh

perhaps if you reassure them they’ll be more likely to spill the beans

“it’s not that you... i don't know. you might be upset.” gabi isn't one to care much for other's feelings so you're slightly anxious even though you shouldn't be

but you’re a tough nut to crack. so, absolutely not. you are not going to upset yourself over whatever it is

“i won’t be hurt. i’ve suffered through reading some of the most emotional classics to ever exist.” hitting your chest with your fist you wince a little because you hit yourself a little too hard

falco’s seems to be too shy to come out with it so gabi takes the lead as she normally does

“some students were talking badly about you so mr ackerman kept them behind to have a talk.”

oh.

yeah, actually you are a teeny weeny bit disheartened because you think you’re nice to all of your pupils but it’s nothing too bad, not everyone will like you

“if that’s all i’ll go get them. thank you for letting me know.” giving them two thumbs up you leave the class immediately

levi is probably scolding them to hell and back

not because he cares for you but because he hates disrespect in general

as you’re nearing the open door of his classroom you hear something you never thought would emerge from levi’s room

“final question. why does mr darcy say he doesn’t want to dance with elizabeth at first?” oh yeah, that’s levi’s voice for sure

an english question?

is he quizzing them on pride and prejudice?

you wait hoping your students don't fail you and are able to provide the correct answer.

“ummm... she’s not pretty enough!!”

levi hums “you answered all five questions right. do you all know why?”

you can’t see the children’s faces but they have to be confused if there’s no immediate response

he grunts in agitation “because your english teacher works hard to teach you every single day. have some respect because that teacher of yours is one in a million.”

taking your bottom lip in between your teeth you fight the urge to smile

“do you know how at every single staff meeting there’s only ever one teacher fighting for you all and what you want. i can assure you that teacher isn’t me, but i believe you can all guess who i'm talking about.”

your heart does a back flip in your chest and you feel jittery but in that really fuzzy good way

like that super duper fuzzy and hazy good way

he’s really very sweet for saying all of this and you're now smiling like an idiot

one pupil takes a chance to make amends “we’re sorry mr ackerman.”

but before levi can give them a response you clap your hands together and walk in unannounced 

“apology accepted, now if you want to all be forgiven forever please return to class and answer the questions on the board!” directing them to the door with your hands you make sure they're conscious fo the fact you aren't mad at them

still, never have you seen them so eager to run off to analyze macbeth. you guess levi's deathly stare is the cause for it

holding back a laugh you clear your throat after the last student leaves

“thank you levi :-)”

it’s quiet for a second and you think to ask him about what has been gnawing at your mind

“you didn’t have to do that. you disagreed with me before so... why did you?”

“i say this at every meeting and you never listen but children need to be disciplined.” his unchangeable tone is unwelcoming

again it’s awkwardly silent and you sorta regret even coming over to see what was going on because now you and levi are just having an uncomfortable staring contest

then he scratches the back of his neck and heaves a heavy breath

“it may also be because i really fucking like you, but i look like an idiot saying that when we’ve been at each other's necks for two years.”

oh.

the sudden and brutally honest confession has the wind knocked out of you, you’re stunned

and then you get hit by it too. the realization hits you like rain hits umbrellas on stormy days. you like him too.

you like him for his witty sense of humour, his pure honesty and his hatred for mr wickham only serves as a bonus

yes, you have your differences. many of them. but you like him

he’s no longer a book hater and so by default you can fancy him. he goes against none of your guidelines essentially

you like him, he likes you back?’//’.;

[SCREAMS]

“well, what do you say? will you be this mr darcy's elizabeth bennet?” hearing the cheesy pickup line from him of all people has the butterflies in your stomach exploding in delight 

“you sound weird, where's the grumpy math teacher from before?" now you and him are simply shamelessly flirting but HEY!! you have no complaints at all

he scoffs at your sarcastic question

"do you want the equation for a two dimensional heart on a graph beca-"

"can i just kiss you?"

wOWIE are you being bold today y/n???

thankfully you don't have to wait for his answer. levi’s right hand pulls your face in and he slams his lips against yours. he gives your waist a squeeze and you hold him tighter by the neck in response. he has a way of somehow making it all feel gentle and relaxed in the same breath

and... you know what? maybe you should have recommended pride and prejudice to him earlier

but oh well.

what matters the most right now is that you're kissing your mr darcy!!

and he’s kissing his elizabeth bennet

:-)

[jenohi]

stranger

PAIRING ▸ Watanabe Haruto x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ pining, high school au, lacrosse au, I’m not really sure what genre this is lol

WARNINGS ▸ traumatic events?

SUMMARY ▸ When Haruto moves halfway around the world the last person he expects to see is you. His former nemesis...or so he thinks.

PLAYLIST ▸ Still Don’t Know My Name by Labyrinth

WORD COUNT ▸ 9626

UNIVERSE ▸ YG High; Treasure Lacrosse Team

A/N ▸ I’ve decided from here on out all my stories will probably fall within the same universe. I only really have like 4 universes in mind so I’ll label them just so you know. Also, I’m looking to add some art to my stories to bring them more to life but I am useless at graphics/edits, so! If you’re really into making graphics/edits and you enjoy my work please please PLEASE reach out to me!!! I would love to work with an amazing artist! <3 <3 Plz enjoy.

A/N 2 ▸ This story is like a lot of crossover with Jeongwoo’s story but I hope I was able to bring justice to Haruto’s character and bring his story to life. :P ok now enjoy for real realz.

You were the prettiest girl Haruto had ever known in his life. But to him, you were also his rival. You always managed to score just a few points higher than him on each exam, each quiz, each assignment. To him it always felt like the teachers liked you more, so he made sure your classmates liked him more. The thing that made him really mad was that you were so unbothered. You were ambivalent to him and you didn’t even know his name. If you really were strangers and never sat in the same class he could understand. But you had been in the same classes for years. Each time you spoke to him, you politely asked for his name. As if you were strangers.

When his parents told him that his family was going to move to another city, far enough that he would have to transfer schools, he had mixed feelings. This was his last chance to confront you. To understand why you’d never bothered to remember his name, but each time he approached you he found you furiously scribbling in a notebook. Although he resented you for not knowing his name, he could never get himself to disturb you when you looked so stressed scribbling whatever it was in your notebook.

What Haruto didn’t know is that you did notice him. You noticed the handsome, tall, skinny boy that was always in the corner of your line of sight. But you had no idea what to say to him. So you never approached him. He was a stranger.

Haruto wished he could forget you. He was a bit uncomfortable transferring to a new school at first but thankfully, three other boys had transferred with him. Asahi, Mashiho, and Yoshi had become literal brothers to him. The school also had a transfer students program and he made a new friend, Hanbyul. She was a chatterbox and sometimes she could literally chat his ear off, but she was also sweet and helpful. But she wasn’t you.

But that didn’t matter because Hanbyul had another guy on her mind all the time anyway. “You know we’ve just been friends for such a long time and lately, I’ve started to...I don’t know. I feel different. Nervous. Is it normal to feel nervous around your best friend?”

“I don’t know. Is it?” Haruto responded.

“No, I suppose it isn’t. But he probably doesn’t feel the same way. I doubt he’s ever even thought about me in that way.”

Haruto felt someone nudge him, he turned to see that it was Asahi. Haruto leaned over to hear what he was going to say. “Is she talking about Jaehyuk’s brother?”

Haruto nodded.

“Jaehyuk talks about his little brother and this chick all the time. She’s so off the mark. The little brother definitely has feelings for her if Jaehyuk is anywhere near the mark.” So both parties had feelings for one another but both parties were too chicken to say anything to each other. And for no good reason.

In a way that reminded Haruto of himself and it pissed him off. He knew that spending so much time with his new friend would raise suspicions but he didn’t care. He knew that spending so much time with her pissed Jeongwoo off. It didn’t take a genius to recognize it when they went to the Big Bang Concert together.

Haruto thought he was going crazy when he spotted you a few spaces over at the concert. He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times to make sure it was really you. Haruto stormed over to you once he decided that it was in fact you. He had spent months thinking about what to say to you if he ever saw you again, he wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. Haruto didn’t even think to tell his new friends where he had gone.

You saw a tall, handsome figure approaching your direction. You took a second to check him out, but then turned back to the performers and continued to enjoy yourself. Your parents were reluctant to let you go out to this concert on your own but it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that you wanted so badly. You smiled sadly at what might happen when you woke up tomorrow.

“I didn’t know you were a fan of Big Bang.” You heard a voice from behind speak into your ear. You jumped in surprise and turned around to see that it was the handsome stranger you saw sauntering your way earlier.

“Hi, what’s your name?” You asked with a polite smile on your face. This is probably exactly what your parents were worried about, creepy men that would try to approach you. You started to think about the best way to remove yourself from the situation safely. The now unamused expression on his face alarmed you.

“When are you gonna cut the shit. You know who I am.”

You looked at him puzzled. “I do? How? From where?”

Haruto felt something in his chest crack. “I used to go to school with you. You’re Y/N right?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s me.” You furiously racked your mind trying to remember what you had read but your memory came up blank. You couldn’t help but cringe and turn away. This is why you tried your best to keep to yourself and away from people. You looked up to see Haruto staring down at you with a curious expression. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you. You said you used to go to school with me? You don’t go to school with me anymore? Can I get your name again? I’m really sorry. I’ll try and remember.”

“My name is Haruto. I don’t go to school with you anymore. I transferred to a new school a few months ago.”

“Oh, I see.”

Haruto wasn’t sure how to feel when he realized you actually had zero recollection of him. For some reason seeing you up close and seeing you really trying to remember him made him feel a bit sympathetic. He couldn’t understand why. It still totally irked him that you didn’t know his name. But something told him to sit down with you and get to know you.

“Well, do you like your new school?” You asked, looking up at Haruto. Your heart was beating hard and fast. You prayed that your face wasn’t flushing.

“Why don’t we just enjoy the rest of the concert for now and we can grab a late night meal after the concert?” Haruto proposed. His own palms were sweaty and his heart was beating fast.

You thought about it for a second, then nodded and smiled. Haruto felt like the world had a glittery filter for a second. He’d always acknowledged that you were attractive, but up close smiling at him, you were drop dead gorgeous.

“Awesome.”

After the concert, the two of you walked side by side as you left the crowded venue. You noticed Haruto took a second to text someone on his phone. He caught you snooping and laughed as you turned away. “It’s fine. I was just letting the friends I came with know that I was gonna head out with you.”

“Oh, if you need to get back with them it’s fine.” You said, maybe hanging out with Haruto was a bad idea after all.

“Not a chance, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I’m honestly curious to know how you are and how things are back home.”

Your face flushed at his words. You couldn’t remember the last time you had spent time with a guy like this. Was this a date?

“Alright. Then what are you in the mood for?” You asked, pulling up a list of restaurants that were still open at this hour.

“What’s available now? What are you in the mood for right now?” Haruto looked over your shoulder at the menu as he asked.

“Um, what about McDonald’s? I’m not that picky and there’s not that much open right now.” you said.

Haruto stared at you with wide eyes, were you always this cool? So the two of you made your way to the closest McDonald’s and debated which was better, Coke or Sprite. To Haruto, Coca-Cola was non-negotiable.

“How is your new school?” You asked Haruto, munching on a few of your fries. “Do you like it?”

“What are you doing here?” Haruto interjected.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re not in Japan. This is far from home. Why are you in America?”

“Oh, I’m uh- I’m visiting family. I’ve actually transferred to a school around here for the time-being as well.” You jumped in surprise when Haruto shrieked.

“You’re here now? Like for good? Like you go to school here? Where?”

You giggled at the questions he rained down on you. The way he asked you with his cheeks full and eyes wide was rather endearing. “Yes I’m here now. I’m actually, uh, home schooled for the time being.”

“Oh, interesting. Why are you homeschooled? I remember you were always really good at school.” Haruto said before he shoved another chicken nugget into his mouth. The irritating thought that you were always better than him at school, just by a little popped up in his mind but he pushed it away. That didn’t matter anymore. He had your attention now.

You felt your face flush. Even with your condition it was true that you maintained your good grades. So Haruto must have actually known you back in Japan. You eyed him again, when he caught you staring at him you turned away. Haruto smirked.

“Enough about me. Tell me about your friends. You said you came with friends from your new school right?”

“Well I’d say one of them is actually who I’d consider a friend. The other one is a mutual friend. A childhood friend that has feelings for her.”

“Her?” it slipped out of your mouth. Haruto’s smirk reappeared and his eyebrow jumped up when he looked at you. You looked away, what was this funny feeling in your chest? It was weird.

“Our school had this transfer student program and she just happened to be assigned to me. She’s really cool, I’m not into her like that and she’s not really into me like that. She likes her friend.”

“How do you know?”

“She told me.”

“Oh. That feels like something important. Like a secret.”

“Well, I told her a secret as well.”

You stared at him. He didn’t indulge in the secret. Haruto was wholly focused on sipping the last of his Coca-Cola before putting it down on the table and letting out a sigh.

“Well so what’s going on with them now?” You asked.

“Hopefully, they both pull their heads out of their asses tonight. I gave them time alone so the best case scenario is that they just talk it out. The dude, Jeongwoo, I actually met him for the first time tonight and he’s a cool dude. It would be nice to have more dude friends around here.”

“You don’t have any guy friends?”

“I do. There are 3 other transfer students from Japan and they’re all dudes and I’m friends with them. Actually, Americans like to play this sport. Lacrosse? My friend told me to try out for the team and I think I might. Mashi, Asahi, and Yoshi agreed to try-out as well so it’ll be fun.”

You nodded, you had no idea what lacrosse was and you didn’t think you would be that interested to learn either. “I should get home.”

“Right of course.” Haruto said, getting up. “Where are you headed? Let me call you an Uber.”

“No, it’s okay. I can actually walk back home from here.”

“Oh really? Well, at least let me walk you back.”

You hesitated for a second. Would it be smart to show this guy where you lived? But then you shook it off, he seemed pretty harmless throughout the night and you trusted that he knew you from school in Japan. So you agreed.

“Do you have to be home-schooled?” Haruto asked.

“No, I don’t think so.” you answered.

“Would you be interested in attending school in person again?” Haruto could feel the devil on his shoulder kicking him. What was he doing? He had already gone to school with you before and the fact that you always did just a smidge better than him drove him nuts.

“Um, I haven’t really thought about it. Why?”

“You should consider transferring to my school?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What?”

Haruto stepped back a bit and raised his hands. “It was just a suggestion. Honestly, I struggled a bit when I first came here. I can’t imagine how lonely it must be to be here and just be home-schooled so I figured it might be nice to have some sense of community.”

“Um, I’ll think about it.” You weren’t going to think about it. You looked up and breathed a sigh of relief when you saw the familiar apartment complex. “This is me. You don’t have to walk in with me. I’m gonna go now.”

“Wait.” Haruto said. You turned around to look at him, a thin smile on your face. “I, uh, I had fun.”

“Yeah, this was nice.” You said truthfully.

“We should do it again sometime.” Haruto said. You stared at him, he looked perfectly composed to you. But his heart was practically beating so hard he thought it might fall out of his chest.

“Honestly, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

Haruto felt a heat and anger flare up in his chest. But he did his best to tamp it down and get it under control. This was literally the first time you had acknowledged his presence. He put a smile on his face. “Well, then maybe we’ll just run into each other again sometime.”

“Maybe, it’s all up to fate now. Good night Haruto.”

“Good night Y/N.”

The second you made it back into your room you pulled out your diary. You scribbled the notes you had logged into your phone throughout the day as quickly as possible. Briefly reliving each moment as you wrote them down. By the time you had gotten to the end of the list and began to recount the concert you could feel your eyelids getting heavier and heavier and your hands writing more and more frantically until suddenly, you crashed.

The next morning you woke up and read your notes. You squinted at the last thing you had written. Your handwriting became illegible near the end. ‘Haruto?’

The next morning Haruto woke up and smiled at the memory of you. Asahi and Mashiho eyed their roommate as he pranced around the living room and kitchen smiling and singing. But nothing could bring Haruto down. Well until he saw his friend looking depressed as hell.

“Dude what’s up?” Haruto asked. “Did you and Jeongwoo figure your shit out?”

“Uh, about that. Well, no.”

“No? What do you mean no?”

“Well what about you? Did you run into her?”

“Nuh uh, this isn’t about me. You literally had the perfect opportunity to make something of it. To make a moment! Did you guys have a moment?”

“Yes, I think we did. But I got scared. I don’t want to lose Jeongwoo as a friend, but at the same time I don’t think he has any feelings for me like that. I just, I think I need space. Maybe if I just distance myself from him a bit then I can get over my feelings and…”

“No offense, but that’s the stupidest thing I think I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Well I don’t care if you think it’s stupid. This is my decision and my decision is that I don’t want to see Jeongwoo for awhile. Ok? I’m not ready for the conversation. So you better get used to seeing me more often!”

Haruto sighed as he watched his friend storm out of the room. He turned around and exchanged looks with Asahi. “Did I say something wrong?”

Asahi shrugged. “Honestly, I think you’re valid. I think her logic in avoiding Jeongwoo is pretty dumb. The dude’s in my gym class. Honestly, he’s chill. I don’t think he’d react badly to her if she confesses regardless of how he feels.”

“I should probably find her and apologize anyway.” Haruto said, exiting the room. Eventually he found his friend and they sat together in the cafeteria.

“Sorry about what I said earlier. I’ll admit it was kind of harsh. But honestly I can’t say I understand your logic at all.”

“It’s fine Haruto. You seemed extra happy when you walked in this morning. Who was the friend that you saw at the concert?”

“It was her. Y/N.”

“No way! Isn’t she in Japan?”

“That’s what I thought too. I was so shocked to see her.”

“What did you say to her? What did you guys talk about? Did she recognize you?”

“That’s the thing. The best part of it all was that I actually had her attention. You remember I told you about how she never acknowledged anybody right? She was always reading her notebook in the hallway. In the past when I spoke to her she never even knew my name! She had to ask me every single time. But this time, there’s no way she wouldn’t remember me!”

“Your relationship is weird. But I guess that’s sweet. What does she write about in her notebook?”

“I don’t know. Why does it matter? She knows my name now!”

“That’s another thing. You went to school together for years and she never remembered your name? Why?”

“I don’t know.” Haruto said. Now he was grouchy. All the questions that had been brought up to him were valid, but these weren’t things he wanted to think about.

A few weeks before the lacrosse tryouts in the spring Haruto went to the hospital to get a physical done.

Once he was done he stumbled into a small cafe right next to the hospital. When he saw who was manning the cash register he rubbed his eyes and looked away and looked back a few times to make sure he wasn’t being deluded. When he was confident that he wasn’t going crazy he stood up and walked over to the register.

You saw a tall, handsome, and skinny guy walk up to the cash register. You cleared your throat and stood up straight. “Hello, what can I get you?”

“Y/N! It’s fate. We ran into each other again!”

“Again?” You put a smile on your face and thought of a response. “Hey, it’s so good to see you! How have you been? What’ll you have?”

“Do you...remember my name?”

You felt your heart picking up speed and your palms beginning to sweat. But you kept your composure. “Of course, let me take your order and we can chat for a second.”

Haruto beamed. “Okay, then I’ll just have an Iced Americano.”

“Okay, that’ll be $3.30. The ice machine is in the back so I’ll be right out in a second. You rushed to the back of the cafe and pulled out your diary and flipped through the pages, reading the entries as quickly as possible. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed a torn piece of paper that had slipped out of your bag. You picked it up, it matched the paper in your diary. You flipped it over to see that it had a name written on it. Haruto.

Was that this guy’s name? Who was he to you? Darn it, why hadn’t you written more?

You quickly filled the cup with ice and walked out filling the cup with cold brew. You grabbed the marker and scribbled Haruto on it. You walked back over to the cash register. This guy’s eyes were practically glittering in anticipation. Was it normal for someone to get this excited over a coffee?

“I’ve got one iced americano for Haruto?” you said.

If his eyes were glittering before, they were practically flashing light strobe lights at a nightclub now. A matching beaming grin on his face. “Yes! Y/N it’s fate. We ran into each other again!”

“Right. Yeah, of course. What are the odds.”

“Do you have a minute?”

“Um, I’m working right now. I’d rather not get in trouble. Maybe another time?”

Haruto swiveled around, eying the cafe. “It looks pretty empty to me. I don’t think you’d get in trouble if you came out for a second just to keep me company.”

“Still…”

“Is your manager even here right now?”

“No.”

“Then come on. Just come out for a second.”

You looked around the cafe, cursing at how vacant it was. You tugged at your sleeves for a second before answering. “Fine.”

You followed Haruto out from behind the counter. He walked over to a table and pulled a seat out from underneath the table. He smiled as he waited for you to sit down. You walked over to the table and turned around. Haruto slid the chair underneath you as you moved to sit down. Once you were seated Haruto ran around to the other side of the table and sat down.

“How are you? How have you been?” Haruto asked.

You stared at the boy sitting in front of you. He was so handsome. “I’m doing well. How about you?”

“I’m good. I was in the area because I needed to go to the hospital.”

Your ears perked up. “Why were you at the hospital?”

“Why do you wanna know? Are you worried about me?”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at Haruto. Haruto cleared his throat and looked away for a second. “I’m just playing with you. I went to get a physical.”

You nodded, tracing the patterns on the tablecloth.

“I needed one for lacrosse tryouts.”

“Lacrosse? What is that?” you asked. Haruto thought the way your nose scrunched in confusion was adorable.

“I told you about it last time! Remember? It’s this sport that Americans like to play. I had never heard of it in Japan either.”

You didn’t remember. “Right.”

Haruto couldn’t understand the dynamics of the conversation. He watched as you avoided eye contact with him and intensely focused on tracing the pattern of the table cloth. Then you would stare out the window of the cafe, it almost appeared as if your eyes were glazed over. “What are you always writing about in your notebook?”

Your head spun over to look at him so fast, you thought you might have gotten whiplash. “What?”

“Your notebook. I remember in school back in Japan I always saw you either writing things down in a notebook or reading the same notebook. What’s in it?”

“Um, nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Why? It can’t be that bad. I promise I won’t laugh no matter how embarrassing it might be.” Haruto said. Leaning forward over the table so that he was in your face.

“Forget it.” You said, leaning back and looking away. You glanced over at your bag that was perched far back behind the counter and breathed a sigh of relief. “Look. I gotta go. I’m supposed to be working right now. I think you should go now as well.”

You stood up from the table so quickly that the chair you were sitting on toppled over. You didn’t bother to turn around and pick it up. You walked back towards the counter without looking back.

Haruto watched you as you walked away. He narrowed his eyes when he saw you grab your bag and walk to the back of the cafe. There was only one thing on his mind as he walked out of the cafe. Your notebook. What was in the notebook?

You frantically flipped to today’s page in your notebook. In all caps with your boldest, darkest black marker you wrote at the top of your notebook. ‘Beware of Haruto. Tall, Handsome. Asked about notebook.’

Then you shut the notebook and exited the back room, breathing a sigh of relief when you noticed that the cafe was vacant once again. You walked over to the cafe table where you had previously sat and picked up the chair that had fallen over when you had left the conversation.

The next day at school Haruto was deep in thought. What could possibly be so important about a notebook? When Hanbyul shoved him, Haruto shrieked as he fell out of his chair. “Dude, what the hell is your problem?”

“What are you thinking about? You look like you’re thinking so hard that your brain might break.”

“Do you have an important notebook? Is that like something girls do?”

“You mean like a diary?”

Haruto snapped his fingers and looked up. “Yes! Exactly like one of those. Do you have one of those?”

“I did when I was younger. I don’t keep one anymore though. Why do you ask?”

“My friend. The one from home, Y/N? I think she has one. I asked her about it yesterday and she got all dodgy and weird.”

“Ah, well. Back when I did keep a diary it held all my dirtiest secrets. I don’t think I would want to share it with anybody or for anybody to know about it. Not even now, and as an elementary schooler I really don’t think I had any secrets worth keeping.”

“It was so weird. She got so defensive over it. I didn’t realize bringing it up would be such a touchy subject.”

Hanbyul shrugged. “Different things matter to different people. Are you ready for tryouts? They’re coming up soon aren’t they?”

Haruto nodded. “Asahi, Mashiho, Yoshi, and I have started going to that gym that you recommended. Lacrosse is actually pretty fun. Mashiho is the best though. Are you coming to tryouts?”

“Of course I am. I’m practically making you go so it’s only fair that I be there to see how you do. I reserve the right to totally make fun of you if you embarrass yourself though.”

Haruto rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”

Soon enough it was the first day of lacrosse tryouts. Haruto had frequented the cafe that you worked at in hopes of getting the chance to speak to you again. Unfortunately, what he didn’t know was that you had quit the job and diligently stayed home and studied.

Haruto was agitated at the thought of not being able to speak to you again. When he tried to sit down and rationalize it himself he couldn’t make sense of it. A year ago he despised you for not knowing his name. You know his name now, right? What more did he want from you?

“Haruto? Haruto! Hello? Are you even listening to me?”

Haruto turned to look at Hanbyul. “Honestly no, sorry. What’s up?”

“I feel bad for how I treated Jeongwoo. You were right, avoiding him was not the right thing to do. But why hasn’t he said anything to me?”

“Look I can’t tell you what’s going on between the two of you any better than you can. My assumption is that he’s a bit hurt and confused at the moment by how you’re acting and he doesn’t want to make things any worse than they are.”

“Can’t you say something to him?”

“Me?” Haruto looked up from his stick that he was re-taping. “What do you want me to say to him?”

“I don’t know. Just...just get him to react.”

Haruto scoffed. “If you want me to do that I can but again I feel like it’s not going to produce the results that you want. Like I think if I say anything things are gonna go really sour so I think you should think long and hard about this.”

“Haruto!”

“Look, I gotta go. Tryouts are starting.” Haruto said, turning away and walking onto the field. He didn’t miss the hard stare coming his way from Jeongwoo. Haruto ignored them and focused on his gameplay. Lacrosse had actually become really cathartic for him and he found that he really wanted to make the team.

Haruto noticed that the coaches seemed to be reacting favorably to how he was playing. He also realized that Jeongwoo was also really good but he played really aggressively, like he had something to lose. At the end of practice Haruto figured his hunches must have been correct because the coaches called him over to speak with him.

“I’m sure you know Varsity tryouts were this morning, all of your friends from Japan did great as did you and so we’re thinking about pulling you up to varsity. So tomorrow I want you to come early and try out with the varsity team, alright?”

Haruto beamed and nodded.

“Good work son.” The coach slapped Haruto on the shoulder. He did his best not to fall over. Thankfully the coach didn’t notice.

Haruto walked off the field and headed towards the school parking lot. Just as he pulled his phone out to call someone for a ride home his phone pinged, he tapped on the notification to see that it was a message from Mashiho.

Mashiho: Haruto have JV tryouts ended?

Haruto: Yes, I just finished

Mashiho: Cool. Have you found a ride home yet?

Haruto: No, do you know anyone who can come get me?

Mashiho: Ya, a lot of the guys on varsity can drive. Junkyu is over now but he offered to come pick you up.

Haruto: Junkyu?

Mashiho: He’s trying out for the varsity team. He’s cool. Kinda goofy but cool. I’ll come by with him.

Haruto: Alright, thanks dude.

Mashiho: Np.

Haruto checked the time on his phone before putting it back into his pocket. 6 P.M. Would you be at the cafe? The last few times he had gone by he hadn’t seen you. He put the thought away when a car appeared in front of him. The window rolled down and Mashiho cheered when he saw Haruto. “Get in the car! You smell!”

“Shut up and unlock the door Mashi.” The car door clicked open and Haruto hopped into the backseat. There was a large dude sitting in the driver’s seat who kept fidgeting with a bunch of random controls.

The guy turned around with a giant grin on his face. “Hello! I’m Junkyu. You must be Haruto! Nice to meet you!”

Haruto bowed. “Hello. Yes, I am Haruto. Nice to meet you as well.”

“Ruto! How were tryouts?”

“They were really good. Coach pulled me over at the end of tryouts and told me to come early tomorrow morning and try out with the varsity team.”

“Damn! You must be so good!” Junkyu said from the driver’s seat. Haruto tried not to be concerned by the way Junkyu was driving. His head kept swiveling from left to right. “Did you guys play sports back in Japan? All of you were insane at tryouts today!”

“We all played football. I think Mashi and Yoshi played basketball as well.”

“Football? Do you mean football football or soccer football?”

“Eh?”

“Do you kick a ball or do you carry a ball?”

“You kick it. Duh. Why would you carry a ball? That’s just dumb.”

“Americans call a totally different sport football. Don’t worry about it too much. But it’s awesome that you guys are so good.”

“Well to be fair, we were told about that Lacrosse Club and we had a few training sessions every week leading up to try outs.” Mashiho said.

“Ahh! How’d you hear about that? A few of us have been playing on their club teams for a while.”

“My friend told me about it. She’s the person responsible for me in the foreign exchange students program. Hanbyul?”

“Oh! I know who you’re talking about. Her brother was a legend at this school. He was a top recruit since his sophomore year here. But right before the most important game of his senior year he tested positive on a drug test and he couldn’t play. It totally turned him, his team, and the school around. He got dropped by the college that was recruiting him. But I heard he struck a deal with a pro-team and I guess he’s been training with them. The dude was in a league of his own.”

“Damn. That’s insane.”

“Yeah, our school takes lacrosse pretty seriously. The best players at our school get recruited to some of the best schools so it’s a great opportunity.”

Haruto knew there were probably more important things to be thinking about in this conversation but he couldn’t help but wonder if he could get you to come to one of his games.

The second day of tryouts Haruto was absolutely on fire. His shorts were shart, his passes were quick, and his steps were light. The varsity team was definitely of a different caliber but Haruto found the challenge fun. It was nice to be able to play with the rest of the Japanese boys as well.

At the end of varsity tryouts the coach pulled him over, “you were great out there today. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling alright coach.”

“Up for a few more hours?”

Haruto paused, but then nodded. He wasn’t in a place to argue with his coaches. “Sure.”

“Great. Then I want you to continue through JV tryouts. Grab some water and then head back out onto the field.”

“Alright coach.”

Haruto jogged out to the edge of the field. He was surprised to see Hanbyul sitting at the edge of the bleachers. “What’s up?”

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here? I came to watch your second day of tryouts.”

“Are you sure you’re here to watch me?”

“Shut up. Why are you all sweaty already?”

“Coach had me try out with the varsity team today.”

Hanbyul’s eyes widened. “Dang, you must be awesome. The last two boys that made it onto the varsity team as sophomores were my brother and his best friend Bobby.”

Haruto shrugged. “The game is fun. It would be awesome to play on varsity.”

The coach blew his whistle, signalling all the players to come back out onto the field. Haruto turned around and gathered around. Every so often throughout the day Haruto ran back to the bleachers where Hanbyul sat. His bag was stowed away there as was his secret stash of Coca-Cola. It probably wasn’t smart to be drinking Coke in the middle of tryouts but every so often he needed a pick-me-up.

“You need to quash that habit.”

“Yeah yeah.”

At the end of the day the coach told Haruto to wait for him inside his office. So Haruto did just that.

“So what’d you think about tryouts today?” Coach asked.

“It was intense.”

“Yeah, what did you think of the way the varsity team played?”

“They were quicker, sharper, and more nimble.”

“Good observation. Do you think you were good enough to play on their level?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then answer me another question. If you had to pick another player from the JV tryouts today to pull up to Varsity who would you pick?”

Haruto thought about it for a second. The answer was obvious. The only other person who seemed to put up a fight with him was “Jeongwoo.”

“Good guess.” The coach laughed. “I don’t know what they feed you kids in Japan. But all four of you are good.”

There was a knock on the door. Haruto turned around to see Jeongwoo. He smirked when he saw the sour expression on Jeongwoo’s face. But it was gone once he had walked into the room and stood adjacent to Haruto.

“The two of you have demonstrated amazing capabilities and I am considering pulling one of you up to the varsity team. Take this opportunity seriously. Tomorrow is the last day of tryouts.”

The last place Haruto expected to run into you was at the hospital. The last thing you were expecting at the hospital was for a dude to come up behind you and scare you. It was horrible, you can’t remember the last time you screamed so loudly, let alone at a public place.

“What are you doing here Y/N?”

“Uh, I’m-” you hesitated, trying to craft an answer that was vague enough that you wouldn’t have to tell the whole truth but not vague enough that he wouldn’t continue to ask questions. But thankfully Haruto seemed to take it upon himself to fill the silence.

“Look, I just wanted to say I’m sorry that I totally misjudged you when I first met you? In fact, I thought I hated you.”

Alarm bells went off in your head. Was it normal for a person to come to you and tell you they hated you? “Uh, thanks?”

But Haruto continued. “But I wanted to say I totally read you wrong. You’re actually really cool. And I wanted to say thank you. For remembering my name.”

That was the first time someone had ever said that to you. You stared at him blankly unsure of how to respond.

“Haruto! Haruto! Haruto! Please report to waiting room 105, the doctor is ready for you now.” The voice over the loudspeaker belted.

“Well, that’s me.” Haruto said with a soft smile on his face. He got up and waved goodbye to you before heading to the back of the office.

Once he was safely out of sight you pulled out your notebook. Your face paled once you flipped through it a few times. You thought about what to do. What did this guy want? You wrote out all these questions in your notebook. Then you came to a conclusion of what to do and wrote that down in your notebook as well.

You ripped out a piece of paper from your notebook and scribbled your number on it. Then got up to the receptionist desk. “Hi, I don’t know if you’re allowed to do this. But when that guy Haruto comes out. Would you mind giving him this?”

You handed the sheet of paper over to her, the receptionist gave you a look and then a wink before accepting the sheet of paper. You figured that meant she accepted, so you waved goodbye and left the hospital.

“Excuse me sir!” The receptionist lady called out to Haruto as he was about to head out of the doctor’s office. What felt and looked like a nasty possible sprain on the lacrosse field just turned out to be a measly bruise.

Haruto approached the reception desk. “There was a young lady earlier. She asked me to give this to you before you leave.”

Haruto looked at the slip of paper. His eyes widened into the size of large gumballs when he realized what was on it. He felt like his heart would explode. But then his mind pumped the brakes, he wasn’t ungrateful, but why did you give him your number?

On the way back home you second guessed your decision at least 30 times. Why did you give him your number? The only reason you could think of was that you didn’t want to not know the guy. Contrary to what your mind and your diary told you. Your heart didn’t want to give him up. Maybe it was selfish and confusing, who knew? But who cared?

Haruto’s excitement was cut short when he finished punching your number into his contacts. Before he could even send a message to you, his phone rang. Hanbyul.

“Hey Hanbyul, what’s up?”

Haruto became alarmed when he heard a sniff and a muffled sob. “Haruto, I miss him.”

Haruto sighed. “He’ll come around soon.”

“Is there nothing you can do to make him come around sooner?”

“Hanbyul. If all goes well he’s going to be my teammate. Plus, what could I possibly say to change things?”

“I don’t know. He probably thinks there’s something going on between us.”

Haruto paused. “Is that why you’re friends with me?”

“No, no I swear it’s not. You’re an amazing person and you’ve been an amazing friend.”

“Hanbyul.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t like what you’re asking me to do. But you are my friend. If you’re really sure this is the way you want to go about it.”

“I’m- I’m not sure. I just need things to change.”

On the third day of tryouts Haruto was in a funk. And it showed. The events of yesterday night haunted him, he was happy to see you but he was sorry for Hanbyul. Haruto didn’t really like to fight with anybody, but he found her requests unreasonable and the questions she asked about you probing and uncomfortable.

It seemed as if Jeongwoo was the same way. Haruto gave into the niggling voice inside his head and said probably he shouldn’t have said. “You’re gonna lose your girl to me and now you’re gonna lose your spot on the team to me?”

It pushed Jeongwoo off the edge and the two of them went at it. Haruto played ferociously and aggressively. As did Jeongwoo. The game ended when Jeongwoo illegally body checked Haruto.

“Dude what the hell is your problem?”

“No, what’s your problem? Your comment back there? Absolutely uncalled for.”

Valid. But Haruto wasn’t going to admit that. “Please. Pull your head out of your ass. You’re hurting your friend. Talk to her.”

Haruto stood by as he and Jeongwoo got scolded for their behavior. Eventually, tryouts ended with neither one ending up on the varsity team. Haruto knew he probably should have been more bothered but he wasn’t. He had other things on his mind.

When Haruto exited the office he saw Hanbyul waiting outside. She turned to look away from Jeongwoo back to Haruto. Tired and hopeful that their saga would end, Haruto smiled and jutted his chin out towards Jeongwoo. Hanbyul smiled and ran after Jeongwoo.

Since the fateful day you have Haruto your number. Whenever he had a free moment he would ask to see you. After each time you saw him, you thoroughly wrote down everything that had happened in the day. You didn’t want to forget.

A few Mondays ago, you went to get ice cream together. “What’s your favorite food, Haruto?”

“Me? Anything unhealthy.”

You whacked him on the arm for that.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“For being a stupid teenage boy. And because I’m jealous of your metabolism.”

A couple Thursdays ago, Haruto asked you if you wanted to go watch a movie with him. The Uber and the weather didn’t quite work out. “Sorry we missed the movie by 45 minutes. But on the bright side, it’s not raining anymore!”

You laughed. “I guess you’re right. What should we do instead now that we’re here?”

Haruto looked around. He pointed at the grassy meadow. “We should just lay down on the grass and look at the stars.”

“The grass is wet.”

“Look, they're selling plastic tarps over at that convenience store. Let’s just buy one.”

“Okay.”

Haruto paid for a plastic tarp and spread it down out on the grassy meadow. The two of you laid on the ground parallel to one another. Until Haruto turned to you “can I hold you?”

You felt your face flush and you looked away. You hesitated for a few moments but eventually Haruto smiled when he heard a soft “yeah.”

So he moved his arm as you lifted your head to rest on top of it. You curled into him as his arm wrapped around your upper body. Haruto’s stomach exploded in butterflies. Your face was on fire. But the two of you were happy, blissful.

Last Friday night Haruto asked you to come to one of his lacrosse games. “Y/N, this is my friend Hanbyul. Hanbyul, this is Y/N.”

“Y/N?” Hanbyul stared at you eyes wide. Like she knew something. She looked like she wanted to say something but she held it in. You wondered what it was, but decided not to think too much about it.

Hanbyul was sweet. She kept you company throughout the game. But she was an aggressive cheer-er. Most of her attention was spent yelling at the field. Her energy was contagious and by the end of the game you were standing on the bleachers cheering “Go Haruto!”

Now it was Saturday and the two of you had finally gone to see the movie that you had meant to see a couple Thursdays ago. You clasped onto the arm that Haruto had held out for you as you exited the movie theater. “That movie was so good! It was so crazy!”

Haruto laughed. “Yeah it was okay.”

“Just okay? You didn’t like it?”

“No, I liked it. It wasn’t bad. But I feel like there were better movies from this cinematic universe you know?”

“Yeah I guess.”

“Which one was your favorite?” Haruto asked.

“Huh?” You looked up at Haruto to see him looking down at you. You turned away. “Um. Would you wanna come back to my place?”

“Huh?” Haruto wasn’t normally caught off guard but this time he was.

“I mean. Not like that. I just, I don’t know I’m not ready for the night to end and I figured since my place is close by we could just go back and chat.”

Haruto smiled. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Let’s go.”

Soon after the two of you arrived at your place, Haruto got situated on the couch and after making sure he was properly settled in. You had gotten up to go fetch your drinks. Haruto spotted your notebook sitting on the edge of the coffee table. He glanced over to see that your attention was fully occupied on making your drinks. Haruto turned back to stare at the notebook. No. The notebook was staring at him. Haruto knew it was wrong. He knew he shouldn’t peek.

But he couldn’t help it. Every time he saw you he either saw the notebook with you or he saw you writing the notebook and every time he even remotely looked in its direction you guarded it with your life. This could be his only chance.

And so, Haruto grabbed the notebook. He flipped through it and saw that it was very meticulously dated. Upon closer inspection he noticed that each entry was timed as well and every timed entry had extensive details about what you saw, what you talked about. Then he flipped backwards and found one page not like the others.

This page wasn’t dated. Instead, it was titled. Haruto. Haruto’s eyes widened. Every line of his designated page was filled. There were things about him on there that even he hadn’t realized he had said. Why had you written all these things down? All these details didn’t seem that important to him. They were like things that were probably easily remembered. Or things you could ask him about, he’d answer if you ever asked him about.

Just as he was about to continue flipping through the pages of the notebook. “What do you think you’re doing?”

An index card fluttered out of the notebook right at Haruto’s feet. Haruto bent down to pick it up. But in a panic you kicked his shin and as he howled and grabbed onto his leg you snatched the card. “What the hell Y/N?”

“No. I should be asking you that. I’ve made it abundantly clear that this notebook is not to be touched. It’s incredibly private to me.”

“What is it? Why is it so important? I asked Hanbyul what it might be and she just said it was probably a diary. What is so special about yours?”

“What is so special about mine?” you were so angry you felt like your head was about to pop. While your head didn’t pop. Your mouth certainly did. “What is so special about mine? This notebook? This notebook. Is my memory. I don’t have a memory.”

You tossed the card at Haruto. He picked it up and read the words on the card as you spoke.

“At age 13 you were involved in a very traumatic car accident. The accident left you in a coma for two weeks. After you recovered from your coma you were diagnosed with anterograde amnesia. From that day on, you no longer have the ability to make memories. The memories you make within a day will only last until you fall asleep wherein your memories of the previous day will be wiped. Use your notebooks to keep track of your days. Use these notebooks to help you remember.”

You could hear your voice waver as you finished reciting the contents on the index card.

“Y/N, I-” Haruto said. The world seemed grayer and grimmer. Everything made so much sense now. Why every time he spoke to you in school you had to ask for his name. Why sometimes you looked confused or blank when he mentioned something or attempted to crack a joke.

“So now you know.” You whispered. You could feel your body start to heave, your breathing became heavy. The gravity of what you had just exposed started to weigh down on you. “You need to leave. You need to leave and never come back.”

“Y/N. I wish you would have told me.”

“Why?” You snarled. “Why would I tell you that? Each day I wake up I can’t even remember who you are. Why would I have told you anything? Just so you could go around pitying me? Telling everyone else about me? Absolutely not.”

Haruto started to feel tears well up in his own eyes. He felt trapped in his own body as he watched your body fail yours. When he saw you collapse something snapped in his head and he got up and picked you up. One arm held you under your shoulder blades and the other below your knees.

“Get. Out.” you said in between wheezes.

“No. Y/N. I’m sorry. I don’t want to. Let me help you.”

“Get. Out.” you said, barely conscious.

“Y/N. You’re scaring me. What do I do? How do I help you? Let me help you and I’ll leave you alone.”

Your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. Honestly, you weren’t even sure what exactly was going on. Maybe it would be smart to have Haruto call your doctor before he left. “Emergency Numbers. Notebook.”

Haruto placed you down on your bed just as you had passed out. Haruto immediately ran back to the living room and grabbed your notebook that had fallen onto the ground. He flipped through it frantically. What page were the emergency numbers on? He saw them scribbled on the inside of the back cover. He grabbed his phone and dialed the first number listed at the top.

“Hello? Is this Y/N’s doctor? She’s just passed out and I don’t know what to do. I’m in her apartment right now. Someone please come help me.” Haruto hadn’t even realized that tears had been streaming down his face until he saw wet splotches appear on the notebook. He wiped them quickly and sniffed. “This is scaring me.”

“Yes, this is Y/N’s doctor. I’m on my way over. Who is this?”

“Haruto. I’m a friend of hers.”

“Haruto. You did good, son. Just wait. I’ll be there in a second.”

“Doctor. Is she gonna be okay?”

“Honestly I can’t tell you right now. I have to check up on her. Right now I’m in front of her door so you can let me in.” The call ended and Haruto opened the door.

“Is she in her room?” The stout man asked.

Haruto nodded and followed him back into your room. He tried to help the doctor but eventually the doctor turned to him and said “son, just relax. Give me some space. She should be fine. She had a panic attack, something must have worked her up. But she’ll wake up. But, it might be better if you aren’t here by the time she wakes up.

“I understand, doctor.”

The doctor took a good look at him. Then nodded grimly before turning his attention back to you. Before Haruto could leave though he saw a stack of index cards, a roll of washi tape, and a pen sitting on your desk. He was still holding your notebook from earlier. He grabbed the materials and headed back out to the living room.

Before he left he scribbled out a note. Then pulled something out of his wallet and taped it to the back of the index card. He then taped the index card to the inside of the front cover before shutting the notebook and leaving it in the middle of your coffee table. He held in a sob as he got up. How had things gone so sour so quickly?

Haruto walked back over to your room and peeked in. Your doctor was still busy doting on you. So he turned around and exited your apartment. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Junkyu. “Hey, can you pick me up?”

“Yeah of course. Send me the address.” Junkyu said, trying not to be too alarmed by the tone of Haruto’s voice.

Eventually, you woke up. After reading the note that your doctor had taped to your hand explaining the situation you took a deep sigh. What a shit show. You needed to find the notebook your doctor had mentioned in his note.

It was sitting in the very middle of your coffee table. You flipped through the last few pages to read your entries. Your eyes started to water and you felt yourself get emotional. You could sense that you had grown close to someone. You read about yourself and how you felt about Haruto, but who was Haruto? For the most part you had made peace with your situation but for the first time in a long time, you began to feel frustrated. Angry. Cheated of a normal life that other 16 year old girls got to live.

Just as you were about to shut the notebook you noticed there were two index cards taped to the inside cover. The first one explained your situation. It was more or less what your doctor had just explained to you. But the second one was new. You lifted it up to your face and began to read it aloud.

Y/N,

If you’re reading this, I want you to know that you are the love of my life. My name is Haruto Watanabe and I am 16 years old. I met you for the first time in our freshman year of high school back then when we lived in Japan. We were only 14 years old. I used to be jealous of you, how you beat me in school every time even if just by a little bit. I also resented you because I thought you never bothered to remember my name.

By some stroke of fate, we both ended up in America. Whether by fate or not we saw each other a few more times and met up with each other and I really began to fall for you. You are the kindest, most beautiful, and genuine person I have ever met in my life.

I want you to know that even with your condition. My opinion and my feelings towards you have not changed. I want to be honest with you and tell you what I did and I hope in time you can read this and not feel angry.

Y/N, I did something bad. I invaded your privacy. You see, every time I saw you you fiercely guarded this notebook. Everytime I asked about it or possibly glimpsed at it you would react so strongly so eventually the curiosity of needing to know what was in the notebook killed me. And one day when your attention was occupied elsewhere, I read it.

It seemed like a regular diary to me but you caught me in the act and got upset with me. You explained to me your condition and I want you to know I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry I behaved so insensitively. If I were a more selfless man I would have left your life for good. But I am not. I’ve attached my school I.D. to the back of this card. On it has my name, my picture, and my phone number.

If you ever find it in yourself to forgive me. Please give me a call. I will always love you.

Love,

Haruto Watanabe

You flipped the back of the card over. Sure enough there was a school I.D. taped to the back. You pulled the card off and stared at it. The boy in the picture was handsome. He was tall. His height was 6’2”. You scoffed, at least you had good taste.

You saw his phone number at the bottom. You pondered over whether or not to call him, what would you even say to him? Where would he even fit in your life?

These were the questions that ran through your mind as you pulled your phone out and dialed his number. You stared at the numbers as you recited them aloud again. Your thumb hovering above the green button.

[alluringjae]

queen of hearts - sjn

summary: for the first time, one of your star students hasn’t been fetched right after class. but when she finally does, you weren’t expecting such a fine man to be her father.

pairing: johnny x female reader

word count: 5.5k

genre: fluff, romance, comedy | ceo and single dad!johnny + ballerina!reader + modern day!au

warnings: mentions of an absent parent, johnny being an overthinker, sexual innuendos (ten saying dilf hehe), slight explicit language, technical terms of ballet, a mini reference to mean girls

author’s note: sooo i came in touch with my former dance life, which led me to write this. there are links for the variations i used; their names are underlined when they’re mentioned. i am going to get technical with ballet terms here (even when my ballet knowledge decreased), so to any dancers reading, i really did my best, so please don’t come for me or do correct me for any mistakes.

although one character and her dance background, plus the name of the setting, are real, everything else about it is still a work of fiction.

i miss dancing, no cap.

leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Ballet student and teacher by day, a soloist of the Korean National Ballet at night.

This was your daily routine, and it wasn’t the typical 8-5. But it’s debatable whether or not it was worse, because you’re always going overtime. That’s the thing when you’re an overachiever. Nonetheless, you loved what you do. It’s the lifestyle you gradually built since your preschool days.

Mornings on the weekdays were mostly vacant since all the kids were still in school. You’d start at 10 am for a warm-up class for the company. Before you delved into teaching and assisting, you’d train right after your lunch break. Partnering class, en pointe class, 1-on-1 sessions with choreographers, self-practice, then the company night class, that’s the organization of your week.

Now adding the teacher title, you mostly handled kindergartners to 5th graders in the academy aspect of the company. Your first teaching class would start at 1 pm. It’s when the younger students who finished their morning classes zoom into your assigned dance studio. One class would last an hour and a half, then you have a 30-minute break in between another class with the older kids. Their lesson repertoire was more strenuous due to the added across-the-floor lessons and jumps. Water was always your best friend, water refilling stations located everywhere in the company building.

You wouldn’t say you’re a strict teacher, but you weren’t shy to correct anyone from wherever you stood. You’d lightly align their arms or back properly so your students were working on the correct body parts. Compared to the other teachers, a lot of students enjoyed your kind yet frank approaches. Your former students, who’ve already gone to the higher levels, missed your lively presence and wished repeatedly that they want you back as their teacher.

“Teacher (Y/N), I miss you so much! Teacher Ten is so intense. I get the jitters especially when we’re en pointe on the floor.”

“Teacher (Y/N), Teacher Sicheng and Teacher Seulgi scare the heck out of me during partnering class. Especially when I tried to lift my partner, I keep losing focus because of Teacher Sicheng’s never-ending comments!”

Not to be sadistic, but you’d simply laugh at their minuscule complaints. Even if they’re struggling in the academy, those comments were directed to fix their techniques if they wanted to breakthrough.

“Kids, you’re going to be fine! They wouldn’t say or do those things just because they wanted to. They’re here to push you to the next level, like how I used to do with you. It’s a cut-throat industry after all.”

This was always your reply, bittersweet and truthful. Not everyone makes it, unfortunately, so if you’re really striving, you’d do whatever it takes. Throughout your career, you’re relatively impressed with how far you’ve come.

Trainee at 17, Corps de Ballet at 18, Demi-Soloist at 21, and Soloist at 23.

You’ve been a soloist for 4 years. The final stage, which was to become a principal dancer, is your running goal. Becoming a soloist was praiseworthy enough because you’ve seen so many give up in the Corps, but claiming a spot as a principal dancer has been the ultimate dream. Since you’ve watched Swan Lake for the first time at 4 years old with your parents, that’s where you found a passion for dancing and the stage. Here you are years later, practicing numerous variations daily, performing in opera houses, and mentoring all these gifted kids.

Your last class with elementary kids, which began around 5 pm, reached its end once all the students curtsied in front of you and scurried to their mothers or their nannies. The remaining plan on your agenda today was the company class at 7:30 pm, which exceeds the average hour and a half. It’s worse during show season. There have been times everyone went beyond midnight to polish every scene from head to toe.

Currently, there’s no upcoming show for the public, though the annual summer recital for the students was around the corner. Selected members of the company were chosen to perform individually in it, which was both exciting and intense. It’s also because it’s an evaluation on whether you’d get promoted in status or staying put. You’ve partaken in 3 recitals in the past, two of which elevated you from the corps and demi-soloist ranks. The recent one, however, didn’t change your soloist ranking.

It was a major first in your career in ballet, and after finding out the result of the latter, it emotionally pained you. Recalling how much soul you put into that piece, the rejection from your artistic director clenched your heart. Though in time, you moved on from it and viewed it as a stepping stone. Also, Sicheng and Ten personally stormed your apartment to pull yourself together with wine and pizza after going on a short leave.

Since you were trainees, Sicheng and Ten were your best friends in and outside the company. Working daily to occasional barhopping, that’s your youth summed up. It wasn’t because you didn’t like the girls you’ve worked with (though a lot of them were fake and bitchy), but these two were frank and humorous as hell. Together, you’d help each other with your goals rather than be competitive. Over time, Ten leveled up to a principal dancer for 2 years running while you and Sicheng were still soloists. The way you’d watch Ten take all the big roles, that’s where you want to be one day.

Back in your last teaching class, the entire dance room was vacant. Since it’s mainly used for ballet classes, you’d either run through anything you’ve practiced from the company classes and polish it or warm up a little bit more.

Except for today, this was the only free time to sew a new pair of pointe shoes because your current ones were dead. Dead in a sense that the hard shell turned soft, which won’t be able to support you when you’re up on your toes. You’re not taking any risks of minor injuries especially when you’re in the current lineup of company members performing for this upcoming recital again. You have to prove to everyone that you deserve a position as a principal dancer.

As your legs sprawled in a half middle split, your sewing equipment laid in front of you like you’re about to perform surgery, a tiny girl stood by the ajar studio doors. In her neat bun and holding on to her small duffel bag, you’re convinced everyone has gone home already since it’s quite late.

You may have your priorities as a company member, but she was still your student.

“Minji!” You shouted her name, speedily waving your hand. You’re not one to have favorites, though you couldn’t help wonder how extraordinary she was. She’s always taking charge in demonstrating the lessons to everyone and improving every session in the 3 years she’s joined the academy. “Come in! Come in!”

At age 7, she’s gotten taller through the years, above the average from how you see it. She must have amazing genetics. Her legs sauntered in seconds to you. Sitting down across you, she marveled at your setup. Specifically, at the fresh pointe shoes.

“Are those yours, Teacher (Y/N)?” She perked up, caressing its soft fabric and playing with the mini bows of the drawstrings.

“Yes, it is, Minji!” You answered while trying to insert the thin thread through the small eye of the needle. “Why are you still here? Is your nanny stuck in traffic or something?”

“My nanny went on sudden leave, so my dad’s the one fetching me. But I think he’s running late from his job.”

Oh, this was a first to know about her father. In all the years she’s been your student, you rarely caught sight of him, even in recitals. Maybe he sat in an unknown section, but you’re pretty much acquainted with all the parents of your students. Even if some were snobbier than the rest because they wanted their child to have more stage time, you still got to know them out of respect. Quite odd, if you said so yourself.

After deep concentration, the thread triumphantly passed through the eye so you tied the two ends of the thread in a double knot. Seeing as Minji attentively watched you, you tasked her to cut the ribbons of your shoes according to the trail of pencil marks. This was so she wouldn’t cut it too short or too long. While she did that, you hammered your shoes against the floor to soften the hard front, bending the shank back and forth so the arch of your feet could move without difficulty later.

Minji wasn’t expecting such loud sounds, her entire body shaken awake. Her facial expression was priceless, explaining to her, “Once you get your first pointe shoes in a few years, this is one of the basic things you need to do so your feet won’t hurt too much while dancing.”

“Will you be there to teach me how to make my pointe shoes?”

“Absolutely! Come to me first then I’ll mentor you all that I know.”

The process of sewing and breaking new pointe shoes engraved your mind since your adolescent years, with changes along the way. Inspired by some tricks from your former teachers, but there were some differing rituals you followed. There’s no definite process of it, just as long you’re comfortable to dance after.

With your feet, you stepped on the hard boxes of the shoes to soften it more, creating a popping sound. Followed by sewing your elastic bands in. For your ribbons, you liked to burn the edges with a lighter so the thread of it won’t run. Kindly asking your cute assistant for the lighter beside her, you scanned the edges back and forth the flame. In seconds, the edges had a distinct mark, fully closed. From there, you slid your feet to your shoes to make final sewing adjustments. Sewing your ribbons took you another few minutes, plus adding superglue inside the shoe so the shoe won’t collapse when it unstiffens and scratching the shank with a cutter so you won’t slip later while dancing.

Voila, the final product is done! Hopefully, it can last you a week at least.

“Wow, Teacher (Y/N), it looks pretty!” Minji applauded, collecting the mess you’ve both made to dispose of later. You, on the other hand, gave her your thanks once you applied some bandages on your big toes and put on your toe pads. Slipping inside the shoes and tying them, you rose up back to your feet and headed to the bar to break them in. From plies-relevésto forced arches, the shoes gave you the sensation that they were an extension of your feet. The ease flowed through, meaning you were ready to practice your variations.

While you stepped your shoes in rosin for friction, your curious student moved to the front where the mirror lied to watch what you’ve prepared.

“What variation are you dancing to?”

“This is the Gamzatti variation from La Bayadere.” You replied, tapping the play button on your phone and racing to your position on the side. Talking a short ballet walk, you strongly prepared your arms before the music of the orchestra takes off.

This variation consisted of a lot of jumps and turns. Grand jetés, attitude turns, chaîné turns, you needed a lot of core control and proper spotting so you won’t get dizzy. The thrilling music lessened your nerves because you enjoyed learning this piece from one of the principal dancers, smiling and letting the music guide your legs. Once you nailed 3 consecutive grand jetés, the variation ended with a sus-sous and the wrists of your hands flicking upwards.

Holding it for 5 more seconds, you landed back on your feet with heavy breathing and a need for water. But before you could, small claps and cheers from Minji in front erupted. Momentarily, you’ve forgotten her presence because dancing solo puts you in your own space. You’d never let anyone take you away from it.

“Teacher (Y/N), that was wonderful! Are you performing that in the summer recital?”

Yikes, she’s right but she wasn’t meant to see it yet. Solo performances from the company members for the recital were top secret, only unveiled during the production rehearsal. Well, you didn’t think this through, but you didn’t mind.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Time ticked a lot faster today, only 10 minutes left until the company class on the ground floor whereas you were in the second. Just a few steps down the stairs away, yet Minji was still here. You only presumed that within your hour break, her father could’ve made it already. But maybe he’s stuck in traffic or at work.

“Minji, my class starts soon. Have you contacted your father?”

“I already texted him earlier, but he hasn’t responded. This happens often, he’s a busy man.” She bowed in front of you suddenly. “I’m sorry, Teacher (Y/N) for the hassle.”

“Oh no, please!” You shook your hands so she’d stop. Because this situation was relatively new, you were unsure of how to handle it. Or that was until you remembered what Ten texted you earlier. “Minji, the blinds of the main studio are going to be lifted so anyone from the outside can view us practicing. Would you like to watch until your dad gets here?”

With her insistent nodding, she situated herself in one of the seats in the front row. When you entered the main studio, your two close companions already carried a metal barre to the center and leaned towards it while observing you walking to them in your flat shoes.

“I see we have a bit of an audience here.” Ten glimpsed at the young girl, astonished by the many dancers prepping and chatting away with their cliques from the glass barrier.

“Her dad isn’t here yet, and you did say the blinds were up today. Might as well give her a show while she waits, you know.” You lifted your right leg to the top barre, stretching it with your arms.

“Hmmm, shouldn’t her dad be more cautious though? It’s getting late and it’s a Thursday. Doesn’t she have school or something?” Sicheng pointed out, discarding his muscle tee to straighten out his leotard.

“That’s not my business though. She’s just my student, and since she’s still here, I have to entertain her while she waits.”

Before your friends said anything back, the artistic director of the ballet company strutted her way to the center of the room. It’s a common rule here that once she entered, everyone must be silent to listen and race to any free spot in the numerous barres spread out if they haven’t.

“Alright, everyone. We’ll do the typical barre, then before doing across the floor exercises, I’ll be requesting those performing solos already in the recital to dance any variation tonight as another evaluation on who deserves to perform twice.” She eyed the pianist directly beside her. “Proceed first with two demi-pliés then one grand plié. Don’t forget to do the port de bras of each position.”

As the live piano music played, your focus was divided. Partly properly executing the exercise while your artistic director roamed each barre area, partly thinking about what variation to perform. This was a first for the company, and everyone was just stunned to hear the breaking news. It’d be nice to get an extra opportunity to showcase to people your potential.

30-40 minutes flew by quickly. As the guys carried the bars to the side to clear out the floor and the girls changed to their pointe shoes, the artistic director ordered all the performers of the recitals to stand in a line in front of her. Everyone else was seated around the room, so the interested eyes of everyone were on you. There were 10 performers, half are from the corps and the other half are either demi-soloists or soloists. You and Sicheng stood beside each other, internally shaking with nerves under the intimidating eyes of the artistic director. She used to be a principal dancer for the Stuttgart Ballet in Germany before moving back to Seoul, making her undeniably capable of leading all of you.

“Okay,” From her seated position observing the 10 performers, her finger pointed at you directly. “Ms. (Y/L/N) (Y/N), you perform first.”

Your nerves intensified and more sweat streamed out your upper body. Even if going first felt more relieving, no one was ever brave enough to perform individually in front of the esteemed artistic director. Principal dancers aside from Ten that you’re close with were intimidated when they have 1-on-1 or partnering sessions with her. But anyhow, in less than 2 minutes, you’d be done. This wasn’t the first time she’s had your full attention either, so you’ll treat it like the other individual performances you’ve had.

You smiled to yourself when the other soloists left you alone, while you gave the name of the variation you’re dancing to the pianist. Running to the side to put on a practice tutu, the artistic director asked, “What will you be dancing for us tonight, (Y/N)?”

“I’ll be dancing Queen of the Dryads from Don Quixote.”

The last time you did this variation was 3 years ago during the recital that didn’t change your position as a soloist. Even if this variation hurt to think about for a while, it was still one of your favorites to watch and do. Moving on, you could only muse how powerful and beautiful you felt at that time. This isn’t an easy piece to perform in your opinion. Yet according to the members of the company, this was their favorite solo of yours.

As the starting notes unfolded, you took a deep breath and elegantly walked into the frame. You only wished you wore your fake crown again for this. Minimal smiling and light arms, you imagined yourself as an actual queen who captured the eyes of many. In this case, your fellow seniors and juniors held their breaths at the captivating sight of you.

Off you go into a series of glissade jeté developpé on relevé at elevating heights, then a fouetté arabesque and another arabesque on relevé before ballet walking again to the side to dance across the stage. Sissonne to the front, right developpé to the front on relevé, pique to prepare for a single pirouette, you gracefully did a chassé to the front twice and stood on your toes with a sus-sous.

Doing it a few more times, the climax of the entire variation was nearing. Returning to the center, you took another deep breath and lifted your left leg for the Italian fouettés. Spotting to the front and back while maintaining your balance, the variation approached its end with lame duck turns, posing with your arms were positioned at a 45-degree angle, your back slightly arched and your left leg doing a tendu derriére. Your eyes reflected at the mirror in front, surveying your alignment. Once your 5-second hold was finished, you properly put your arms down and closed your back leg into 5th position.

The applause from everyone in the room roared, Ten and Sicheng wolf-whistling even for more support. It’s a usual thing every time any of you perform individually, and no one minded it. The artistic director grinned, giving a quiet clap from the front before calling out the next performer, who was from the corps. Bowing to everyone hastily, you paid more attention to spot your student by the window. She was smiling ear to ear, waving both hands at you.

“You did amazing, Teacher!” She mouthed. Hearing words of praise from members was one thing, but hearing them from students was another. You’re so used to watching them and giving them your compliments that you often forget that you’re a dancer first before a teacher. Seeing them all delighted, saying that it motivates them more, showed that you’re doing a great job teaching them. You’re a reflection of what you pass down, and all you want was for them to be the best they could be.

From her jolly expression, a tall masculine silhouette hovered a part of the window. Her instinct of giving a brighter smile when the hand of said silhouette patted her head then carried her duffel bag again, that could only mean one thing. Excusing yourself to the artistic director, you stepped out to bid your goodbye and maybe meet her father. Minji and the tall man were about to leave the building if it weren’t for your breathy voice calling them out.

“Seo Minji and Mr. Seo?”

They stopped their tracks. Minji was fast to react, familiar with your voice and racing towards you for a sweaty hug. Meanwhile, your focus shifted once the masculine silhouette came into full view. You finally understood why Minji’s growth spurt spiked up, noticing that he was taller than Sicheng.

The top buttons of his shirt were off, yet he kept his formal blazer on. His hair was a bit tousled, some strands falling in front of his forehead. He must’ve run here. Peeking through were some roots of his scruff growing. His eyebags were almost as dark as his brown hair. Yet by the way his Rolex remained spotless, you blatantly assumed that he was more than well-off. Especially when the ballet academy was one of the most prestigious ones in Seoul.

Out of all the parents you’ve met, none of them appeared youthful like him.

“Teacher (Y/N)?” Thanks to Minji, you moved your staring eyes away from him. This was another first, since meeting only the fathers of your students wasn’t your norm. Meeting young-looking fathers, to be specific.

“O-Oh,” You ate your words, suddenly blanking out. “You’re leaving me without saying goodbye, Minji? Not polite of you.”

“My father was rushing right after watching your performance, and I don’t know why.” She responded, her finger scratching the top of her head in confusion. Speaking of said father, his strong presence appeared right in front of you. The wrinkles of his forehead creased while his eyes barely looked at yours.

“Uhm,” His fingers toyed with his Rolex. “I apologize for my tardiness. I got caught up in work and all, plus her nanny le-”

“Mr. Seo.” You halted his rambling, already aware of the situation. Like father, like daughter. “It’s fine. Minji loved watching us practice while waiting, and she wasn’t a bother either. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Phew.” He swiped an imaginative bead of sweat from his forehead, displaying his relief with his playful nature.

At age 23, Johnny Seo started his own company in the fashion scene and it grew internationally in the coming years. Then when Minji unexpectedly joined the picture, he’s been multi-tasking to make ends meet. Lately, as a CEO, he has had meetings and conferences on a daily. So, his position as a single father was always tested. It worsened when he rarely has proper time to spend any time with Minji unless it’s the weekend or late in the evening. Breaking it down, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to meet you. It was more like he couldn’t when his schedules were packed from head to toe.

Having the guilt of taking your precious time, “Seriously though, I am sorry for being late. Her nanny resigned suddenly, and I have no time to find her replacement.”

“Mr. Seo, again, don’t worry about it. As her teacher and a company member, I am practically here 24/7 so it won’t be a nuisance at all if this happens again.”

“Thank you so much, Teacher (Y/N). That is your name, right?” He planted his palm on his forehead, stressed. “Being a single parent is hard. I am always forgetting things.”

A part of you couldn’t restrain from feeling sorry for his struggle. Taking care of a child should be the work of both the mother and father, not one of them being absent. You’ve feared this would harm Minji, but she’s a strong girl.

“The fact you didn’t forget to fetch Minji despite the late time is still something to be happy over. I’m not a parent or anything, but parenting, in general, is a challenge.” You added an insight, patting the head of the young girl beside you. “Cut yourself some slack, Mr. Seo. I’m sure Minji still loves you, right?”

Minji shouted a big yes, now clinging to the leg of her father. “It’s okay, dad. Really.”

Over the years, Johnny has been doubtful of his parenting skills. He was an only child, and he struggled to ask for guidance from his own parents due to the shame of having a kid at a young age. So, he’d ask for help from his other friends and co-workers. No matter how many times they’ve reassured him that he’s doing well, he’s an overthinker who always reflected on the bad scenarios. There’s also that pressure to find someone who can fill that absent position not just for Minji, but for himself too. No matter how many girls he’s asked out or been set up with, he failed in the love department badly.

It’s the soothing way you voiced out your truth that made all these negative thoughts running through his head freeze briefly. Over the past 3 years since Minji started ballet, she always had a great story about you to share. One of them was how ballet made her a lot happier because of your influence. If he had at least an hour of his day to meet any of his daughter’s mentors, it would’ve been you.

“Do feel free to call me Johnny instead.” He casually introduced himself, taking his hand out for you to shake. “Mr. Seo makes me feel like I’m at work right now.”

Despite his informal approach, you understood his intentions and returned the action with a promising smile. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Johnny.”

“Pleasure is all mine, Teacher (Y/N).”

Earlier, the nerves from performing in front of the artistic director died down fast. But for some reason, they rose back up when you’ve spoken to this man in a matter of minutes. As someone whose feelings don’t flourish in a single glance, why did this man specifically deliver you such a strong effect?

If it weren’t for Ten calling for your name by the door, you would’ve held on to Johnny’s hand longer, which would’ve been inappropriate. Letting go first, this was your cue to return to your class.

“I must head back inside, Johnny. Don’t sweat on fetching your daughter late, though she is still a student with school the following day. Right, Minji?”

Minji nodded as Johnny kept that mind, knowing where he has to improve next.  “Yes, Teacher (Y/N). Thank you again, sincerely. I’ll definitely see you again in the coming days until Minji has a new nanny.”

“That’s no problem with me at all, Johnny.”

Soon as Johnny held his daughter’s hand to exit the studio and you were re-entering the studio with an impatient Ten, he swerved swiftly as if he forgot something.

“Oh by the way Teacher (Y/N), I saw your whole performance awhile ago. I was blown away, you deserved the applause.”

Although you could only distinguish his silhouette, you didn’t suppose he watched you from head to toe. Most parents or nannies would’ve dragged their kids out of the studio once they find them like they were on a tight schedule, so this was novel to experience. That performance showed your prime too.

“Thank you, Johnny. See you again soon.”

Giving a final nod, you led yourself back to the studio, not bothering to acknowledge the erupting heat on your cheeks and entire body. Not to sound narcissistic, but compliments weren’t foreign to you. You’re conscious of the hard work that you put in your talent and if they pointed out your greatness, why would you deny it? However, receiving one from Johnny was like gearing your engine with new fuel.

Before you could try to reject these harboring feelings, Ten was fast to pick up on it. You cannot hide anything from this man at all because body language was like another language he’s fluent in (aside from the other 5). Unlucky for you, the saga continued.

“You’re so into dilfs, (Y/N)!” He shrieked in your ear, nudging your shoulder repetitively. He placed things in his own way, yet they always shocked you because it was so inappropriate. Typical Ten for you.

“Shut up, Ten!” You objected, watching the other performers. You’ve improved in ignoring his remarks over time. That was until Sicheng sat down beside you after his solo and got up in your business. That placed you in the middle of boys from the water sign clan of astrology. They just loved getting down to your love life, going raunchy and whatnot.

“Who’s into dilfs, Ten?”

“A Miss (Y/N) beside you, who met Minji’s dad awhile ago, was basically eye-fucking him.” Ten elaborated, planting his elbows on your leg and gave you a sneaky glare. “Minji’s dad is fine as fuck, guys! I’m telling you, like a literal god! I’m surprised this is the first time he showed up here after 2-3 years?”

“How come (Y/N) is always getting students with good-looking parents? Especially the single moms.” Sicheng slumped his shoulders, attempting to get your attention too. “Is he that hot, (Y/N)?”

“Yah.” Sighing with annoyance, you’ve given up trying to appreciate one of the corps dancers with her rendition of Dulcinea from Don Quixote. “Don’t speak of Johnny like that. You barely know the man, yet you talk about him so unprofessionally."

“Oh, Johnny is his name, huh?” Sicheng sing-songed, bobbing his head. He’s certainly going to stalk him later on social media, you felt it in your chest. Like it was ESPN or something.

“Talking about being unprofessional, yet you’re here referring him as Johnny, not Mr. Seo.” Ten barked back, his lips pursed and one eyebrow lifted.

Just as soon as you could retaliate, the artistic director’s velvety voice boomed the room.

“Alright, thank you to the performers. I will deliberate with the staff and principal dancers over the weekend, and let you know the results on Monday. Now please, let’s proceed to the center.”

Everyone began to spread out on the wide floor, snatching a good position so they could monitor themselves in the mirror. Maybe you’ll defend yourself later after class because now, you needed to beat everyone else and have a crystal-clear view of yourself doing these following exercises.

In the meantime, Johnny was in the middle of driving Minji home. He had a designated chauffeur, but he gave him the night off because he wanted to spend time with Minji. Around this time, she’d be sleeping soundly, but instead, she’s boosting with so much life. She hasn’t even eaten dinner yet, which was the first thing on Johnny’s agenda now.

Playing Coldplay in the car, Minji belted some lyrics from her favorite songs while Johnny smiled to himself while listening to her attentively. Taking a breath, her thoughts reverted to her fantastic ballet teacher and shared them with her father.

“Dad! Don’t you just think Teacher (Y/N) is so cool? Ugh, I want to be just like her when I grow up.”

“Oh, to become a ballerina like her, you have to work hard every day and memorize lessons fast. Are you up for it, Minji?”

“Absolutely, dad! I want to pull off perfect jumps and turns like her one day!”

In the other after-school activities Johnny enrolled Minji in the past, none of them compared to the passion she had for ballet. Her work ethic was alike to Johnny’s: if they want something, they’ll do whatever it takes to make it possible.

Aside from being a star student in her school, she’s aiming to be a star ballerina. Being the supportive father he is, Johnny was on board to do what it takes to make it happen. Unlike his parents trying to mold him into the next heir of their company, he’s all ears to the dreams of his daughter. His only dream for her was to be live long and happy, not to merely pass on anything.

Johnny lost so much in his young life, so he doesn’t want to lose Minji in any way. As much as he loves his profession, he wanted to be an active father as much as time allowed it. He mostly received complaints from others that he’s not prioritizing his time well, but after hearing your kind words, this heavy weight on his shoulders decreased. All this doubt started to vanish after meeting you for the first time.

“Dad! Isn’t Teacher (Y/N) so beautiful?” Minji honored whilst gazing at the twinkling night sky. “She loves what she does and shines at it.”

Johnny was accustomed to his female co-workers throwing themselves at him due to his attractiveness, more than flattered even to have them feeling weak for him. Yes, there were times he used it to his advantage, some he frankly turned down. 

However, the radiance you carried whether you’re dancing or not was something Johnny couldn’t cease wondering about. Unknown to him, he’s the one getting weak. Behold, an unlocked first for the confident CEO.

“Yes, Minji. I do think Teacher (Y/N) is absolutely beautiful.”

[lovely-jily]

potions and locked closets

hey!! sorry this is such a long fic BUT i just wanted to say that i’m also working on this same fic but from lily’s pov lmk if you’d want that:))) thanks and i love you all so freakin much <3

James tried to steady his breathing. His heart was already beating too quickly for his liking, and he hadn't even seen her yet. He was already surprised that she agreed to be his partner; they both know that it would likely be another hour of pointless bickering but nonetheless. Lily Evans had agreed to partner with James for their weekly project Slughorn had assigned. She finally said yes to something.

"Fine," she had said after he asked her, following it up with, "But I'll undoubtedly need help with Transfiguration this week, so if you swear to help me, then I suppose we can partner."

In all honesty, James wasn't having too much trouble with his Elixer to Induce Euphoria, but he just wanted an excuse for Lily to be with him. And maybe if she saw that he had matured at least a little bit, it would make her start to tolerate him.

If that were even possible.

The dungeons were decently empty, but Lily had intentionally reserved the potions room in advance so no one else would be around. Meaning they would be completely and totally alone.

When he walked into the room, she was fiddling with the size of the fire under the cauldron. She was at the desk she usually sat in, the second row to the left, with her back to him.

"Evening Evans," He said, setting his bag on the table and standing next to her, "I see you've started already."

"Well, I actually want a good score on this," She exhaled through her mouth and flipped through her Potions book, her dainty fingers lingering on the words "Elixer to Induce Euphoria".

"I'm right there with you," he said, rolling up his sleeves. He watched Lily's eyes dart from his arms back to her textbook. From what James could see, she already gathered the ingredients and had them neatly organised in front of them.

"Alright, you can start by skinning these then?" She said, swiftly handing him the Shrivelfigs.

"Got it," he noted the way her eyes darted up to his for a second when she was handing him the Shrivelfigs, their skin touching momentarily. While it was only a second, it was long enough to cause James to hitch his breath in an all too noticeable way.

He started skinning the flower, trying to ignore the way her perfume smelled or the curve of her jaw. She tied her hair up in a low ponytail, pulling out tiny wispy hairs that framed her face. He chastised himself for the dirty thoughts that followed, but, Jesus, he couldn't help his want to do the most unholy things to her when she did that.

She started working on porcupine quills as he attempted to pull himself together.

"I wish we got Amortentia."

James took a sharp inhale, resulting in him coughing on his own spit. She, Lily Evans, the same Lily Evans who insisted she hated every fibre of his being every day since they were twelve, wanted to make a love potion with him- James! James Potter! As in the same James Potter that she would shoot daggers at any excuse, the boy she would scold any second she could, the boy-

"It's just so much more of a challenge compared to this one," she finished.

Right. Of course. That's why Lily wanted to make that potion, no other reason, as much as James wanted there to be.

"At least we didn't get Felix Felicis. That takes a while," He ignored the feeling of his heart sinking and his stomach twisting as he finished up the Shrivelfigs. He should've known that was the reason, but he couldn't help but innocently jump to conclusions with her.

"What did Amortentia smell like for you?" She asked, causing James to start jumping to conclusions again.

How do I answer this honestly without giving away the fact that I smelled her?"

"Fresh bread, rain, and- uh- my mother's shampoo," He mentally kicked himself for bringing up his mother, but it was the quickest thing he could think of on the spot, "What about you?"

She sighed, stirring in the quills, "The ocean, my mum's hot chocolate and a cologne of some kind, but I couldn't place where that one was from."

A pang of jealousy beat along with James's heart as he thought about her smelling another lads cologne. Whoever he was, he was a prick.

She shook her head quickly as she seemed to panic for a moment, hastily saying, "Anyways, I'm sure it doesn't matter."

She fiddled with the ladle, brushing the few hairs out of her face. Her cheeks were bright red.

"You alright there, Evans?" He asked as he turned to look at her. He swallowed what felt like all his dignity and pride but was actually just the extra spit that always was around with Lily.

"Just fine," She cleared her throat and handed him the Sopophorous beans, not looking at him, "Would love it if you could start working on these, though."

"Got it," he mumbled as he started dicing the beans.

"No, Potter," His heart lightened a little at the sound of his name in her voice, even if it was to chastise him, "Those are far too small. They'll dissolve too quickly."

"What do you mean, this is how Slughorn does it-"

"Slughorn always cuts things too small, but he makes up for it by moving a little quicker-"

"Well, that's stupid. What kind of a teacher-"

"James," She looked up at him, sighing, and despite her exhausted expression, his lungs lifted immensely at the sound of his first name. She never used his first name.

"Yes, Evans?"

"Could you perhaps go find more in the Potions closet? I think it'll just make things a lot easier."

"Got it."

The closet was cluttered, full of misplaced ingredients from students whose first priority clearly wasn't organisation. After a solid minute of staring at the mess, he called her in to help him.

"What do you mean 'Can't find them'- I just saw them," she huffed, shoving herself next to him in the tight space. James would be lying if he said he didn't do this on purpose but let the boy live. He would take any excuse to be in close proximity to the girl.

"Not sure how anyone could find anything in here. I feel bad for the poor bloke who has to clean this during detention," He said, hands on his hips as she stood in front of him, green eyes scanning the shelves. The closet door closed behind her, and while they weren't any closer than they were by the desks, it almost felt like she was right on top of him. It was taking his total concentration to not think about shoving her against the door and having a long-awaited snog.

"It'll probably be Sirius," she said, glancing at him, a smirk on her face.

He chuckled as he looked at the messy shelves, suddenly shy from her eye contact, "Probably. Maybe we should leave him a note."

They faced each other, her back towards the door and his towards the shelves of messy ingredients. There was just enough room between them for her to fold her arms against her chest, her smile making James's lungs feel extra airy, "Or we can charm the Wolfsbane to fall off every time he tries to put it away."

James laughed, shaking his head as he looked down at her. Their faces were only inches apart, and his heart was beating so hard he was worried she could feel it.

"You know, for such a stickler for rules, you're quite creative with pranks."

She smirked, "I've learned that you can get away with a lot more if you aren't so obnoxious about it."

James let out a fake, dramatised gasp, "You?! A Prefect breaking rules?"

She just shrugged, a smirk still painted on her face. James took a second to look at her, feeling fortunate that not only was he was in the potions closet with her, but she had chosen to carry a conversation with him. This friendly banter was still a little rare, even though they had been getting a little closer lately. Since the incident at the end of fifth year, roughly nine months ago, James decided to get his act together. Mainly for the sake of Lily, but also the threat of war was becoming more than just rumours, and he knew that a war was no place for an immature bully like himself. He was not a person that he- or really anyone- was proud of, and he wasn't okay with that.

James was about to say something when her eyes lit up at something behind his head.

"There it is!" She said and reached her arm out to grab something just next to his ear.

Under normal circumstances, James would've been disappointed that she found it because it probably meant that his time in a closet with her, the girl he's wanted to shag since he had first laid eyes on her, was now over.

However, when Lily reached forward to grab whatever they were looking for (James had since forgotten. Other things had occupied his mind the past couple of minutes), she had subconsciously pressed her body up against his. In a panic, James put his hands on her waist. They both looked at each other with panicked eyes when they realised what was going on, faces close enough that James felt her heavy exhale as she attempted to catch her breath. Her eyes darted to his lips as he was suddenly aware of how naked they felt without hers on them. He instinctively bit them.

James cleared his throat and politely turned his head away from her, trying to reduce the awkwardness.

"Er-Um-Sorry," He said, taking his hands off her waist and shoving his hands into his pockets. Lily's hand was still grasping the beans behind him, and she was staring at him, seemingly debating something. Feeling shy and awkward as she studied his face, James was staring at her left earlobe, noticing the freckle resting next to her small pearl earring.

"Don't worry about it," She mindlessly whispered, still looking intently at him. She seemed to be deep in thought and was not thinking about the words she was saying.

James was just surprised she wasn't showing any signs of being uncomfortable. He would've guessed that she would be yelling at him by now.

"So-uh- I guess we should get-" James cleared his throat as he reached for the door handle behind her. He was nervous under Lily's stare and was having a hard time keeping composure. He wasn't sure what she was thinking, and that honestly bothered him more than if she was yelling at him. At least he knew how she felt then, but he was entirely in the dark right now, "We should get going. The potion's probably been simmering for too long."

Lily blinked and shook her head as if leaving a deep trance. Suddenly embarrassed and blushing, she nodded her head and cleared her throat.

"Right," She said as James tried the door handle.

It didn't move.

He tried it again.

Nothing.

"Well, shit," James said, trying to jiggle the door handle again with both hands despite knowing it wouldn't work. She probably thought he did this on purpose (Which wouldn't be a terribly bad idea if James wasn't so afraid of her), "It's locked."

Lily's eyes widened in a panic, and she promptly turned around, trying the door handle for herself. When it inevitably didn't work, she turned back around and sighed as she leaned against the door, looking up. She groaned and brushed the hair out of her face.

"I forgot that Slughorn keeps it locked," She said, still huffing, "Normally, it doesn't matter because he just keeps it open, but..."

James felt his pockets for his wand and remembered he left it on the desk, "You haven't got your wand, do you?"

Lily looked down as she felt her own pockets, looking back up as she shook her head.

It was then, at the sight of a dishevelled Lily Evans, that James realised that he was locked in a closet with her, and he had a hard time remembering why this was such a bad thing. He tried to shove out the thoughts that entered at the way she looked dishevelled and breathing heavily. The things he would do to be the one making her look like that...

"Sorry, Evans. I feel partially responsible for this predicament," He shook his head, trying to regain self-control. What was he thinking? This was Lily Evans he was thinking about. The girl who never failed to let him know just how much she wanted to strangle him at any given moment.

She said nothing, instead resumed studying his face. He sheepishly messed up his hair, unsure what to do with his body under her gaze.

"Oh, Christ, James," She said in annoyance, biting her lip softly.

"What did I do? I didn't know about the lock!" James said defensively, finding it odd that she was just now getting mad at him.

She rolled her eyes and just looked at him.

"Fuck it," She said, and before James could form a confused expression, her hands were pulling his neck forward, and her lips were being slammed against his.

"What the fuck?" James said, shock widening his eyes as he pulled away slightly. He clearly was baffled beyond logical thinking and reason because Lily would be shoved up against the door if he were thinking clearly. There was no way that Lily Evans, the same Lily Evans that swore she wouldn't ever go out with him not even nine months ago, had just kissed him. Passionately, at that.

"Are you complaining?" She asked, a soft smirk resting on the lips that James was just kissing.

"What-No? Of course not, I just-"

"Then shut up," She whispered, feeling her way from his neck to his tie, which she pulled him forward with so their faces were close again, "And give me a good snog."

"Yes, ma'am," James smirked and tilted his head, pushing her against the door and kissing her firmly without a second thought.

[let-them-read-fics]

Blackpink HC / One Shots: Enemies to Lovers, College AU (1/2)

Requested: Yes

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering, Rivalry, Fluff

A/N: Hey everyone! Anon, I assume you wanted to see each individual relationship with the girls and not OT4 x Reader. If not, I apologize, but I hope you enjoy this regardless.

This post includes Jisoo and Jennie. If you would like to see Rosé and Lisa's, click the link below.

Click for Rosé and Lisa

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Jisoo

Kim Jisoo: The girl at the top of her class, breezing through her school years with little competition whatsoever. She was used to winning, and anyone that ever tried to challenge her eventually gave up.

You: Also used to being at the top of your class, you were the first person to actually give Jisoo a run for her money. You didn't shy away when challenged by her, and that took her aback.

Your rivalry was one rooted in academics.

When a new project was assigned and you were allowed to choose your teammates, everyone would flock to the two of you in hopes of getting picked.

Bragging rights were awarded to whoever had the longest line of people.

Impatiently waiting to see who scored higher on tests.

Rubbing it in when you did better, and vice versa.

"Ha! Take that, Jisoo. I got a 98."

"Don't get cocky, Y/N. I beat you by 6 points last week."

"Yeah, yeah," you brush her off. "Look who's on top now." You hold your paper up, smiling when she rolls her eyes.

Other competitions were held, and even the teachers caught on and would adjust their lessons accordingly.

"Class, today we'll be having a set of one on one debates, and an anonymous vote will determine the winner of each. The person who defends their opinion the most effectively will win. Jisoo and Y/N, you're up first."

Although losing was always annoying, it made you respect each other a little more.

You both loathed and revered each other, though you'd never let that secret out.

Fighting for the best scholarships and rankings.

Constant bickering and one liners in class

"Should I go ahead and apologize now, or is it okay to wait?"

"Apoligize for what?"

"Ending your career."

*unintelligible mumbling*

"What was that, Y/N?" Jisoo inquires, cocking her head to the side as she narrows her eyes at you.

"I said: you're going down."

She scoffs at that, unaffected. "Please, I'd like to see you try."

You ended up winning that day, and she was all *surprised pikachu*

School would always be interesting and eventful with her

Pretty much everyone else can tell that you have a thing for one another, but the two of you remain oblivious.

Turning Point

Both of you joined the academic team when you enrolled, which meant that you'd be going toe to toe with other school teams in pursuit of the winning title.

On one of your overnight field trips to face off against another school, you were assigned to the same hotel room.

"Mrs. Wilson, I can't stay with her--" You walk down the hotel hallway behind your instructor, hoping she'll see your point. Her reasoning for putting you together on the roster is beyond you.

"Y/N, it's only for a night. You know we can't afford to give all of you individual rooms; our budget's already small." She reasons, eventually turning towards you when she reaches the elevator.

"Alright," you relent with a sigh, putting your hands up.

What she says next surprises you. "Who knows, you might enjoy it." A knowing look shines in her eye, and a small smirk threatens to tug at her features.

The elevator dings just as you go to question her about it, and she bids you farewell before heading in.

You can do this, Y/N. It's just one night; how bad can it be? You ask yourself, taking your sweet time in going back to the room.

---

An Hour Later

In an attempt to kill some time and recover from the fatigue your long road trip brought on, you've been trying to relax and take a nap. In fashion with your typical luck, though, Jisoo is making that nearly impossible.

"Jisoo, turn it down!" You groan, tossing a pillow at her head. She sits on the loveseat at the foot of your bed, completely fixated on the images flashing before her eyes as she plays her video game.

"Shhh, stop distracting me." She says over her shoulder, making you huff.

You value your pride too much to ask nicely, so you suck it up and stick it out for a little while longer. When she lets out a loud shout a few minutes later, though, you've reached the end of your patience.

Wordlessly, you get out of bed and stomp over to the TV, standing directly in front of it.

"Y/N, move! I'll lose!"

You stay there with your arms crossed, and are soon rewarded by the game's voiceover announcing: "Game over."

She huffs and sets her controller down, clearly upset.

"Sucks when people don't listen, huh?" You challenge, still mad that you've been denied a proper nap for so long. Every time you'd be right on the cusp of being drug under, slipping in and out of glorious slumber, she'd do something to ruin it. You're cranky now, and being petty seems like a just punishment for her.

"I can't believe you did that," she shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "That was the championship match!"

"Oh well," you shrug, a smirk tugging at your lips at that new piece of info. Perhaps justice has been served after all.

With one more warning glance at her to tell her not to do it again, you go back to the bed and get comfy, settling under the warm blankets.

---

30 Minutes Later

"ON YOUR RIGHT, ABOUT TO ROUND THE CORNER!" Jisoo bellows out, smirking when she feels you stir behind her. You scowl, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

"Jisoo, I swear to God," you grumble, feeling the irritation rise in you all over again. You get up again and approach her, but she has a plan this time. In one fluid motion, she sticks her foot out in front of you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

"What the--" as you prepare to reprimand her, you see something out of your peripheral. Aided by your new perspective, you spot the remote controller on the coffee table right in front of you, just an arm's length away.

When Jisoo notices that you haven't screamed at her yet, she looks down and realizes her mistake. A dramatic moment passes where you both lock eyes, before immediately diving for the remote. You manage to get to it first, quickly hugging it close to your body and rolling away from her. She pounces a second later, reaching her hands around you to pry it from your grip.

"Give it back, Y/N!"

"No!"

You writhe underneath her until she manages to get the upper hand, straddling your hips in an attempt to pin you down. She sits back on her knees, gazing down at you as your chests heave from the effort you've exerted.

"Give it." She commands, holding her hand out expectantly.

You shake your head, amused that she thought that would be enough to sway you. "No."

"Then you leave me no choice." Her hands dart forward to your abdomen, and she begins tickling you mercilessly in order to make you surrender. Calls for her to cease her assault struggle past your lips, but you know it's futile. She's a determined person just like you, and she won't stop until she gets what she wants.

So, after taking a second to think of a way out of your predicament, a brilliant idea pops into your head.

You finally let her pry your arms open, smirking when she cheers and claims victory. In one fluid motion, just as she had done before, you wrap your leg around one of hers and flip her onto her back before leaning down to kiss her. She tenses up at first, but her hands end up working their way to your hips as her lips begin to move against yours.

Your plan is backfiring a bit; you only intended to shock her and buy yourself time to steal the remote back -- you never thought you'd actually enjoy the feeling of her kiss. You tilt your head to the side to get a better angle and slowly skim your hand down to hers, where the device is tightly clutched. Her other hand has come up to your jaw, which she's gently guiding as she steals another kiss from your lips.

Her distracted state made it easy to get what you were after, and soon -- much too soon for Jisoo's liking -- you pull away with a victorious smile. She doesn't know what to say; in all honesty, she's almost forgotten how to breathe with the way you kissed her senseless.

"I win." You grin, hopping off of her and shutting the TV off before crawling back into the bed. She stays in that same position for a couple minutes, laying on the floor as she tries to sort through what the hell just happened. She can't even be upset right now; she brings her fingertips to her lips, skimming them over the heart-shaped pillows as she smiles.

The Fallout

Things were a little tense when you shared the bed that night

Anytime you'd roll over and readjust your head on the pillow in your sleep, unknowingly positioning your lips dangerous close to hers, her heartbeat would pick up and she'd have to roll over again

You pretended to be asleep when she scooted back against you, pressing herself against your front in search of the heat that your body provided. You brought an arm around her, enclosing her in a soft embrace that had her blushing crimson

Subtle flirting at the competition the next day

Sticking up for each other when one of the other teams got a little rude

"Hey, don't talk about her like that!" Jisoo warns, glaring at the student from your rival school. His uniform is mussed and unkempt, leaving it as no surprise that he was the one to say such a thing.

"Why do you care?" He laughs back, spurred on as his friends snicker along.

The question catches her off guard; just days ago, she was the one bantering with you and testing your limits. Now though, when someone else is taking it too far, she can't help but feel angry. "Because she's my teammate. Now knock it off or I'll report you to your dean for unsportsmanlike behavior."

He scoffs, but eventually opts to grumble out another insult and turn away, nursing his bruised ego.

"Thanks, Chu." You quietly say, having witnessed the whole encounter from the row behind her. A small smile tugs at your lips at her actions, warming your heart.

"No problem, Y/N. But you'd better help me beat him; I'm not losing to that idiot." You laugh and agree, shaking her hand to seal your pact. She tries not to get too caught up on the smoothness of your skin or how it reminds her of last night, but her brain doesn't listen.

Needless to say, you beat them.

Your team stopped by a nice restaurant on the way back home for a celebratory dinner

Jisoo sat beside you

Cue the blushing and quiet flirting

It's a new side of her that you're not used to seeing. Now, instead of being all hardcore and witty, a simple look from you can make her blush

It doesn't always, though; sometimes she grows bold and lays a hand on your thigh for a moment, laughing at something you said

It's giving very much so gay panic™️, but you wouldn't trade it for the world

After the dinner, you go back to the bus and sit in your seats (which aren't together, surprisingly).

As you scroll through your phone, you get a text from Jisoo. Attached to the message is an invitation to one of her favorite mobile games.

"Hey, Y/N. Will you be my player 2? 🎮"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Jennie

Jennie Kim: The girl who practically ran the school, always getting her way and never having to lift a finger. She was royalty: the queen bee sat atop her throne, giving orders to the masses that they followed blindly. The whole situation seemed straight out of a poorly-written teenage movie, and it always annoyed you.

You: The girl who stuck to herself, only having a close group of friends that she talked to. You weren't popular, per se, but you weren't cursed to exist at the bottom of the food chain, either. Many people knew you, but you only associated with a select few.

You avoid the "popular" crowd a majority of the time, opting to spend spare time in between classes in the library or outside, doing homework

Jennie is the type of person that has people lined up, waiting for her to ask them to do hers for her. She gets to skip class and do whatever she wants, and she usually takes advantage of that.

She's never been mean to you directly, but you've seen her and her posse pick on people in typical mean girl fashion

You've never noticed the way that she usually targets people who've said bad things about you. She sticks up for you without you even knowing.

So, as you would expect, when your best friend called you and begged you to accompany her to one of the biggest parties of the year (hosted by none other than Jennie's brother), you were definitely surprised. Neither of you are the type to go to anything like that, but you know that she secretly wants to peek into that world of luxury.

"Pleaaaaase, Y/N? I'll do your laundry for a month."

"Fine."

The Turning Point

Your stylish boots crunch lightly against the concrete as you stand outside of the frat house, grimacing when you notice a boy stumble to the side of the house and get sick.

"We might have to bump that offer up to two months," you say to your friend, leaning onto her car as she checks her makeup in the side mirror.

"If it keeps you here for an hour or so, then fine." She smiles, taking your hand and leading you towards the building. Upon opening the door you're immediately greeted by waves of the strong bass of whatever song is playing. Their rhythmic thumps reverberate around the house, and you choose to seek some semblance of peace and quiet by heading to the kitchen. Your friend comes with, and the two of you push your way to the drink bar for refreshments.

"Thanks again for coming along, Y/N/N. You're the best." She leans into you, saying the phrase loud enough for you to hear over the music.

"I know," you hold your head up higher, self-assured. "You'd better go find Benji before things get too wild," you tell her, taking note of how the crowd is quickly growing in size. Benji, her longtime crush, is the only reason you really agreed to tag along; she's been head over heels for him for as long as you've known her, and you see this as the perfect opportunity for her to finally tell him. She needed some backup, and you always come through for your friends.

"Alright, I'll come find you later," she says, nervously smiling as she kisses your cheek as a farewell. You shout encouragement to her retreating figure, grinning wildly when you see her throw her hand up in the air.

Considering you made a drink for her just then before sending her off, you take the time now to make one for yourself. Your hands skim through the air overtop of the different bottles, searching for your favorite flavors and types to mix. As you go to reach across the table for one of them, disaster strikes.

You gasp as cold liquid lands on your shoulder, following gravity's command and rushing down your back and chest. A flurry of apologies follows suit, and you feel a soft hand on the small of your back as you go to turn around.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Jennie says, covering her mouth in shock. For a moment you're worried that she was dared to do this -- that perhaps her friends sent her off to ruin your outfit and embarrass you. When you find sincere regret in her deep brown eyes, though, all of those worries melt away.

"It's alright," you assure her, shaking your arms to get rid of some of the sticky drink that's trailed its way down. You set your half-filled cup on the table, no longer interested in getting anymore now.

"At least let me wash the shirt for you. I have a coat you can wear while its getting clean."

You furrow your brows at the offer, not expecting that from her. Not only has she apologized, which is practically unheard of from the prima donna, but she's willing to do something for another person?

"Uh, okay." You do your best to mask the confusion in your tone, but it's still plain to see.

"Follow me," she politely instructs, leading you down the hall towards what you assume is the laundry room.

She flips the light on and shuts the door behind you, walking into the closet to search for the spare set of close she keeps here.

When she emerges again, fluffy coat in hand, she begins stumbling over the words she was about about to say. Her eyes land on you, taking in the expanse of exposed skin now that you've stripped off the shirt you were wearing. She can't help but admire the sight; she subconsciously bites her lip, only being brought back to reality when you wave your hand in front of her face.

"Hello? Earth to Jennie?"

"What?" She eventually asks, shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts swarming in it. She's always had a sort of thing for you, but she never imagined you could look that good. It should be a crime.

"I asked if you have a bathroom around here, so I can, ya know... wash up a bit. Whatever you had to drink is pretty sticky." You chuckle, moving your arm to show her how far it's spread.

"This room over here," she says, approaching a door on the wall opposite you, "is actually a bathroom. Convenient, right?" She asks, flipping the light on for you.

"Absolutely," you perk up, glad to know that you won't have to strut down the hall in your sports bra to get to a bathroom.

She steps to the side and pushes the door open for you, nearly melting when you give her a little wave and shut it behind yourself. She's got it bad.

She takes your shirt and throws it in the washer before setting the knobs correctly, knowing the best combos by heart. She and her brother are close, so it's not uncommon for her to come by and help him with chores when he gets swamped.

A few minutes later you come out of the bathroom clean and dry, nervously fidgeting with your hands as she turns to look at you again. Having the Jennie Kim looking at you in such a way and having her so close is a bit overwhelming, and you're not exactly sure how to deal with it.

"Here," she says, reaching around you to slide her jacket onto your arms. Her face hovers dangerously close to yours as she does, making you hold your breath in anticipation. She pulls the jacket closed, adjusting it so that it lays right, and you look into her eyes.

"Thanks, Jen."

Her heart speeds up at the nickname, though she tries not to show it.

"No problem, sweet thing." She flirts, taking you aback.

Just as you go to say something more, the door blasts open and a couple of her friends pop in. "There you are Jennie! What are you-- oh," they say, watching as the two of you spring apart.

When they realize who you are, they laugh among themselves. "What're you doing in here with her?" They ask, looking you up and down before ultimately appearing unimpressed. Jennie glances at you again, and you can see her going through some sort of inner turmoil.

"Thank God you guys showed up; she won't quit talking. I was just about to leave." She laughs, regaining the bitchy aura that she's known for. You set your jaw and nod, remembering why you choose to stay away from people like them.

"Wow, Jennie. You really had me fooled," you bite back, a bit shocked, but not surprised. You keep your eyes on hers as you take her jacket off and let it drop to the floor in front of her, grabbing a spare towel from the hamper on your way out the door. Her friends scoff at you, wondering what such a nobody like you thinks they're doing treating Jennie like that. You brush past them and send her one last look, conveying all the emotions you feel with a mere glance.

She's disappointed in herself, and she hangs her head as the girls scoop the designer material up and hand it to her.

----

45 Minutes Later

Just 15 more minutes, Y/N; totally doable. You reason with yourself. Jennie left the laundry room soon after you, leaving it vacant for you to put your shirt in the dryer and retrieve it when it was done. Now, clad in the warm material, you sit outside by the fire. Stars are shining brightly in the night sky, illuminating it so beautifully that your mind is taken off of what happened. They twinkle for you, and the sight puts you at ease.

What has that pleasant feeling dissipating in a second, however, is the sound of Jennie's voice as she exits the patio door.

She's talking to her friends about some boy that's in love with her, as the whole school seems to be, and you roll your eyes. With the moment officially ruined, you decide to head back into the house and spend the rest of your sentence there.

Once you stand up from your seat and turn around to take your leave, her friends notice you. "Jesus, you're really obsessed, aren't you? Are you following her or something?" One of them, a snarky blonde from earlier, asks.

You laugh at that. "Hardly," you glance at Jennie, though she avoids eye contact. "I'm sure you'd like that, though. Give you something to talk about other than your split ends." She reels back at your boldness, prepared to start a fight.

"You bitc--"

"Stop," Jennie finally steps in, cutting the girl off. She moves between the two of you, putting a hand on your chest and looking into your eyes.

"Jennie, I don't know what her problem is," the blonde squeaks out, trying to defend her actions.

"The problem doesn't lie with her," she tells her, leaving her puzzled. Jennie continues, "I lied earlier; I'm the one who invited her to the laundry room because I spilled my drink on her." You narrow your eyes at her following her statement, wondering where she's going with this.

"We probably would've kissed, too, if you hadn't walked in."

Your heart speeds up a little at that, but you're still hurt by what she did earlier. Having her be one way with you in private and another in public is never a good sign.

"I'm done with you guys. You turn me into something I'm not," she looks between the small following that's accrued, letting them know how she's been feeling for the past bit. The majority of them are stuck up and entitled, and seeing the hurt in your eyes put things into perspective for her. She likes you, and she wants to be better because of that.

"I don't understand, Jennie," one of them asks, sounding like she's on the brink of tears. Are these people really that invested? You know the hierarchy of popularity is confusing, but they make it seem like she's breaking up with them.

"We're not friends anymore. Not until you get your heads out of your asses and start being nicer."

The crowd clearly doesn't know how to react at her sudden change in attitude, but they mutter out various responses before some of them break away.

You look down at her and glance to the house, wordlessly telling her to follow you so that you can have a moment alone to talk. You lead her over to the patio and stand against the wall.

"I'm sorry," she says, sounding relieved to finally get the words out. Her previous actions have been weighing heavily on her, and she's been doing some introspection. It's not entirely all of a sudden, though; she's been questioning why she still hangs out with them for a while now. This encounter just confirmed her desire to leave them.

"I shouldn't have lied like that. I know it hurt you." She looks away, feeling disappointed again.

"Yeah, it definitely wasn't fun to have my crush talk about me like that." You nod, shoving your hands into your pockets.

"Crush?" Her head raises up, doing a terrible job of concealing the hopefulness she feels blossoming.

"Crush." You lightly smile at the way she blushes at your simple confirmation. She's too adorable for her own good; it's really no wonder than she has everyone on their knees for her.

"Thank you for apologizing," you say after a moment, nudging her shoulder gently. "It's more than your posse usually gives, so I appreciate it. You'd better mean it, though." You cock your head at her expectantly, a hint of warning in your tone.

"You have my word," she smiles, determined to make sure the opportunity you're giving her doesn't go to waste.

The Fallout

In the following weeks, she cut ties with more and more toxic people, causing a bit more drama to stir up, but she didn't care. You were by her side through all of it, as were your friends, and she saw what true community looks like. She had so many people at her beck and call back then, but none of them cared as much as your close knit group. They were in it because of her status, not because of her.

Walking her to class

Both of you sticking up for each other if people try to start stuff

Helping her correct her bad habits if she starts to get judgemental with someone or slips back into her old ways

Being patient with her

Her spoiling you randomly to show how thankful she is for you

"Miss L/N, we have a Candy Gram for you. Sent by Jennie Kim." A staff member says upon entering the classroom, walking the package over to you. You grin widely as you open the note attached to it.

"Come see me after class, Y/N/N. I have something for you."

You were excited for the rest of class

You rode your bike back to her dorm, parking it outside before knocking on the door.

"Hey, Jendeukie. What do you have for--"

You're abruptly cut off by her lips pressing against yours as her hands pull you in, turning you to mush. You sink into her arms and kiss back, reveling in the feeling of finally having this moment with her. You've been waiting for it ever since the party.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she softly admits, resting her forehead against yours. "I hope I didn't overstep." You can hear the nervousness in her voice, and you smile at how cute she is.

"Quite the opposite, actually. Come here," you pull her in again, lifting her up into your arms as you walk into her dorm. She squeals at the sudden move, but the sound is quickly muffled as you lean in to kiss her again.

[heecyon]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄; 𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

warnings: grammar mistakes (why do I even bother on putting this.)

wc: 532

requested by: @sunflower-riki I hope you like it soulmate, I'm really nervous to publish this bc I want it to be good for you.

genre: fluffy fluff

Even though you and Riki were a really playful and cute couple, you both knew how to comfort each other, even though it didn't seem like it.

You were both clumsy when it was about taking care of each other, because you were both so young, but you both did it so well, that you guys were kinda surprised.

The backpack rested on your shoulders, while your back was burning from the weight that it was holding. Your mom greeted you, but you only replied tiredly, making her frown

Your day at school was really heavy, your biology teacher had left you a research paper of 18 pages for the next month, and your english teacher had told the students that they would do a debate with the seniors of your school.

Lastly, your semestral exams were down the corner and the stress was consuming you alive.

So it didn't surprise you that when you got home you went limp on the bed for a whole hour, your backpack slide down your body, a groan escaping your mouth, and the pain on your back soon disappearing only to a pain suddenly visiting your shoulders.

“Why is life so unfair? I truly wish a pause button existed.” A sigh slide from your mouth.

“Me too.”

What the hell?!

You looked up to see Niki standing at your doorstep, a tired smile on his lips.

“Niki! What are you doing here?” You stood up, moving your backpack from the ground and taking your shoes off.

He chuckled a little, the glitter that always adorned his orbs was slowly turning off.

He also had a tough day, their upcoming comeback was a few steps away, and he felt that he wasn't giving his all, that was bc he was exhausted, he had been practicing all day long so that way his performance was perfect.

His body was sore and screaming for a rest, but that wasn't going to be an option for a while.

“Your mom let me in. I thought that I could pay you a visit, we haven't seen each other for a while.”

“But why now? I'm having a mental breakdown.” You massaged your head trying to ease the pressure there.

“Well... Let's have a mental breakdown together.”

He soon hugged you and then you both layed on bed, your arms around each other, trying to bring comfort to each other.

Your breathing becoming soft and relaxed.

“I needed this. School is driving me crazy” You mumbled under your breath.

“Me too... Well school is not driving me crazy.” He laughed, and he soon saw how a smile was forming on your face.

“But... Comeback season is definitely driving me nuts.”

His hands rubbed your back and yours formed circles on his white t-shirt.

“You shouldn't stress that much about comeback season, you are amazing and you know it, but if you are struggling... you can come to me. After all, I'm your girlfriend.”

His chest warmed up, and he held you a little bit tighter in his embrace.

He really needed this, you both need this.

You could both rely on each other, because you both where your safe place.

[erwinsvow]

𝐚𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

note: part two to the college headcanons! part one can be found here! i had a lot of fun writing these and i hope everyone enjoys them :) teacher/student dynamic warning for zeke and hange's, and i guess bullying for annie's :/

𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝

the very definition of kind-hearted frat boy who doesn’t fit the stereotype he’s been assigned at all

starts off with accounting before realizing he hates math, moves into business management and marketing

the linkedin profile is absolutely popping, 500+ connections and details about every club and organization he’s ever been a part of

the friend that helps everyone find internships and fixes their resumes while offering helpful advice and not being condescending… anyways so that’s how you meet porco

he works at the career center 100% and does various coaching/prep help, and you, pieck’s friend, are in desperate need of an internship

so you’re complaining to your friend as usual, when she tells you to stop by the building and ask for a “pock”

so you do just that, walking in and asking for “pock” and porco is a little stunned by this pretty stranger calling him by a nickname reserved for his close friends, and even then he just barely tolerates it

but he doesn’t want to correct you, especially since you’re being so sweet and he can tell you need some help

so a meeting at the career center slowly turns into facetime calls to review applications and last-minute edits, stopping by your dorm to help you fill out paperwork and walking together to mail it out

i have a feeling porco doesn’t wanna be too forward, and he thinks he’s being very aloof and casual, when he really just seems oblivious

and you cannot tell for the life of you if he likes you or he’s just being friendly since you’re close with pieck

finally after you land the internship and won't have your normal excuse to spend time with him, you get the guts you've been searching for

you tell him about the position later in the day, stopping by the center for hopefully the last time

"by the way, my number's on my resume if you're ever gonna ask me out."

leaves pocky-boy flustered and red and scrambling to ask you out, and you have been happily dating since

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

oh boy

conny is a very typical college kid in the sense that he will sleep through every 8 am class he has, blow off class to go wait in line for the nacho bar, and has adopted the mantra ‘c’s get degrees’

but he is an extremely lovable education major with a focus in history

rarely seen without his shadow sasha, but now that she started dating niccolo, she thinks that conny could use a relationship too, and that it might do him some good to be with a funny, down-to-earth person

thus begins the most grueling two weeks for every girl on campus, as sasha hunts down girls that she thinks would be a good match for her best friend

this includes airdropping a photo of conny to the lecture hall with the caption “would you date this man? serious inquiries only”

creates a fake tinder complete with a google form to narrow down the options

however, none of this is necessary because sasha bumps into you in the smoothie line and causes your triple berry blend to go flying

she helps you clean up and idle conversation leads to you talking about dates and so forth

“well, i’d love to set you up with my best friend? how do you feel about a blind date?”

yes, conny met you, the love of his life, on a blind date set up by sasha with a stranger

it’s one of those funny stories that people don’t believe when you tell them, because how ridiculous is that, but you both think it’s perfect since you get along so well and it made all the waiting worth it

bonus: double dates with sasha and niccolo! fondue night at their apartment, going to the arcade and having to lug up sasha and her food baby while niccolo parks the car, just overall a grand time :)

𝐳𝐞𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

zeke yeager, ph.d. started his new job at university with one rule in mind: absolutely no illicit affairs

he also coaches the club baseball team, because why not get involved on your campus

he really believes that he’s gonna stick with it too, despite the overwhelming number of students who come to his office hours with questions that his less handsome teaching assistants could answer

but no, he doesn’t want to earn a reputation as that professor, and so he heads into the new semester with absolutely no lingering thoughts of an exciting little dalliance to get him through the monotonous days

he knows his huge lecture classes would always come with a few pretty students, but it’s the smaller, upper-level psych class he’s teaching when he meets you for the first time

zeke has you all figured out, or so he thinks. sitting in the front row, raising your hand for questions he wasn’t expecting anyone to actually have an answer to, neatly handwritten notes in a color-coded notebook. he wouldn’t peg you for the type to jump and take the risk by starting a relationship with a professor.

but he soon realizes that he didn’t have you as figured out as he thought he did.

you avoid the gaggle of freshmen during office hours by scheduling meetings instead, sometimes right before class, coming to him with two cups of coffee and a wide smile that actually had him fooled into thinking you were here for academic reasons

this facade quickly fades though, because after a semester of interactions with you and getting more and more comfortable with each other, to the point where coffee orders are memorized and it’s zeke rather than professor yeager, you’ve had just about enough

he knows he’s fucked when you come visit him at practice for the baseball team, bringing him a drink and engaging in conversation while the players watch their coach flirt with you

he’s especially fucked when he realizes he’s looking forward to practice just because there’s a chance you’ll stop by on your way to your next class

you submit your final paper early, nearly a week before it’s due and of course the first in the class to do so, and waltz into his office the next day with another steaming cup of his favorite drink

“you submitted your paper pretty early, you know.”

“i know. i also know that it means i’m not your student anymore, so if you were going to make a move, now’s the time.”

no, he definitely had underestimated how much he knew about you.

𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

mikasa is a forensic sciences major and is still debating on the minor- she’s torn between criminal justice or history like armin.

she loves her major classes, but she just wants something else interesting to look forward to as well, so armin suggests sitting in on a couple classes early in the semester and getting a taste for it.

so you don’t really think twice when she claims the empty seat next to you on the first day of classes, smiling politely and paying attention to the professor. you do notice, however, that she’s not writing anything down or looking at the syllabus, leading you to strike a conversation on why that is.

she explains herself and then before you even know it, the lecture ends and you spent the last forty minutes talking to mikasa about anything and everything.

she’s sitting in on another class tomorrow, and absent mindedly invites you to come along, to which you agree all too quickly, because why wouldn’t you

numbers are exchanged, times are fixed, and mikasa leaves wondering why she’s so excited at the idea of sitting with you in class again.

you two hate the history class she had chosen, with the professor droning on and on and you being focused entirely on the conversation you’re having with mikasa

until the professor kicks the two of you out for not shutting up, that is

you’re both laughing hysterically once you reach the hallway

“i’m gonna have to discourage you from doing that history minor if that’s what all the classes are like.”

“well, i have to do criminal justice so we can have that class together, anyways.”

𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭

true to form, annie goes into one of the most difficult majors: cheg. definitely flies through intro courses with straight As and minimal effort, but that’s also mostly because all she and bertholdt do is study

reiner tries his hardest to get her to go to a party every once in a while, but usually to no avail because she always has an exam to study for

you’re a tutor, and honestly, you’d say you were pretty good at your job. you can answer questions and explain reasonings fairly well to confused students. but when annie comes to your office hours with some complicated problems and she’s asking for explanations that you just don’t have, you literally feel your face burn with heat for the entirety of the time she’s there

long story short, your first encounter is embarrassing, to say the least. you’re stumbling over words as you try to look through your old notes and piece together an answer for annie, who you cannot even look in the eyes.

anyways, she leaves eventually and you want a hole to open in the ground and swallow you up, but at least she won’t be back next week, right?

wrong.

miss leonhart doesn’t know how to express her feelings any better than you, so her way of flirting is spending time with you in the tutor center as you fail to answer her questions time and time again

you want to scream at her to stop coming because she and you both know you’re not helping either of you with this

but also you really don’t want her to stop coming because you don’t have any other ways to see her outside of class

both of you reach your wit’s end on the same day, her coming to you with the absolute easiest problems she could find in the textbook, and you with every intention of asking her out to dinner

she opens her book, and you reach and close it quickly

“unless this is the only way you know how to flirt, something has to change now.”

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐳𝐨𝐞

dr. zoë teaches, just, way too many classes

we’re talking multiple chemistry labs and upper-level research courses as well

you’re just a ph.d. student doing rotations as per usual, and you’ve heard the comments from students senior to you about dr. zoë, who makes every student in rotation say hange instead of the formal way you’re used to

you’ve heard everything from crazy to genius and everything in between

what you weren’t expecting was… so good looking, and young? and comforting? and talking about all the things that you didn’t have the guts to bring up with other people, like how you always feel a little left out in the field and that you think no one cares about your research interests that much—a lot of stuff that you find yourself pouring out to hange on your very first day in the lab

you’re wondering why it’s so easy to talk to them, and why none of the other rotations ever felt this comfortable

and then you realize you’re spilling your guts to someone who probably doesn’t even care, and has way more to deal with on their plate than a ph.d. student with imposter syndrome

so you’re apologizing right after you’ve finished, when you’re met with the warmest look and a reassuring hand on your shoulder

it’s so easy to fall after that, with weekly meetings and regular check-ins, and you know it’s wrong to have this strange crush on your superior, but hange really feels like the one person you can count on here

you hide the crush in favor of getting the mentorship you desperately think you need, but it’s not long until you’re onto the next rotation and the next lab’s work is even closer to the stuff you love

you hate the way you feel, that you’re not gonna have any reason to keep in touch and you never even got to explain how you feel about them—and that you didn’t even get to experience hange’s energy because she was always listening and helping you out

it’s not until you get a text the night before your first day in the new lab from hange, filled with reassuring words and asking for a coffee date later in the week to talk about how it goes, that you realize just how well hange understood you

𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

last but not least, miss pieck is double majoring in french and public health

absolutely obsessed with her majors and loves the subjects, but works herself to death to keep up with it all

you don’t even realize that the pretty, studious girl you’re seeing in the library all the time is the same girl you spot with some of your friends from class

pieck is as oblivious as they come. you invite her on study dates after you two are introduced by reiner, invite her to get coffee after a particularly late night of studying, pretty much start spending most of your days together

you can’t help but be disappointed that pieck doesn’t see you in that way, because you’ve slowly been falling head over heels, but you accept that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, and you still love the friendship you two have

it takes a while for things to click for pieck, but they do right as the semester eases up

once exams are over, you two decide to go to these famous parties porco and reiner never stop talking about

it’s not the usual scene you’re comfortable with, but what’s wrong with letting loose a little, especially after midterms? no harm in having fun, right?

wrong again! you definitely get plastered way too quickly, and eventually pieck takes you to a room to settle down

drunk confessions of love aren’t usually the way to go, but you can’t help but reveal everything you’ve been feeling for the last few months when pieck is taking care of you in your current state

you definitely wake up hungover and ignorant to last night’s shenanigans, but you’re in your dorm, with a bottle of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand, phone plugged in and shoes off

pieck comes back with breakfast, coffee and your favorite pastries, and checks up on you

“so.. about last night..”

“i’m so sorry, did i throw up on you?”

“no, but you did say you were in love with me. was that just a drunk thing, or is it a sober thing too? because i think i’m in love with you too.”