#I love how at the beginning of the semester I said I wouldn’t make more work for myself and then I totally did

[vhstown]

ain't no love; pt. 2

"ain't no love in the heart of town"

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SUMMARY: Miles Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, and the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 →

chapter summary: [MILES POV] Miles thinks there's something sinister going on at Visions. But first, he has to ask you out — to a job fair.

content/warnings: mentions of food/hunger, implied kidnapping, use of drugs (not by miles or reader) and there are some word meanings at the end!

word count: 4.7k

a/n: never thought id make it this far. 2/4 yo! thank you @qiupachups for proofreading 🙏 my g fr

“Take your headphones out.”

“~Ain’t no love… in the hear–”

Miles slipped his earbud out before putting his hand into his pocket again; it’d go back in once he left the counsellor’s office anyhow. First, he had to deal with the woman in front of him — Ms. Weber, the woman he’d been avoiding all week.

“Why didn’t you come to see me yesterday?” The woman peered at him through her red-framed glasses. Her disapproving gaze was one Miles was yet to get used to.

“Had to uh, see a teacher.” Her gaze became more disbelieving than disapproving. It was true, though, his calc teacher wasn’t the only faculty member he seemed to be annoying today.

“Right, and they didn’t tell you to take out your headphones?” The woman leaned over on her desk much like Mr. Wellston had, except it actually had the intended effect, like he was talking to his mother; Miles fumbled a bit with the earbud in his pocket. “We need to discuss your extracurriculars.”

“Do I need extracurriculars? I mean, I kinda already got some.”

“Such as?”

“An extra calc class. And Spanish catch-up. And English—”

“Something that isn’t to do with your academics, Miles — hence extra-curricular. College applications are right around the corner.”

“I’m doin’ fine right now,” he shrugged. Weber didn’t look very impressed.

“If you wanna go out of state, "fine" isn’t enough. You’re not the only kid applying.”

“Not like I said that.” He leaned back, making his chair creak loudly.

Talking to Ms. Weber felt like a chore. Sure, she had his best interest at heart, but she’d never know the half of it. His cooperativeness was running thin as the ache in his muscles worsened — if only Aaron didn’t make him get so serious all of a sudden. Miles couldn't listen to everyone, he guessed.

The woman leaned forward, tilting her head, maybe for emphasis. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Miles.”

Leaning back wasn’t helping with the soreness, or Ms. Weber. “Not if there was no cake to begin with.”

She let out a breath, a more civil version of the loud sigh building up in Miles’ lungs. “How about this? You try your hand at some volunteering.”

“Volunteering?” He was already sure that he wouldn’t bother. He did plenty volunteering already — if illegal vigilantism counted.

“There’s a careers fair for freshmen soon. It’d look good on your application if you helped to organise.”

“Aren’t teachers supposed to do that?”

“I’m right in front of you.” Her tone was drier than his.

“You’re just a counsellor though—” Miles’ lips pressed together, Ms. Weber’s eyes narrowing at him. He didn’t want the same fate that guy had calling his mom “just a nurse”, but it came out before he could stop himself.

“The week after winter break,” she continued. Being a counsellor was less stressful than a nurse, it seemed.

Winter break was after this week — that was when he’d finally stop training for a little while. The week after was the job fair, and…

“So it’s just me that’s doin’ it?”

The counsellor contemplated for a moment, her own lips pursing. “You could ask someone to do it with you. One of your friends, maybe.”

Like he had one of those.

“Huh? What’d you say? Someone’s waiting? You got friends?”

“Miles, c’mon.”

Maybe he did.

“Yeah, fine — I’ll do it,” he muttered. Weber’s expression relaxed, as much as it could with that gruff air still about her.

“Okay, good. Just bring your friend here after school.” Miles simply nodded — now with another thing to think about. “You can go back to lunch.”

He got out of the chair, his hand already on the door handle before Weber spoke again.

“Well done on coming in, by the way.” Miles turned back for a moment, mumbling something like a thanks. He tried not to feel weird about the odd sincerity of her words as he walked through the hallways.

“~Ain’t no love, and in the heart of the city…”

Miles had a lot to think about in general, but only about 20 minutes to think about what he was going to say to you. He also thought about what he was going to eat later — maybe his mom made something. He hoped his uncle didn’t finish the stew. At least his stomach didn’t grumble… Miles tried not to smile, even if nobody was watching.

Though he wanted to talk to you outside of class, he never really had any excuse. The only reason he’d talked to you at all was because that Rafa asshole decided bothering Mrs. Hernandéz wasn’t enough. Miles wasn’t stupid, but Rafael had drawn a massive red target on his own back. It was a miracle that you decided to say something, for Miles and Rafael.

A little height difference wouldn’t make his ankles any harder to break. He half-shook away the thought. No need to get expelled when he had to be here for long enough to confirm his suspicions.

“He went missing, and now he’s teaching calculus at Visions?”

“Yup.”

“That’s my high school.”

“…Jeff did us a service with these files, huh man?”

And so Miles had gone to Mr. Wellston’s classroom with you. It only left him with more questions.

Wellston almost seemed askance when you two walked in together — he didn’t even mention Miles’ earbud. The man was reluctant to let Miles take the extra class with you, for some reason, but Miles could play dumb when he needed to. Something about the whole arrangement was off to him — like it had set off a sixth sense Miles didn’t have.

Really and truly, you were just some kid from his class that happened to be caught up in all of this. If he had a reason, he’d tell you to not go to that stupid class in the first place. He was probably a better tutor anyway — Wellston didn’t seem like the teacher type anyway.

But he was just some kid from your class too — Miles Morales. Gonzalo Morales, though he doubted you knew, or cared. Probably the only person who knew his middle name was his mom; she was always talking about it, his name — to be proud. He had his mother’s last name for a reason, one he never knew about until Aaron told him: keeping him away from crime — his dad’s side. If only she knew what he was up to now.

If only his dad knew what he was up to now.

Miles Gonzalo Morales — whoever that was, was sweating a little at the moment. That was walking quickly, not because he had to figure out what to say in the next 10 seconds. Talking to you? No big deal. He’d done it before… once.

Miles had talked to you once. This past week, all he’d learnt about you was your first name and the fact that you sucked at using your calculator.

Hunched over a textbook with a crumpled up juice box in your hand, Miles spotted you sitting by yourself in the corner of the cafeteria. It’d be an easy conversation: he could bring up the textbook and talk to you alone. The pang of embarrassment that shot through him said otherwise. You looked like you did in Spanish, quiet, focused, a little stressed — like the sketch of you that was crumpled up in his blazer pocket. In the sketch, you were facing away. Right now, your eyes were on him. Mier— (Shi—)

“Can you move?” Miles hastily stepped away, realising he was blocking the line. He tried not to catch the girl’s annoyed stare, and the many others, holding back his grimace and heading for your table.

He sat opposite you; the seat was cold, and he wished he’d brought his jacket. What if it looked like he was shaking, or something? This was stupid. It wasn’t that cold. Just ask, dumbass.

“Hey uh, pana.” Your eyes were on his again, and he tried to smile. “You studyin’?”.

“Trying to.” Gaze trailing back to the textbook, you closed it with a sigh he could only imagine with his music playing in-between the cafeteria noise.

The cover read “AP CALCULUS BC: 1st Edition” — he knew there were at least ten revisions. Maybe you liked collecting old textbooks like he did old comics — that’d be stupid.

“Still don’t know how you got six.” He took out his earphone, before realising what you meant.

“Litres per hour,” he corrected, immediately feeling like punching himself for it. “Could explain it… if you want.” The cold plastic cafeteria bench dug into his palm as his grip on it tightened. Miles Morales — Brooklyn’s only vigilante, and now an AP Calc tutor

“Uh, sure.” You took out a pencil, which clattered far too loudly on the table. He watched you grit your teeth at the sound before giving him an expectant, somewhat unsure look. Miles took the pencil in his hand and started scribbling in the back page of the textbook, with you watching intently.

It was slightly warm, and wrote nicely — would probably draw nicely too. Not important. Just solve the damn thing.

“Why does this equal to the derivative, though?” you interrupted, pointing at the garble of letters and numbers. He had to hold back a sigh, like he wasn’t the one to offer you help. If there’s one thing he didn’t get from his mom, that was his patience — no wonder she was a nurse and he wasn’t a tutor.

“Cause if you take g of x as like, let’s say v or sumn’…” he murmured, brows knitting together as he scribbled out a couple more lines on the side. Rewriting the equation, he glanced at you occasionally, hoping you were getting it.

“Wait, wait, so…”

A flash of realisation came over your face before you abruptly took the pencil from his hand, making his jaw clench as your hand brushed his. You continued the line of working, explaining it to yourself while Miles gave quiet “yeah”s and nods.

“Then all of that should equal six.” The pencil dropped with a quiet thud, rolling onto the inside of the textbook. “Litres per hour,” you added quickly, giving him a meek smile.

“…Yeah. You got it.” Miles could only hold your gaze for a moment, until the eagerness in your eyes had dissipated, and the two of you were left staring at each other. The bend of his knees practically hooked around the seat as he reeled back, realising he’d been leaning over a little too close.

Miles cleared his throat, pushing the textbook back towards you. “You get it now?”

“Yeah.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up; maybe you were a little proud of yourself. All you needed was a little guidance — and he was able to make you understand. He smiled — mentally, of course. Miles Morales — best AP Calc tutor in Brookly—

“Did you need something?”

“Uh, yeah actually, uh…”

Uhhhhhh…

“Uh…?” you repeated.

Miles held his breath; maybe some survival instinct would force him to spit it out. How was he supposed to say this?

“You free? In a couple weeks?”

“…Huh?” Your eyes widened. The cafeteria seemed to go silent.

Definitely not like that.

“Uh, like, for a… volunteer thing,” he corrected, hastily. The way he grit his teeth made his voice sound funny. Nice going, Morales. “I’m doing it. Just thought I’d ask.”

“Oh, um…” Your eyes narrowed in thought, as Miles recovered from un-asking you out. “Maybe? What’s it for?”

“Some job fair — for freshmen.” Your expression turned uncertain. Miles bit the inside of his lip so hard he thought he might split it

“Um…” The way your eyes narrowed was making doubt pool in his stomach. “You know what? Yeah, sure.”

“Really?” Yes, you idiot. “I mean, uh cool.”

“Cool…”

The cleaners were starting to wipe away at the tables. No wonder it seemed so silent — most people had left. “So what do I have to do?” you

“You gotta go to the counsellor’s office after school. We’re gonna uh, help organise and stuff.” He swallowed dry. As much as he didn’t want to be the kid that was always in the counsellor’s office, it wasn’t like he could avoid it. You didn’t ever mention it, but it’s not like anyone did outright.

“Okay,” you nodded simply, letting out a sigh and throwing the ancient textbook into your bag. Miles stood up after you, flexing his sore, bench-marked hand.

“Are you sure you wanna go to that calc class?” you asked, making him look up.

It wasn’t like he had much of a choice — but you didn’t know that. “If you go to that fair.”

You smiled again, probably at the situation — maybe at him.

“Deal. See you Friday.” You waved, and Miles let out a sigh as you walked away.

Being a vigilante was way easier than talking to people.

“~When you were mine, oh I was feeling so good…”

The rest of the day dragged on with the soft kick of bass and the hum of a guitar in his ear. The only thing Miles could think about was the fact that he had to meet you after school. The fact that you said yes surprised him. You were classmates, acquaintances at most — maybe you could actually live up to the “pana” thing.

“~Cause your love lit up, the whole neighbourhood…”

“Miles — question eight?” Miles lifted his head from the desk, staring at the question sheet for a moment.

“Uh… forty two thousand,” he guessed, eyes narrowing at Ms. Calleros in a mix of doubt and hope.

“Forty two thousand what?”

“Six… Litres per hour.”

“Lit— Joules,” he stuttered out.

“…Yeah. You got it.”

Damn it.

RIIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIIING! Miles was thinking about you too much, and thinking about AP Physics too little.

“Remember your homework due next week!” his teacher called out as everyone scrambled to pack up and leave.

Miles let himself sigh; it was one of many he wanted to let out today. He drew his hand away from the ear with his earbud in. At the same time, he locked eyes with his teacher. Mierda. (Shit.)

She gestured for him to come to her desk with a not-so entertained look on her face. Nothing new, he supposed.

“You know you can’t have your headphones in during class,” she started, glancing at his palm with the earbud in it.

It was faintly murmuring. Miles just awkwardly pressed the pause button.

“I know.”

“There seems to be a lot you know and don’t put into practice, Miles.” It was like every teacher was out to get him. Guess he wasn’t being as sneaky about the music as he thought.

“Sorry,” he offered, half-heartedly. Might as well get this over with.

“What were you listening to?” she asked, eyebrow lightly raised. “Apart from my lesson.”

“Uh… don’t know the name.”

“Are you sure? Because it’s been playing all class.” And since lunch — he hadn’t bothered to turn it off. He didn’t know it was that loud, though.

“I gotta to go to the counsellor’s office…” Miles said in a way that sounded more like a question. He pointed to the door like it would help.

“And I have to go to a meeting, but here I am.” She readjusted her glasses, looking at him curiously — maybe more knowingly.

“Is something wrong? You’ve been pretty quiet today.”

“Nah. Just tired today,” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. There was an unconvincing beat of silence, before she unfolded her arms.

“…Well, I hope you feel more energetic soon.” Miles just nodded, making his way to the door.

Gracias a Dios… (Thank God.) She was leaving him alone.

“Oh, and good job on the quiz — one of the highest in this class.” Miles bit back the fleeting warmth in his cheeks, digging his hands further into his pockets.

“Thanks.”

Sometimes it was hard to remember that he wasn’t the Prowler all the time. Right know, he was just a kid: a kid who listened to his uncle’s favourite tracks and lived in a box with his mom in the city he called home — a city that was falling apart day by day.

“Miles!” That kid. That’s who he was — Miles Morales. And you were just you, jogging right behind him.

Stealing a glance of your expression — and hopefully nothing more — he kept ahead of you as the two of you walked to the counsellors office. Neither of you had anything to say, but Miles had so much to think about. You agreed to do the fair with him; maybe he shouldn’t have asked — he wasn’t here to make friends, after all. But you were here now, and he didn’t hesitate when he knocked on the door to the counsellors office.

“Come in!”

There was a screech of chairs as you two sat opposite the guidance counsellor, who was tapping away at her keyboard as usual. Miles’ eyes met yours for a brief second, and when you gave him a smile, he spent so long debating on whether or not to return it with his own that Ms. Weber had already placed a stack of freshly-printed papers on her desk.

“Firstly, you’re going to have to post these around school.” Miles looked at the obnoxiously modern and colourful posters, with “FRESHMAN CAREERS FAIR” in a dull font that was meant to look modern. He could probably make a better version himself, but he’d rather not spend any more time on the fair than he had to.

“I have a question,” you interrupted, straining to try and be polite. “Is this something I can put on my college application?”

“I’d assume so, since your friend is doing it for his,” Ms. Weber replied, glancing unassumingly at Miles through her red-framed glasses.

Like I wasn’t forced to. But you weren’t forced to. You chose to do this — for your… college application. Right.

“Okay, got it.” You nodded, letting Weber continue.

“Secondly, there’s a list of start-ups that will be here on the day. You should familiarise yourselves with them — you could find a useful connection.” Weber put a white piece of paper with some writing on top of the stack of posters.

“The ones that are highlighted are places we haven’t contacted yet.” There were only a few different businesses marked in yellow, one of which had “OSCORP” written next to it.

“Oscorp?” You seemed to notice too. Miles could only narrow his eyes.

“Their junior apprenticeship program starts soon” Weber explained, looking at Miles for a moment. “Maybe you should apply — especially you, Morales.”

Like Miles would ever work for Oscorp. They were the reason that his mom’s hospital was so underfunded. Unfortunately for him, he was supposed to pay them a visit anyway, regardless of how much he wanted to get into that tech school out of state.

“The fair’s going to be the Tuesday after winter break. Don’t forget.” She was looking more at Miles than you.

“Got it… Thank you, Ms…?” you trailed off, giving her a hopeful look.

She tapped sharply at the nameplate propped up on her desk. “Weber.”

“Ms. Weber,” you mirrored, nodding again and offering an awkward smile. “Thank you — we’ll try our best.

The two of you stepped out of the office, glancing at each other for a moment too long as you made it a couple of metres from the door.

“So uh…” you started. “Could I get your number?” …Huh?!

“Uh, I mean, like, so we can stay in contact,” you backtracked, trying not to grimace. “I mean, in case we need to talk over winter break.” He almost mirrored your grimace before nodding.

“Yeah, here.” Miles handed you his phone, careful to avoid brushing your hand this time before taking yours. He typed in his number, and then “Miles M.”

When he got his phone back, all you’d put in was your number. Without thinking, he typed in four letters: Pana. He slipped his phone in his pocket before he could question himself.

An extra class on Friday — with his pana. Miles could only rub his temples at the thought.

This whole school thing had gone farther than he’d hoped.

“As you exit, please be careful of the gap between the platform and the—”

Miles held back a grunt as people shoved past to leave the train carriage, eyes searching for you as he was practically being bounced around. If it wasn’t for Mr. Wellston’s useless rambling, he wouldn’t be going home on a Friday during rush hour, let alone on the last day before winter break.

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.”

The top of your backpack peeked out and just as quickly disappeared as someone in office wear, and an enormous jacket, ploughed through right before the doors closed; he could hear your stumble.

“Cabrón… (Asshole…)” Miles muttered under his breath.

Truthfully, he’d passed his stop ages ago, but he wasn’t about to let you go home alone this late. He hadn’t even been this far down the line before, but he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. Every night since you two went to the counsellor’s office, he’d been up, slinking through Brooklyn in his Prowler suit. People like you wouldn’t know, of course, but both Miles and his Uncle were picking up on things. With those dusty old police reports, the slew of missing people didn’t seem like much of a coincidence — and Miles didn’t think this “class” was one either.

In fact, Wellston himself didn’t seem like someone who was right to teach AP Calc. He certainly didn’t seem like the teacher type, and apart from that first class Miles had attended, all he really gave at this point were packs to do. And in that extra class of his, it was the exact same thing — except for that fact that he seemed to do everything to keep the two of you there.

“Are you sure you get it?” — “How did you get that number?” — “Where’s your calculator, Morales?”. Miles got you two out of there as fast as possible. At one point, he’d even written answers on your worksheet while Wellston wasn’t paying attention.

It was a hunch at most, but he’d always take his dad’s advice in stride, no matter how often he used to say it.

“Trust your gut, Miles.”

He wasn’t being over-protective, he was being cautious—

“What’s your problem, man?” Miles’ core tensed — like he’d done when training. He looked over to see you, and a total stranger.

“You got a place to be, huh? Can’t look where you’re goin’?”

Miles squeezed through a blockade of people to see you just standing there, unable to reply as a man blew up at you for seemingly no reason. The man’s words were getting progressively worse, his voice louder and his face so close to yours it made Miles cringe. The man’s eyes seemed to bulge out, but he wasn’t looking at you — or anything, really. He was clearly on drugs.

Miles was meant to get groceries for his mom. He kissed his teeth at the memory. Damn Wellston — and this guy.

The carriage was pretty much empty, being at the last few stops. Of course nobody cared when it came to stuff like this. Miles watched the veins in the man’s neck tighten, and his teeth were gritted together so hard it hurt to look at. He stopped his fist from clenching — he’d rather not start a fight with a junkie.

“Oy.” He put his hand on your shoulder, avoiding the man’s eyes. “Let’s get off here.”

“Wh—”

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.” You two were out in about a second before the doors shut between you and the man, now violently knocking against the glass.

Holding onto your jacket, Miles kept you from falling as the train zipped past, the junkie long gone. He let out a sigh, eyes squeezing shut. This train station was stupidly bright.

“What was that for?” you asked, brows knitting together. “We could’ve just, I dunno, walked to a different carriage.”

“You serious?”

“The next train’s in…” Both of your eyes went to the screen, and you frowned. “20 minutes, Miles.”

“Well you would’ve had exactly zero minutes if that guy tried something.”

“Okay, that’s too far. There were other people—”

“They wouldn’t have done shit.” His annoyance only grew, and he couldn’t hold back when you were looking at him like that. “Where do you live? Cause it’s not Brooklyn — nobody gives a damn here.”

People were starting to look at you. “Are you gonna let go of my arm or what?”

Miles’ hand fell from your shoulder. He bit the inside of his cheek, his own heartbeat only muffled by the sound of the train approaching on the other platform.

“Do you really live that far?”

“Yes?” You said, almost incredulously. “Like, two stations away from here.”

“Then we’re walking.”

Your head snapped back to look at him. “Seriously?”

“You want me to leave you here?”

It came out more like a threat than a question. The realisation made Miles’ eye twitch, but that only served to make him look more pissed.

“Go on,” you replied, your expression lacking any conviction.

“Cabezón…” he muttered to himself, before turning to walk to the exit.

“What was that?”

Miles kept walking, and the sound of your footsteps a couple seconds later made him breath a sigh of relief. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he was almost certain someone was watching you back there.

When you both got to the gates, he waited before pulling you through the emergency exit with him. Despite your protest, you followed him through it, blending into the crowd of people leaving and entering the station. Metro cards were a waste of money anyway.

It was a long, silent and somewhat unsettling walk. Miles had been through every corner of Brooklyn, and right here was about where he’d start looking behind his back, even as the Prowler. For some reason, you just had to live a light year away from school and in one of the worst neighbourhoods in this damned concrete jungle.

Despite the regret building in his stomach from how he’d talked to you, he was forcing more rational concerns into his head: the turns you were taking, the people they passed, how close he should stay to you. All of it was habitual at this point, but he couldn’t risk being caught off-guard, especially when every adult man you passed was starting to look a bit too much like Wellston. If you were closer, maybe he could’ve kept an arm around you, or something. Good thing his mom wasn’t here to beat his ass for thinking like an idiot.

Trying not to imagine his mom’s voice, Miles kept just a few inches behind you, right until you reached the front door.

“…Thanks.” He couldn’t read your expression — when was the last time he overthought something?

“Don’t worry about it.”

There was another beat of silence, interrupted only by the “beep!” of your electronic key fob at the door.

“See you.” Your voice echoed through the hall, followed by footsteps as the door slowly shut in front of him. “Be safe.”

Like he needed to be told that. “…You too.”

Miles lingered by the door, looking at you for a moment longer before he forced himself to turn away. Almost immediately after, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket — Uncle Aaron.

42nd street

Special delivery for your ma

A supply interception — his mom’s hospital was probably short by now. Miles squeezed his eyes shut, blinking away the exhaustion before replying.

omw Delivered

His day hadn’t ended yet — not by a long shot. The Prowler was always on the clock.

pana = casual term used to refer to friends, means "buddy" or "pal" (used in puerto rico, venezuela etc)

cabezón = means "stubborn" or "big-headed"

from here on out it's just straight up drafting cause i wrote part 1 and 2 ages ago but i don't have anything for part 3 and 4 so !!!!

upload schedule if you didn't know is gonna be: this series one week and then a random one shot the next week (so hopefully ill post part 3 in around 2 weeks? im DROWNING in school work atm so don't hope too hard...) anyways have a good one ^^

reblogs appreciated as always <3 go back to the series masterlist here or go to my atsv masterlist here!

#miles g morales x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #atsv fanfiction #earth 42 miles x reader #prowler miles x reader #miles g morales #miles g #42!miles #miles gonzalo morales #prowler miles #atsv x you #atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #vhstown

[cameronspecial]

Loving the Zach stuff so far!!!

Could you maybe do something where yn hates his guts, but he is like in love with her and all her sass?? Then they're forced to go on some school trip together or something, and she realizes she likes him and a cute angry love confession, perhaps???

Danke 🫶🏼💐

Thank You, History Class

Pairing: Zach MacLaren x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Y/N and Zach have been running in the same friend group since Freshman year, but it doesn’t mean they necessarily get along. Well, it doesn’t mean that she likes him. His sarcasm and puppy dog vibe annoys her cool and distant personality. He’s always asking her how her day is going and trying to make her laugh with his stupid jokes. Zach, on the other hand, fell for her grumpy soul the moment he set eyes on her. Unlike most people, who don’t bother looking deeper into her personality, Zach could see the soft side that she held within and never let anyone see. He would always catch how she would stand up from her bus seat when she saw an elderly person. She wouldn’t let people around her know it was the reason, but she always did. He saw the little bowl of milk she left outside her house for a cat mother and her kittens. Finally, he saw how sweet she was to children whenever they were around her. 

Zach didn’t want to take a history class and he certainly didn’t feel like going on a field trip to a museum. It all felt very high school to him. The only upside about it: Y/N is also taking the same class. When he saw that he needed a history credit to graduate, he definitely didn’t go looking for what classes she was taking this semester to try and be in the same one. The cost was giving Jason access to his bathroom whenever he wanted, but it was worth it. He knows the field trip isn’t mandatory for any marks, yet he knows Y/N is going to be there. As he heads toward the Victorian house, he finds Y/N out front waiting for the professor to show up. Her clothing consists of black and brown colours as usual. Her hair was held back by a shiny black claw clip. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” he grins, coming to stand beside her. She gives him a side eye, “Could you be more cliche? Try something more original, would ya? I still can’t believe you are taking this class.” He doesn’t let her sour mood dampen his energy. “Come on, you know you like having me with you in this class. The only other people in this class are girls who have a romanticized view of the era, or guys, who have a history stick so far up their ass that they think a history degree will take them far in life,” he notes, turning to look at her. She looks him dead in the eyes, “I’m a history major. And I am neither of those things.” “I know, that’s because you are so much better than them. You are far too smart for them,” he flatters. She shakes her head, turning her attention to the professor who has just arrived, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” The professor leads them into the museum and begins his lecture. After ten minutes of listening to the man speak, both Y/N and Zach realized that coming was a big waste of time. He doesn’t know what he is talking about and Zach can hear Y/N constantly correcting the older man under her breath. 

He leans toward her, making sure his lips are close to her ear. “Wanna go on our own little tour? This man is getting half of this stuff wrong.” She thinks she has lost her mind because this must be the first thing Zach has said that she thought was a good idea. “That actually sounds kind of fun. They have a Victorian fashion exhibit I want to see, but I don’t think Professor Robo over there is going to take us to,” she whispers back. Her hand finds his and she hates to admit she likes the warmth of his in hers. They round the stairs to the exhibit. She looks delighted when she spots the first mannequin with clothes. Her feet find their way beside a girl about six years old, already looking at the dress. The child’s eyes find Y/N’s face and they smile at each other. “You know, this is an 1843 Evening dress. The bodice, the thing around the chest, is low off the shoulders. And they have lots of other skirts underneath to make it poofy,” Y/N softly explains to the little girl. 

They spent around thirty minutes in the small room. Y/N walks around with Willow and Zach, explaining each outfit to them. She is surprised that Zach seemed honestly engaged with what she was saying and would ask thoughtful questions. Eventually, Willow’s mother, an employee, came looking for her and took the girl to lunch. “Do you want to head to lunch?” she asks. He shakes his head, “Actually, I was hoping we could look at the Victorian sports exhibit. I brought some snacks, so if you are hungry, we can share.” He pulls out a bag of cucumbers shaped like hearts. She has to giggle at the sight because big jock Zach MacLaren likes to have his vegetable cut into shapes. 

“What?” he questions in fake offence, holding out the Ziploc to her. She shakes her head with a chuckle, “Nothing, just surprised your cucumbers look like an inaccurate depiction of a human organ.” “They make them taste better. Try,” he says with a shrug. He hands her a slice and listens to the sweet crunch of her biting into the vegetable. “Okay… I must admit it is more fun to eat it like a heart. I can pretend I’m a witch eating people’s hearts,” she agrees. He doesn’t look disturbed by her macabre comments, instead, he pretends to be ripping out his heart as he hands her another slice. She enjoys him playing with her deadly thoughts.

They spent about an hour looking at the different displays, eating his snacks and taking turns reading the display’s blurbs to each other. As they stand on the steps of the museum, Y/N towers over him from the step above. He looks up at her like she hangs the stars in the sky. “I hate to admit that you made this day pretty fun,” she confides. Her hands find their way behind her back, biting her lip as she looks into his eyes. His mouth turns into a crescent moon, “I’m really glad I did. I like spending time with you.” She takes a moment to think and moves her head away in frustration. Not at him, but at the turmoil inside her mind. Why is his charming smile suddenly getting to her? Why does she want to step into his warmth and let his arms bring her in? “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m falling for you, MacLaren. So… would you want to go to dinner? Like on a date,” she confesses with a hint of annoyance in her tone that is just normally there. She is disgusted by the excitement that crosses his face. He gets off the steps, running around the green grass in front of the building. He jumps every so often with a little whoop let out as he does so. 

He rushes back to her, grabbing her around her waist and spinning her around. She finds the sound of her giggles odd but enjoys it nonetheless. “Way to keep a poker face,” she sasses, looking down at him. He doesn’t care though all he wants is a chance to be with her.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

#the other zoey #zach maclaren #zach maclaren x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fanfiction

[lemoncrushh]

Kiss Me Deadly

SUMMARY: The annual Halloween party at the local pub has Y/N excited when she decides to invite her boss at the University, Mr. Styles. But she soon begins to second guess her decision when Harry starts acting odd. Is Harry Styles really who she thinks he is? Will this Halloween be a fantasy come true…or the kiss of death?

WARNINGS: mentions of blood (I mean, it's a vampire fic lol), smut (oral - female receiving).

WORD COUNT: 6.4k

A/N: Happy Halloween! Sorry for the delay of this story. I had hoped to get it out last week, but I had some weird life-altering things happen that have occupied my mind. Hope you enjoy. FEEDBACK IS LOVE.

Harry removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting the large book on his desk. Rising from his chair, he called out to his assistant.

“Time to lock up, Y/N. I wanna get out of here before eight o’clock.”

“No problem, Mr. Styles,” she said, closing your own book in front of her.

Pursing his lips, Harry shook his head. Y/N knew what the look was for. For weeks now he’d been insisting she call him by his first name. But being his assistant, it felt odd to her, unnatural.

Not to mention the horrible crush she had on him. Truth be told, Y/N had a massive crush on him long before she ever took the position as his assistant. But up until then, he’d only been Mr. Styles to her, the attractive English TA with a British accent.

When Mr. Styles and Dr. Osborne had initially told Y/N about the position and that she’d be perfect for it, she’d been completely surprised. Teacher’s Assistants didn’t usually have their own assistants. But the university had a large English department, and Dr. Osborne insisted that more help was needed. Therefore, Y/N had been spending Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings this semester assisting Mr. Styles, and in turn, assisting Dr. Osborne.

“How many times is that now?” asked Harry, sliding his glasses back onto his face.

“Times?”

“Times I’ve told you to just call me Harry,” he commented with a frown. “Mr. Styles makes me feel so old.”

Y/N chuckled, “You’re not old.”

“‘Course not. I’ve barely got a few years on you.”

Trying not to blush, Y/N took the stack of books in her arms and turned toward the shelves to put them away.

“So why are you closing up early tonight? Hot date?” she joked.

Y/N heard Harry snort before she turned around and saw the strange look on his face. Embarrassment? Had she pried where she shouldn’t have?

“Not exactly.”

“Oh.”

“I have plans…but I wouldn’t exactly call it a date,” he added.

“Ah. I see.” Although she didn’t.

Y/N didn’t know much about Harry Styles outside of his job at the university. She always wondered who or what he went home to every night. Didn’t know if he had any social life, anything about his likes or dislikes that weren’t English related. He seemed to keep to himself, and Y/N respected that. But it didn’t mean she didn’t fantasize sometimes…

“Y/N,” she heard him say, breaking her from her reverie.

“Oh, um, yes?”

Harry chuckled. “Wow, you were zoned out. I asked if you were ready to go. I’ll walk you out.”

“Oh. Yeah!” Y/N stammered. “Hang on, just have two more books to put away.”

Shelving the last book in her hands, Y/N grabbed the two on her table and quickly put them in their places. Walking past Harry to the coat rack, she grabbed her jacket, getting a whiff of his delicious cologne. Y/N wasn’t sure what it was, and was always afraid to ask him. But every single day he smelled divine. Nothing like the boys in college.

“Ready,” she announced, slipping her arms into her sleeves and grabbing her shoulder bag.

Y/N followed Harry down the steps to the entrance of the English building. Spotting her friend Lauren across the pavement coming out of the library, she waved and called her name.

“Have a good night, Mr. Styles,” Y/N paused, “I mean, Harry.”

She caught the twitch of his lips underneath the dim campus light before he said, “You too, Y/N.”

“That guy you work with is so hot,” remarked Lauren after she and Y/N had both ordered drinks at their favorite local pub.

“Who?” Y/N asked, accepting her beer from the bartender, “Harry?”

“You call him Harry?”

“He asked me to,” she said. “But I still call him Mr. Styles.”

“Jesus, that’s even hotter!”

Y/N laughed, nearly knocking over her glass. “Well, you’re not wrong. He is hot. But he’s very reserved.”

“Ooh the nerdy, quiet type! I like! Maybe you need to pull him out of his shell.”

“I dunno,” Y/N smirked with a shrug.

“C’mon. I bet you’re just the girl to do it,” Lauren insisted.

“And how do I do that, pray tell?”

“Ask him out!”

“I can’t just ask out my boss! There has to be rules against that sort of thing, right?”

“Hmmm,” Lauren nodded, taking a sip from her own beer. “Maybe casually suggest something. Like coffee, or a drink after work. In a social gathering type place, like here. Oh my God!”

“What?”

“The Halloween party! He probably knows about it - he might even already have plans on coming!” squealed Lauren.

“I doubt it,” Y/N shook her head.

“You never know. It’s mostly a school event anyway. You don’t even have to ask him out on a date, just tell him you’ll be there and he should come.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Y/N muttered, chewing her lip.

“I know! I have brilliant ideas,” Lauren declared.

Despite the unusually warm night, Harry could see his breath in front of him, instantly dissipating into the air. He pulled the collar up on his black coat as he continued down the pavement. Stopping at the corner of the pub, he could hear the music and chatter from inside. But there was only one voice he wanted to hear. Only one person whose blood he could already hear pulsing through his eardrums.

The smell was intoxicating - her smell. His mouth began to water as he peeked through the blinds of the old family pub. He found her quickly, sat at the bar with that friend of hers, the one who’d ruined his plan.

He had hoped to follow Y/N home after leaving the English building. Watch her climb the steps to her flat and let herself in. He’d done it a few times before, but he wouldn’t call it stalking. He just enjoyed her aroma, the rushing of her blood through her veins. Then when he was sure she was home safely, he’d turn around and walk home.

This particular night, however, he had thought perhaps he’d get the courage to walk up to her. Maybe act as if it was a coincidence that he was in her part of town. He’d even conjured up a lie, saying his plans for the evening had gotten canceled, if she seemed happy to see him. Then he’d ask her to join him for a drink. A glass of wine perhaps. But not at this noisy pub, no. Somewhere secluded, more…romantic.

Blasted Lauren, or whatever her name was. He reckoned he’d have to wait for another night. But…time was running out…

Lauren and Y/N called it a night after only two beers. Y/N was tired and Lauren had an early shift at the shop where she worked. After giving her friend a farewell hug, Y/N crossed the street and headed for home. She noticed a bit of a fog, thinking it suitable for this time of year. Halloween was only a few days away. She hadn’t originally planned on going to the party at the pub, seeing as Lauren had a date and she didn’t want to be the third wheel. But now the prospect of asking Harry had made her change her mind.

Making a list of possible last-minute costumes in her head, she suddenly heard something behind her. Turning her head, however, she saw nothing but empty pavement. Continuing on her way, she’d almost reached her building when she heard something again. This time, she turned swifty, seeing only a cloud of pillowy smoke. Thinking it odd for the fog to circulate in that manner, she felt a chill run down her spine. Her eyes shifted from side to side as her body stood frozen.

“Hello?” she called out meekly.

When she got no response, she slowly turned back around, only to run into a tall frame of a man. She nearly screamed when two hands grabbed her shoulders, but her words stalled when she looked up into a pair of familiar green eyes.

“Oh! Mr. Sty- Harry,” she breathed. “What…what are you doing here?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Y/N,” he said, squeezing her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Still trembling, her heart beating loudly, Y/N blinked and nodded. “It’s…it’s okay. I thought someone was following me.”

“Oh, well now I do feel terrible.”

“No,” she swallowed, placing a hand over her chest. “Don’t, really. I was probably just paranoid. What with the fog and all.”

“Ah, yes. It is quite a foggy night, isn’t it?” Harry gazed around.

That was when Y/N noticed he wasn’t wearing his glasses. She chuckled nervously as she felt Harry’s hands leave her arms.

“So what are you doing here?” she asked, bracing herself to hear Harry reveal details of his evening.

“Well, I…” he echoed the nervous chuckle, scratching his forehead. “It’s rather embarrassing actually. My plans got canceled.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” Y/N remarked.

“I’m not,” Harry grinned.

Y/N felt the blood rush through her veins at the way he smiled at her. She’d seen him smile many times, but this was different. It was as though a sudden spark had ignited behind his eyes.

“I know there’s a popular pub nearby,” he added. “Fancy a drink?”

Y/N’s eyes widened. Was he seriously asking her? Now?

“Well, I…” she muttered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I um…actually just came from there. Had some drinks with a friend.”

Harry caught himself before saying, “Oh, right.” Don’t be daft, Harry. She can’t know. Not yet. Instead, he cleared his throat. “I see.”

God, you’re a moron, Y/N scolded herself. He’s asking you out and you’re saying no?

“But you know…” Y/N quickly thought on her feet, “I may have a bottle of wine at my place. It’s just up there.”

“Really?” Harry cocked a brow as he turned his head in the direction she pointed.

“Sure. That is, if you’d like to come up.”

Would I? “Um, yeah, that sounds…great,” Harry nodded.

Y/N tried to conceal her delight, giving only a casual grin as she turned toward her building. She could feel Harry’s presence behind her, his shadow taller than hers underneath the streetlamp. It made her feel safe, but at the same time a tiny bit apprehensive. She had never invited Harry - nor anyone from the university for that matter - up to her apartment. She didn’t even think he knew where she lived. And yet…here he was. Just when she’d been thinking of him.

When she reached her front door, she scrambled for her keys, dropping them on the ground.

“Shit,” she cursed, but before she could bend down to retrieve them, another hand held them out in front of her.

“Oh. Thanks,” she whispered, her eyes meeting Harry’s who was already standing beside her, his body so close that she almost gasped.

“You’re welcome.”

Y/N didn’t miss the way his tone was so incredibly low, she felt it vibrate in her chest. She also didn’t miss the way his gaze didn’t leave her face, even when she inserted the key in the door.

“I really need to use the restroom,” she announced as soon as they were inside. “I’m so sorry. That beer I had earlier went right through me.”

“No worries,” Harry chuckled.

“Have a seat,” Y/N gestured with a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as she had shut the bathroom door, Harry slipped out of his coat, placing it on the armrest of a nearby chair. He then walked casually around the room, inspecting knick knacks and books on the shelves. Spotting a photo in a frame, he picked it up, Y/N’s smile gazing back at him as he felt a sudden rush. As though he’d been shocked with electricity, he quickly set it back on the shelf.

“Sorry about that!” he heard Y/N sing behind him.

He turned with a smile. Somehow in the few seconds she was gone, she had managed to make herself look even more…inviting. She wore an oversized jumper with the University logo on it and a pair of plaid flannel pajama pants. She couldn’t have looked cuter if she had been dolled up for a night out. But as she stepped closer to him, Harry got a massive whiff of her aroma and nearly stumbled backwards.

“So…wine!” she pointed at Harry with a giggle before turning for the kitchen.

“You know,” Harry swallowed, “we could take a raincheck if you like. I know you’re probably tired and…” His words stalled when he saw the disappointed look on her face.

“I just don’t want to put you out,” he finished.

“Oh, you’re not!” Y/N insisted. Then she reached for glasses in the cupboard, softly adding, “I’m actually glad you’re here.”

“You are?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, sucking in her lips. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Really?” Harry raised a brow.

Y/N felt the color rise on her face as she poured the wine. “I assume you’ve heard of the Halloween party?”

“I have. It’s at that pub, right?”

“Right. Are you going?” Y/N hesitantly handed Harry a glass.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip before making eye contact. “Um, hadn’t really thought about it, honestly.”

“Oh.”

“Why? Are you going?”

Y/N sighed as she leaned against the counter. “I wasn’t planning on it, but…my friend Lauren’s going, and her boyfriend Josh. A couple other people I know said they probably will…so…”

“You don’t have a date?”

Y/N stood up straight, her eyes wide. “Oh, it wouldn’t have to be like a date or anything,” she explained hastily. “Just…you know…thought you might like to go.”

“Ah,” a smirk grew on Harry’s handsome face. Damn it.

“I mean, I’ve never really seen you outside of school other than tonight, and…you totally don’t have to-”

“I’d love to,” he interrupted.

A loud exasperated breath blew from between Y/N’s lips. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Harry continued grinning as he walked around the kitchen counter to stand next to Y/N. “I like Halloween. And I like you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as Harry came closer, his last words hanging in the air. She was almost unsure if she’d heard him correctly. But when he lifted his wine glass to his lips, took a sip and lowered it revealing another smirk, she knew she had.

“You-you do?”

“Of course. I thought I’d made that pretty clear, no?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head, “actually.”

“Shit. I must be terrible at this then.”

Y/N giggled, covering her mouth. “No. I’m horrible at reading signals, I think.”

Harry’s smirk grew into a wide smile. “Well, I reckon that’s out there now. Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Y/N echoed, lifting her glass. When she lowered it, she looked at Harry. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you without your glasses.”

“Yeah? Well, I…” he patted his chest, “have them in my pocket. I only really need them for reading.”

“Oh.”

“Of which we do a lot,” he added, wiggling his brows.

“Yeah,” Y/N chuckled through a sigh. “Well, you look nice. But you look nice with them, too.”

“Thank you.”

Y/N gestured toward the couch, and Harry followed, taking a seat next to her. As soon as he sat down, however, he got another intoxicating whiff of her aroma. He could tell she was nervous, her heart pumping fast. Closing his eyes, Harry took a moment to get his bearings.

No, not yet, he thought to himself. It’s not time yet.

“This is pretty good wine,” he heard Y/N say. Opening his eyes, he saw her gazing into her glass. “I’m not an expert, but I saw it at the liquor store and the guy there said it was good.”

“It’s delicious,” Harry agreed. “You made a good choice.”

“I have to watch myself though,” Y/N giggled, sitting back on the sofa. “I could easily get drunk on this.”

“Yeah?” Harry smirked.

“Mmm,” Y/N nodded as she took another sip. “I can already see myself going there, and I haven’t even finished one glass.”

Harry chuckled as he took his own sip, a rather larger one than hers. Then setting his empty glass on the coffee table, he scooted closer to Y/N. He could feel the heat radiating off of her, hear her pulse beating in his ears.

He watched her face as he reached for her wine glass and set it down next to his. Her beautiful, pouty lips matched the crimson shade of the wine, and his urge to taste them amplified. Lifting his hand, he ran his thumb across her bottom lip until she delicately opened her mouth, inviting his thumb to graze her tongue.

The contact nearly had him on his knees, his desire more than he could bear. Running his tongue along his teeth, he could feel his fangs emerging. He had to taste her. Now.

Now! Or get out!

The voice inside was getting louder. So much that he almost didn’t have the nerve to stop it. So he did the only thing he could do. The only thing that could possibly be done in that moment if he didn’t want to expose the truth.

No, not yet!

Snapping his hand back, Harry quickly rose from the sofa.

“I…I should go,” he said, his throat dry and harsh.

“Oh!” Y/N gasped as she looked up at him, ashamed and bewildered. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be,” Harry shook his head and grabbed his coat. “You did nothing. You’re…you’re enchanting. I just…I have to go. We’ll do this another time, yeah?”

“Okay.”

Y/N followed Harry to the door where he paused for only a moment to look back. She noticed his eyes were glassy, almost clear, bright. She took a step back, astonished.

“I’ll um…see you Monday,” Harry said, lowering his gaze. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Before she could reply, he was gone, like a cloud of smoke in the night. With a sigh, Y/N shut the door.

What had she done wrong?

Monday afternoon was going by slowly. Y/N looked at the clock. It was barely after five. Harry hadn’t uttered a word about what had happened Friday night. In fact, he was being his old self, very cordial and professional. It was driving Y/N crazy. She snuck a look in his direction as he concentrated on his laptop.

Fuck, Y/N sighed to herself. He’s so sexy with those glasses. And the sweater vest? Kill me now!

Harry suddenly looked up from his computer, his eyes locking with hers as if he had heard her thoughts. His lips began to do that little twitch again as Y/N dropped her pen, an obtrusive clattering sound when it hit the floor.

“What?” Harry finally asked with a smirk.

“Um, nothing,” Y/N scrambled, reaching down for her pen.

God, just ask him! Y/N screamed inwardly. What are you waiting for?

Sitting up at her desk, she noticed Harry had resumed his work, typing on his keyboard. With a sigh, Y/N clicked her pen as she tried to concentrate on something else. Something other than the taste of his stupid thumb on her bottom lip and the way his eyes had gone bright as he’d looked into her soul.

Suddenly, Harry chuckled. The sound was low at first, and Y/N wondered if he was reading something humorous on his laptop. But then the sound grew, and he turned his head to look at her.

“What is it, Y/N?” he asked again.

“What do you mean?” she stared, startled.

“You’re clicking that pen like a mad woman. Something’s up.”

Sitting up straight, Y/N slapped the pen down on the desk. “Sorry. I was just…wondering if you’re okay.”

“Me? I’m not the one acting crazy,” Harry joked.

“I mean…after Friday…”

“Oh…” Harry sighed, sitting back in his chair. Then removing his glasses, he rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, about that, I-”

“It’s okay,” Y/N interrupted, clearing her throat. Though she’d asked the question, she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for an answer. At least not the answer she figured she was about to get. “That was probably a mistake. Mr. Styles.”

“Y/N, no,” he shook his head. Then rising from his chair, he walked toward her, stopping at her desk. “Don’t think that. I just…”

His words trailed off as he surprised Y/N by perching himself on the corner of her desk.

“I like you, Y/N,” he confirmed. “I wasn’t lying about that, and it wasn’t the wine. I just feel the need to…take things slow with you.”

Y/N smiled softly. “I understand.”

“I shouldn’t have run off like that though; that was unfair to you. And I apologize.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Good,” Harry beamed. “So we’re still on for tomorrow?”

“Mhm,” Y/N nodded, biting her lip. “I hope so.”

“Brilliant. I’ll meet you there, yeah?”

Before Y/N could nod again, Harry leaned forward and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Then he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

“That’s to make up for Friday,” he remarked, his mouth only a whisper away from hers.

“Oh.” Y/N could barely breathe.

“Your lips are delicious. Like that wine.”

Pressing another kiss to her mouth, Harry let out a low, deep groan. Y/N’s chest shook as she was finally able to inhale. When he backed away, she opened her eyes to see his were still closed. She watched as he swallowed hard, his jaw set.

“Harry…” she managed to squeak.

He opened his eyes slowly, and that’s when she noticed. Instead of the glowing crystal shade they had been Friday, they were a deep, dark shade of midnight. Startled once again, she hastily scooted back, her chair scraping against the floor.

“Y/N,” he croaked, slowly blinking. “Please don’t be frightened of me.”

“Your-your eyes!” she gasped. “They k-keep changing.”

“Oh,” Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. They do that sometimes. When I get…excited.”

“Excited?”

“Nothing to worry about, darling,” he reassured her, rising from the desk. “I’m sort of a…freak of nature.”

Y/N could detect the humorous tone in his words. But still, she remained in her seat, a bit frazzled.

“C’mere,” he said, holding out his hand.

Y/N took it hesitantly, allowing Harry to pull her to her feet. Lifting a hand, he lightly brushed her hair from her shoulder. Then she felt him touch her neck, his large hand gliding across it.

“So lovely,” he cooed, his voice just above a whisper. “Delicate, like a China doll.”

When he pulled her closer, she could feel his breath on her cheek. Then he nibbled at her jaw, sending a wave of desire down to her core.

Holy fuck, what is happening?

She gasped when his tongue met her skin, his other hand gripping her waist. She dug her nails into the front of his sweater, not sure how or where to hold on. As he began to suck on her delicate flesh just beneath her ear, she cried out in pleasure.

“Harry…”

Almost instantaneously, Harry pushed her back against the bookshelves. The thud caused a couple of books to fall off and onto the floor, but Harry continued with his seduction. Y/N lifted her leg, wrapping it around Harry’s in order to feel the friction she now so needed. Running her hands through his hair, she heard him growl in her ear.

“Y/N…I need you.”

“Me too,” she gasped.

When she pulled him even closer, tugging on the waistband of his trousers, however, Harry froze. Then he let out a guttural cry, like a wounded animal.

“Aaauuuuggggghhhhhh!” he screamed. “No!”

Pushing himself away from the bookshelf, he stood before Y/N as she remained still, her eyes wide. Harry appeared to be shaking, as though he was willing himself not to go further.

“Harry?” Y/N whispered.

His eyes shut tight, Harry shook his head. Then gritting his teeth, he motioned toward the door. “Go.”

“What?” Y/N asked incredulously.

“Goooo!” Harry shouted.

“Harry, what’s wrong?”

Folded over at his waist, Harry looked like he was trying to catch his breath. Her fear magnified, thinking something was terribly wrong. Y/N stepped forward, reaching for him.

“No!” he cried.

“Harry, you’re scaring me…”

“Just go. Please. You’re dismissed.”

Quickly, Y/N grabbed her jacket and bag and ran for the door. Turning back, she saw Harry, his back to her as he gripped the edge of the bookshelf. She didn’t dare run back to him, though deep inside she wanted to. She was afraid, not for her own safety…but for his.

Y/N stepped out of the English building into the cool evening air. The sun was just beginning to descend. Before making her way to the parking lot, she looked up at the building, to the window she knew was occupied by Dr. Osborne’s department. She saw no sign of Harry. In fact, the lights had been turned off.

Crossing the street, she felt a cold chill down to her bones. What had just happened? Was Harry ill? Or was he really a ‘freak of nature’ like he’d said? Perhaps he was not the sweet, nerdy guy she’d pinned him to be. Maybe he had some serious demons. Though she felt concerned for him, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

Harry watched her through the pub window again. She was dressed as an angel, of all things. This was too easy, too perfect.

But he might as well have had his eyes closed. He could hear her blood pumping through the glass. Her pulse was so loud, he could barely contain his excitement.

This was it. This would be the night.

“So you’re sure he’s not coming?” asked Lauren as they sat at the bar.

Y/N wasn’t going to show up herself, but she’d already put together an angel costume that she didn’t want to see go to waste.

“I mean, would you?” Y/N raised a brow.

She’d told her friend about the two episodes with Harry, and how both times he’d backed off. She didn’t go into details, though. Nothing about the eye color changing, or how he’d told her to leave. Some things were better left unsaid.

Lauren shrugged. “You never know. He might still show up.”

Josh returned from playing darts with his friends, declaring a new round of drinks was required.

“I think I might sit this one out,” remarked Y/N.

“No, girl, c’mon!” whined Lauren. “We’re here to have fun tonight. No matter what.”

“Okay, fine,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Two kamikazes over here!” her friend called out.

When Lauren swiveled around on her stool, Y/N caught the look of awe on her face. Then with a grin, she poked Y/N in the arm. Turning around, she spotted Harry entering the pub, dressed in black from head to toe.

“Yes, Daddy!” Lauren remarked under her breath.

“Harry!” exclaimed Y/N. “You came!”

“I told you I would,” he declared, stepping forward. “And I intend to keep my promises.”

“Look at you, man,” remarked Josh. “Great vampire costume.”

Harry looked down at his coat. He knew his fangs weren’t showing. Not yet. He checked his nails to be sure. Nope, clean and short. Raising his head, he heard Josh cackle.

“I mean, it’s subtle. But the eyeliner and clear eyes are effective.”

Ah. So it was the eyes. He couldn’t help that much. They had been glowing since he’d smelled Y/N’s blood. He’d let the lad think he was wearing makeup. It was Halloween after all.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” said Y/N, her sweet voice ringing out like the angel that she was.

Harry’s lips curled up in a smile. “Me too. Brilliant costume.”

The sound of Lauren clearing her throat cut through the moment before she handed Y/N her cocktail.

“What are you having, Mr. Styles?” she teased, giving Y/N a wink.

“Harry, please,” he insisted. “A glass of merlot would be divine.”

“Divine? Oooh, listen to this scholar!”

Y/N made a face, then turned back to Harry.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show up. After yesterday.”

“Yeah, I need to talk to you about that,” he said, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “But later, okay? In private?”

“Okay.”

After Harry received his merlot, everyone made a toast. As soon as “Thriller” began to play, Lauren cheered, pulling Josh off his stool to dance with her.

“They had a head start,” Y/N commented with a giggle.

“No, I’m late, and I apologize. But I can catch up,” Harry winked.

The evening progressed, the foursome sharing laughs and cocktails. Some other people from the university recognized Harry and came over to say hello. As the clock ticked on, however, Harry knew his time was getting limited.

“I need to talk to you now,” he told Y/N. “Walk with me?”

“Oh. Okay,” she slipped down from her stool and announced her departure to her friends.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Lauren teased before waving goodbye.

“Are you okay to walk?” Harry asked once they were outside.

“I think so,” she smirked. “You may need to carry me.”

“I could probably manage that,” Harry chuckled.

The cool night air seemed to help, however, and by the time they rounded the corner of the pub, the couple was holding hands.

“I had a great time,” declared Y/N. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Me too.”

“So what did you want to tell me?”

“First, I wanna show you something.”

Harry squeezed her hand, guiding her to the left behind the pub. Y/N chuckled to herself as she heard the beat of “Time Warp”, the volume getting lower before she and Harry came to the local park.

Harry gestured toward a bench, taking a seat next to her. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself.

“Are you cold?” asked Harry.

“A little. I didn’t bother with a coat because…you know, wings.”

“You’ll be much warmer soon,” he commented.

Y/N turned to give Harry a look but noticed his eyes were focused on the sky.

“What is it?” Y/N inquired.

“Just looking at the moon,” Harry replied. “It’s mystifying, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…I guess.”

Harry could feel his eyes changing already, his teeth sharpening in his mouth. Running his tongue across them, he swallowed hard.

“Do you ever wonder if you’re destined to be something else?” he suddenly asked.

“Um…yeah,” Y/N blinked. “All the time.”

“What would you do if you were immortal?”

Harry turned his head then, and Y/N noticed his eyes were dark, like they had been in the English office. She instantly scooted back on the bench, nearly falling off.

“Please don’t be frightened, my angel. I mean no harm to you.”

“Harry, what’s….what’s going on?” she croaked, her own eyes unable to tear away from his.

Harry reached his hand out, his nails now long with pointed ends. Y/N gasped, her mouth wide open.

“Let me show you, Y/N,” he coaxed, grabbing her hand. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, my love. It’s our destiny.”

Before Y/N could reply, Harry’s mouth covered hers in a deep kiss. He could feel her struggle to break free for just a split second before she melted into the kiss with him. Cradling the back of her head, he deepened the kiss further, his tongue wrestling with hers. He felt her moan against him, and that pleased him.

She grabbed hold of the lapels on his coat, pulling him closer. Wrapping his other arm around her waist, he held her tight as his mouth continued to devour hers. He heard her start to whimper, and he couldn’t help but chuckle low. His angel. She needed him.

Y/N gasped as Harry’s mouth moved to her neck. She felt him nibble along the delicate flesh, her senses reeling. Suddenly, he groaned in her ear, his voice deep.

“It’s time, my angel.”

Time? Time for what?

Before the words could escape her lips, she felt a sharp sting followed by the most blissful, orgasmic sensation she’d ever experienced. The blood in her veins seemed to rush so rapidly, and so loudly that she could hear it, like waves crashing in her ears. She threw her head back as Harry held onto her, his mouth never leaving her neck.

She thought she called out in ecstasy, though she was unsure if it was only in her mind. She grasped at Harry’s arms, needing to feel him, to hold him for fear of falling.

The pleasure began to heighten even more, Y/N’s nails digging into Harry’s coat until she was suddenly cloaked in darkness, as though the world had gone black. 

“Y/N…”

She heard the soft, low coo before she opened her eyes.

“Wake up, angel,” he said.

“Harry…” she whispered, her throat dry. “What…?”

Feeling her tremble, he pulled her close. “Shh, baby. Everything’s okay now. I’m right here.”

“Where are we?” she inquired, gazing around the dark room, filled with lit candles.

“My bed,” Harry grinned.

“Oh.”

And just like that, Y/N didn’t even question it. Being in Harry’s room, with him in his bed felt…natural. Almost like deja vu. Lush linens, the smell of plums and incense. Her warm, naked body next to his. It felt familiar. It was right.

Seeing that Y/N was now content, Harry smiled wide. Then sliding his hand up her side, he cupped her breast. Her eyelids fluttered as she let out a long moan.

“Ah, you’re ultra sensitive now, hmm?” Harry commented as he ran his thumb across her nipple.

“Harry…mmm…”

Rolling onto her side, she pulled him into a kiss, needing to feel him. She sucked on his tongue, grabbed his hard cock. She was hungry with lust.

“Easy, baby,” he panted. “We have all the time in the world.”

“But I need you now,” she explained with a pout.

With a raspy chuckle, Harry laid her back on the bed, hovering over her luscious body.

“I wanna taste you first,” he insisted.

Biting her lip, Y/N nodded. Yes, taste me.

His long body slithered down hers until he was facing her hips and thighs. Her scent permeated the sheets, and he found a moan rising from his throat.

My delicious angel.

Y/N let out a loud cackle when Harry lightly tickled her bare skin along her hips. Harry grinned, knowing her sensitivity was accelerated. But it was not just his touch that had her laughing. It was the mere awareness of everything. Being in the moment. The utter bliss and sexual desire was almost more than her senses could handle.

Harry could hardly contain his desire either. He needed to taste her, to feel her writhing underneath him. But he also wanted to take it slow.

He rutted his head against the inside of her legs, like a dog wanting to be petted. He felt her nails dig into his hair, grabbing his curls just before he began to nibble on her thigh. As her moans got louder, ringing in his ears and throughout the room, Harry wondered how long he could hold out - or better yet, how long she could hold out.

With wild abandon, he let himself be the freak of nature he claimed to be. He heard her squeal before her expletive.

“Holy shit, did you just bite me?”

“Maybe,” he chuckled low. “Did it hurt?”

“Actually…no. Do it again.”

With another grin, Harry ran his thumbs across her bare flesh along her inner thigh.

“I love your skin here,” he commented. “It’s so soft and supple.”

Then lowering his head again, he let his fangs graze down her leg and back up. He felt Y/N tremble beneath him, a small cry rising from her throat. Then very gently, he pressed a little harder, barely piercing the skin.

Y/N moaned in pleasure as Harry licked the area clean, tasting her sweet blood on his tongue. Then he moved his tongue to the task at hand - what he’d come for. Centering his mouth over her mound, he let out a cool breath, tickling her. She squirmed beneath him, her desire silent but apparent. She craved him just as much as he craved her. Then lifting her hips, he brought his tongue to her clit, giving it one quick flick before diving in.

If there was one thing Harry knew he was good at - other than his knowledge of English literature - it was eating pussy. And now that he was a creature of the night, he could do it for hours, for days. Of course, having a sweet angel like Y/N beneath him was all he needed now.

Y/N’s moans began to subside a bit, but Harry knew it was not because she wasn’t enjoying it. On the contrary. She was so enraptured by his talent, she could barely breathe.

Sweet little kitten. He almost felt sorry for her, but not really. He knew this was what she wanted, what she was destined for. He’d felt it the first time they’d met. Her wide-eyed stare when she thought he wasn’t looking. Her cute little shy giggles at every stupid joke he made. The intoxicating aroma of her blood rushing through her veins. And when she’d finally invited him up to her flat…

“Oh my God…” she panted, her nails digging into his head. “Oh!”

Harry hummed against her cunt, tasting her sweet juices. He knew she was close. He’d let her come this time. She needed it. Needed that release. Just this once. Next time he’d make her ride it out longer, because he knew she could.

As his lips took hold of her clit once more, sucking gently, Y/N gasped. Then crying his name, she gushed and came on his tongue, just like he’d wanted.

Her orgasm lasted longer than any she’d had before…not that she could recall even one in that moment. Her chest heaved with breaths as she tried to come down. She felt Harry’s body climb up before he laid down next to her.

“How do you feel, my angel?” Harry cooed.

With a deep, long sigh, Y/N gave a wide grin.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect,” she replied, fluttering her eyelids open to reveal her crystal clear eyes.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! xo

taglist: @daydreaming-laur, @musicforastylesrestaurant, @lillefroe, @be-with-me-so-happily, @victoria-styles (so sorry if I forgot anyone!!)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #vampire!harry #vampirerry #vamprry #harry fic #harry smut #harry x reader #harry one shot #harry blurb #harry imagine #harry fanfic #fictober #kinktober #vampire fic #halloween fic

[bordysbae]

Could you do 53 and 54 combined, with Mark Estapa? Please and thank you 💋

“can i be your boyfriend?”

mark estapa x fem!reader

53. yeah i like you dipshit

54. i want you, not them

disclaimer: i’m so sorry this is definitely one of my least favorites i’ve written, but it’s been in my inbox for a few days and i felt like i need to write it sooner than later? i’ve been pretty sick lately so i truly apologize if this is actually dog shit ugh. ALSO!!! emma is a fake character, idek if ethan has cousins LOL

—

you and mark aren’t dating, but everyone can clearly see that you guys like each other, it’s just a matter of time until you both admit it. normally you aren’t one to get jealous, but something clicked tonight when you saw him talking to her.

ethan’s cousin came to visit him at college, and this isn’t the first time she’s been here either. last year when she came to visit for her winter break, which started a week before michigans, she had everyone’s attention. all the guys were swooning over her, but of course she chose mark. at that time you were nothing with mark, just a close friend with all of the guys, so it didn’t bother you. they never ended up working out since mark thought ethan would be pissed, and he didn’t want to do long distance on top of that.

at the beginning of this semester you and mark became very close friends, and you both developed feelings. neither of you wants to admit it, but it’s just sort of a known fact that you’re bound to date. you guys have seen other people, but once you both began hooking up it stayed that way. you haven’t seen anyone else since you guys first hooked up, and neither has he. but now you’re not so sure, since mark seems perfectly content with her obvious flirting.

you begin to chug your drink as she laughs at whatever he said to her. you can’t imagine anything mark estapa said is that funny, so obviously she’s faking it. “you need to relax, he wouldn’t do that to you y/n,” dylan says to you as he takes a sip from his red solo cup.

“dylan you saw how obsessed they were with each other last year, and it doesn’t help that she’s prettier than me! she looks like a fucking instagram model!” you throw your head back as you place the cup to your lips, finishing the last of your drink.

“relax, she’s not prettier than you. she gets botox and her hair color is fake” dylan chuckles.

“oh dylan you’re such a woman, i love you!” you exclaim as you wrap your arms around the boy. he lets out a laugh and scruffs up the top of your hair.

“let’s go get more drinks yeah?”

“oh hell yeah, i need a lot more to be able to watch this shit” you groan, making dylan chuckle. on your way into the kitchen you both run into luke and tj.

“ah my favorite hughes!” you reply, buzzed a little bit. “hi y/n, hey duker!” luke says.

“y/n did you hear em-“ tj begins to say. “shut up tj, yeah i know she’s here. i don’t really care buddy” you roll your eyes and scoff. you excuse yourself from the conversation before you show anymore jealousy.

you cant stand how much the boys talk about her. it’s always “emma this!” “emma that!” like honestly who cares? you assume ethan isn’t very happy with her at the moment either, so you go find him once you refill your drink. you spot him on the stairs looking bored out of mind as he talks to some random girl, so you decide to save him from his misery, “ethan!” you shout to grab his attention. he instantly turns around and excuses himself from the conversation with the girl. “thank fucking god, you’re my lord and savior!” he exclaims, pretending to bow down to you making you laugh.

“why aren’t you with mark? i feel like at every party you’re always under his arm” ethan asks, taking a sip from his drink.

“he’s uh, with your cousin”

“he is? of course” ethan chuckles. although he’d never admit it, ethan isn’t too fond of his cousin. she’s very touchy with all of his teammates and friends, but since she’s family there’s not much he can do about it.

“yeah, they’re over there” you say pointing to the living room full of drunken people vaping and dancing. emma and mark are sat on one of the couches, and that’s when you notice her hand on marks bicep. that throws you overboard, and makes your blood boil.

“oh you’re kidding” you mumble. ethan turns to you and gives you a confused look.

“what’d you say? i cant hear you over the music.” he says leaning down to hear you better.

“ethan flirt with me!” you blurt out, making ethan spit his drink back in his cup.

“pardon?” he asks, thinking he’s maybe had too much alcohol and is beginning to hear things.

“i said flirt with me! i need to make mark jealous”

“you’re gonna get me killed, y/n!” he cries out.

“and whys that? it’s not like me and mark are dating or anything! we’ve been hooking up, i caught feelings which everyone knows about, and now he’s all over your cousin. so i don’t really see why i cant flirt with you!” you shrug

“i cant tell you why but i just cant do that to him!”

“well he hasn’t been a man and told me he likes me, soooo just flirt with me for christ sake! i’ll go find some random guy to flirt with me if you won’t!”

“no no don’t do that, the guys here are sketchy. fine i’ll flirt with you, but if mark kills me you better speak at my fucking funeral”

“attaboy!” you say playfully hitting his chest.

you and ethan begin fake flirting, and it’s only when you lean into his ear to whisper something that drives mark over the edge. you’ve seen him glaring at you both a few times, but now he’s storming over to you guys.

“eddy what the fuck are you doing?” he drunkenly yells at ethan, making ethan’s eyes go wide. “see i told you he’d kill me! get mad at her man not me! y/n explain it to him” ethan proclaims.

“mark can we just go outside” you roll your eyes at him, he nods his head in annoyance and follows you out onto the porch. you sit against the wall and mark sits down next to you. “the fuck was all that? are we nothing to you?” mark says.

“oh you’re fucking funny mark! you’re one to talk! don’t go blaming me for this shit! first of all, we aren’t even dating so i don’t know why you’re so pissed at me! and sec—“ you begin, but mark cuts you off, “well—“

you then interrupt him back, “i’m not done talking shh! as i was saying, second of all, you were all over emma! you didn’t even seem to mind that her hand was on your arm, and that she was laughing at every fucking thing you said! so no mark, this isn’t my fault and dont accuse me of assuming we’re nothing! i like you, dipshit! is that so hard to see?! i’ve liked you for months now! i don’t want you with anyone else, so i wanted to make you jealous! im not used to seeing you with other girls mark, it’s always me under your arm not emma!” you cry out, now standing up pacing the deck.

“i like you too dumbass! i was planning to ask you out on a date and tell you how i felt, maybe even ask you to be my girlfriend, but then stupid emma came back to town and ruined it! i’m sorry i made you feel that way, but it also hurt me seeing you all over my best friend. girls use me to get to ethan sometimes, and i don’t think you’d do that but it just struck a nerve i guess.” he explains, now standing up as well.

“why did you let her be all over you?”

“i don’t really have an answer if i’m being honest. i didn’t even think about it, i’m really sorry. i get it if you’re pissed at me, i would be too.”

“i’m not pissed at all i’m just annoyed. not necessarily at you, just at everyone. they all kiss the ground she walks on and it’s just fucking annoying. i’m sorry for everything mark, i promise im not mad at you” you say, looking up at the 6’2” boy.

mark looks down at you, and cups your cheeks, “i want you, not emma. know that.” he then leans down to kiss you, and you return the act. his hands remain on your cheeks, and your hands find their way to the back of his nec. you both taste like a mixture of alcohols, but you’re both too far in the moment to even notice.

he pulls back for air and smiles down at you and your slightly swollen lips. “so what do you say, will you be my girlfriend? actually no scratch that, can i be your boyfriend?” he smiles cheesily, way too proud of himself for his romcom of a proposal.

“you’re so cringe, but yes i would love for you to be my boyfriend estapa!” you giggle, playing with the hairs at the back of his neck.

#mark estapa x reader #mark estapa blurb #mark estapa imagine #mark estapa #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #umich hockey #michigan hockey #ethan edwards

[megidonitram]

Everyone's Running From Something (ch. 4)

A Baldur's Gate 3 University Professor AU

Rating: M

Quick Summary: Astarion and Gale are two University English professors precariously mentoring a troubled 19-year-old and falling in love.

💖Main Pairing : BloodWeave,(Astarion/Gale) 💕Side Pairings: Shadowheart/Nocturne, Karlach/Dammon, Wyll/The Dark Urge, Tav/Tav 💔Past Pairings: Gale/Mystra, Astarion/Sebastian, Astarion/Tav

<=Previous Chapter | Master List | Ao3 | Next Chapter =>

**Please see Master List Entry for Full Content Warnings**

⏰Chapter Warning⏰ None

The all-hands meeting for the beginning of the semester went the same way every all-hands meeting at the beginning of semesters go. Every professor and TA in a humanities field got squeezed into a conference room that wasn’t quite big enough, had a powered sugar donut or a couple cubes of assorted melon with half a Styrofoam cup of burnt coffee, and listened to the departmental dean give an un-rousing speech about being on the same page with the other departments. Then he talked at nauseam about school policies and ran a quick training session over a new time-tracking software that would be implemented in 3 weeks’ time.

Gale scribbled down notes on a big yellow legal pad and tried to ignore Jen and Astarion, making faces at each other as he wrote. He’d been in academia long enough to know they’d both be crying to him in a few weeks when they messed up their timecards.

As the meeting drew to a close, a dapper man with slicked-back chestnut hair and a car salesman smile stepped into the room. Astarion went stiff like a cat puffing up to defend itself. The dapper man just gave him a plasticky, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The dean perked up a bit as he noticed the man lingering in the back of the room. “Raphael, what a pleasant surprise! I had no idea you would be joining us,” he exclaimed, “We were just finishing up. Are there any words of wisdom you’d like to impart to our humanities faculty?”

“Oh, nothing so important,” Raphael said, and suddenly Gale understood why Astarion was so on edge. Everything about the man oozed with a disingenuous charm that made Gale’s hair stand on end. “I just realized I forgot to send out a notice about the upcoming donor gala the next coming Friday. I realized you were all in a meeting right now, so I thought I’d pop in and remind you in person.”

Raphael’s eyes landed directly on Astarion as he spoke his next sentence. “There is a reasonable expectation that faculty attend these events.” Out of the corner of his eye, Gale saw Astarion’s expression go steely. “After all, we want to show up and show out for the people who allow us to do so much.”

“Of Course!” The dean chirped. “I know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The meeting adjourned, and Astarion immediately made a break for the door. Gale hurriedly gathered his things in one arm, instinctually following after the only person in the room he really knew, like a baby duck.

Raphael stepped into Astarion’s path before he could get out of the meeting room. “Ah, we meet again, Dr. Ancunín!” Raphael’s voice dripped with sugary contempt. “I will see you at the donor gala, won’t I?”

“Perhaps. Are you thinking about calling in that favor I owe you?” Astarion’s voice was clipped, his face unnervingly blank.

“I think I’d like to wait on that a little longer, but I would like you there in case I change my mind.” Before Astarion could respond, Raphael’s gaze slid off him and onto- “Dr. Dekarios! Wonderful to see you. Are you settling in well?” He reached out a hand to him.

Gale stuffed his legal pad into his work so he could shake Raphael’s hand. “Exceptionally well!” he replied. “Everyone’s done their utmost to make me feel very welcome!”

“Oh, you don’t have to fib on your new colleagues’ account, Dr. Dekarios. I’m more than familiar with how surly certain members of the English department can get.” Raphael laughed congenially, but Astarion shot him a poisonous look.

“I’m not lying to you, sir,” Gale replied. “Astarion’s been nothing but professional.”

“Well, perhaps he’s going a bit soft.” There was a flash of something dangerous behind his eyes. He turned to Astarion. “I shall see you next Friday.” It was a command more than a farewell, but he walked away all the same.

Astarion muttered under his breath. Gale didn’t catch what he said but could make an educated guess. Astarion exhaled a deep breath like he was equalizing pressure.

He turned to Gale and said, “Thank you.”

Gale blinked. “Of course.”

Astarion opened his mouth to say something else, but the words couldn’t or wouldn’t form.

Shadowheart stepped in between them, too concerned with responding to a text message to notice the weird tension. “Karlach wants to get drinks.” She said. “She got stuck in traffic and doesn’t want to drive all the way down here for nothing.”

“Roveer’s?” Astarion asked, a very weary resignation in his voice.

“Yes, probably.”

“Nothing like running into your students at a sports bar a week before classes start…” Astarion grumbled. “Fine. Let me finish here, and I’ll meet you there in, oh… 15 minutes.” He turned to Gale. “Are you coming?”

“To the office?”

Astarion gave him a perplexed look. “To the bar.” He clarified. “You should take the opportunity to meet Karlach.”

Gale could feel himself going bright red as Shadowheart snickered. “Right. Yes. I would love to.” He replied.

“I’ll let Karlach know you’re coming. She’ll be thrilled.” Shadowheart replied, giving Gale a warm smile. “I’ll go lock up. See you in a bit.”

“Come on then.” Astarion replied, nodding for Gale to follow him.

***

The all-hand meeting was on the third floor, so by the time they’d returned to the basement and back up a floor to leave, Gale was starting to fear his knees wouldn’t survive the week- let alone the semester. “There has to be an elevator in this building.” Gale huffed and puffed as he hoofed it up the last flight of stairs. He didn’t want his new colleague’s first impression of him to be of him on his hands and knees wheezing. “I can’t take much more of this…”

“There is, but personally I don’t like chancing it unless I really don’t want to be in a meeting.” Astarion slowed to a stop at the top of the stairs to wait for him. He didn’t seem any worse for wear, but he also seemed much trimmer than Gale was- or at the very least, his shirt accentuated the pleasing nip of his waist. Gale wondered if Astarion was a swimmer. “A history adjunct got stuck in it overnight a few years past, and it still reeks a little bit when it gets hot enough.”

Gale laughed, but Astarion very pointedly did not.

The conversation lulled a little bit.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Gale asked.

“That entirely depends on what you want to ask.” Astarion stepped into the hallway, taking a moment to slip into his grey wool peacoat before they ventured outside.

“Raphael, is he always…”

“Such an ass?” Astarion finished his thought. Gale wouldn’t have used such a strong word, but Astarion had gotten the spirit of the question right, at least. “He’s usually much worse.”

“Oh?”

“He’s a glorified middleman with too much power and time on his hands.” Astarion scoffed. “He enjoys putting things in people’s way and watching them try to wriggle their way out of problems he created. My advice is to deal with him as little as possible.”

“Is he who you went to talk to earlier?”

Astarion gave him a poisonous look that only confirmed Gale’s suspicion.

They walked across campus in uneasy silence. The bitterly cold wind whipped and whistled, tossing the last remnants of fall leaves across the concourse. The few student residents who’d gotten in that morning had either decided to hold up in their rooms or were enjoying their free time in more exciting corners of town. Gale found himself wondering what Xenia was doing... He hoped she wasn’t all alone in an empty dorm.

“Does Xenia have many friends?” Gale asked as they approached a crosswalk leading to the block of shops across from campus.

“Hm?” Astarion tapped the pedestrian-call button, which commanded them to ‘wait!’ in a mechanical voice. “I think she probably has more friends than she realizes she does. Kids like her tend to think they’re alone in everything.”

“Poor kid… Seems like she’s been through enough.” Gale sighed. There was something heartbreaking in the phrase ‘kids like her.’ It was sad to think that there were more 19-year-olds out there carrying emotional burdens far too heavy for their age- sadder still to think that if there weren’t, then Xenia would be alone.

“She’ll figure herself out eventually. She’s not like…” Astarion paused, seemingly a little shocked by what he was about to say. He leveled a wary glance at Gale. “She’s not a quitter, I mean.”  

“I’m sure she’s not. I just hope she doesn’t run herself ragged.” The walk light flashed, and they hurried across the street.

***

They were comedically out of place in Roveer’s Roadhouse. A group of grown adults in Oxford dress crowding around a sticky Bud-Lit branded high top surrounded by a bevy of flatscreen monitors playing every sports broadcast under the sun. Shadowheart was already nursing a syrupy cocktail out of a chipped margarita glass.

An extremely tall woman with a red tipped mohawk and smiling eyes bounded over to Gale and clapped a firmly friendly hand on his shoulder. “You’re the new Adjunct, I take it?” She asked. “I’m Karlach, Professor Cliffgate, if you’re nasty.”

“Gale Dekarios.” He reached out to shake her hand. She fist-bumped him instead, and Gale got a glimpse of a nasty burn scar peeking out from the sleeve of her jacket. “It’s a pleasure!”

“Aw, I have a great-aunt named Gale!” Karlach replied.

“I get that a lot…” Gale sighed. “I like your hair!”

“Thanks!” Karlach tussled her own hair. “Told my kiddos they could pick what color I dyed it if they all passed their benchmarks.”

“Does Balduran give benchmarks?”

“Oh, no. Teaching university is my side gig,” Karlach replied. “I’m actually a full-time middle school teacher.”

A spindly girl with bleach-blonde hair pulled into space buns sidled up to the table, clutching a notepad. “Can I take your order?” She seemed quite put upon being asked to do actual work on a slow day.

“Vodka Soda,” Astarion replied, holding his ID out to the server.

She took it and dropped it in her apron, jotted something down on her notepad, and turned to Gale with an expectant look.

“I’ll, uh, take a Corona,” Gale replied. He’d never ordered a Corona in his life, but it seemed like an acceptable ‘getting drinks with colleagues’ kind of an order.

The server stood there staring at him a moment long before she asked, “ID?”

“Oh, um…” Gale patted for his wallet and realized he left it in his desk drawer. “I didn’t realize I would need it…”

“You didn’t realize you’d need an ID at a college bar?” Astarion asked dryly as he turned to the server. “Just put it on my tab.”

The server nodded and walked away without asking if they needed anything else.

“Wow Gale, just one day on the job, and you’re already bumming free drinks off the department chair.” Shadowheart teased. She took a sip of her drink crinkling her nose at the taste.

Gale flustered. “I-I was going to pay with my phone, I swear! I wasn’t planning this.”

“Relax. We’re not so underpaid that I can’t afford to buy you one beer.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “You can return the favor when you get your first paycheck.”

Gale blushed. “Alright.”

The server brought them their drinks without another word, then plopped down at the end of the bar to scroll on her phone. Gale pushed the lime through the neck of his beer bottle and watched it fizz as it sank to the bottom of the dubiously golden liquid.

“So, did I miss anything important at the all-hands?” Karlach asked idly, stirring her bourbon and coke.

“You know you didn’t,” Shadowheart replied. “We’re changing timecard systems, and Raphael and Astarion are in another one of their weird power struggles-there, I saved you an hour and a half.”

Karlach’s eyes lit up, and she turned towards Astarion. “Before the semester even starts?” There was a conspiratorial glee in her voice. “What the fuck could he have possibly done this time?”

“Why spoil the mood by ruminating on that rat bastard?” Astarion said. He picked the lemon slice out of his drink and laid it on a napkin. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Fair.” Karlach shrugged. She turned back to Gale and fixed him with a warm smile. “So, Gale, what brings you to the wonderful world of higher education?”

Gale had thought a lot about what he would tell people when they asked him why he wanted to teach college. He’d written little speeches in the shower about the joys of teaching language and the satisfaction of helping students reach their goal, but sitting in a group of other English professors, that suddenly all felt very trite.

“I was a public librarian, but I had to step away from my last position when I got divorced.” He admitted. “I found a job at a community college teaching database management, and I realized I’d just always missed teaching.” He took a long pull of his beer. The sour of the lime battled with the bitterness of the beer on his tongue.

“Library science might be a harder industry to break into than academia. It must have been tough to leave that behind.” Astarion mused.

“I do miss it terribly sometimes… but my ex helped me get into graduate school and got me my first library job. If I stayed, I would never be able to make anything that was truly mine.” Gale sighed. He could see the wheels spinning in Shadowheart’s head as she tried to figure out his age.

“You talk like you’re as old as this bag of bone,” Karlach pointed a thumb at Astarion, who glared daggers at her. “But there’s no way you’re that old.”

“I’m 35.” Gale clarified.

“That’s a little bit older than I thought, but still nowhere near as old as Astarion,” Shadowheart said.

“You are barely two years younger than me.” Astarion snapped.

“Barely a decade older than Gale, too.” Shadowheart shot back.

Astarion rolled his eyes and muttered something into his drink. “Did you go to get your master’s straight out of undergrad?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

Astarion shrugged. “That’s just quite young to be with someone that well-established in their field.”

“Oh, we didn’t get together until I graduated.” That wasn’t entirely true. They didn’t get together publicly until he graduated. He didn’t know why he was still defending Mystra. It wasn’t like any of his new colleagues would ever meet her.

“I wasn’t trying to imply anything…” Astarion lied.

“Of course not.”

They both took a sip of their drink, holding awkward eye contact.

“Well, here’s to making something for yourself then,” Shadowheart said, holding her drink out to Gale for a cheers.

Gale clinked the neck of his beer bottle against her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bloodweave #mat-write #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 raphael #bg3 karlach #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #astarion #gale of waterdeep #shadowheart #karlach #baldur's gate 3 au #bg3 professor au #professor dekarios

[reqxxyt]

strange confession

pairings: jude b. x f!reader

warnings: none (i think??)

masterlist requests are open!

[unedited]

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Finals week. Dreaded by every single student. Libraries are packed and practically everyone is crying in the study rooms. I had to schedule a study room 1 month before finals and I still just barely made the cut. Having been studying for the entire week for a physics exam, I had to cancel all plans isolating myself from any social gatherings, including one I had planned since the beginning of the semester. 

Jude has been in my life for the past 4 years of my existence, I never held much attraction to him until the end of high school but I blocked it thinking it was just a bluff and me just thinking about how much I was going to miss him but instead those feelings outweighed the platonic ones. Now, my sophomore year with barely any visits to my hometown, it was saddening that I had to cancel plans due to me being an academic tryhard. 

I finished my last practice exam and glanced at the clock to check the time debating whether to stay and risk the chances or leave now and go back to my noisy apartment. I shut down my laptop and started gathering my belongings, shoving them quickly into my backpack as I could feel my stomach grumble underneath me with hunger because of the lack of food I had the past week. 

I heard my phone ding as soon as I turned it on spotting that Jude had texted me sending my insides to blaze, excitement running through my heart hoping I could catch enough time to talk to him. But before I could read the message, it rang with his name on display. I answered it almost immediately holding it against my ear as I started walking towards the door. 

“Hurry up and get to your apartment.” he sounded annoyed and I furrowed my eyebrows even if he couldn’t see me. I asked what he meant. “Just get here” and hung up the phone. 

I hurried my steps a lot faster than I usually would and arrived at my apartment building in 10 minutes. By my door was Jude, sitting on the floor scrolling through his phone. Hearing footsteps near, he looked up and displayed his friendly smile the second he spotted me at the end of the hallway walking towards him. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked very little surprise in my tone. More just tired than anything, needing to take a 10-hour nap after this week. “Why are you sitting on the floor? Do you know how dirty that is? Get up”

“God you sound like my mother” he rolled his eyes, getting himself up while dusting himself off as I unlocked the door and left it open for him to enter behind me. “I came to surprise you” 

I gave him a blank stare not very amused, my insides were the clear opposite wanting to hug and show any type of physical affection and emotions to the man in front of me. “Why?”

Now he was the one surprised, expecting her to be all excited and jump around, maybe even giving him a kiss. But instead, she stood silent, unamused. “Because I thought you would like me to be here” his voice wandered. “I brought food”

Hearing this made me now excited, smiling like an idiot as I asked “Really?” now ready to jump around.  He just handed me the bag filled with my favorite snacks and food in a separate one. I went through it gasping at each product as I took them out, my heart softened at his thoughtfulness. 

“I love you” I blurted out mid-opening my first snack without much thought until the room turned silent. “Like-”

“Yeah I know,” he said, not really needing much of an explanation thinking she would ever only like him in a friendly way. 

I shoved all the possible snacks I could into my mouth, ensuring I wouldn’t say another word about that conversation as he sneaked a couple of my food into his mouth. 

“Did you not get yourself anything?” I asked a bit worried but still in awe about the amount of food he gave me. He just shook his head, grabbing another bite, not really noticing my worrying gaze until making eye contact with me. 

“Don’t give me that look” he said before taking another bite. I only just looked away hating how just given a glance can make my insides twirl. “Anyways, it’s been a couple of months since we’ve seen each other. You have to have a life by now.”

“Strange way to ask what’s been happening” I commentated as I sat on the stool next to his before answering “School is just all I have right now” shrugging but he gave me a bored look.

“What about that college experience? No parties? Crushes?” He asked, the last one in a teasing manner but I made a disgusted look trying to hide the blush that wanted to disperse. I shook my head to all of them biting the inside of my cheek, leaning back on the stool. “Then you have no excuse to not answer my calls,” he says with narrowed eyes. 

“I’ve been busy with school,” I said, half telling the truth. His eyes lingered on me for a second as silent moments passed, my heart skipped a beat with a sudden change of mind, maybe I should tell him now. I was going to anyways. “Jude?”

He hummed, waiting for my question. Hoping his brain was right where it was leading. 

“Can you quiz me for physics?” My mouth blurted out before my brain could process what to say. Jude lifted his gaze, no longer looking at me saying stupid things to himself. Meanwhile, I was cursing to myself.

“Stop worrying about it so much,” he says, getting out of the stool and heading to my couch. “You’ll do fine. You always do” 

“Fine is not enough,” I said, following him to sit down. I bit my tongue not allowing myself to talk about school anymore. “Have you met anyone yet?”

His face changed at the sudden change of topic, one he had been thinking about to himself for the last couple of months. “No” was a simple answer but it made me smile internally knowing he wasn’t seeing anyone and I wouldn’t be hurt. 

That’s selfish. 

“Huh?” He asked as if he heard me until I realized he did. Because I said that out loud. Very bad habit of mine. He stood back up as I was left sitting, staring up at him“It’s selfish that I’m not with someone?”

“What? Oh no. It’s not selfish. Not at all. I mean it would be selfish of me to want you to be single but if you did have someone, great for you I mean. Not so great for me considering uhh it doesn’t matter. I say things out loud sometimes” I stuttered out as I got myself up, rambling almost spilling my thoughts out in the open. He grew a small smile, one amused because somewhere in that ramble had been a confession. 

He now only stood a couple of feet from me now. “Why do you want me to stay single?” He tested the waters, stepping closer. 

This wasn't the way I planned it. “I can’t say the words Jude” I wanted to go back in time. But he was patient enough to stay a good distance.

“But I think you can. Say it” he whispered, barely audible. My heart pounded against my chest as I looked down to the floor only being able to hang my head low as I whispered. 

“I like you” 

“Again” a step closer. 

“I like you” with a tiny bit more volume.

“Again” step closer.

“I like you” a calmer tone.

“Again” he now stood a few inches away, lifting my chin as my breath turned steady although my heart was doing the complete opposite. His eyes searched my own, near praying to hear her say the words he longed for so long. 

“I li-“ but he didn’t let her finish. Pushing his lips onto her own. I stood shocked for the first second before feeling my body melt into his arms. Our lips moved in sync, almost as if having done this millions of times, but it felt like the first with all the excitement exploding internally. 

We separated, letting in small gasps of air as I looked up at him.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for those words”

#jude bellingham #football #football x you #football x reader #football x y/n #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #reader insert #jude bellingham x reader #football fandom #football fanfic #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #fluff #friends to lovers

[garfeildfanpage]

What is your opinion on teru minamoto and how he is as a character :3 I find him and akane’s (boy) interactions very interesting tbh

Woah an ask! And as of the recent chapter(s) I think they help confirm a few things I had already thought, but I’d love to go in depth!

Overall, Teru is probably my favorite. He’s different from the rest of the cast in the sense that he’s not a “hero” nor a “villain”. To me he, Akane, and Aoi all sit right in the gray moral area rather than characters like Kou, Nene, and the members of the broadcasting club, who play the direct roles of protag and antag. But he’s always held my attention over any of the other characters because everything around him is just as morally gray, from childhood to now his values never changed as his view on the world is just as strict, though with a few exceptions (which are pretty important).

His interactions with other characters show his views in the most obvious way. He acts charming and aloof around Nene, but he’s never really paying direct attention to her (ex: the mokke of the dead arc and the current trial arc).

When with Kou his actual softer side is shown a little bit more, acting as normal as he possibly can be; save for the times when Kou goes against Teru’s moral code (Young exorcist, Bound for the far-shore) and he goes on the defensive, when Kou’s view on supernaturals rival his he immediately goes from being on his side to disregarding him and acting on his own judgment full throttle. Which shows how he ignores their differences instead of actually addressing them, since he wants Kou to not only NOT be an exorcist but also to not get in his way. And to him pretending Kou isn’t doing exactly what he doesn’t want him to do, keeps the positive dynamic alive and well in his mind.

Now, Akane specifically is where it gets a bit confusing. I’ll take it chapter by chapter (or arc by arc whatever)

Clock-Keeper (technically the chapter after but I’m not super technical about this and it’s close enough)

Where it gets silly! Their dynamic of not only Spirit v Human but also President and Vice-President is established. Teru’s bias towards Akane compared to other supernaturals is from the beginning pretty obvious (he didn’t kill him so that’s a good start) while he isn’t exactly nice to him, he does value Akane in some way or another. It also shows that Teru knows a lot more than he lets on, and that he doesn’t tell people what he does either (which foreshadows some stuff later) also the glasses stuff is kinda tease-y flirty if you ignore the getting attacked by mokke part. What can I say he’s just so charming!!!

(Finals)

Where the care is more obvious. Showing off the more playful side of their dynamic, along with Akane’s view on Teru, which as of now isn’t very positive. At the end, Teru asks Akane for a favor, showing again that he’s psychic or something. But his cruelty here can mostly be seen as him making sure he gets Akane’s help, so the immoral part of it is debatable, he just seems to go about things the wrong way most of the time. could also be seen as him giving an insensitive to Akane to help up his grades for the final, since his grades for the previous semester are comparatively not as good.

Severance

Oh great heavens. Teru’s continued disregard of other peoples values comes to a head here, where this time he’s shown how the person feels when not told important information. But I understand why he did it. If he had told Akane that Aoi wouldn’t have returned to the near-shore, he wouldn’t have returned either, and there’s no way Teru could’ve dragged him out. But would that have been an issue? If Akane was left in the boundary? He could’ve died, he was kindof already doing that anyway, but was that the reason? Or did Teru do it out of selfishness? Did he want Akane to stay? Maybe he wanted to kick some sense into him, maybe he just didn’t want him to leave? Could be a lot of things, Teru isn’t dumb, and typically he’s pretty rational, but he never said why so everything is always up for interpretation.

Day-Off

To regain lost trust. Hanging out, it isn’t obvious why exactly Teru wanted Nene and Akane to tag along, maybe he and his apparent prophetic mind decided it would be the best course of action to do so, or maybe he just wanted a girls day or something. Akane seems to have gotten over his anger at Teru (possibly due to off-screen conversations cause that’s convenient) but when Teru tells him that Aoi isn’t dead, a little bit of trust in Teru’s judgment is recovered. Maybe he had the whole thing planned out from the beginning who knows he seems to suck at being overt. Akane interrogates Teru about the severance and gets all up in his face. And then the “I like Akane-San” happens and stuff gets confusing again.

Red house

I’m starting to think he doesn’t actually like Aoi. Teru learns to complain for basically the first time! At least in front of Akane. It’s obvious Teru’s trust towards Akane didn’t falter the way it did for Akane, in fact in some way Teru put more of himself out for Akane because of the severance. He brings up the dreaded Akane & Aoi chapter, and remarks about it in a really…strange way. Not upset but more bitter, really. But it also seems that Akane’s view on Teru has improved as well, having Teru go from a nightmarish demon stealing Aoi away from him, to a seemingly doting husband to her, what does this mean? Something gay probably. But nonetheless it seems that Teru wants Aoi back as well, but for what reason specifically? Other than just the general “unjust death caused by some undead demi-god 10 year old”, he wants Aoi back for some “dream”. Or is he just bluffing to tease Akane? I don’t know, dissecting a characters motives is hard when he isn’t nearly fleshed out enough to infer things with any kind of confidence. But overall they end on better terms than the severance started with.

Bound for the far-shore

Back to normal-ish. Teru’s fight with Kou is the main catch of these chapters for him, but his back-and-forth with Akane is fun too. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and it’s also nice to see them show trust towards one another!

School festival / Omen

A subversion of the viewer’s beliefs that Teru would go back to tormenting Akane but in actuality he protects him from a threat and makes a weirdly flirty face at him?? I love literature! Anyway I love their interactions here, it’s fun yet simple! I really hope nothing bad happens right after!

Trial of the Clock-Keepers

Ok gonna be honest this chapter is interesting but dear god is the pacing so slow I’m kindof losing interest. But nonetheless! Divorce. It’s a pretty obvious parallel to the severance; in the sense that Akane blindsights Teru, Teru tries to fuck his shit up, and is then forcibly stopped and dragged somewhere else. And though it’s played off as comical, it’s not silly to assume that this is, just like the severance, another reset of trust. I mean Teru does dick while Akane gets his shit rocked (not like he can actually do anything to be fair). but even so he still shows the smallest bit of concern, concern about why they aren’t actually fighting back in any significant way, even though they’re all well capable of doing so. But since the arc is still ongoing, that’s about where by opinions end.

Overall, I love Teru! And I love his dynamic with Akane! Sorry this is like, really long I’ve been waiting for an excuse to talk about this, so thanks for the ask!!1!1!…,ninja out

#hot cheese #jibaku shounen hanako kun #jshk #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #akane aoi #aoi akane #minamoto teru #teru minamoto #asks I guess?? #terukane #just cause that’s kindof the overarching point #accidentally though I’m just bad at staying on topic

[kitkat-2204]

Harvard Diaries: Chapter 1. Frankie (Scat Story)

I was a great student my entire life. I had all A’s in high school, graduated valedictorian and at the top of my class, which lead me and 2 other classmates of mine to get into ivy league schools. Marissa got into Princeton, Robert got into Yale, and I got into Harvard. I spent hours grueling and grueling into assignments, until I was able to pass my requirement classes and get into the teaching education program, and here I am now. The perfect student. All A's, perfect attendance, and about to enter my masters program to finally become a Psychology professor.

Until recently, I had what I would say the perfect life, that is until I discovered my most recent secret, something no one can ever know except myself. It all started when I was awake one Friday night, working on a 10 page paper while everyone around me was out partying or celebrating the semesters begin. I was in my pajamas on my bed, typing and typing away, when I noticed a faint ache in my lower stomach. I decided to stop my homework quickly and check if the shared dorm bathroom was available. I went and checked, only to see a line of 16 people using overflowing toilet water as some sort of weird slip in slide (really disgusting) and slowly went back into my dorm and locked the door. God, I always thought the people here were disgusting, like children.

As I was working, the stomach ache began to worsen, and I began to think about all of the things I ate today. "Ugh.. I need to focus on this paper.. maybe if I relax and listen to some music for a few minutes, I can then decide to work on some things later.." I thought as I put my headphones and covered myself under the blankets a bit more. I then felt a strong twinge in my lower stomach, and began to feel a bit gassy. "Ugh... what did I eat?" I thought as I began to slowly lift my leg up to the side. I then released a low rumbling fart, which subsided some of my pain for a little while. Although that fart helped somewhat, that didn’t stop my stomach from continuously quaking in discomfort. 1 fart turned into 2, then 3, then 4, until I was farting ever 30 seconds. However, to be completely frank, I loved the feeling of it happened, with the squeezing and the tilt ur eyes make as your about to release, and the feeling of relief your lower stomach gets as it rumbles out is phenomenal. I lift my right leg once again as a 15 second rumbling fart is released. “Oooh yeah, that was a big one.” I said as my eyes fluttered in relaxation, slowly beginning to distract me.

The truth is, I’ve always had a weird enjoyment of farting and pooping ever since I was little. I remember my friends in high school being gross and farting around me in sleepovers, and I would pretend to be grossed out, but days later I would be replaying the moment in my head while physically melting just thinking about it happening, or imagining them going too far and pooping their pants, and being mesmerized by the thought of that over, and over again. I always thought I was just a weird kid though. “Ooh, I have to fart again—!” I said as I pushed. This fart was much wetter then the last, bringing a larger amount of relief, but indicating a teaser to follow. “I really hope the bathroom is fixed at this point, these farts are getting worse.” I thought, but as I continued to hear the yelling and splashing coming from other students outside, I knew the bathroom wouldn’t be available anytime soon.

I started to think about a moment where my best friend at the time, Caleb, would always have stomach aches after school and would be embarrassed to pass gas all the time, but I would reassure him that he was safe to fart around me, and I would never make fun of him. At a certain point, he felt comfortable enough to eventually let go and be open about his gas around me. I specifically remember him pushing wetter and bubblier farts around me when he felt safe to do so… and his face..as he relaxed..seeing how good it felt for him to just..do it…

At this point, I was already soft serving in my pants to the point of no return, but I was too focused on daydreaming to even realize what was happening. I was relieving myself as I thought of Caleb, completely entranced in this memory to even realize I was doing so. A few minutes later when I finally finished and began getting out of my daydream, I had realized what I just did. “What the fuck, did I just shit myself?!” I said In disgust and embarrassment. I took off my pants and tied them in a garbage bag before heading straight to the showers, ashamed. I scrubbed my skin so hard as if I was scrubbing off sins, completely disgusted myself. “I will never, do something disgusting like that again!!” I thought to myself angrily. Little did I know, this was the beginning of discovery that will change my life forever.

#coprophilia #eproctophilia #relief #pants messing #copro

[your-sunny]

here it is!! a full 1848 words :) hope it lives up to the hype :3

I first saw you when we sat next to each other in class. I’ve always been a shy person, most of the friends I’ve made already know someone else in my friend group. So it took me by surprise when you took an interest in me. I know you were just being nice, but when you introduced yourself I knew you were going to be my girl. We got closer over the semester, and you even invited me over to your apartment a few times to work on a project or to study for a test. I fell more and more in love with you the more time I spent with you, but I could tell you didn’t feel the same way. I didn’t want to scare you off, so unfortunately I could only express my feelings for you in more secret ways. Sneaking a little card into your bag that says “I love you so much it hurts”. Putting in a mobile order for your coffee when I notice you going to Starbucks (under your name of course, I can tell you’re still not ready to accept my love just yet). Scaring away anyone else who shows interest in you so I can save you all for myself.

It was over Thanksgiving break that I had a realization. If I couldn’t get you to fall for me regularly, I would just have to make you fall for me. After that I started to plan the best way to make you love me as much as I love you. I remembered you saying you didn’t have the best family life, and how you really dreaded going home for the holidays. Using that, I was able to convince you to stay on campus later than the rest of your roommates. By this point you also trusted me enough to confide that you thought someone was stalking you, and you’d feel better if you weren’t alone.

Now I just had to figure out the best way to break you apart, so that I’d be able to mold you back together as my own. You’d mentioned how you enjoy smoking weed, and I said I’d get some alcohol even though we were both still underage. What better way to begin our break from college courses than relaxing in a way that just wasn’t feasible during the semester (at least not for honor students like us). I told you that I’d stay a little more sober, to make you feel safer from this “mysterious” stalker, and that you could just let yourself go for this one night. You’d gotten pretty cross-faded, but I had to make sure I didn’t mess up my only chance to make you mine. So I roofied your next drink and gave a toast. You didn’t notice I wasn’t actually taking my shot alongside you, and you certainly didn’t notice me picking you up as you blacked out.

I took you to your bedroom and laid you out on top of your neat sheets. You looked so cute, just laying there, so peaceful. I had to shake myself out of my reverie so that I could secure you before you woke up. You wouldn’t be awakening any time soon, but I needed to make sure everything went perfectly. Another sign that we were meant to be together were the posts of your bed. They were thick, perfect to tie you down to until you realized what I already knew, we were made for each other. I spread your limbs out so I could have easy access to all of your body, I wanted to be able to explore every inch of you. Next I had to gag your mouth. I hated to do that to you, but unfortunately I couldn’t take the chance that you might panic before I could show you my love.

Now that I had you positioned correctly, I could move on to pleasuring you. During some of our more risque conversations, after we’d finished studying and you got a little tipsy or high, you mentioned how sensitive your tits were. It was obviously meant as an off-handed comment to a friend, but it gave me an idea on how to convince you I was the only man for you. I taped little bullet vibes onto your nipples and turned them onto medium. I wanted to make you as aroused and sensitive as I could before you came to. Next I set a vibrator to rest on your clit, but this one I left on low. At that point I couldn’t help but take a taste of your pussy, the sight of it too tempting to pass up. You hadn’t worked up much arousal yet, but just the taste of you nearly drove me to madness. I had to take a second to calm myself, and then I started slowly rubbing the outside of your vagina. I knew it’d be some time still before you’d wake up, so I just gently stroked up and down your lips, swapping which arm I was using a couple times so that I didn’t wear one out too much. I started to hear some moans coming out of your mouth so I quickly moved up near your face. You were still unconscious, but it seemed my ministrations were doing a good job of getting you worked up. I took a bit of a chance, but I had to hear those moans straight from your mouth. I removed the gag, and hearing your sweet voice was the most erotic thing I’d ever experienced. You still weren’t waking up, so I took another chance and had my first kiss with you. You couldn’t kiss me back, and yet it was still the best kiss I’d ever had. Then I noticed your eyes shifting, a small sign that you would soon awaken.

It took a large amount of restraint to pull away and put the gag back on, but the thought of losing you was enough to make me break our kiss. As your eyes fluttered open, I reached back down to your cunt to find that you had become soaked. The continued stimulation of the vibrators had made you start to leak arousal. The alcohol, weed, and drugs had fogged up your brain, and all of the sensations you started to feel as you woke up didn’t do anything to help clear it. I slapped your face. Not too hard, just enough to help jump start your consciousness. The first thing you saw after coming to was my face. I couldn’t help but have a smile on my face, I was just so excited to finally be able to express my feelings for you. I saw the fear enter your eyes as you realized what was happening and rushed to reassure you. “Don’t worry baby. I know it’s frightening right now, but soon you’ll understand I’m just trying to help you realize we belong together.” This didn’t do anything to calm you and you started to struggle against the ropes holding your limbs. Seeing that I hadn’t done enough to convince you yet, I turned up each of the vibrators and started to suck on your nipples. I continued to rub the outer lips, but I also started to gently finger you as well. You had already gotten aroused enough that I could quickly add another finger and start to stretch you farther. When you became aware again your moans had stopped, but the increased stimulation began to force you to let out sounds of pleasure once again. Once I noticed this moved to be face-to-face with you once again. “See princess, I just want to make you feel good. If you stop struggling then I can start to make you feel even better,” I murmur.

Tears had started to roll down your cheeks and I quickly licked up the trails. Your face was too beautiful to be marred by such things. At this point I couldn’t hold back any longer. I pulled off my pants and boxers, revealing my rock hard cock. Your enticing body had gotten me stiff as a board and leaking pre from the tip. “Now I’m going to start making love to you, darling.” My loving tone and words were at odds with the rape that was occuring, and yet somehow they still felt appropriate. I replaced the vibe on your clit with my hand so that I could thrust into you more freely. With one smooth push, I fit the entirety of my cock into your snatch. I saw your eyes flutter once again, but this time it was because of the rush of pleasure you were feeling instead of your groggy state of mind. “That’s it princess. Let my cock push all those silly thoughts of resistance away.” My voice washed over you. The calm, smooth, and kind tenor mixed with your growing arousal, battling with the logical side of your mind saying that this is a bad thing.

I saw that I was starting to make progress, so I went back to your weak point. I pulled the vibes off from your nipples and left them untouched for a minute as I continued to make love to you. Then I took one in my mouth as I gently rolled the other between my fingers. The small period of sensory deprivation had left them extra sensitive, so this managed to bring another moan out of you. This time it was more long and drawn out, everything came together to push you over the edge into orgasm. As I felt the walls of your vagina start to clench around my cock, I pumped into you faster. I wanted us to orgasm together for our first time, bonding us together. The sensations from your pulsing cunt, and the knowledge that I was the one that gave you all this pleasure were just enough to set me off as well.

We orgasmed together and your cunt milked me for all it was worth. Your womb hungrily swallowed my semen until I was utterly spent. As we both came down from our highs, I shifted so that we were face-to-face once more. “I’m sorry that I hid my love for you for so long, but I couldn’t take the chance that I’d push you away. Can you forgive me darling?” I muttered. “I’m going to take off the gag now. Please don’t make me have to hurt you, I only want what’s best for you.” I held eye contact with and reached up to pull out the gag. Your eyes were still watery, tears building up but not falling. You weren’t able to say it out loud yet, but you did manage a small nod to show you accepted my love for you. Another smile broke out across my face, what a wonderful night this was. Content that I was able to show you how we were meant to be together, I removed your bindings. Then we laid together and fell asleep, my cock still resting inside you.

-🐉

Can I make out with you please

Seriously tho the fucking writing,,,the voice of the stalker and including shit from my blog. You also somehow included details about me I never posted on here that you somehow just guessed correctly lol.

I feel like I'm not expressing just how much I'm gushing about this. This is so fucking good and I'm literally so wet just from reading it.

#🐉 anon #ask sunny #r@pe fantasy #cnc cw #cnc kidnapping #fr33use #kidnapping cw

[evebestt]

Hi there!To start I love reading your stories, they are captivating!!I wanted to ask if you could write the sequel to Champagne, I really liked the beginning!!

Hon, I think you were meant to send this to me, I kid you not two days before you sent this to me I’d started working on a beach honeymoon fic with a Pride and Prejudice scene. No prompt, I just wanted to write it, but then you sent me this and I swear it was meant to be. It took me a while to get there, but I believe it was meant to be!

Read here on AO3 or below. As always, send me a message or an ask to submit a prompt.

Chapter One. Can be read as a stand-alone.

Champagne (2/2): Walking on the Waves

Chapter title comes from Walking on the Waves by Tide Lines, which has been my favorite song for months now. I highly recommend listening to the song, as it’ll show you what good, pure love feels like

~

You were married in the winter during the break between semesters, a charm cast over the ground to keep you warm even as you walked over the glittering snow. 

Farah had been a vision in white, her hair softly curled and her nails painted a powder blue, and Saul at her side as best man. She’d worn the necklace you’d given her months ago, and both it and your ring on her finger looked so perfect that you could’ve wept.

The ceremony had been small, and the reception had been a simple dinner and drinks with friends, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Everything was just as it should have been with you and your bride, and you thought there could be nothing more perfect in the world.

Until Ben and Saul, with a magic all of their own (and plenty of strings pulled), gave you their wedding present of a week’s honeymoon on a private beach, somewhere down south where there was nothing but eternal sunshine and miles of fine, white sand.

And now like a dream, you stood in your own little hut on those miles of white sand, admiring the new ring on your finger — a simple gold band with runes etched along the outside for blessings of love and happiness, imbued with magic so that it would never break and never be lost.

Entranced by your ring, you didn’t notice Farah until she wrapped her arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Are you ready?”

“To go lay in the sun all day?” You tore your eyes away from the ring and turned your head to look at her. “Absolutely.”

She smiled, then gave you another quick kiss. “And if I was asking if you were ready to spend the rest of your life with me?”

You turned in her arms, wrapping your own around her neck. “I already said ‘I do’, didn’t I?”

“You did — I remember that moment very well.” She linked her arms around your back, giving you a look of fond amazement. “Will remember it very well for the rest of my days.”

“Well, then,” you said, reaching up to run your finger along her jaw. “How about we go make some more memories we’ll remember for the rest of our lives?”

“Cheesy line,” she murmured, but you didn’t miss the blush on her cheeks before she leaned in for a long, sweet kiss.

You didn’t have to go far — the hut sat just a few paces from the beach, and in just a few more you were on the shore, just far enough away to spread your blanket without fear of the tide, but close enough you could taste the salt in the air and watch the sand roll in the waves.

You watched her tuck the corner of the blanket underneath the basket you had brought, the hem of her dark red coverup fluttering around the tops of her thighs – a sight you couldn’t help but admire.

 You were still admiring when she straightened, and she raised an eyebrow in response to where your gaze was, making you grin and wiggle yours suggestively.

“Let me see what’s under there.”

She smirked, raising an eyebrow. “You know full well.”

“Maybe I do, but I’ve never seen you in a swimsuit, have I?”

She chuckled lightly, and with a look you could only describe as cheeky, she reached for the hem of her cover up, crossing her arms as she pulled it over her head.

You imagine she put the cover-up somewhere, but you simply didn’t care, not when she stood there in a navy one-piece, cut low enough to show generous cleavage and a hint of abdomen. The cutouts along her sides showed off the skin of her waist and promised to show the smooth expanse of her back, and make for easy removal, when the time comes to it, you thought.

It hit you suddenly, with her standing there in front of you like a dream — Farah Dowling, your wife, and you’d get to call her that for the rest of your days. With her long, smooth legs, her sculpted shoulders, her kind, fierce heart and her brilliant and sharp mind, she was yours. Her body, her heart, her soul, all yours, just as you were hers.

“You are…” you had to pause, the awe of your wife heavy on your tongue, “a miracle.”

The very tops of her cheeks flushed, but still she sauntered over to you, running her finger up your neck and chin. “I’ll need help with sunscreen — think you can handle that, charmer?”

You bit back a grin, then let your hands settle on her waist, teasing the skin there as you slid your hands up her sides to her back, toying with the tie of her suit. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to handle you, but I am certainly up to the challenge.”

It took you both much longer than it should have, considering the number of times you both were distracted by wandering hands and kisses placed wherever you could reach, but eventually you both had sunscreen on, and the rolling blue water of the ocean was calling. You pulled Farah by her hand, and you both ran towards the water, giggling as it splashed around you and gasping as it landed cool on your stomach compared to the heat of the sun.

The water was warm, really, once you were in, and so clear you could see the bottom easily, the sand rippled with the never-ending waves. There was only sand where you were standing, but you could see a few shells and rocks jutting from the sand a little ways away, and you itched to swim out farther and see what treasures you could find.

But your pull to Farah was always stronger, and you turned your head to study her instead. She was staring at the water, a faint smile on her lips as she slowly skimmed her hands over the top of the water, obviously entranced by the shimmer of the sun and the pattern her hands made in the water.

And seeing your opportunity, you reached for her legs and pulled them out from under her, sending her splashing into the water with a yelp before she was submerged.

She came up with a gasping breath, still submerged to her neck, then opened her eyes to glare at you, but with a spark in them that told you the game was on.

With a giggle you turned to run, but you were slow in the water, and Farah was close behind. You managed to dance out of her grasp with a shrieking laugh, but then she plunged her arms in the water and sent a wave towards you, soaking your back and splashing the back of your neck. It made you laugh, even as you gasped at the surprise, and turned to give her a playful look as you bounded further away.

You were quick, but her legs were long, and she started to catch up. You feinted one way, managing to dodge her reach, but Farah never fell for the same trick twice. You tried to feint again, but she was already moving the other way, and before you could leap out of her reach she had wrapped her arms around your waist and you were dunked under the water with ease, the clear ring of her laughter the last thing you heard before you went under.

You surfaced with a gasp, Farah still laughing, and it was your turn to glare playfully at her, wiping the water out of your eyes.

“Don’t start a game you can’t win, darling,” she teased, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Who’s to say I’ve lost?” you retorted and reached forward to grab at her legs.

You splashed around in the shallows for a while longer, laughing the entire time, before you’d completely worn each other out and dragged yourselves back to shore. You collapsed onto your blanket, dripping wet, and not a care in the world as you instinctively moved closer to each other, catching your breath with your arm slung around her waist.

“I haven’t done anything like that in years,” she said, chuckling a little as she finally caught her breath. “You had me using old tactical techniques.”

“Is that how you treat your new wife?” you teased, digging your fingers into her side a little to tickle her.  “Using old military techniques on me?”

“When my new wife starts the war,” she laughed, squirming under your touch. “Then I’ll do what I need to finish it.”

You hummed, and then pushing on her shoulder with your hand, you sat up and swung your legs over your hips to straddle her. “Do you have that attitude about everything?” you asked, trailing your hands from her shoulders down to her chest and stomach.

“Is that a challenge?” she asked, her eyes darkening as she settled her hands on your hips.

You smirked, and you leaned down until your lips nearly brushed hers, playing your fingers along the string that led to the tie of her suit. “Do your best, soldier.”

~~~~~~~~~

Later that afternoon, you and Farah walked further down your stretch of beach, eventually coming across a patch that was filled with shells, rocks, and other things washed up by the sea for as far as the eye could see. You picked over it together for a while, pointing out things of interest, but eventually you sat down at a spot particularly thick with shells while Farah walked on, curious what else there was.

It was over an hour before you saw Farah’s form in the distance again, her head still down as she combed the beach, and her slow, meandering walk made you smile. With everything your lives were, it was rare you both had the time to move so slowly, to take slow walks on the beach simply to see what you could find. 

And as you watched her stop and bend down to pick something up, you vowed to cherish moments like that for the rest of your life.

“Did you have fun without me?” she asked teasingly when she reached your side, sitting down besides you.

“Yes,” you said dryly, “and that’s why I married you, I have the most fun when you’re not around.”

She snorted and nudged your shoulder, and you nudged her back before speaking again. “What about you, did you find anything interesting?”

Farah held out her hand, and a perfect sand dollar sat on her palm — not a chip or crack on it, and bleached by the sun so that it was hardly stained, leaving it a near perfect white.

“Look at that,” you said smiling, taking it from her to examine it.

“I found it not too far from where I turned around.” She leaned back on her hands, leaning closer as you turned it over in your hands. “Sitting there half buried, like it was waiting to be found.”

“Perhaps it was.” You turned it over again, staring at the petals that spanned out from the center. “I think they’re meant to be lucky, too.”

“A good omen for our marriage, then?”

You grinned at her, leaning in to bump your nose against hers. “I think being crazily in love with you is the good omen, but I’ll take this one, too.”

You felt her smile against your mouth, and then she kissed you properly, light and chaste but you couldn’t help but sigh and sink into the embrace.

“We should put it somewhere,” she said after the kiss had broken, your forehead resting on hers while she had stroked your back. “In our house, somewhere prominent. Our own good luck symbol.”

And you grinned, love swelling impossibly larger in your chest. “I like that. Like iron under the hearth to bless a home — a sand dollar on our mantle to bless our marriage.”

“Our own little tradition,” she murmured, sitting back and gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “What about you?” she asked suddenly, and you looked at her curiously. “Did you find anything fun here?”

You grabbed the shell you had set aside, turning it over and showing her the faintly purple mother-of-pearl on the inside. “A simple looking shell, but it’s nearly the color your eyes turn when you do magic.”

Farah’s features softened as she took the shell from you, holding it almost reverently. “Really?”

You nodded. “Your eyes have a bit more blue to them, and they… shimmer more, I guess. They don’t just stay one color. But that shell nearly captures it,” you said, gesturing to it.

She stared at it a moment longer, and then looked up at you, giving you a small, sweet smile. “You know what my eyes look like from memory?”

And then you understood her reverence, and you reached out and stroked her cheek. “I do. How could I forget something so beautiful?”

She nearly melted, and then crossed the small distance to kiss you again, an I love you spoken even more loudly than words.

 When the kiss broke, you still leaned against each other, unwilling to separate even that much even as she looked back at the shell. She smiled faintly as she studied it, running her thumb lightly around the edge, and her fine features, soft and smooth in the golden light, made your heart flutter.

 “Remember this moment the next time we start to bicker, Ms. Dowling,” you teased her, and she snorted in response before you looked at her curiously, realizing something. “Or is it Mrs. Dowling now?”

“I suppose it is,” she said almost dreamily, then cocked her head at you. “And what about you? Are you Mrs. Dowling now, too?”

“Mrs. Dowling,” you said thoughtfully, thinking of it for yourself. “I do like the sound of that.”

“Maybe I’ll have a plaque made for your door. Though it may be too confusing if there’s two of us.”

“Well, now, that doesn’t mean I want to give up the name entirely.” You pouted at her, and she smiled, leaning in until her nose nearly brushed yours.

“Then when shall I call you ‘Mrs. Dowling’?”

You smiled too, and leaned even closer. “Call me “Mrs. Dowling” during moments like these — when we’re completely, perfectly, incandescently happy.”

“Isn’t that from a movie?” she whispered, smile never fading, and you crinkled your nose in a silent giggle.

“It could be. When did you watch that?”

“Years ago, with Terra. I rather liked that scene.”

“Well, then.” You gently pushed her shoulder until she laid back and you could straddle her hips, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Mrs. Dowling,” you murmured, and committing to the scene, you pressed another kiss to her cheek. “Mrs. Dowling.”

She beat you to the next one, softly brushing your lips with hers as she murmured one last, “Mrs. Dowling.”

You lay together on the sand for quite some time, then, watching the sun set and the light fade across the ocean until the moon rose, bringing liquid silver with it. Only when the breeze became chilled did you retreat to the hut, exchanging soft kisses as you drifted towards the bedroom.

And later that night, when you laid tangled together in the sheets, so close that you didn’t know where the other ended and began, moving together like the crest and ebb of the waves outside, she pressed her lips to your breast, just above your heart, and whispered words meant only for your to hear.

“My love. My only.”

Her words made a home in your heart, and like a tattoo against your skin, you knew they’d remain there forever.

“My love,” you murmured back, and felt her sigh. “My only.”

You felt the words even more strongly than the vows you made – it was another promise, an assurance of love and the depth of your feelings, a declaration that she held your heart, just as you held hers. She was your love, your only, and would be for the rest of your days.

And there was nothing more you could ever need.

#Farah on the beach lives in my head #also I started my job hence the reason writing is slower now #but getting into the rhythm of it so maybe the page will pick up a little #farah dowling #farah dowling x reader #ftws #fate the winx saga #eve best

[just-dreaming-marvel]

The Truth About Love ~ 12

THE TRUTH ABOUT LOVE MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,605ish

Summary: Angst. That’s all I’m going to say.

Notes: I am not back. I am still on break but felt like posting this. Can’t wait to come back and read your reactions!

Despite Steve clearly being unhappy with the decision you had made to get a second job, you did it anyway. You ended up getting a second job at a 24-hour diner. You took the overnight shift, with the promise from the owner that you’d be able to do homework on the slow times.

Steve really tried to respect and support you in your decision, but as he watched you become more exhausted than he knew a person could be, he knew that he couldn’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself. (Especially when you ended up working a straight 36 hours due to Thanksgiving.)

It was the first day of December and tuition was due in a week. Steve had seen your budget spreadsheet and saw that you would be just shy of making your tuition and knew that you wouldn’t get paid in time to pay it in full. Steve decided that you could use your savings to pay for the semester after next and he would cover this semester. With the decision made and having not talked to you at all about it, Steve when to the finance office at the college and paid for your tuition. He felt good about it but spent the rest of the day thinking about how to tell you what he did.

After locking up the coffee shop, you turned and smiled at Steve, who sat in his car waiting to take you to the diner.

“Hey,” you greeted as you slipped into the passenger seat.

“Hey,” Steve pressed out a smile.

You tilted your head as you furrowed your brows, you could tell that something was off. His smile wasn’t real and his hands seemed to be nervously gripping the steering wheel. “Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat, “why wouldn’t everything be?”

“Well, yeah, you’re just acting a bit strange.”

Steve sighed, knowing he couldn’t fool you. “Just, please, don’t be mad.”

“What did you do?”

“I saw your budgeting spreadsheet and I know that you still won’t make tuition for next semester.”

“Steve, if you—“

“I paid your tuition for next semester. Now, you can quit your job at the diner and save for the semester after.”

Your anger was growing. How could he? Did he really think you were that helpless? That poor? That you couldn’t do it on your own?

“Stop the car,” you demanded, in a scarily quiet tone.

“Y/N—“

“I said stop the car!”

Steve pulled over and you quickly got out of the car. You started marching down the street toward the diner, while it began to snow.

“Wait! Y/N!” Steve called after you, having parked the car to follow you on foot. “Please! Can we talk about this?”

“No! I can’t be late for my shift,” you were angry, clearly. Tears of anger and frustration were even beginning to form and trickle down your face.

“Y/N—“ Steve had caught up. He reached for your arm to turn you around but you quickly yanked it away when you felt his fingers brush against your arm.

“Leave me alone, Steve! I need to work and process what you just did.”

He rushed around you, placing himself in your path and forcing you to stop. “I paid your tuition to try and help you. You’re wearing yourself out.”

“Don’t you think I get a say when I’m worn out? I am used to working hard—twice, even three times as hard as everyone else. It’s how I was raised, it’s what I’ve had to do to survive. And, it’s honestly something I know that I am good at. I am a hard worker. I pride myself in that. And you… you just took that away from me. You just paid it like it was nothing because you have all this money and I don’t! I don’t need every nice thing just handed to me. I don’t need the easy way out!”

“That’s not what I was doing! I was trying to help you!”

“By going behind my back?! Making me feel like the poor girl you clearly see me as?!”

“That’s not how I see you!”

“Really? Then stop paying for my things and let me do this!”

“Why can’t you just let me do this for you? Can’t you see that I am simply trying to make your life easier?”

“I don’t need easy, Steve! Not like you, clearly.”

His jaw clenched as he grew more frustrated with you with each passing second. “You know, you seem very ungrateful for what I’ve done for you.”

Your jaw dropped at the audacity of his statement. “Really, Steve? Now I’m ungrateful?” You shook your head and scoffed. “You’re unbelievable. I thought you were different, Steve. Different from all the other guys—especially the guys with a lot of money. But you’re just the same.”

“And you’re an ungrateful bitch.” Steve’s eyes widened in horror after the words slipped out faster than he could stop them. “No. No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

“Oh. I’m sure you did mean it. Leave me alone, Steve. I’m late for work.”

You turned around and headed for the diner. You made it into the diner before you were overcome with sobs. You fell to the floor, hands coming to cover your mouth.

“Y/N?” The owner, Phil Coulson, came out of the back as he called for you. He grew concerned over the sight of you on your knees, sobbing. He rushed over. “What happened?”

You couldn’t respond, sobs just getting worse. Phil put his arms around you carefully.

“Let’s get you back to my office,” he said gently.

Phil helped you up to your feet and guided you on shaking legs back to his office. 

Unbeknownst to either of you, Steve was standing outside the diner, watching the owner help you. Hot tears streamed down his face as his eyes sadly followed you. He stood there for a few long minutes in the snowy weather, even after you had disappeared. He had royally screwed up.

Finally, Steve moved and went back to his car. He knew he couldn’t go back to the apartment and see Natasha and Bucky just yet. Instead, Steve went to his studio, where he was immediately greeted by reminders of you. Your area, his secret drawings, and paintings of you that scattered his workplaces.

Steve’s hand splayed over one of the sketches he had drawn of you staring out of the window at the skyline. He hadn’t realized he was still crying until two tears dropped on the paper he was staring at. Quickly, he whipped his tears and went over to one of his easels, grabbing a new canvas and paints that worked with his feelings, he began working.

~~~

Despite Phil telling you that you didn’t need to work, you cried for a little in his office before doing your job. You needed the money and the distraction from the heartbreak that you were currently feeling. Phil kept a careful eye on you during your whole shift. He even offered you a ride home at the end, which you thankfully accepted.

“Do you want to finally tell me what happened?” Phil asked after a few minutes of silence.

You sighed. “My and my… well, I guess we haven’t really said if we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. But me and my… Steve… had a really big fight before work.”

“I see,” Phil nodded. “Do you need a place to stay? I want to make sure it’s safe for you to go back home.”

“Thank you, Phil, but it’s safe. My roommate will make sure of it.”

“As long as you’re sure. Please call me if you need anything.”

“I will.” Phil stopped the car in front of your building. “Thanks again. I owe you.”

“Just keep showing up to work and being your awesome self. That’s enough for me.”

~~~

Sleep alluded you that night. You couldn’t help but replay the fight in your head over and over. You cried into your pillow as you tried to work through your emotions. You didn’t even know where Steve and you would go from here.

Steve didn’t even try to sleep. He stayed up in his studio, filling canvas after canvas with his emotions. His anger and frustration, his sadness and regret, his deep love for you which you didn’t even know of yet. And honestly, the way things were going, you may never know how much he actually loved you. 

Taking a break from his painting, Steve forced himself to walk over to the space he had set up for you. He slumped down in the seat as his eyes scanned your cluttered workspace. A stack of pages on the printer caught his eye. Reaching over, he took them off and scanned them. They were a scholarship application, and just by quickly glancing at it, it was one that you could easily win. 

Steve knew that he had melded enough with your life in that way, but he couldn’t help himself. The deadline for this scholarship was in a few days and there was almost no way that you would come over to his studio to fill out the paperwork. It was now up to him to fill it out. He knew that this wouldn’t fix anything that he had done but it would help you. The money would cover at least two semesters’ worth of tuition, which you definitely needed. Grabbing a pen, Steve began filling out the paperwork. He wasn’t going to let you miss out on this opportunity to win the money you so deserved.

next chapter >

TAGLIST IS CLOSED - Taglist Information

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rodgers imagine #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x f!reader #Steve Rogers x Female Reader #steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #the avengers x reader

[devilmayfamily]

Day 1 - I Still Love You

Dante groaned, pain throbbing through his right side as he picked himself up from the ground. He’d defeated a rogue demon someone had called complaining about in the countryside on the outskirts of Redgrave, his body sore and covered in the things electric blue blood.

He wiped some of the substance off his cheek, rotating his shoulder to get some feeling back into it.

“Well you’re a sight for sore eyes”

Dante looked to his right, finding you standing there by the homeowners gate. A red tattered jacket that used to be owned by the devil hunter hugged your figure as you used it to keep yourself warm from the autumn breeze rolling in. It wasn’t doing much however, due to its destroyed nature along with the fact that you were wearing shorts from being inside originally.

“Cold aren’t ya?”, Dante asked.

“Couldn’t tell.”

“You haven’t changed a bit."

“And you got older”, you replied.

Dante smiled, happy that you haven’t lost your sassy nature. He walked over, and leaned against the fence gate where you sat.

“What are you doing out here? I thought you left to continue school”, Dante asked.

“I did but my semester is over. I came back home to help mom”, you reply. 

Dante nodded, remembering your mom having a few health issues that have kept her inside nowadays.

“Killed that thing I see”, you say, gesturing towards the corpse just a few feet from the two of you.

“Yeah, put up more of a fight than I was expecting”, Dante replied.

There was a tension between the two of you, one that began to slowly eat at Dante. He was waiting for you to begin the conversation but also knew you probably wouldn’t. He shifted his weight to his other foot, turning to take in all your features. You truly hadn’t changed, maybe besides the strip of color in your hair that now was a deep wine red compared to the pink Dante last saw you with.

“How’s life been?”, Dante asked.

“It’s been life”, you reply. “Here, your payment”

You held out an envelope, your mothers cursive across the front. 

Dante slowly took the envelope from you, looking at it for a long time.

“What happened to us?”, Dante finally asked.

You were trying to avoid this conversation but knowing Dante, there was no avoiding it for long. You sighed, pushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“I’m not sure”, you reply.

“That’s not an answer”, Dante said.

“Yes it is, it’s just one you don’t like”, you retort.

Dante shook his head, looking up at you. Normally he’d find your hard-headedness endearing but right now was not the time.

“I’m being serious Y/N, what happened? Why did you leave all of a sudden?”, Dante asked.

“I’m not doing this right now Dante”, you say, getting down from the fence.

“Then when?”, Dante asked.

“Never Dante, can we do this never?”, you ask.

“No! Because I may never see you again”, Dante replies.

“Wouldn’t you just love that”, you mumble, starting your trek back to your childhood home.

“I’m leaving Dante, that's the end of this discussion!”, you yell.

“Fine then! Go! And don’t you dare come back!”, Dante yells back.

“I won’t!”, you reply, slamming the door behind you as you walk out.

Dante yelled, throwing his boot at the door as it closed.

“Don’t you turn this on me, you’re the one who left me suddenly in the middle of the night!”, Dante yells. “I just want answers, can’t you at least give me that!?”

You stop, taking in a deep breath before turning back around to face the devil hunter. You walk back up to the fence, standing as close as you could to the male on the other side.

“Maybe if you weren’t on the brink of dying in front of me I wouldn’t have left”, you whisper.

Standing this close to you, Dante noticed the tears beginning to gloss over your eyes.

“I had to sit there, nursing your wounds while you laid unconscious for days Dante, days”, you say. “And I had no idea when you’d wake up, if you’d wake up! I was scared out of my mind, wondering if you were going to make it and I just couldn’t bear it anymore.”

Tears began to slip down your cheeks, going unnoticed by you but not by Dante. He lifted a hand, cupping your face and wiping away a tear as it fell.

“I was scared Dante, I was scared I was going to lose you”, you whisper, voice breaking.

“But you didn’t”, Dante says.

You shook your head, resting your forehead against his chest.

“That's not the point”, you mumble. “I almost did.”

Dante softly wrapped his arms around you, shielding you almost. His heart shattered as you began to softly sob into his chest.

“I still love you”, Dante says.

“Don’t tell me that”, you manage to say.

“It’s the truth”, Dante admits.

You look up at him, looking for something in his features that calls his bluff. There was nothing but a deep love for you peering through his eyes.

You turn away from the half demon, wiping the tears from your face. After composing yourself a little, you look up at him and smile. Though it was an expression Dante usually loved to see spread across your face, the sadness underneath only broke him more.

“It was good to see you again Dante”, you say.

“Y/N”

“I’ll see you another time.” You begin to walk back home, Dante watching as your figure disappears down the trail, further and further away from the entrance gate.

He wanted to call out for you, run after you, anything, but he felt stuck in quicksand and like his throat couldn’t work.

Even though he couldn’t see you anymore, Dante still stared in the direction of the house hoping maybe he could get even the slightest glimpse of you moving around down there. He couldn’t. The bellow of a cow in one of the fields nearby pulled the male out of his trance, bringing him back to his current environment.

Dante sighed, looking over at the cow in question. The grass puppy stared at the man only giving another big, long moo. Maybe now was a good time for Dante to go home himself.

Walking into the DMC building felt unfulfilling this evening. Normally Dante only felt tired after a hunt but today left him both tired and emotional. Your face was stuck in Dante’s head, the image fresh now that he’s seen you again after all these years.

He throws himself onto the couch, a groan of frustration erupting from the half demon. He ran a hand over his face, pushing his hair back before letting it fall back into place.

Dante looked over at the envelope with his payment in it laying on the coffee table where he’d discarded it earlier upon coming home. He picked it up, pulling the money out as another small, folded piece of paper fell out as well. Unfolding the paper, your messy handwriting that could almost pass as cursive became visible.

I still love you Dante.

Dante set the paper down, laying back on the couch. He covered his eyes with his arm, hiding in the crook of his elbow. He decided today was enough, letting sleep over take him.

#devil may cry 5 dante #dmc5 #dmc #devil may cry 5 #dante dmc5 #dante sparda #dante x you #dante x reader #dante x y/n

[marshallmallows]

take what you can get (part 1)

lucas thomas x gn!devon

summary: for devon, he’ll take anything he can get. (aka lucas gets his first b-minus and thinks about his long-lost love.)

angst, fluff

mentions of drugs/allusions to drug abuse, mentions of death

a/n: hello!!! this is my first ilitw fic so go easy on me. please tell me if i missed any content warnings! this is a rewrite of the scene with him at the end of ilitw showing one year into the future :]

-

Now that he’s in college, Lucas likes to think that the old grade-obsessed and self-destructive version of himself is far behind him, tucked into the pocket of his sweater that he never wears anymore.

But no one can ever truly change that quickly, and the lingering obsessive qualities of his past self follow him like a ghost. And personally, he’s seen enough ghosts for a lifetime.

And that’s why, when he stands in line and picks up his paper on Professor Bhatt’s desk, finding that he received a B-minus on his first paper of the semester–and the first B-minus of his life, he tries, arduously, not to freak out. He steps out of the line with his mind running at a mile a minute and lets his intrusive thoughts win for just a moment as he thinks back to his pseudo-savior back in his senior year of high school.

He would never go back to that time in his life even if someone put a bullet to his head, and even that wouldn’t be the scariest thing that’s ever happened to him. It’s unsettling to think that it only happened a year ago.

But after his mind briefly remembers the numerous pill bottles and pages of false prescriptions, it lands on something–someone else. His real savior during the hell that was senior year.

Devon.

Words, which are something that Lucas usually is so eloquent with, can’t even begin to describe Devon. They were the person there for him when his self-destruction was at its worst, with the things on his plate piling themselves up by the minute and the effects of the amphetamine meddling with the fear and anxiety that Redfield provided. They were the one to convince him to throw away his falsified prescription and they were the one to instill a bravery in him that he still doesn’t know how to get back to this day. He could only be brave with Devon, in the brief and short time that they were able to love one another. The time that should’ve been longer.

Senior prom was inevitably canceled after the monstrosity that went down at homecoming, but a part of him wonders what it would’ve been like to experience it with Devon. Because before homecoming went to shit it was one of the best nights of his life, until it quickly turned into the worst. The same person with whom he danced and kissed and made numerous memories with died that night, and he’s sure that a part of himself died alongside them too.

But Devon isn’t here, and the reminder of their death stings a lot more than this B-minus does. But he knows that they shouldn’t be forgotten; they should be cherished and celebrated in death because no one did it nearly enough in the time that they were alive, including him. It hurts, but if this pain from missing them is all he has left, then he’ll take it. He’ll take any trace of Devon that he can get.

Bravery isn’t something that comes to him as easily as it does for Lily, nor is confrontation as simple as a conversation as it is for Ava. But thinking of Devon makes him brave, and he will take that bravery because it’s the closest thing he has of them now.

“It’s no big deal. Just one paper,” he says to himself. He tries to believe it–even if his encouragement to himself is lackluster–because he knows that Devon would have said something similar, in their signature comforting manner that made his worry lines soften and his heart rate slow. Words that are lackluster when said to himself would have been entrancing coming from their lips.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize that nobody else is in the classroom except for him and Professor Bhatt, who’s now watching him with a curious gaze and asking if he’s alright.

It scares him, opening up to this professor who probably has better things to do than to listen to his problems, but he knows that there are far scarier things out there than this.

So he talks. And as he talks, his mind wanders back to the person with his heart; the person who took it as he watched them be buried six feet underneath the ground. He thinks of Devon and thanks them for gifting him with this bravery, even if they aren’t by his side. Lucas was always bravest with Devon, but because they’re not here, he’ll just have to settle for being brave by himself.

He’s horrified at the thought, but with the strength that his memories have lent him of the person he loves, then maybe it won’t be so difficult.

Because it’s bravery that came from Devon, and for Devon, he’ll take anything he can get.

#lucas thomas #lucas x mc #ilitw #it lives in the woods #choices #devon ilitw #lucas x devon #raine writes #*sweats nervously*

[antihell]

An excerpt of Twisted Stitches (Chapter One)

by @antihell

AUDIENCE: NA POV: 3rd person limited STATUS: writing first draft TW: body horror, homophobia mention WORD COUNT: 938 or smth

There is no way in Hell Oliver Kaito is going to make it through this semester.

Oliver is seated at his desk in his dorm room as he bites at his cuticles, tearing each one from jagged hangnail to root, while his mother incessantly yaps at him over the phone. He spaced out a long time ago, but that’s not unique to his mother. After a long time without sleep, it’s a lot easier for Oliver to coast between that shaky period of sleep and wakefulness. That place is where Oliver calls the shadows, but only to himself. Nobody else really knows the extent of his insomnia. Truth be told, he does not remember the last time he slept.

“Attendance is the easiest grade to get, Oliver! There’s no reason for you to miss points because you skipped class. Oliver? Oliver, this is important! Are you listening to me?” His mom drones on, not waiting for any sort of acknowledgement from her son. “Go to class, Oli. I know you’re struggling. Just- Just go to class, okay?” It’s as if she’s calming herself, collecting her chakras or whatever they’re called before Oliver can even complain. Maybe all those spiritual retreats have been beneficial after all.

“Yeah, okay Mom,” Oliver sighs. “I’ll go to class. Just don’t tell dad about me missing, okay?” His desk is littered with bloody tissues from trying to stop the blood leaking from his fingertips, but to no avail. His finger draws a sticky dot of red on his phone screen as he presses to hang up.

As if on cue, his roommate Carson comes in, surely ready to set into motion some scheme he has come up with to get Oliver laid. Oliver isn’t sure why Carson is so obsessed with his sex life, but he won’t stop Carson from having his fun with it. “Alright,” Carson begins, taking a deep breath, and Oliver is ready to nod along to whatever plan he has cooked up. Nodding along is about as much you’ll get out of Oliver as a response these days. “There’s a girl in my philosophy II class you’ll love. She’s really smart with all that metaphysical science shit you’re into.”

Oliver can’t find it within himself to tell Carson that metaphysical science is kind of an oxymoron. He still hasn’t bothered to tell Carson that he’s gay either. Oliver doesn’t want to spoil the fun for Carson.

“Alright, what’s her name?” Oliver says, pretending to be interested, collecting all his bloodied tissues from his desk and tossing them in the trash bin beneath his desk. He rolls his desk chair around to where Carson is, combing still-bleeding fingers through his hair, getting much too long even for his own standards. His mom would throw a fit if she knew he had not gotten it cut since he left home in the little town outside Spokane for the summer semester 300 miles away.

“Kayla Greene,” Carson replies, as if Oliver should already know who she is. Carson’s eyes are dead focused on his laptop as he looks her up on social media and pulls up her page. “Okay, I know she’s white but…” Carson tells him, trailing off. Oliver has not once said, or implied, that he wouldn’t date a girl that’s white. His mom is white, for God’s sake! Still, Oliver looks more Japanese than his genes, and Carson gets so excited that Oliver doesn’t want to interrupt and trip him up.

The dreary pace of the dorm internet is pretty infuriating sometimes. Her page finally loads, and Oliver is alarmed at first to see how much skin is showing. And he hates how that trips him up. Hates it. He hates how he seems to have inherited some signs of bigotry his dad has always displayed. His dad would probably call Kayla Greene a trollop from what little clothing she is wearing.

“She’s cute,” Oliver says, convincingly enough. Carson seems pleased.

“Yeah? Total stunner, right? And brains, too. I know that stuff matters to you, and shit.”

Oliver, again, hasn’t even had enough time to tell Carson that he wants someone smart to date. Carson just gets those vibes from him. Oliver is frankly comfortable knowing that.

“Also a sophomore,” Carson begins reading off her supposedly attractive traits. “20 years old. Does gymnastics. Philosophy major. Eh? Eh?” Carson finally looks at Oliver to gauge his opinion. Oliver laughs to make his smile appear more genuine.

“Yeah, she’s cute,” Oliver repeats, nodding with fake enthusiasm.

“Just cute? Come on, roomie.” Carson insists on calling Oliver his roomie, even giving it as a nickname, on a regular basis. “She’s into all that mindful crap you’re into.”

This time Oliver’s laugh is genuine. “Alright, I’ll give her a chance.” He tilts Carson’s laptop up so he can see the screen better. She looks like a nice girl. Oliver just is not into girls. He considers telling Carson now. It would save a lot of time and effort. But Carson always gets so excited when he’s setting Oliver up on these potential dates, none of which ever follow through for obvious reasons. Maybe he should just put his sexual orientation up on his profile. But the risk of Oliver’s parents finding that out is far too great. So, Oliver will let Carson have his fun.

“You know dating is not all that important to me, right?” Oliver asks him.

Carson laughs, shutting his laptop. “I know.” He doesn’t seem too upset about it.

#if you like this pls reblog the intro linked in the first line of text tysm #wip: twisted stitches #ex: twisted stitches #belial wrote #body horror tw

[redtippedfox]

I promised myself that I wouldn’t post vents on here, but there’s no where else I can post this since the people that cause most of it are on all of the medias that I follow except this one. So i guess this is a safe haven. You don’t have to read this or look at it, this is just me letting out my bottled up emotions and the thoughts that have been discarded or pushed aside.

I never was good at making good friends, I’ve made long lasting ones but they don’t live near me at the moment. All I’ve ever wanted was a friend who I could be passionate about my interest with, like the ones you would see on TV. People who liked the same things or would watch tv shows with me. I instead made friends who brought nothing but pain to my life. In middle school I was in a friend group that I thought was special, those people hurt me more than anything. One friend hated my silliness and mocked me for it, I thought I could talk about my frustrations to a close friend, someone that I gave everything to. My parents got a phone call from that friends mom saying that she was going to get me suspended for the things I had said, my close friend had told everything I had said to the person who had hurt me. I lost two friends that day, and I lost my trust in telling my feelings to my friends. Which is why I am posting this here rather than on my social media or my art account. I’m scared of people knowing how I really feel.

When I make friends I put my all into it, gifts, time, attention…anything that I can give… I hate that. Being a people pleaser is like tying a noose and handing it to someone who will let you hang.

My Highschool friends were even worse. They treated me like I was always the second option…and I was. I always was and will always just be the second option. Never the first. I make friends and introduce them to my other friends, just so they could meet…it’s always my fault for thinking that I would be my new friends first option. How it always goes is like this. I meet a new person who I like, they are nice and I am willing to put my efforts into this friendship. They meet my other friends and they get along, great! Ideas of sleepovers and hanging out flood my mind! They click, they prefer my other friend over me, I am just another option. And the cycle repeats, not once, not twice, but over and over again. Which is why I’m writing this. I had recently started my second semester of college, I live in a room with three other people. My roommates, hope for a chance of a new begin rise. It quickly shatters. My suite-mate lives in the room across from mine, I try to befriend her, I take her out, I buy her things, I take her home for thanksgiving and other things, my family spends money on her. She chooses to be best friends with my roommate instead. I shove it down and say I don’t care. I try to make new friends.

I recently met someone who loves Miraculous and writing as much as I do, we ended up talking for hours. I think I finally have a friend, a friend just like the one I always dreamed of having. I put the effort in thinking that this is finally it, a new start. They accidentally meet my suitemate, and the two click. They recently started texting, and today after I helped my new friend with a personal situation, allowing them to stay at our dorm and comforting them. They end up taking my suitemate out to the mall, they come back and are now so much closer. She even wants my suitemate to move in with us next year, when it was supposed to be just us. My roomate was even mocking my new friends boyfriend while calling her my suitmenates friend.

I don’t want new friends anymore…just let me get my work done and graduate and leave me alone.

It’s obvious that I will never be the first option.

———————————————————————————

If you did read this vent, thank you. I tried talking to my mom about how I felt but she just told me to make new friends, as if I haven’t been trying. I won’t post any more vents on here. This is the only one. I’m going to Vegas with my family next weekend so hopefully that will cheer me up and give me time to work on other art pieces. Thank you again for listening. Have a good night. I cherish you all.

#not miraculous #vent #trauma #thank you for listening #I know it will get better #I just wanted to finally let it out #love you all