#and get the students to bring music they like too (even pop music)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i dream, now, of a normal life with you ; suguru geto

synopsis; suguru isn’t a lightweight. this is your first time actually seeing him drunk — though maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d be the sappy kind.

word count; 9.4k (..... i got carried away ok)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader (shoko calls u "girl" but in a "girl help" way not a gendered way), written w a no curses au in mind, sugu is a sappy emotional drunk i said what i said, sickening amounts of fluff, depictions of intoxication, reader is averse to alcohol, sugu wants to marry u so bad it makes him look silly, lots of emotions & lots of love <33

a/n; this fic has been ROTTING in my drafts for the longest time but its super precious to me and now i finally get to post it!! @softgirlgonehaywire & @hayakawalove ily ty for being interested in sappy!sugu this is a treat for u <33

the bar isn’t all that far off from your apartment.

it’s a short distance, really. walk straight ahead, until you reach the record store that suguru likes to frequent, and then take a right; a minute or two uphill, and then you’ll be able to see the blue of the sea. once you’re there, all that’s left is to look for mellow golden lighting and descend a set of stairs.

which is what you’re currently doing, popsicle in hand, loose clothes and comfortable shoes on as you wallow in the mellow summer evening. everything is blue — the dark shade of the sky, and your ice pop, pastel and sweet, tasting of pure youth. the hoodie you threw on is a rich cobalt, suguru’s in name but yours in spirit. he only wears it when you complain that it doesn’t smell like him anymore.

humming a jolly tune, you take a sharp turn, allowing the summer sensations to curl around your subconscious. blissed out and content. 

you were so, so bored — stuck at home with no one to keep you company, no one to mumble snarky commentary about the show playing on tv, no one to run their fingers through your hair while your head rests in their lap. pure torture, really, being faced with the consequences of your own actions. after you stupidly told suguru you’d be okay on your own.

he even asked you twice, just to be sure, even told you that he’d prefer you to join him on his night out. and again, you declined; because it’s been so long since he had some time alone with shoko and satoru, and you were feeling a little tired anyways. 

so he gave in. heading out, with a promise to bring back a tub of your favorite ice cream, leaving you with the apartment to yourself. did you come to regret your little white lie? maybe. possibly.

but everything worked out in the end.

a pleasant breeze caresses your skin, brushing against the apple of your cheek, and you watch as peach blossoms dance in a faraway park. cicadas cling to every tree in sight, buzzing a pleasant tune, mingling with the giddy giggles of high school students enjoying their summer vacation. it’s been raining for a couple of days; you can still smell it in the air, feel it in the low tinge of humidity clinging to your skin, still hear suguru’s insistence that you bring an umbrella with you to work — just in case.

but today, the skies were clear, and it’s late, not too humid but not too chilly. and the stars are out, glimmering in that fuzzy sea of mellow cerulean, leaking out like little marbles cast into space. falling down, down, down, close enough for you to see. from here, it looks as if they’re waving. you resist the urge to wave back.

peace. bliss. a nostalgia so vibrant you could drown in it, feel it lick at your ankles like soft sea foam.

eager to scratch a certain itch in your brain, attention span zipping from one street vendor to the pop music blasting from a couple streets away, you take your phone out from your pocket. absently scrolling through your messages, until you get to the ones shoko sent you just ten minutes ago. the ones that brought you out here, into a summer evening soon to slip into nightfall, ones that have you walking to the bar you chose not to join them at.

messages that still have you pushing back a bout of giggles, chewing lazily on your ramune ice pop with a giddy smile.

sho 🚬: come get ur man sho 🚬: he’s drunk. sho 🚬: like DRUNK drunk 

you: …… um.  you: what happened to hi? hello?? good evening???

sho 🚬: no time for that. look sho 🚬: [ image ] sho 🚬: he looks so goofy lol

unable to resist the temptation, you press the pad of your finger against the screen — opening the image attachment, just to drink in the sight once again. what you see is a certain man, slumped over in his seat, cheek smooshed against the wooden table in front of him. messy hair, no longer tied into a bun, cascading down his shoulders and back. from the little you can see of his face, his skin is flushed a light pink, and his eyes are closed, fingers still curled around an empty beer jug. 

like a sleepy puppy.

a coo tiptoes on your tongue, but you bite down on your lip in an effort to stop it, just grinning at your screen with pure adoration in your lovesick eyes. 

he’s drunk, alright. an unfamiliar sight, but not at all unwelcome. because he’s cute, terribly so, so cute that it hurts, even when he’s obviously wasted. it’s almost funny — you know their drinking habits. shoko holds her liquor so well that it’s a little horrifying, and satoru can get wasted if he has more than a sip of it. and suguru?

suguru never gets drunk. he barely even drinks. out of consideration for satoru, maybe, or you. probably both. that’s just how he is; you thought he hated fish for years, because he was always so eager to give you the best bites of the sushi rolls you ordered. turns out he was just indulging you.

so, to be frank — the idea of him suddenly being drunk is a little bit of a shocker. but it’s also kind of exciting, in a ridiculous way. new, fun, just what you need when you’re bored out of your mind.

(or maybe you’re just happy to have an excuse to go see him.)

you: NOOOO  you: MY BABY 😭😭😭 you: what did u guys DO to him???

sho 🚬: satoru and him made a bet 😐 you know how they are sho 🚬: he drank like a divorced mother of four ive never seen something so beautiful

you: …. you: have i told you that you’re both terrible

sho 🚬: u love us <33 sho 🚬: anyway he’s been asking me where u are for the past ten minutes pls come i can’t stand him sho 🚬: he��s crying.

you: HUH???????? you: WHY????????????????

sho 🚬: dude i dont know sho 🚬: please come get him he’s being so sappy that satoru’s abt to throw up

you: ???? okok 😭 you: im omw ig??

sho 🚬: girl hurry he just told me he genuinely appreciates my presence in his life 😐

an exhale — laced with deep amusement — drops from your lips and spills into the summer air. it tastes like a memory from long ago.

slipping your phone back into your pocket, you raise your gaze, searching for a glimmer of goldish light. soaking up the scent of the ocean, sparkling on the border of your peripheral. salty and sweet.

no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is that certain someone, waiting for you to pick him up. your mind keeps drifting back to the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his hair falls over his face when he leans down, the sound he makes when he stretches in the morning.

you want to see him. badly. you want him near, want to feel the familiar warmth of his presence, want to see him smile and laugh and sigh and raise his eyebrow at your antics. 

so there isn’t any time to waste. you’re walking towards that familiar set of stairs before you know it, shoes hitting the asphalt with a mantra of satisfying thuds. 

and when you step in through the opened door, you’re immediately engulfed by a sense of overflowing comfort. mellow, warm lights, the soft buzzing of static from an old radio, low citypop beats trailing through the air. the bartender by the counter gives you a curt nod in greeting, before motioning towards a certain table. it’s over in the corner, covered in beer jugs and fancy glasses, with three beauties seated around it.

satoru notices you first.

a bright grin finds its way onto his face, and he waves you over giddily, happily. barely contained excitement in the motion. shoko’s gaze follows his, flitting over to meet yours — and you think she mouths an oh, thank god, before taking another sip from her glass. she brings a hand up in greeting when you come closer, and you can’t see her smile, but there’s a crinkle to her eyes; a warmth in them that you’d never miss.

”hey, guys.”

”yo!” satoru chirps, beaming in a way that’s so distinctly him it makes you soften. he looks so comfortable in his seat, with a cocktail you know is non-alcoholic and probably too sweet for anyone but him to stomach. giggling to himself, leaning over to poke suguru’s cheek, with a teasing declaration of your chaperone is here! 

and there he is. 

the man you came here for, still slumped over in his seat, unresponsive. not for long. as the lilt of your voice reaches his ears, his eyes flutter open, in a bout of recognition — even in the drunken state he’s in. an immediate sensation of familiarity creeps into his veins, rousing him from his cozy, half-asleep stupor. 

he doesn’t even grumble over the way satoru keeps poking at his cheek, interest and attention focused solely on a certain someone. you, your presence. 

and when your eyes meet his, he lights up.

it’s precious, you think, how his eyes widen, blooming with genuine affection, so endearing you could kiss him right then and there. his face is flushed, and his hair is tousled, and the warm lighting of the bar paints him in a golden hue. so perfect for him, your star in the sky. 

a smile spreads across his lips, big and happy and warm, and you can’t help but mirror it. 

(gosh, he’s cute.)

with a dizzy kind of eagerness, suguru sits up, palms flush against the table to support his weight. he stumbles out of his seat, paying no heed to satoru’s amused huff of careful! or the rattling of fragile glass.

it only takes a few uncoordinated steps for him to reach you, where you haphazardly lean against the wall, watching him amusedly. that delighted smile never leaves his lips, as his arms go to curl around your waist, big and heavy, his jaw finding its rightful place on the curve of your shoulder. 

”baby,” he drawls, fond and affectionate. breathing you in. ”sweetheart. my angel.”

a flustered puff of laughter slips from your lips, stumbling a little under his weight. his voice is syrupy sweet, overflowing with love and adoration, soft in a way that has your knees buckling. a little raspy. murmured right into your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. 

he’s too sweet for you to handle, really, even sweeter than satoru’s overpriced cocktail. and he smells the same as always; a blend between coffee grounds, cigarette smoke and rain, one that never fails to soothe you. even when it’s tangled up with a vague but vivid stench of alcohol, courtesy of the drinking he’s been doing until now. 

you crinkle your nose, but don’t let go of him, nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head. words buzzing with warmth. ”hey, sugu.”

suguru only squeezes you tighter, content to have you in his arms. finally, his world makes sense again. all he can do is bask in your voice, warmth, scent — he’s just so enamored by it all. almost in a trance, heartstrings dancing along to the beat of your presence, your very existence, that appears to him as something almost angelic. soft and familiar, something that feels right at home when it’s tucked into his embrace. where he can keep it safe.

”missed you…” he murmurs, sleepy, smearing an open mouthed kiss against the crook of your neck. ”i love you s’much…”

a chuckle. ”i love you too,” you echo, running a steady hand over his back. your voice is laced with something teasing, but awfully fond. ”you really are drunk, aren’t you?”

”mm…” he only hums, cheek pressed flush against your soft skin. ”’m sorry…” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. he sounds a little guilty, and it makes you want to coo. pull his cheek a little.

instead, you laugh. amusement vowen into the bubbly noise. ”it’s fine, sugu. c’mon — let’s go home, alright?”

at that, satoru visibly reacts, placing his glass on the table with a soft clink before getting up to stretch. he grabs suguru’s discarded jacket, letting it hang off his arm as he walks over to the two of you.

”i’ll help you carry him,” he smiles, always so dependable. so ready to be of service. maybe a little too eager to carry suguru around like a sack of potatoes. 

a smile blooms on your face, and satoru gives you a playful wink. shoko just leans back in her seat, stretching idly. it feels like home with them there.

”i’ll stay here,” she hums, a faint grin tugging at her lips. ”he’s your problem now.”

”got it.” you meet her lidded eyes, sharing an amused look as satoru tries to coax suguru away from you, pulling at his cheek while he whines and clings to the fabric of your clothing.

finally, he relents, and you look back at the table with a grin. ”see you later, sho’.”

a smile is the only response you get, but it’s enough. it’s her, the same as always, still sipping from a glass of expensive whiskey and raising her hand in a silent see you. relaxed and cool, and so very lovely. 

with one arm over satoru’s shoulder and the other clinging to your hoodie, suguru stirs.

”shoko…” he groans, craning his head to look back at her, even as satoru makes a move to leave. ”don’t drink too much. and watch out for strangers…” 

he trails off, blinking drowsily, a protective tone to his voice. worried. awfully like him. neither you nor satoru can resist the chuckle you indulge in, but shoko just rolls her hazel eyes.

”i don’t need to hear that from you,” she scoffs, tinged with amusement and what you’re almost certain is embarrassment. there’s a fondness to her snark, one you’d never miss. 

(shoko will always be shoko. you know that she appreciates suguru’s concern, even if she doesn’t want to show it.)

”alright, c’mon,” satoru quips, slapping suguru’s back with a grin. ”there, there, big guy. let’s get you home, hm?”

just as you suspected, he doesn’t let you help, doing all the heavy lifting on his own. not breaking a single sweat, flaunting his strength as he hoists suguru up the steps — while you do nothing but follow, a light jacket hanging off your arm. 

cold midnight air embraces you, slathering your cheeks with the essence of summer as your shoes meet the asphalt. satoru smiles, a low exhale escaping him, dusting off his hands. ”there we go.”

suguru stumbles towards you, no longer caged in, slumping against your shoulder with a satisfied sigh. blinking slowly, as you link arms, his muddled senses adjusting to the outside world. a pleasantly blue sky, a sun long set, and a string of lamp posts to light up the street ahead of you. artificial fireflies, watching over the town you love so dearly.

you part your lips, and a soft exhale slips out, dripping with fondness. ”thanks, satoru,” you smile, meeting his gaze.

”don’t mention it,” he waves you off, but you know he appreciates it; always eager to be praised. ”can you bring him back by yourself?”

”yeah, we’ll be fine. it’s close, anyway. don’t worry.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, and his cobalt gaze drifts upwards, to bask in the starry sky. a moment passes, and then he’s looking back at you and suguru; a soft and earnest smile playing at his lips. so sincere you want to reach out, cup his cheek, make sure he knows how loved he is.

”i’ll go back to shoko, then,” he chirps. bubbly and graceful, giddy and playful. always so lovely. ”gotta make sure she stays out of trouble.”

a chuckle. you mirror his smile. ”of course.”

and with that, your precious best friend makes a move to return to the bar, taking a decisive step away from you. before he can get too far, though, a certain hand reaches out to hold onto his sleeve — keeping him still.

satoru turns around. blinking once, then twice, in confusion; faced with none other than suguru, still slumped against you. a little out of it, sleepy and disoriented, yawning quietly, but his eyes are as clear as ever. caring and sentimental. 

his gaze cuts to the bone of things. it’s something you’ve grown used to.

”thanks, satoru,” he murmurs, letting go of said man’s shirt. the words that spill from his lips are straightforward, a little tactless, but overflowing with earnest appreciation. ”you’re my best friend.”

a moment passes. the stars burn in silence.

satoru blinks.

then he sighs, with what you know is nothing more than feigned annoyance. masking his embarrassment, the same way shoko did, the same way suguru always does. your repressed, beloved little losers. 

”yeah, yeah. i got it,” he pats suguru’s shoulder, once, twice. not looking at him. ”you’re such a sap, you know that? geez.”

a grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief blooming in your eyes. ”not gonna call him your best friend back?” you tease, a soft tilt of your head.

satoru gives you a glare, playful, one you can’t physically see from behind his shades but still somehow sense. ”don’t add fuel to the fire,” he grins, with a halfhearted flick to your forehead.

before you can bicker further, suguru yawns, loudly, closing his eyes and nuzzling into you. you share an amused look with satoru, until he shakes his head fondly.

”take care of him, alright?”

”i will. you guys have fun!”

and at last, satoru turns on his heel, coupled with a smile and a lazy wave. but suguru calls out to him once more, unwilling to part ways without saying his piece. so sentimental, so loving it comes to him like breathing.

”bye-bye, satoru,” he slurs, voice loud enough for the entire street to hear, tired and honest. raising his arm in a lazy wave. ”i love you!”

”go home already!” satoru shouts, descending down the steps with a flush to his cheeks that you’ll tease him for later. his soft laughter is carried away by the breeze, sweet and saccharine.

(satoru will always be satoru. you know that he loves suguru back, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud.)

with a faint chuckle, melting into the summer air, you tug on suguru’s arm. ”alright,” you chirp, looking up at him. ”let’s go!”

he seems a little more awake now, at least, trying to match your steps. meanwhile, you do what you can to support his weight; he’s stumbling a bit, but you don’t mind. if anything, his weight is a comfort, your arms linked together like a lucky charm. a safe harbour.

suguru is acting kind of like a big puppy, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. a little meek, clinging to you, trailing after you pliantly. he’s a little dizzy, still, and he needs you to get back home in one piece. it makes you puff out your chest, stand up straighter. makes you feel protective of your 6’2 boyfriend, all toned muscle and broad shoulders, the personification of scary dog privilege. but he needs you right now.

a soft bout of laughter spills into the air, as you try to ignore his heavy stare. it’s impossible, though — so you turn your gaze to meet his own, and he practically glows under the sound of your giggles, that cheeky smile you’re wearing. ”you okay, suguru?”

his eyes soften. silently, he runs a thumb over the knots of your knuckle, smoothing down your skin, thick fingers intertwined with yours. 

he looks deep into your eyes, and a soft hum of affirmation buzzes in his throat. 

”i’m just so happy,” he grins, with a sincerity that has your heart doing flips inside your ribcage. it flutters, flutters, flutters, in the wake of his unbridled joy. it buzzes like it wants to break out.

suguru has this dreamy look on his face, one you can do nothing but admire, painted over with fluorescent moonlight and pure summer bliss. one that reminds you a little of high school rooftops, midnight road trips, what it means to be in love.

you nudge him, softly, with the arm that’s tangled up in his own. tilting your head, teasing words on the tip of your tongue. ”you know, i never took you for a sappy drunk.”

suguru's only response is a cute little mmrn, steps heavy as he leans on you for support. trying his best to carry himself, not wanting to inconvenience you, but it’s just a little tough. especially when he feels this soft, this grateful — this blessed.

a giddy, dreamy smile tugs at his lips. his amber gaze travels up, towards the little pale dots of star clusters all across the night sky, gleaming like milk poured over rich coffee. then he exhales; a soft, blissful little sound. ”i’m so lucky.”

a moment passes, silently. in the distance, cicadas buzz. with a patient smile, you admire him, the reflection of starlight in his eyes. suguru has this forlorn look, etched into his expression, like he’s seeing something that isn’t quite there.

”i have satoru and shoko…” he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. as if he’s tasting the words on his tongue, as if he can’t quite believe them himself. that’s how lucky he feels, sometimes.

a nod. ”they love you a bunch, you know?”

(they do. they’re both horrible at saying it out loud, but you know they do. you know that they love suguru, just as much as he loves them, even if none of them are good at putting it into words. perhaps they don’t really even need to, in the first place.)

suguru mirrors the soft nod of your head, bangs falling over his eyes as he does. ”and i love them, too.” his smile grows. ”they’re my best friends.”

absently, you reach a hand out, brushing away the strands of hair obscuring his vision. and suguru stirs, his gaze shifting until it falls on you. like a moth to a flame. there’s something indescribable in his eyes, soft and heavy and tender and true.

”— and i have you.”

a stutter of your heartbeat, a jolt throughout your chest. his stare almost burns, but you can’t avert your gaze — suguru looks positively lovesick. admiring you with a dreamy gaze, as if he can’t believe you’re real. 

he reaches a hand out; cradling your face with one big palm, the rough pads of his fingers smoothing down your skin so very gently. smearing his fondness from your jaw to your cheekbone, so loving your breath hitches in the back of your throat. 

a soft, content sigh spills into the air, like a prayer that doesn’t need any words. his smile is serene.

”my angel.” 

as the words fall, that peaceful smile of his changes shape, shifting into a big, giddy grin. it lights up his whole face. a chuckle leaves his lips, content and delighted. ”i’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

and for a moment, you fear that your heart will stop beating entirely. frozen, listening to the lullaby of your heartbeat resounding in your ears. 

suguru has always been frighteningly good at flustering you — but isn’t this a little unfair? you clear your throat, hoping to regain some composure. it’s tough, though. your words could never measure up to his, could never flow as freely, but they’re honest. wholly and thoroughly. and maybe that’s enough. 

”we’re the luckiest in the world, too, then,” you echo, smiling, words barely above a whisper. willing yourself to meet his gaze. ”since we have you.”

suguru looks into your eyes. there’s starlight inside them, he thinks, shining brightly, gleaming in the dark. with the hazy filter of intoxication clouding his mind, it’s all he can think. you’re his northern star, his lighthouse. his one and only saving grace.

(you’re so, so pretty.)

a pause. after a silent moment, spent etching your features into his retinas, suguru tilts his head. his expression is unreadable.

— he boops your nose.

you blink. once, twice, caught entirely off guard; and suguru giggles. soft, giddy little breaths falling from his lips like marbles, strewn over the sand of a warm beach. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, and his smile is sweet, meeting your surprised gaze with a honeyed coo. ”you’re so cute, baby.”

silence. you look up at him. 

then you sigh, exasperated, more flustered than you’d like to admit. god. okay, he’s really out of it. for some reason, you still thought you could get a good one-liner in, but of course he had to ruin that by being a little tease.

you grab onto his bicep. gaze fixed straight ahead, giving it a tug. your steps are more decisive now, and suguru follows you happily. ”alright, alright. c’mon,” you beckon, slightly gruff. ”we’re almost there.”

when you finally reach the familiar front door of your apartment, you exhale a deep sigh, laced with pure relief. limbs tired from dragging suguru up the stairs, mind muddled and sleepy and senses practically engulfed by a man still clinging to you like his life depends on it.

after fumbling with your keys and hearing the click of the lock, you take a victorious step over the threshold, and a familiar scent greets you. soothing, comforting, a blend between fresh laundry and leftover curry and blooming hydrangeas. filling your senses with a fervent kind of bliss. of course, suguru’s does the same; intimately intertwined with the scent of home. that everlasting, never-changing blend. 

with him clinging to you like this, it’s almost suffocating — but you truly don’t mind. suguru’s warm, and sweet, and being close to him like this makes you feel at peace. his hands rest on your hips, his jaw on your shoulder, and he adamantly refuses to let go of you for even a second. it’d be annoying if he wasn’t so cute, if he wasn’t suguru geto, if you weren’t so horrendously weak for him.

what you don’t know is that suguru has an agenda. one that isn’t just i want to hug the love of my life, although partially that as well. suguru has a plan, one he’s been absentmindedly dreaming of for the past five minutes; he’s a man on a mission.

but he’s patient. always has been, always for you. so he waits, and waits, for you to hang his jacket up, for you to kick your shoes off your feet. and when you’re finally, finally finished, suguru leans in to kiss you.

— you block his mouth with the palm of your hand.

a moment passes. silent, almost tense. in his stupor, suguru’s mind can’t quite seem to comprehend the situation before him; he doesn’t understand why he isn’t pressing a kiss to your lips, right now, why he’s kissing the skin of your palm. he doesn’t understand why you look so troubled, a faint guilt simmering in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand.

all he can do is blink, dumbly, surprised. a question written on his features clear as day. 

”well, it’s just…” you sputter, sheepishly. avoiding his gaze, a little guilty. ”you know. since you’ve been drinking, and all…”

and it hurts, you think. it hurts a lot more than it should. it hurts to reject him, hurts to see the way he deflates at your clarification. like a big kicked puppy. like you just threatened to throw him out into the street.

suguru removes your hand, gently, holding it in his own as he speaks. those amber eyes are downcast, and a soft pout rests on his lips. the sight alone feels like a dagger to your chest.

”but…” he frowns, voice awfully meek. he looks so sad. ”i wanna kiss you…”

a soft sigh leaves your lips, before you can think to hold it in. oh, he’s being so unfair. guilt clings to your mind, an itch you yearn to scratch, and all you want is to kiss his pout away. but you really, really don’t want to kiss his alcohol-soaked lips.

so you settle for the second best option.

”’m sorry, sugu,” you coo, reaching a hand out to cradle his cheek. he leans into your touch, still pouting, and you tug a little at his bottom lip. wasting no time in closing the narrow distance between you.

the kisses you press against his skin are soft. peppering kisses all across his face; ghosting your lips along his jaw, trailing towards his cheekbones, and settling on his forehead. tiny little pecks, wherever you can reach. your voice is soft, muffled into his skin between butterfly kisses. ”tomorrow, okay?” 

and suguru seems to brighten up a little, melting under the contact, exhaling in pure bliss. he fervently returns the treatment, planting open mouthed kisses all over your face, respecting your wishes and avoiding your lips. they’re a little sloppy, but you don’t mind.

it does make you a little flustered, though. with his palms cradling your face, engulfing you, there’s nothing you can do except drown in his affection, the love he showers you with. it tickles — and suguru’s smile only grows, at the sound of your soft giggles. his cheeks are starting to hurt.

the state he’s in is just a little bit hazy. despite his initial dejection, he no longer minds that he can’t feel your lips against his, disappointment warded off by your smile and laughter alone. he thinks you’re so, so cute, and all he wants is to kiss you forever. 

but you have other plans.

and before you know it, you’re both curled up in bed, limbs all tangled up beneath the blankets, bodies pressed together as suguru cages you in. he squeezes you tightly, hugging you close, practically melting into you. usually, it’d be so easy to fall asleep like this. with suguru cradling you, covering your body with his own, warm and safe. he’s like a furnace. 

but right now, it’s a little tough. you’re kept awake by open mouthed, ticklish kisses pressed against your skin, supplied by the love of your life. it’s sweet, but he’s being far too distracting — as soon as your consciousness begins to fade into the fuzzy realm of sleep, he leaves a sloppy kiss against your collarbone, and you’re jolted awake once more. 

”suguuu,” you whine, dragging his name out with childish inclination. ”we need to sleep…”  

”sorry,” he only murmurs, muffled into your skin. he doesn’t stop, though, planting a wet smooch on your cheek, and then another. you squirm a little in his hold, and he emits a shaky breath. ”jus’ love you so much…”

suguru knows that he needs to stop. he knows that both of you need to sleep, that you need to rest up. that he needs to recover from the intoxicated state he’s fully aware that he’s in — but he just can’t seem to follow through with it. every cell in his body burns with a certain desire, a need to shower you in love, and it’s unendurable. with every kiss, every giggle he manages to pull from your lips, suguru’s heart fills up just a little more. 

your presence surrounds him, like a weighted blanket, and he clings to it with a desperation he never knew before you. 

in the midst of his feverish consciousness, you’re all his muddled mind can think about. the way you fit together with him like a puzzle piece, like he was formed in the shape of someone meant to hold you. like you were formed in the shape of his embrace. with you pressed up against him, limbs tangled with his, everything feels so right.

but it’s so overwhelming. 

you’re so, so close, so close he’s practically engulfed by your scent, your touch, everything that makes his heart burn with devotion. it’s beating so viscerally in his ribcage, stirring the protective instinct inside him; he just wants you to stay close, by his side, wants to keep you safe and happy. wants to make you feel loved. 

suguru’s heart feels wet and raw and bare, fully exposed for you to see. beating just for you.

with the alcohol inside his veins, and the nostalgia of the summer evening on his mind, everything weighs on him just a little too heavily. everything feels just a little too much. every sensation, every emotion, every sappy thought. all of it together is almost too much for him to handle.

all he can think of is you. how lucky he is, to have met you, to have gotten to know you. how much you’ve changed him, changed him for the better, how much of him is directly tied to your existence.

suguru never truly appreciated his name until you came into his life. it was always no more than a simple fact, a gift from his parents that he hadn’t asked for. something natural, that he didn’t question, didn’t think about. 

but you say his name with such warmth.

he wants to hear you say it, over and over again, forever. suguru — in that sweet, lovely voice of yours. better yet, just sugu, a cutesy, silly nickname he could never bring himself to actually hate. he just wants to hear you call out to him, with that warmth of yours, the one that never fails to soothe him. no matter how tired he is, how stressed. how much everything else weighs down on him. 

at the end of the day, he’s simply your sugu. and that’s all he ever really wants to be.

with a hazy filter clouding his senses, coaxing him into closing his eyes, suguru should give in. he should fall asleep, let you fall asleep. but he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about it; he just loves you so wholly. who you are, what you do. as an equal, an individual, a little galaxy tucked into a body made of flesh and blood. no matter what you’re doing, no matter where you are. 

and right now, you’re here, with him. curled up in bed, in your shared apartment, inhaling the same air, exhaling at the same time. by his side, when you could be anywhere else in the world.

his heart is yours. that’s all suguru can bring himself to think, the only coherent thought he can cling to and echo in his head. his heart is yours. forever and ever. 

he makes no attempt to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes, even as he feels them cling to his lashes, even as his breathing clogs up in the back of his throat. they’re proof of his devotion, his carefully nurtured love. growing over the years, into something almost sacred, a kind of faith. something so fervent he wouldn’t dare deny himself of feeling it.

he can’t hold in a faint sniffle, either, just barely audible. one that breaks your heart in two. it aches, aches, aches. suguru is gazing at you with glassy eyes, a sight you aren’t used to seeing — but he also looks so genuinely glad. his tears aren’t ones of sadness. you know, because you know him. 

”aw, honey…” you coo, the pads of your fingers reaching out to cradle his cheek. despite your efforts, your voice wavers when you speak, little more than a whisper. ”don’t cry... you’ll make me cry, too.”

suguru places his larger palm over yours, choking on another sniffle. the sight renders you completely helpless — you want so desperately to stop his tears from falling, but a part of you is too touched to speak. too mesmerized by how beautiful he is, translucent tears illuminated by softly flickering moonrays, lashes glimmering like shooting stars.

all you can do is smooth a thumb right under his eye, wiping away a stray tear with enough tenderness to stitch his heart back together. suguru emits a shaky breath.

”’m sorry,” he sniffles, closing his eyes. nuzzling into the crook of your neck. ”i’m just so happy… love you so much… you mean so, so much to me, i…”

an exhale, a little breathless, tears soaking through the material of the shirt you’re wearing. his shirt. that realization makes him cry even more, a shuddering breath that shatters like glass when it drops from his tongue. 

and then, in a voice so quiet you barely hear it, a soft whisper worth a million words:

”i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

and it hurts. your heart aches so sincerely, thorns curling around your ribcage, because suguru is crying, and he’s telling you all this. with such an honest intonation that you don’t dare doubt him, even for a second. heavy thumps of blood rush through your veins; he’s still clinging to you, sniffling into your neck, and you’re so in love with him that you almost can’t comprehend it.

all you can do is press a kiss to his shoulder, chaste and tender, and hug him just a little tighter. echoing his words, in earnest, desperately trying to keep your voice from breaking apart. ”i love you, too. more than anything.” a sigh, full of wonder. little butterfly kisses scattered across the expanse of his neck. ”you mean the world to me. honestly.”

with a smile against his skin, you hope so tenderly that the soft kisses will comfort him, will stop the tears from falling. 

”my sweet boy,” you murmur, lovingly, because he is. the sweetest boy you’ll ever know. suguru shudders when you press your lips against his jaw. ”i’m so, so lucky.”

with the combined efforts of your kisses, the alcohol slumbering inside his veins, and the tears running down his cheeks, suguru begins to feel awfully tired. sinking into sleep’s embrace, like a sailor lost at sea. comforted by the glimmer of a lighthouse, just out of reach.

everything feels right. he’s safe, and happy, and in love. so hopelessly, blissfully in love.

the exhaustion creeps up on him, tidal waves embracing a shore, beckoning him into closing his weary eyes. a yawn leaves his lips, and he shifts a little in your hold. you’re smoothing down the back of his head, almost protectively, and sleep is only a flicker away for the both of you. with the last of his strength, suguru snuggles just a little further into you, nose pressed up against your neck, close enough that he feels the flutter of your heartbeat. 

”wanna be with you forever,” he murmurs, sleepily, stifling another bout of yawns. his smile is sweet and dreamy. ”gonna marry you one day…”

a moment passes.

for a second, you think your heart does actually cease beating entirely.

swallowing a gulp, you allow yourself the luxury of an inhale — and fresh air fills your lungs. grounding. all you can hear is the rapid beating of your own heart, heavy thumps reverberating in your ears. warmth flows through your entire body.

marry.

the word is spoken so casually, so sincerely, as if he’s said it countless times before. as if he’s repeated it, over and over again in his mind, just to get used to the idea. as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. marriage. something so foreign, so scary, enough to send shivers down every narrow of your skeleton. such a large step to take. 

(but suguru says it with such tenderness.)

”… okay,” you whisper, at last. breathless. ”i’ll be waiting, then.”

there’s nothing else to say. you don’t know if suguru is even conscious enough to hear you, let alone understand the full weight of your words, of his own words. but you don’t mind. 

a soft smile lingers on your lips, as you stroke his hair, mind hazy and limbs heavy. nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head, full of affection. dripping from your hands down to the column on his throat, through his windpipe, down to his heart.

”goodnight, sugu.” you press a kiss to his messy hair, tender and chaste. ”i love you.”

an incoherent mutter leaves his lips, in response, one you can’t quite make out — but you don’t need to. because you already know what it means, in the same way you know that the sky is blue.

(an echo buried deep within his subconscious, voiced without effort, as easy as breathing.

i love you, too.)

the sizzling of a pan and the whirring of a coffee machine form a beautiful morning symphony, bouncing off the walls of your kitchen. to your ears, and your still sleepy brain, it’s a soothing sound — coaxing soft little melodic hums from the depths of your throat.

with such a tantalizing aroma in the air, a blend between espresso and pancake batter, you can’t help but buzz with a mellow, groggy kind of joy.

honestly, you're beginning to understand suguru’s fondness for the morning hours. waking up to his soft snores and content expression was more than enough to give you the energy you needed to get out of bed; all sleepy and relaxed and pretty, with hazy morning sunrays kissing up his bare skin, caressing his messy bedhead. 

a rare sight, awfully precious. a part of you wanted to stay in bed and admire him all morning, but the thought of taking care of him coaxed you into leaving. it’s the least you could do, really — after seeing him so sincere, so open and vulnerable. 

hopefully, his headache won’t be too brutal when he wakes up. you left some hangover pills on the nightstand, courtesy of shoko’s advice: just get him ibuprofen and coffee. works like a charm. are you a little worried about her nonchalance? maybe. but you trust her judgement. they’re a handful, but you love them — even when they’re drunk or hungover. 

which is why you’re standing in the kitchen, engulfed by the morning sunlight, in front of a sizzling pan. trying your very best not to burn the pancakes you’re making, patiently waiting for the coffee to be done. 

in your blissful stupor, caught up with thoughts of suguru and breakfast and forevers, you don’t notice another presence coming up behind you.

two arms wrap around your waist, and a jaw attaches itself to the curve of your shoulder. you startle, a little, jolting at the contact — but then you recognize that telltale scent, the familiar weight of his arms, and immediately melt into the embrace.

suguru breathes out a raspy chuckle, amused at your surprise. 

a sigh slips from your lips, content. ”good morning,” you hum, placing the palm of your hand on his forearm. suguru shifts a little, getting more comfortable as he leans against you. tenderly, not too much weight. he’s delicate like that.

”g’morning,” he rasps, leftover sleep clinging to the syllables. the usual smoothness of his voice is coupled with a deep, rough kind of tilt, one that always accompanies it in the morning. your heartbeat picks up, silently.

suguru smiles. dreamy, giddy, because you just looked so pretty, in the morning light, hair still a tad messy. humming happily, swaying slightly side to side. so irresistible. he’s beginning to understand why you love sleeping in so much; getting to wrap his arms around you like this, instead of the other way around, doesn’t feel bad at all.

he squeezes you just a little tighter, hoping it’ll convey his gratitude. there are holes in his memory, last night no more than a blurry sequence of still images, but some bits and pieces remain intact. he remembers getting drunk in a way he hasn’t since he made that bet with satoru back in high school — and he remembers that you were there to take care of him.

a smile tugs at his lips. a little giddy, butterflies erupting in his chest. he’s so damn lucky.

”thanks for taking care of me yesterday, sweetheart.”

a hum. you smile, sheepishly, patting his arm. ”don’t need to thank me for that. how do you feel?”

suguru smiles. you feel it, against your skin, a chaste kiss on your neck. ”better.”

the low purring of the coffee machine has stopped, but the sizzling of the pan remains. from beyond the opened windows, you can hear the chirping of cicadas, melodic and serene. singing a summery tune. both of you soak in the preciousness of the moment, the fragile silence, before suguru breaks it.

”everything from last night is kinda fuzzy,” he admits, clearing his throat. just a tad sheepish. you simply hum, a low noise of acknowledgement, and he continues. ”i don’t really remember anything… ’m sorry, baby. i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

your lips curl up into a tiny smile. such a sweetheart — always worrying about you. always so caring and attentive. eager to reassure him, you smooth over the skin of his arm with your thumb. ”not at all.”

then you’re taking a couple steps back, moving from the stove, and suguru follows. you turn yourself around to meet his gaze, his arms still attached to your waist, a comforting weight.

a grin blooms on your lips, a little teasing, and a flicker of mischief shines in your eyes. ”you were cute, you know.”

suguru blinks, before emitting a low chuckle. a raspy little thing. ”was i?” he drawls, as you brush his bangs away from his face. 

”mhm,” you chirp, eyes crinkled as they meet his own. you just can’t help but want to tease him, a little bit. just a smidge. ”kept going on and on about how much you love us.”

hands moving to cup his face, you squeeze his cheeks softly. and suguru lets you, too tired to resist, only giving you a lazy raise of his brow. there’s a sense of amusement in his eyes, and something in you knows he likes the attention. your teasing words buzz with endearment, akin to a purr. ”my sweet lil’ sugu.”

all he does is lean into your touch, allowing himself to melt into the tenderness of the physical contact. even as you pull at his cheek, earning you a very gentle pinch to your side. but he lets you have your fun. you’re warm, and sweet, and he’s so in love with you he’d probably let you tug his body around however you please.

still, your words leave him just slightly perplexed. he’s still smiling with half-lidded eyes when he asks you to elaborate, basking in the feeling of your thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. ”us?”

your grin widens, by a tad, something deeply amused glimmering in the depths of your iris. ”yep,” you answer, popping the p. for some reason, suguru dreads the teasing edge to your voice. ”me, and shoko, and satoru.”

a moment passes. he stiffens, for a second or two, mind processing the words. then he groans, softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

it makes you laugh, soft and amused, and he can’t help but smile along. despite the dreadful realization you present him with. no wonder he was met with so many notifications when he tapped at the screen of his phone — he didn’t read through any of them, but now he’s apprehensive to do so at all. shoko and satoru can be so goddamn obnoxious when they feel as if they have blackmail on him.

he can see it now, in his mind’s eye; shoko nagging him to run her errands, satoru reminding him of his words every time they have a slight disagreement. 

(grab me a coffee. three shots of espresso, one cube of sugar. got it?)

slacker.

(we both know i’m right. don’t be so stubborn, suguru! it’s okay to be wrong sometimes.)

asshole.

(c’mon. you said you loved me, right?

so mean. and here i thought you loved me!)

idiots.

(he does love them. more than anything. even when they’re being absolutely insufferable.)

suguru just sighs, deep and fatigued, already anticipating his doom. ”they’re never gonna let me live it down, are they?”

a giggle slips from your lips, and his heart flutters helplessly. ”probably not. my condolences.”

another sigh. it only makes your smile widen. there’s something awfully delighted, in your eyes, as you cradle his face in your hands. ”well, i thought you were very sweet!”

”yeah, yeah…” he mutters, vaguely amused. placing one of his large palms over your hand, where it rests on his cheek. ”i won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”

a chuckles bubbles up from within your throat. ”aww,” you pout, giving way to a teasing grin. ”that’s a shame. i wanted to hear you talk about how much you love me again.”

suguru blinks. 

then he smiles. a very particular smile, characteristic, one you’ve come to associate solely with him. resting somewhere in the intersection between a soft grin and a teasing smirk. a flicker of mischief shines in his eyes, and you realize your mistake.

you can tease suguru all you want; but he'll always turn the tables on you, at the end of the day.

”oh?” he chuckles, fondly, thumb smoothing over the lines of your hand. his eyes gleam, looking straight into yours, shining with something mildly devilish. ”i don’t need to get drunk to tell you that, baby.”

in a smooth motion, one you can’t help but silently envy, suguru intertwines his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his lips. he never once breaks eye contact, gaze heavy as he basks in your flustered expression, planting a soft kiss against your knuckle. reverent.

”i love you. more than anything,” he purrs, lips still lingering on your skin. warm enough to burn. ”you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

a pause. heat crawls up your spine, and a flush rises to your cheeks. you couldn’t stop it if you tried.

”my everything,” he continues, intent on flustering you as much as humanly possible. voice low and smooth, honeyed and deep, and worst of all; terribly earnest. lips trailing over your knuckles, against every knot, so soft that you barely feel it. ”my entire world.”

”okay, okay!” you sputter, an embarrassed hue to your cheeks, your gaze landing on the windowpane to your right. his stare is just too heavy, too deeply in love. overwhelming. ”point taken. nevermind.”

suguru laughs, genuine and full. warm and amused, deep and real, and you catch yourself thinking that you don’t want to go a single day without hearing it. even if it’s at your own expense.

a coo rests on his the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back, opting to lean forward instead. he trails the pads of his fingers along your jaw, touch like a butterfly, lifting your chin up ever so slightly. then he closes the distance between you. 

in your throat, your breath hitches.

— but he doesn’t kiss you. suguru stops right in front of your lips, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, taking a moment to simply look into your eyes. and despite how flustered the close proximity makes you, you can’t bring yourself to look away. heart fluttering madly, a string of staccatos against your parted ribs.

a tilt of his head. amber eyes gleaming, crinkled and fond. ”can i kiss you, now?” he asks, grinning softly. hand smoothing down your hip, big and warm, teasing. ”i made sure to brush away all the alcohol. or do you still not want to?”

you pause. 

”hey, what happened to not remembering anything?” you pout, narrowing your eyes. the corner of suguru’s bottom lip twitches upwards.

but he only shrugs, feigning nonchalance, a playful glint in his eyes. ”guess i was just that disappointed.”

a giggle flows from your lips. he drinks it in, gazing at you with pure contentment.

”alright, alright... c’mere,” you coo, smile honeyed and sweet. tracing your fingertips along his jaw, brushing a silky strand of hair behind his ear. you take in the sight of him, meeting his lovesick gaze. he squeezes at your hips softly, a little impatient — so you finally lean in.

suguru’s lips are warm, when they meet yours. they taste like sunlight, devoid of any alcoholic flavour, just like he so kindly assured you of. and it’s a little amusing, the thought of him in front of the bathroom sink — desperately scrubbing his teeth, just to get his kissing privileges back. such a dork. 

he’s your dork, though.

suguru sighs into the kiss, smiling giddily, satisfied at last. a sound you can’t help but mirror. he deepens it, ever so slightly, fingers squeezing gently at the plush of your waist. a hum of approval buzzes in your throat, and his smile only grows.

when he pulls away, that smile is all you can see, along with the ever so slight flush to his cheeks. a hint of peach dusting his skin, framed by the sunrays caressing his jaw, highlighting his handsome features. breathtaking. 

before you have a chance to protest, he’s leaning in again, to press one more chaste kiss to your lips. your heartbeat picks up.

everything finally feels just right.

the warmth of the sizzling pan, the fragrance of freshly made coffee and now-burnt pancakes. the light of the morning sun, scattered across the open space of your apartment, splotches of life painting everything in a heavenly glow. the love in the air, all soft and light and comfortable.

domestic bliss. with suguru, who never seems to change, no matter how many years go by. if you could live in this moment for the rest of your life, forever and ever, you’re sure you’d die happy.

and wow, is that a heavy word. forever. 

(but suguru makes it feel so very, very light.)

forever feels a lot more real, like this. cradled in the midst of a drowsy morning, bumping elbows with the man you love most, after getting to take care of him in his most vulnerable state. accepting every part of him, and having him accept you just as fervently. 

just this moment alone is worth far more than you could ever comprehend. 

suguru, with his warm hands, his familiar embrace. your shared laughter, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen as you try in vain to save your scorched pancakes. and his smile, his fervent devotion, coaxing him into eating them even though they��re burnt at the edges and don’t taste even a quarter as good as his. because you made them, for him, and that makes them taste sweeter than anything.

you stare at him, from across the table, admiring the sight you’ve grown so used to; suguru, with his slightly tousled hair, mug in hand and smile painted on his handsome face. drowned in sunlight, pink petals flitting in through the opened window. you don’t want a single day to ever pass without you seeing this. what does that mean, exactly? you think you know. 

it means forever.

(forever, forever, forever. what a pretty word.)

marriage. you think of it, again, let it linger in the depths of your skull, bounce around until you grow just a little more used to it. and it’s a scary thought, for sure. a terrifying thought, even, something so foreign that it makes you nervous. but you truly wouldn’t mind doing this forever — not one bit. not if it’s with him.

and, unbeknownst to you, maybe that promise of forever isn’t all that far off.

maybe it’s only a couple rooms away, hidden within the depths of a certain drawer, until suguru finally gets the courage to bring it out. and maybe, just maybe — that day isn’t all that far off, either.

(suguru smiles at you, from across the table. he thinks you look ethereal, sipping from your morning coffee, blinking tiredly. so sweet and angelic.

all he can think of is forever.)

#finalllyyyyyyy took the time to finish this r u proud of me 👉👈 #im very very soft for this sugu in particular :< kinda takes place in the same universe as the breakfast sugu fic !!!! #he’s ur smitten husband-to-be <333 i love to see suguru geto thrive and be happy i think being a househusband could save him #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #jjk fluff #geto fluff #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

[fernandopiastri28]

high for this ~ oscar piastri

Notes:

i am officially finished with holidays and back to school :/ so im going to be posting a lot less but i do have a few works just rotting in my drafts so i'll probably just be changing the names of characters and posting them. (not proof read so i apologise if there's any mistakes)

warnings: smut, weed, drug use, mdni

Oscar mindlessly lays sprawled out on his bed, his muscles aching from the gym earlier in the day. He tenderly rubs his hamstring, trying to nurse it back to not being too sore for his match tomorrow. 

He has some music playing as quietly as possible, a pulsing tune of some heavy rap. It’s not really to his taste, but he’s bored with his own playlists at the moment. His phone is near the foot of his outstretched left leg, while his right leg is tucked up towards his torso, his knee pointing high towards the ceiling. Both hands are hard at work around his right leg, his fingers pressing into the tough flesh.

He feels a buzz travel through his left foot as his nails dig into his skin. He makes a note to cut them. He hears the buzz too, this time over the sound of the music. He sits up awkwardly, wincing at the strain on his leg. Using his left hand, he picks up his phone and checks the two new messages he’s received. 

It’s Talia, unsurprisingly. She should be asleep, though, she promised him she’d start working on fixing her sleep schedule. He clicks the notifications, squinting to see the messages with the medical white lights flashing in his eyes in comparison to the darkened room.

tals🧡: you up?

tals🧡: do u wanna come over

Oscar shifts around in his bed so his back is pressed against a stack of pillows. He brings his hand away from his hamstring, ignoring the dull shoot of pain that runs up his leg once it loses his attention.  

They don’t do a lot of sneaking over to each other's houses, simply because they can see enough of one another during school days, so it isn’t anything essential. They get in all the kissing, cuddling, and make outs they want to during the day, so if she’s suggesting this, it means sex. 

Not necessarily just sex, anything within the umbrella of sexual activity. Oscar shifts his hips, trying to decide what he wants to do. They live pretty far from each other, meaning for him to sneak over, it's a 25-minute walk each way since he can’t just take the family car. It’s late—nearing midnight—and he’s sore. On the other hand, he’s horny.

And at Talia’s house, she doesn’t live with her parents. She lives with two of her close friends, skipped out on the college experience after her first year. Oscar didn’t get that luxury, much like his older sisters. Both of them lived at home for uni. But while she’s off now in France, he’s still a third year university student. Since her family won’t even be there, they don’t have to worry about being sneaky or quiet.

Oscar: Yeah. See you soon

He unplugs his phone and slips his feet into the pair of slides that are sitting at the foot of his bed. He opens his wardrobe, grazing his fingers over the line up of shirts that rest there. He grabs a graphic white t-shirt, wrestling it on. He cracks open his door, walking past his sister’s and the guest room, both vacant. His parents are on the level upstairs, so they can’t hear any disturbance he’s making. 

He settles for catching the bus instead, unwilling to walk up to an hour. He sits down in a row of empty seats, ducking his head down and popping an earbud in. There’s a scarce number of other people on the bus, two girls sitting close together, their heads spinning drunkenly. An old man, greying hair and a newspaper in his callused hands.

tals🧡: come thru window. sammy will bark otherwise.

Oscar replies with the hard thought out reply of a thumbs up before re-pocketing his phone, staring mindlessly out of the window at the dark surroundings that whip by. 

Oscar gets off at his stop 10 minutes later, and he’s the last person on the bus by that point. He approaches Talia’s house, not even bothering to go through the front door- Sammy would bark and wake the whole house up. He clicks open the gate, dragging it out only just enough to slip in. He walks across the side of the house, tapping on her bedroom window once he gets to it. He presses a hand to his pocket, making sure the pack of condoms he grabbed are still there.

The curtains swish open and Talia’s standing there, fiddling to get the window open. Once it's open, he feels a rush of cold air hitting him, accompanied by the smell of something almost like diesel. “Hey,” He grins as she leans down. 

She narrowly avoids the kiss he’s going for, giving him one on the corner of his mouth. “Sorry- god, it’s dark,” Her shadow rubs her eyes, reaching out a hand to help him in. 

Climbing in through the window isn’t a difficult task- just slightly uncomfortable. His crotch rubs against the window pane as he brings his second leg over into her room. Talia wraps her arms around his waist as soon as he’s inside. “Hi, Oscccc,” She looks up at him, her teeth gleaming white. 

Just as Oscar is about to reply, the petrol smell hits him even harder. He crinkles his nose, confused as to what it is. “Tals, what the hell have you been smoking in here?,” He laughs, his hands grabbing at her ass to get her to wrap her legs around his waist. His voice is thick with sarcasm, Talia is the furthest thing from a druggy possible.

“Weed,” She rubs her lips into his shoulder, mouthing at the fabric of her shirt. Her mouth is dry, barely wetting the cloth. Oscar’s eyebrows knit, tensing in confusion. “Got a joint, was bored,” She mumbles. 

He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. At the same time, it’s late- his mind is cloudy anyways. He looks past her, at her bed where there’s a metal tin and a joint laying on top of it. Explains the smell then. “Fuck Talia,” He lets out a deep breath, “Maddie and Amber can definitely smell it,” He groans.

Talia laughs, her voice thick and loopy. “Nah, they cleared out tonight so I could do this.” She pulls away from the embrace, tugging him after her by his shirt. She falls back against the bed, her eyes clearly red rimmed from the dim lighting over her bed. “Cmonnn Opie, wanna get stoned with you,”

It’s so strange to see her like this, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hot. It’s so unexpected, such a pleasant surprise from his usually wound up and rule following girlfriend. Oscar’s resistance weakens, the sight of her laying there- a goofy grin plastered across her voice is enough to make the strong man give in. 

He hovers over her on the bed, a knee on either side of her hips and a hand on either side of her head. “You’re insane,” His mouth meets red, puffy lips for a kiss. She’s hungry for it, bringing her hands up to his hair to tug him down. 

“More,” Talia begs, her voice breathy. Her pupils are huge and there's a spacey look in her eyes. Oscar teases her, shaking his head as he slightly resists kissing her any further than little pecks.

“I want a drag,” He whispers, reaching over her to where the blunt is precariously resting. He places it in between his lips, the bitter taste already seeping into his mouth. “Light it up,” He murmurs around the lump in his mouth. 

Her mouth and ears feel as if they’ve been packed with cotton, his voice is far away and just barely a noise. “You don’t know how to,” She giggles weakly, her fingers pinching the fabric of his shirt that hangs down onto her.

Oscar gets off of her, sitting against the head of her bed. His legs are spread, his body slumped down comfortably. “Teach me,” He pats the space in front of his lap, his eyes looking up through his lashes. Talia’s mind is foggy with weed, lust, and need. She’s willing to do anything. 

“Take this,” she pushes a plastic water bottle into one of his hands, already unscrewed and partially drunk. “You’re gonna cough a lot- the water will help with that,” she explains, leaning forward with her hands propped up on his quads, pushing the hem of his shorts higher up. 

She reaches over to where the bottle had been and her fingers feel numb as they wrap around the lighter. “You feel good?” She asks as he twists the joint around between his lips. He doesn’t quite know how to answer, it feels like a question for after he’s actually smoked it. He nods regardless, tensing his leg muscles under her hands.

“I’m gonna light it, okay?” Another question from her. Her voice is becoming harder to understand, the true effects of the weed settling into her. It’s bizarre to him, this whole situation. “And you just try to inhale as much as possible,” She waits for a nod of competency from him before continuing. “Don’t let it just rest in your throat- it’ll burn. If you can’t do a lot, just do it in small bits,” 

Oscar’s hand snakes behind her, resting on the small of her back. “Ready,” He mumbles awkwardly. She clicks down on the lighter and a flame flickers, wavering just below his nose. 

“Don’t stress it,” She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed and his nails are digging into the fabric of her shirt. It’s almost euphoric at first, then it’s hell. Heat fills his mouth and he’s coughing and wheezing. He did exhale- probably too much. 

He feels Talia’s hands all over him, her coldness contrasting against the warmth throbbing through himself. She takes the spliff from his mouth, sucking down on it herself. Oscar watches her hazily, his bottom lip tucked under teeth. 

“How long have you been doin’ this?” The words feel as if they’re not coming from him. Jesus, surely he’s not baked already. He feels the heavy weight of the joint being pushed between his lips again, his question seemingly going unanswered. 

He takes it, breathing it in again. He doesn’t let it rest in his throat, he focuses on the inhale. He doesn’t cough as much this time, but he still guzzles down what’s left in the bottle. 

They spend a few minutes alternating the spliff, blowing air into eachothers faces. The room reeks of weed and it’s boiling hot. He wipes the back of his neck with his hand, a line of sweat gathering there. She twists the hem of his shirt between her index and thumb, pulling it up slightly. She doesn’t need to ask- he takes it off for her. 

“I started when I first moved here,” She finally answers his question from earlier, dragging a thumb down his cheek, rubbing the back of his jawline. “I think one of Mads’ friends gave her a bunch because she was moving- couldn’t take ‘em. Us three smoked them one night, it was fun,” She mumbles. It means she’s only been doing it for about 3 years now. 

He tilts his head, resting it against a pillow. She presses the pad of her thumb into his bottom lip that he’s unconsciously pouting out- asking for either another drag or a kiss. “Wanted to introduce you,” Her lips turn into a smirk, her eyes half-lidded.

“And why’s that?” He teases, his other hand moving down to her ass. Talia looks to the side behind him, a knowing look on her face. She pulls herself into his lap, effectively straddling him.

“I wanted to get high,” She states plainly, “and when I’m high- I’m horny. Wanted to be like that with you,” Her eyes are bright and her cheeky are rosy. Oscar kisses her cheek, experimenting with how his mouth is getting drier and more uncomfortable. Once he feels some moisture returning, he kisses further along her jaw. 

She has the spliff in her mouth which forces him away from her mouth. He focuses on her jaw and neck, suckling near her collarbone. She moans, tugging his hair and effectively his head back up. She places the joint in his mouth again and pulls on the pillow behind him. He tilts his head enough for her to move it out of the way, leaving him laying down almost completely flat. 

 He watches dazily as she pulls her top off, leaving her in a lacy white bra. He reaches out, his fingers barely feeling her flesh. He knows he’s touching her, she’s making noises to confirm it. “ More , more , fuck ,” She’s begging, her voice so desperate. Oscar wishes he wasn’t so fucking spacey right now so he could see how wanton she was over him. 

He tips his head forward, looking past where smoke is burning into his eyes. He’s apparently not just touching her bra, he’s touching her fully exposed breast. He hasn’t realised up until this point that he’s actually hard. 

“Can I shotgun you?” She asks, her fingers snaking over his nipples. He whimpers at the touch and his mouth drops open around the blunt. He knows he’s out of it, but he’s consciously thinking enough to know that shotgunning is either claiming the front seat in a car, or piercing a beer can and then drinking it as fast as possible.

He settles with the assumption it must be the second one. He lols his head to the side, searching for where the beer is. “Yeah,” He hums, his hand dropping down over the edge of the bed and his hand swinging with the intention of hitting a can that isn’t actually there.

Talia laughs, tugging on his bicep. “Shotgun- I puff smoke into your mouth,” She explains, her voice all raspy from being so dry. Oscar licks over his teeth, his mouth still painfully dry. His mind feels empty, the only resounding thought is just talia, talia, talia. There are a few other ideas, sex stuff, nothing coming close to being as important as making her happy.

She leans forward, plucking the joint from his mouth. He gets a breath of fresh air and begins to gasp for it- a telltale sign he’s had too much in one go. He hollows his cheeks, cleaning the taste of smoke out of his mouth with spit. It’s a useless attempt as it’s already well stained.

She slides two fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his bottom teeth. She lays down on him, her legs still hooked around his hips and a hand pressing to the headboard above him. Their chests are pressing together, her boobs heavy on him. He stares at them, shamelessly, his cock getting even harder to the point he’s beginning to actually feel it. 

“Can you suck my cock?” His voice is strangled and on the verge of incoherency because of her digits pressing into his tongue. She nods, kissing the tip of his nose. Her other hand is still holding onto the spliff, just sliding it against her wettened bottom lip. She finally sucks down on it, her lips twisting around it to keep the smoke in.

His mouth opens out of instinct, his eyes going bright just thinking about her mouth. The second their lips meet and he feels a slow release of smoke into his mouth, he feels like he’s dying. His eyes roll back and he grips a hand to the back of her head, pushing their mouths into each other’s harder.

He’s kissing her like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. It’s disgustingly dirty, a combination of spit, teeth, tongues and far too much moaning. Being stoned apparently just makes him feel everything . His lips are on fire, his throat is on fire, his eyes are on fire, his dick is on fire. 

Their mouths pull apart, sticky from the remnants of lip gloss that Talia has on. He peppers her face with a few more kisses, desperate for the stinging burn. They look at each other for a few moments, a complete disconnect from the two of them and the rest of the world. 

“You still want it?” She’s semi sitting up now, her elbows resting on where his hips are poking out from his low sitting shorts. His mind goes blank at the question, unsure of what she could possibly asking.

“What?” He lets out a puff of air, his hand mindlessly travelling through her hair. She nudges low down on his abdomen with her nose, making a weird squeaking whine. 

“Suck you off,” She looks up at him, the green in her eyes barely just a thin ring around her blown up pupils. Oscar nods, shifting further down the bed. Her fingers hook into his waistband, an invitation. His eyes flicker shut, already wasted off the feeling of her hands tugging his shorts down. 

Cold air whacks into the tops of his thighs, the dark fluffs of hair standing up. Oscar doesn’t need to tell her what to do, it seems like every time she’s gotten baked before this has been spent with her preparing for this. 

Talia begins aimlessly mouthing at his crotch, licking and kissing over where the head is resting. Her mouth is wetter than his, seemingly soaked with saliva. He takes a drag from the blunt, his fingers retracting and stretching to scratch her head. She purrs at the motion, getting more eager around him. 

“Cmon princess,” Oscar murmurs, helping to slide his boxers down to mid thigh. He doesn’t wince or shiver when it meets the cold air as there’s barely any time for it to do so. The second he’s fully undressed, her warm mouth is engulfing his length. 

She bobs her head up and down, her lips tightening around his shaft and her cheeks hollowing for him. He’s pushing her head down without realising, the pressure is light but definitely suggestive. 

She doesn’t gag, just takes him further. He encourages her with a string of moans mindlessly escaping his mouth, mixed in with ‘ oh god, good girl’ and ‘that's perfect, princess, keep going’. He’ll smoke or eat edibles every weekend if this is how getting head feels like when he does.

Her nose presses into his crotch, her throat muscles working hard to accommodate the intrusion of him. He tries to touch her, help her get off while she’s giving him the blowjob he’s ever received but the way she’s lying with the rest of her body so far away, he settles for focusing the pleasure elsewhere.

He rubs his thumbs over her nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. She whimpers and whines, her moans choking into noises that sound like she’s crying. Her face is reddened and her hair is sweaty, her fringe plastered down to her forehead with sweat.

“Close, I’m close,” He twists some of her hair around his index, his middle finger tapping into the top of her hair. She looks up at him with glassy eyes and tensed eyebrows. 

“In me,” She gags around his length. She doesn’t need to ask twice. He fucks his hips up into her mouth, forcing a moan and a gag from the back of her throat as he releases into her. 

He feels spent, his body aching worse than it did back at home. 

She pulls off slowly, her lips oiled with spit and cum. Her neck muscles flicker with tension as she swallows it down. That’s new. She’s strictly been a ‘spitter’ to this very moment. He wipes a drop of cum off her lip and kisses her deep. He tastes himself in her mouth but there's hardly any recognition for it. He doesn’t care enough to be disgusted about it, nothing about kissing her is disgusting.

“You’re perfect,” He slips his tongue into her mouth, tugging her up to be laying on top of him. “Wanna make you feel good,” He moves his head, kissing down her neck.

Talia lets out a noise of confirmation, “please,” she whines burying her fingers against his scalp. From the awkward angle he’s at, he slips her pants down past her ass, her underwear at the same time. 

He rubs a finger over her wet hole, teasing it. She lets out a stifled whimper, burying her face further into Oscar’s chest. He slides the finger in slowly, watching the bits of her face that he can see intently. She’s shying away, forcing her face away from his view.

“You’re all shy now?” He teases, massaging one of her breasts with his palm. She doesn’t reply, just keens on him, desperate for more. He pushes his finger fully in, sliding it in and out. “Look at me, pretty,” He kisses her forehead, nudging the spot with his nose. 

She reluctantly looks up before snuggling into his neck. It’s a drastic difference from how she was only minutes earlier. He pushes a second finger in, knowing her all too well that she’s needy for it. She groans, scraping her teeth down along his shoulder.

He groans, throwing his head back. He knows what he’s doing, not needing to even look. He pushes in and out, deeper and just as controlled. Her walls tighten around him, her wetness slicking down over his palm and around his wrist. His thumb joins in, rubbing along her clit. 

“Oz,” it comes out all jagged and breathy. “Fuck- need to,” She can’t finish her sentences at this point, pushed so close to the edge. He gives her a whisper of allowance, his breath hot against her ear. 

“Come for me,” He instructs her, his thumb applying more pressure as he feels a gush of wetness spill down his occupied hand. She’s gasping, panting for air when it happens. His body is still trying to regain full senses from the weed, barely noticing how deep her nails are digging into his sides, leaving red crescent moons into his skin.

Once she’s come down from her high, Talia rolls onto the space next to him on the bed. They watch each other, laying on their sides as they share the joint. They puff smoke at each other, laughing over absolutely nothing. 

“You’re staying tonight?” Whether it's a statement or a question is unsure, just how she intended. Oscar cranes his head to where he can see the sun is peeking out and beginning to set. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay right here,” He hums as the two of them both nod off to a hazy, stoned induced sleep.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x original character

[leonw4nter]

Hi! Imagine like pop star/extremely popular music artist gf or s/o and Leon met them by being their body gaurd? I think a drabble of this would be so cute, or even just headcannons!

The Theories Of My World Revolving Around You

Bodyguard!RE4R!Leon x F!Popstar!Reader || Read next: 2

Chapter 1: "Running Up That Hill"

“Agent Kennedy, may I repeat that  you are too unstable for another overseas mission–”

“Lab reports said that I am just fine! They cleared me and stated that I’m fit to go to Bosnia–”

“Agent Kennedy!” President Graham exclaimed, both his hands coming in contact with the oak of his desk and creating a loud pounding sound.

“The last mission to Spain nearly killed you! I appreciate the risks and near-death encounters you had just to get Ashley back home but you could’ve died! You made it back barely alive! What about your mental state, huh? I’m sure as hell that dealing with all that crap would do a number on your mind. Physically you claim that you’re doing well, but how are you doing mentally?”

Leon stayed silent, gaze drifting down; President Graham was right: he was physically fit but what about his mind? Is he stable there? He knew he needed a break from all of this but who is going to be in the front lines? What’s going to happen to Sherry and Claire? Who’s going to give up their life just so a hundred others can live? He needed to give himself a break but chaos never rests, it’s just waiting for him to get his guard down.

“Mr. President, I know that you’re looking out for me but USSTRATCOM needs me. A little girl needs me,” Leon softly explains even if he feels his patience wear thin.

“I understand your concerns, Agent Kennedy, but they have many other agents just as capable as you are. You need rest. As for the girl and Ms. Redfield… I can assure you that they will be alright.” was all the older man said. “You will be referred to another protective detail. We are not necessarily laying you off but I need to refer you to lower departments and other less… demanding organizations. You’re dismissed.”

Leon simply sighed and gave the President a small nod, head hung low as he headed for the door of the Oval Office. A part of him felt grateful for the break given to him– that is if you can call it a break. He’s not exactly totally resting, he’s still on duty– just a less demanding one. Another, bigger part of him felt as if he couldn’t just sit around and wait until they’ll call him back for another job. He was just about to worry about Claire’s college tuition, worrying if student loan debt will be an issue soon but he remembered that he gave her her monthly allowance just a while back, which means that she’ll be just fine. As for Sherry, he knows she’s in good hands with Claire as her legal guardian. With the millionth sigh for today, he runs a calloused hand through his hair and decides to head home, too tired to deal with more crap for today.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Never would Leon have thought that he would be thankful for the loud ringing of his phone, the ringtone loud enough to help him snap out of a nightmare he’s been struggling to wake up from. Half asleep and slightly disoriented, he answers the call and brings the phone up to his ears.

“Is this Mister… Kennedy? Kennedy, Leon?,” an unfamiliar voice responds from the other end of the line.

“Yes,” Leon says, his voice hoarse from sleep. “Who is this?”

“I’m Agent Corey Morgan. Someone under the agency you’re currently in referred you under my team–”

“What team,” Leon interrupts, his mood already sour because of the nightmare and with work being the first thing he is bombarded with in the morning. The man on the other side of the line cleared his throat, obviously taken aback by Leon’s snappy attitude.

“My team under a celebrity protection detail company,” Morgan responds. “We are Citadel Group and we offer protective services to celebrities. I’m sure you are very much familiar with Ms. Ashley Graham.”

“Ashley must’ve put in a word with her father,” Leon thought to himself. “Citadel Group huh,” he mumbles.

“Yes. We request you to send in your resumé within the day for closer deliberation before we can let you start, even if the things we’ve heard about you are beyond exemplary. I’ll send in a follow-up email as soon as the screening process is finished.”

Leon hummed, already exhausted with all of this. The call ended and he tossed his phone to his bed, too tired to do anything but it’s not like he can get back to sleep again when he knows that only nightmares are there to wait for him. With a groan, he gets up and brews himself a cup of coffee to try and salvage the already worsening day.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

He sent in his resumé despite several fields being blacked out, receiving an email hours after stating that he’s been assigned to a singer, codenamed ‘Red String’  and will start duty a week from now. He arrives home from the additional interview, keys fumbling to unlock the door to his apartment. He stumbles in, kicking off his dress shoes and undoing one more button to his white button-up before he shrugs his navy blue blazer off, folding and placing it on the back of a dining chair. He rummages through his cabinets, looking for a heavy-bottomed glass to pour some Jack in. Claire chides him in his drinking but he can’t help but drink right now; he’s probably going to be babysitting some stuck-up diva or be at the receiving end of a tirade of screaming if a small drop of rain lands on their shoulder or something. Flashing lights, Leon remembers; there’s probably going to be paparazzi hounding his client with their obnoxious cameras. Leon catches himself worrying over flash photography, cursing himself; the president was right on the matter regarding his mental health.

“Fuck, Leon. You need help,” he silently mutters to himself as a bitter chuckle leaves his throat. This line of work caused Leon to be more thankful towards the mundane– thankful for the opportunity to even get in 3 hours of sleep in, the fact that the loud noise he heard was just a bus and not an Armadura, or that he simply stepped on a twig on the way home and no BOW is out for him for making such a small, seemingly harmless noise.

He takes another drink before the glass is empty again, refilling it with liquor. He has a week alone with his tortuous mind before he can finally do something, even if it’s less intense than what he’s been conditioned to endure.

NOTE - I srsly had to redo my post again bc my laptop died and whatever I did didn't save 😭 Neways, BIG thanks to the anon who requested this!!! I genuinely loved this idea so much, I had to make it a series :) First chapter is short, next chapters will be a little bit longer than this so just strap in and uh wait ig :3 Also, I don't know how protective detail shit works so this is inaccurate as hell so if you're looking for accuracy then this isn't for you :) That's it and thank you to whoever reads my fics, I <333333 UUUUUU !!!!!!!!!!!

The heart dividers were made by @fairytopea , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #fluff #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy fluff #biohazard #resident evil 4 #re4 remake #re4 #resident evil remake #re4make #re4r leon #leon x reader #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil 4 leon #resident evil 4 (2023)

[cowgirlcherrie]

⬭ 𓈒 hey there! all star. chapter one: all stars repent

╰   * rockstar! ellie x singer! reader x rockstar! abby

synopsis: At All Star Music University deviance isn’t tolerated. When the band room is up in flames with 3 music students to blame, community service at a band camp in the summer is in order.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smoking, drinking, arson, fighting, violence, will get sexual in further chapters, platonic soulmates (for now) between r! and abby, partying, slightly dark but may get darker, kissing, touching, angst, fluff + comedy, smut, crushing, mutual pinning, swearing, rock band references, music college AU, just shitty choices, fem reader

a/n: so excited to start this fic series! Literally put my previous Ellie fic idea on pause because I had to get this one out before the idea like completely lost me, but inspired by rebelde & camp rock and this, and this beautiful art by @kissesskittens ♡ enjoy my loves! reblogs and comments are always appreciated I want to know what you think!

01. all stars repent

Right place wrong time will certainly do it to the most lavish and meticulous.

The silence was so prominent that you were too afraid to cough. Afraid to even breathe in the container of an office. Your head was making up all the possibilities of what people would be saying. Good girl gone bad! Or the aspiring pop singer is an arsonist. It all just made you debilitated. Fiddling with your bottom lip watching the ticking of the clock almost as if you were waiting for a bell to ring. The ticking, slow and steady, matched the pace of Ellie’s shaking leg syncing with Abby’s drumstick against the wood of her chair. You rarely prayed for such occasions, but now? You were on your knees hands looped together hoping for a miracle. 

“Do you three know how much trouble you are in?!” The Dean, Mrs. McCall-Ster spoke up from her desk, voice booming in the small yet vacant room, making Abby smirk at her anger. Abby’s pink and black peek-a-boo highlights in her blonde hair flashed with every head tilt she made from her ponytail.

“Dude what did you do!” you shouted, slightly pushing Abby and Ellie away from the melting drumset, the smell of char and burning wood filling your nostrils as the three of you backed away from the burning music equipment. The flames reflected a warm light on the three of you, coughing to get out of the way.

“I mean how does this even start?” The dean cried out, taking off her glasses to rub her eyes in frustration.

“Take your fucking lighter!” Ellie shouted, pointing at Abby’s lighter which was leaking fluid onto the remaining lit instruments. The flame roared.

“What?” 

“Fucking hell [Ellie please!] Abby take it!” Ellie screamed. 

All three of your voices were meshing together as you all were screaming at each other.

The hi-hat plate from the drums falls to the floor.

You shrouded into your seat even more, as Ellie’s leg bounced against yours – that was the only way to get you to breathe, through your nose this time and not through your mouth.

“Is something funny Ms. Anderson?” The dean asked Abby making Ellie and yourself turn heads to the blonde, seeing her lips zipped tightly looking down into her lap that she was manspreading in. Abby shook her head.

“Fucking hell” Ellie groaned out, throwing her hands up – tilting her head up at the pearly white ceiling.

“Language Ms. Williams!” 

“We are going to get expelled!” you cried out, bringing a hand up to your mouth as your eyes started to water at the sight of the room deteriorating in flames.

“Doll go grab the extinguisher in the hall– shit…there goes the amplifiers, Hurry!” Ellie shooed you pushing you into the hall.

“Just pull the fucking fire alarm!” Abby shouted.

“Sorry,” Ellie coughed scratching through the strands of her loose hair at the nape of her neck.

“What’s our punishment?” Abby dragged, rolling her eyes then putting her drumstick down to tap your armrest of the chair – making you snatch it from her large hands placing the slender wood into your lap in an organized fashion.

“Punishment? you should be lucky you three aren’t getting expelled for public destruction of school property!” The woman hissed, looking at a paper in front of her. Your head tilted, letting out a sigh of relief when she said you weren’t getting expelled, but that definitely meant there will still be consequences, hell academic probation, on-campus service work? The possibilities were endless

“At the end of the Spring Semester, there will be no summer for you three —”

“But!”

“But nothing Ms. Williams, You all will be working at the All-Star Camp as counselors for our kid’s enrichment program” 

Ellie growled as you shrugged and Abby kissed her teeth. This was indefinitely deserved and entirely ridiculous. You couldn’t survive three months in a room with Ellie and Abby hell they would probably bite each other’s head off while you were at it. Trying to stop your best friend and your crush from recreating a fight club brawl was way more stressful than you thought. 

“How l-long is this for?” You question, your voice is soft contrasting the raspy aggressiveness from Ellie and Abby all afternoon. All eyes are on you. This was the first thing you had said in all of this summons. Your hands were tugging at the bottom of your red and black plaid uniform skirt shifting under Ellie and Abby’s gaze.

“Excellent question, starting June first, you will be set to head back to campus meeting our bus that will transport you to our All-Star Camping site. June 20th you all are free to go, with the exception that in the fall you will clean the destroyed practice room.” Mrs. McCall-Ster explained, taking out a brochure from her pile of photos and putting it in front of you all. The three of you leaned forward, you fully committing to grabbing the pamphlet with Ellie and Abby on both sides of your shoulders. 

Abby snickers as she points out the NO SMOKING under the rules and regulations portion with her finger, making you send a jab into her stomach. 

No smoking or E-cigarettes of any sort…

No phones…cabin wired phones only 

No extra guest 

No leaving the campground premises 

Ellie cleared her throat, “So, uh…all these rules apply to counselors as well?” Ellie questioned scratching at her throat.

“In simple terms yes, it’s to ensure public safety”

“I’m still gonna do like 3 things off this list anyways” Abby whispered in your ear making you let out a low giggle at her response. Ellie only glanced at the two of you, faint confusion wore on her face like a jacket. Ellie licked her lips before going back to the pamphlet. 

Rules didn’t stop rockstars anywhere – Hell all of you wouldn’t be where you are without a little bit of rule-breaking.

“So are we clear? It’s either Band Camp counseling charity or expelled” The Dean shrugged. The choice really was yours. Reaching behind her she brought out a sign-up sheet, with a blue pen clipped to the clipping board. It was separated into 3 columns. One for your name, Student ID, and email. 

You bit the bullet. Vouched yourself first to make the decision. Digging in your backpack’s front pocket to bring out a pink pen scribbling your name on the paper – sealing it with a click. Slamming the inked catalase down to flesh the paper. 

“Free to go?” you question, vastly glancing at the clock above the elder’s head.

“As you wish”

With that you grabbed your bag from the floor, gently making your way out of the office. Not even bothering to look at Abby, Ellie, or even the dean, the conversation was enough to exhaust you. Ellie and Abby bore holes into your backside, before locking eyes with each other rushing to be the first at the pink pen you left behind. 

Honestly, you were glad. Glad that this wouldn’t wreck your student record, put you on academic probation, or make your parents run your ear off. They were already on your ass already about you being so far from home and not calling. Your phone was almost nonexistent from your end, and communication was cut entirely.

Making your way out of the administering building, where the Dean’s office was located you let out a loud audible sigh throwing your bag on the ground to sit on the creaky wooden bench, kicking the cobblestone and pebbles beneath you. Tugging frequently at your tights and almost wanting to pull your hair out of your scalp. You didn’t understand how Abby…or even Ellie did it. This rebellious nature left you with knots in your stomach, feeling sick at the thought of being taken for a hard-headed rule breaker. Coincidentally enough you found yourself waiting for Abby to leave the office, knowing that the two of you would walk back together to your dorms. 

Abby, not only your best friend, personal chauffeur, and roommate but happened to be the wisest out of the two of you. At times she can be self-serving and rude, thanks to her nepotism, you still cherished her support. 

She was there when Elora from your fall semester music theory class, broke off your situationship to start pursuing some other girl seriously, despite Elora telling you that she was ready for a relationship. As for more current events, when you started having a crush on Ellie…Which Abby didn’t really understand but thugged it out just for you. 

“Boo!” Abby shook your shoulders, creeping up behind you giving you a shock, as you jolted from the bench – turning around to slap Abby on her rock-solid arm. Abby laughed watching your pissed expression as the breeze blew by making her hair block her face. 

“So…I corrupt you yet? How did we do Robin?” Abby took her hand shaking the top of your head as you swatted her hand away. It was like having an annoying bug nagging in your ear. 

Abby’s appearance was disheveled, her hair pulled back in a ponytail exposing her 3 helix piercings in one ear, stick-n’ poked star constellation trailing down her left ear and her uniform worn terribly. The red jacket of her uniform top bunched up in her hands – tie loose around her neck as her button down was untucked in her pants. Dickes, form-fitting with her drumsticks sticking outside of her back pocket. Abby was cool in your eyes, everything you wished to be – you wanted to just not care about anything anymore, you wanted her confidence. 

“Bad corruption tactic Batman, think we almost killed half of campus” you mumbled robotically making Abby shriek a laugh. You grabbed your bag from the floor, slinging it over your shoulder – tucking the drumstick out of your hands and into Abby’s butt pocket letting out a huff of air.

“What’s with the long face? and I know it’s not because of Mrs. McCall-Ster” Abby questioned swinging her hand around your shoulder as the two of you walked back to your dorm building. That was just an invitation for you to ramble. 

“Did you see how good she looked, oh my god Abby, like her shirt was a little loose– clearly not ironed by the way and her hair…fuck the haircut looks so–”

“Please be quiet…god ew!” Abby stuck her tongue out like a child in disgust as you rolled her eyes. Afternoons often went like this. You see Ellie once in your hectic schedule, sending glances her way – looking back at her twice before running off to Abby to boast about how good she looked.

“I let you talk to me about Nora [keep your voice down gosh!] it’s only fai–” Abby sent the hand she had around your shoulder to cup your mouth, making you stick your tongue out licking her hand making Abby wipe her hand on your skirt. “You’re so nasty!”

You popped a middle finger, almost tussling with Abby when a gentle finger tapped your shoulder. The faint smell of cigarettes and musky vanilla wood filled your nostrils, making you whip your head around to see the auburn-haired rockstar in the flesh. Ellie, like Abby wore her uniform incorrectly, her tie loosely around her neck, this time her button-down was tucked in partially to her trousers. The freckled-faced girl recently cut her hair trading her usually pulled-back look for a mullet, as a cigarette dangled from her pink slightly cracked lips. She gave you a gentle smile, teeth and all – smile dropping at the sight of Abby.

“Forgot something?” Ellie questioned, her voice was groggy and smooth, definitely rough with her delivery – but with her tone it sounded like she was trying to be softer, for you.

“Hmmm…I don’t think so” you challenged raising your eyebrows just the slightest, mirroring Ellie’s smile. Ellie took the cigarette out from the bed it made of her lips digging in her pocket to reveal a pen. But not just any pen, your pink pen.

“Holy shit! Thank you!” you exclaim reaching for the pen – you were so caught up in your fear you were willing to ditch your pen back at the Deans office. Abby was turned away from the two, her failed attempt at giving privacy – trying to ignore the conversation that was happening – not even bothering to give Ellie a hello. As you reached for the pink-coated plastic your fingers, for a second, brushed Ellie’s feeling her slightly dry and cool fingers twitch at the touch of yours.

“Yeah…yeah it’s no problem” Ellie emphasized the no problem, abruptly bringing the cigarette up to her mouth like a safety net to protect her from saying the wrong things. You could tell she was anxious – what she was anxious for however, that was particularly cloudy. Her hands were jittery, the rocking on her heels back and forth. She had something to say.

“So the community service…you sign up?” you question, hitting the pen against the palm of your hand, trying to make conversation.

“Oh definitely, I was not getting expelled – that’s fucking ridiculous” Ellie exhaled the smoke, her eyes flicking between your pink-tinted lip gloss that rested upon your lips, quickly shifting her eyes back to your face. She could smell your perfume – it was strong and sweet, Ellie almost wanting to take a bite as if you were a rich and delicate dessert. 

The dulcet moment was ruined by Abby clearing her throat, making you blink your dark eyelashes repeatedly at her interruption. 

“Sorry…not really, but sorry to ruin the vibes here we actually have to go…boxes” Abby excused, grabbing at your arm to drag you away. 

“Thank you, Ellie! See you in June!” you shouted as you waved politely with a closed smile, making Ellie smile right back at you, tossing her cigarette to the ground and stopping on it with her beat-up Converse. 

“See you…dear” Ellie turned on her heels walking in the opposite direction, plugging in her headphones.

It was almost cinematic, the way you started to whisper-yell at Abby dragging you, arguing about how she ruined the moment. Calmness from Ellie’s end as she walked in her own direction, wired headphones playing loud rock in both ears. You would be dreaming about Ellie’s face for the rest of May until you finally got to see it again. This time in front of a campfire, as you direct little kids on how to properly use instruments. You just had to hold on until June, which felt more like a rabbit walking into a cage with a bunch of lions ready to feast.

☆*•. 

Packing was hard to do when it felt like a goodbye. Packing where you spent 7 months crying, yelling, and screaming all felt foreign to you. It was like taking the training wheels off. You wanted nothing more than to try and stable yourself before you fell over and had to start anew. Throwing pictures in boxes, and putting clothes in bags trying to scrape the room spotless, was peculiar. You never thought you would see the day when the room you had grown to love would be vacant and probably passed to some incoming freshman. 

“This is still hard as fuck…I mean look at the way your dad signed this shit” you pointed “...and the little wine stain too oh he was definitely drunk” You lifted up a signed drumhead by Abby’s father that she gifted you for Christmas. Jerry got himself into a little bit of a hustle, becoming the drummer for a Foo Fighters equivalent band he was like a Roger Taylor from Queen, Taylor Hawkins, or Ringo Starr. He was a fucking pro, and pretty good at his job too. It was no surprise that Abby fell into the shoes that Jerry used to fill becoming a drumming prodigy in no time.

“Bro…I still remember asking him to do it too! he squished my cheeks together– real tight and you know what he said,” Abby trotted over to you from her side of the bed where she was stuffing her room decor in boxes to grab at your cheeks, pretending that she had a glass of wine in her hands, “Tell your friend, or whateva she is to be a star! And go get shit done!” 

You let out a laugh as your cheeks had been squeezed by Abby’s thick hands as she gave you a gentle slap to the face before getting back to work. 

“Oh isn’t your guitar signed by David Grohl too!” you exaggerated, turning around from where you stood at your desk, playing Pictionary with an imaginary guitar. Abby let out a groan tilting her head back in annoyance. 

“And you know what your little girlfriend told me?” Abby turned around again to face you, mocking Ellie “Go to hell! You fuckin’ Nepo-baby!”

You snickered under your breath with your tongue in your cheek. “Does she kiss her mother with that mouth?” you laughed at the statement walking over to Abby and smacking her on the back of the head.

“Hey-...”

“I hope she doesn’t kiss you with that mouth either…” Abby whispered making fish lips at you, resulting in you smacking her on the head again as she shrank away from you avoiding your hands.

It was times like this you were certain you were going to miss room 1105. Where your room was too close to the bathrooms and you could hear the toilets flush every time or the annoying beeping from the ongoing traffic. It was all surreal. 

“I’m gonna…really, uh miss you- you know” you stuttered out, holding a picture frame in your hand as you put it in another bag. “We are literally moving in together next year off campus, don’t get all sappy on me!”

“I’m not, I’m not!” you defended, “I just feel like good roommates are one-hit wonders around here, so I’m really glad I got you and if I ever got in trouble here…Batman, I’m glad it was with you” you confessed your chest feeling decompressed from the weight of your emotions leaving your mouth.

Everything you were saying was awfully true and right. You had your ups and downs – even though you were seeing her again it still felt like a harsh goodbye. 

“Thanks for dying my hair with Kool-Aid by the way, I taste the fruit punch and grape every time I’m in the shower” Abby sneered throwing a shirt of hers at your face. 

“At least it wasn’t fucking Manic Panic!” you shouted, throwing the shirt back at her.

“Language, Mrs. Williams” Abby teased, mocking Mrs. McCall-Ster from earlier. That did sound nice, Ellie’s last name with your first. It felt good to hear Abby say it, almost making you bite your tongue to tell her to say it again– but slowly.

“Oh get your shit together!”

☆*•. 

JUNE 1ST.

Staying local was a smart decision, Abby picking you up at the ripe hour of 6 am, as you trudged to her car under the dimly lit sunrise. Sky still blue making the trees shine in shades of navy. You couldn’t believe you were really doing this, feeling yourself get antsy. You had 3 months to potentially get with the girl of your dreams you couldn’t screw it up. Not now. You weren’t sure at all what Ellie thought of you or where her head was, hell the girl was hard to read. So fucking hard to read. Your deepest fantasies were filled with her, hovering on top of you in a dimly lit room as her hands ghosted your face, trailing down to your lips and giving delicate kisses to your collarbone. 

Would it pain her to slip in an – I like you.

That’s all you wanted to hear. 

“Chop chop! Walk with some passion…thank you” Abby howled, rolling down her window to be face to face with you. Abby now had long curtain bangs, the Kool-Aid from May fully washed out of her golden locks but this time black rectangle sunglasses rested on her face. She changed. Not in a bad way she looked cooler and healthy. Like she wasn’t eating cigarettes for dinner or spending sleepless nights making music. A shark tooth this time rested on her neck – skin sunkissed and slightly red from the sun.

“Why are you wearing sunglasses, the sun isn’t even out?” you scrunched up your face in confusion, throwing your bag in the backseat and making your way to the passenger side. “You’re an ass” Abby mumbled pushing the sunglasses to rest in her hair, revealing the pealing around her under eyes.

“Wear sunscreen penis-face!” Abby groaned at your response, finally seeing your appearance. You were thriving in the summer heat. Hair put in a half up-half down sealed with a cute bow. Your skin was healthily moisturized and also kissed by the sun, creating a permanent glow on you. Candied jewelry decorating your neck, with beaded and yarn bracelets at your wrist.

‘Don’t you look cool! I’m scared of you…cute hair” Abby teased making you pretend to flip your hair before getting in the car. The Ac was blaring, alongside some heavy rock music, as Abby bobbed her head back and forth to the drumline. The click of your seatbelt was enough confirmation to make her put her foot down on the pedal. 

“So how was your week and a half of your summer before our life goes to shit for a month?” Abby teased tapping away at the wheel you slumping in the seat to her right. “Good…I guess? I don’t know – I went to the beach, played beach volleyball with a bunch of strangers, got totally wasted”

The window was down blowing the curly pieces from your braids into your face. Hair sticking to your lip gloss like glue. 

“There’s my girl…so, what about the girl?”

“Ellie?”

“No, your mom– yes! That girl” Abby suggested, waving her hands and motioning for you to tell her more. 

“She may or may not have been in my Instagram likes and comments…” you respond with a shit-eating grin on your face, recalling such events.  

Rockedoutellie: This is so sick! Rockedoutellie: aren’t you just pretty tho, love the view ;) 

“She what!” Abby shouted giving you a slight shoulder nudge with her elbow. “So when is the wedding?”

“Not happening she’s just being friendly”

You psyched yourself out of reality. You felt like a kid again, in primary school, picking up a dandelion blowing wishing that your sandbox lover would like you back. Ellie pulled at your heartstrings and any crush longer than 3 months…might as well have been love. You stalked into her Instagram too, giving as much love on your post as she gave you back. It was only fair.

PinkMicrophoneprincess: So…When’s the tour? PinkMicrophoneprincess: Free guitar rifts by Ms. Ellie Williams? Your followers should be thanking you :))

It was cute you thought. Just girls being girls it was entirely natural, and light-hearted. Too soon to start thinking about things too deeply that would send you overthinking into oblivion. 

“So…you gonna set any rules with this estrange lovers of yours” Abby suggested, making you rub at your scalp “What do you mean?”

“Like…not letting her distract you from the fact we have work to do?” Abby pushed further making you squint your eyes at the girl. Well yes, you did have a job to do but it all could be managed with a little fun. She must play me for a fool, you thought, kissing your teeth subtly, going unnoticed by Abby. 

“Yeah…yeah, should we bet on it?” 

Now this was risky business, you couldn’t catch the words that were falling out of your mouth, melting like butter and slipping in between the crack of your lips. A bet was stupid and you were grown – to be honest you weren’t sure what it would bring you besides months works of crying and bad luck. It was far too late to change your mind now.

“$10 that you could totally not fall in love with her at this camp” Abby taunted making you swallow hardly feeling a tightening in your chest. You already were “Make it 30 with the inclusion that I could hook up – no strings attached”

“Ooh,” Abby sang through arrangements of laughs. “What happened to my innocent girl? You are getting risky…Robin”

“Don’t hate the player, Batman…hate the game” You shrugged. 

The devious nicknames the two of you shared were back. The names that only came out when you were about to do something entirely devious that could potentially cause detrimental damage to your lives. Batman and Robin, partners in victory and in danger.

What were you doing?

Your body was yelling at you to pull the stops, almost as if a red emergency light was flashing above your head screaming STOP! In all caps. An endless pit grew in your stomach with nausea washing over you, suddenly you didn’t feel good, nerves racking with anxiety; it was a miracle you didn’t throw in the white towel yet. Something terrible would brew at this camp and you knew it. Trying to stay your hardest away from Ellie Williams was just the tip of the iceberg.

Ellie was a wild card. A mind-blowing audition got her into the university – 3K followers on Instagram, she was well known and well respected. She was also devious – a heartbreaker to some magnitudes, her ex-girlfriend being the living proof of that. Ellie Williams would blow you out of the water, break some hearts and definitely send a sword piercing through yours. Biting at your nails you realized you were ready to risk it. Fuck around and find out for all you cared. 

You might as well make this summer worth it. 

Abby spits into her hand – you doing the same as she put her hand out in front of you.

“Seal or no deal”

You gripped her hand firmly, nails scratching against her dry skin as your collected saliva melted into each other, liquids morphing into one at the connection of your hands, warming up the sticky substance in between. The deed has started and you were tempted to win it.

“Bring it on Anderson”

next chapter

© cowgirlcherrie

taglist—

@ellsss @rarestdoll @luvrgalore @starologist @destielcore @beforeimdeceased @zahraaziza

#cherry writes 🤍 #tlou2 #abby anderson #ellie williams #modern au #ellie x reader #abby anderson x reader #sapphic #ellie x black!reader #modern! ellie williams #rockstar! ellie #rockstar! abby #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x black!reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams au #abby anderson x black!reader #ellie x y/n #college! ellie #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams the last of us #ellie fanfiction #ellie au #abby x fem!reader

[cool-fancier]

Behind The Spotlight

Synopsis: Aespa's rise, a secret love with Bada, revealed in an unexpected album unboxing live.

You found yourself rising to heights you'd never dreamed of in the glittering world of K-pop, where every note was a pulse and every dance movement became a story. You were living a dream that fans all over the world admired as a well-known idol under SM Entertainment and a member of the amazing group Aespa. Despite the piercing lights and screaming audiences, there was a secret, an intimate tune that only you and Bada, your choreographer, were aware of.

Your relationship with Bada was like a dance, with steps that began long before the spotlight found you. It all started when you first walked through the doors of SM Entertainment as a trainee, your eyes wide with excitement and your heart thumping with ambition. Bada, an experienced choreographer recognised for her inventive dances, joined you on your adventure.

Your first encounter with Bada was a mix of amazement and inspiration. Her choreography pushed limits and defied practises, making her a force to be reckoned with. As a trainee with high goals, you were pulled to her magnetic energy, and the bond between artist and choreographer ignited like a well-choreographed fire.

Days turned into nights of rigorous training, where Bada pushed you to your limits, extracting every ounce of talent hidden within. The dancing studio became a haven for you two, where the language of dance built a silent understanding. The professional relationship grew into a deeper bond that transcended the boundaries of choreographer and artist over time.

Bada stayed after a particularly intense practise one evening, as the city lights glittered outside the studio. The echoes of your dance filled the air, and Bada's eyes met yours in a shared moment of tiredness and accomplishment.

"You have a lot of potential," she added, a rare smile on her lips. "However, potential alone will not get you very far." You must be passionate, dedicated, and eager for the stage. "Are you able to bring that?"

Your response was a firm nod, the tacit agreement made in that dimly lit studio establishing a connection that extended beyond the boundaries of mentorship. Bada evolved from a choreographer to a confidante, a guiding force, and, eventually, the secret rhythm in your heart.

Your relationship with Bada went from mentorship to a hidden love tale at an important turning point when the unspoken feelings between you two could no longer be hidden.

The city lights shimmered outside the dance studio on this cool evening, and the echoes of a good performance lingered in the air. Aespa had just finished a spectacular show that had left the audience speechless. Backstage, the air was charged with a mix of exhilaration and tiredness.

Bada entered the changing room as you were catching your breath, a knowing smile on her lips. "Excellent performance, Y/N. "You had total control of the stage."

You chuckled, still glowing from your performance. "Thank you, Bada. Your choreography took it to an entirely new level."

She moved closer, and the air between you two became electrified with an unsaid force. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

Your heartbeat sped, a tinge of excitement growing in your chest. "What is it?"

Bada hesitated for a moment before letting out a soft laugh. "I suppose there's no perfect way to put it. For a while now, I've felt something more than just a professional relationship between us."

The confession hung in the air, the weight of unknown words finally given voice. You realised in that vulnerable moment that the dance that began as mentor and student had grown into something deeper, something that went beyond the beats of the music.

"I've felt it too, Bada," you said with a sincere smile. "Maybe more than I should have."

She moved in closer, her gaze fixed on yours. "Maybe it's time we stop hiding from it, Y/N."

A decision was made in that dressing room, among the discarded clothes and quiet murmurs of the bustling backstage. As you and Bada went into unfamiliar territory, the professional boundaries that had characterised your relationship were transformed, and the invisible barrier between mentor and student vanished.

The first date was a peaceful meal in a hidden location of the city where neon lights flickered like distant stars. The talk flowed naturally, moving from dance to dreams, and the unspoken words were finally heard.

As the night became darker, Bada stretched across the table, tenderly lacing her fingers with yours. "I've been waiting for this for a long time," she said, her eyes reflecting your own vulnerability.

You grinned, a mix of nervousness and excitement in your eyes. "Me too, Bada. I never thought we'd be here."

And just like that, the secret love story between you and Bada began to write its own chapters. Late-night rehearsals became shared laughter and stolen glances with the dancing studio seeing a different type of choreography—one that spoke of love, passion, and the path that lead two hearts to intertwine.

Seoul, with its expansive streets and soaring skyscrapers, became the setting for a love story that was concealed in plain sight. Aespa's reputation grew, and your friendship with Bada became stronger, the unspoken bond between you two now coloured with the hues of a romance that had grown in the midst of the spotlight.

As the months passed and Aespa became a global sensation, your relationship with Bada grew stronger. Late-night rehearsals devolved into mutual laughing, and silent glances on stage spoke a lot. The magnetic connection between you two became unmistakable, a secret you kept hidden from fans and the media's prying eyes.

The anticipation of a new album's release influenced the air one day. The world was waiting to see Aespa's latest masterpiece, and the excitement among enthusiasts was considerable. Bada, your choreographer and hidden love, decided to go live on Instagram for a special unpacking session in the thick of it all.

The dance studio transformed into an intimate stage, bathed in soft lights as Bada greeted the fans who tuned in. The comments flooded in with hearts and exclamations of excitement. Bada's eyes sparkled with genuine joy as she began unboxing Aespa's album, the very album she had poured her heart into choreographing.

"Hello, everyone! "I'm here to unbox the incredible album we've all been anticipating," Bada exclaimed her voice brimming with excitement.

The fans erupted in a virtual symphony of cheers, their excitement mirroring Bada's infectious energy. She went through the unwrapping process, meticulously unveiling the album's contents while providing behind-the-scenes details about the choreography process.

"As you all know, this album holds a special place in my heart," Bada explained, her eyes twinkling with passion. "It was both challenging and incredibly rewarding to work on the choreography for these songs." I wanted to come up with movements that reflected the soul of Aespa, and I hope you love the dances as much as I did creating them."

Fans who loved not just Aespa's artwork but also Bada's passion to her profession flooded the comments section with heart emojis and notes of gratitude. Throughout the festivities, Bada continued to chat about the album, occasionally teasing fans with her desire for a certain photo card.

"And, of course, let's talk about this album cover," she said as she held it up to the camera. "Everything is stunning, from the concept to the visuals." Aespa never ceases to amaze, and it is a privilege to be a part of this journey."

You stood back and observed as she continued to unbox and relate stories, your pride and affection for Bada surging in your chest. The studio walls seemed to dissolve, leaving only the virtual link between Bada and the fans.

The atmosphere shifted abruptly as Bada's eyes widened and she cautiously looked around. The realisation that someone was approaching set in, and a faint panic darted across her face. At that point, instinct took over and you entered the frame.

"Hello, Bada unnie! What's going on?" you asked, pretending to be surprised and doing your best to maintain the facade.

Bada's eyes met yours, a mix of relief and awe in her expression. "Oh, Y/N! "I was just unboxing the album and talking with  fans."

"Well, that sounds like fun!" "Do you mind if I join in?" You added, attempting to keep the situation lighthearted.

Bada's eyes opened briefly, but she swiftly recovered, nodding warmly. "Of course, Y/N! "The more, the better."

StarstruckbadaStan:Bada and Y/N, the unexpected dynamic duo. This is iconic! ✨👭

The dynamic shifted once more as you sat next her. The fans were now treated to an unexpected surprise – a live session featuring both the choreographer and one of Aespa's beloved member. The comments section erupted with joy, and Bada resumed the unpacking with ease, her eyes exchanging flirtatious glances with yours.

"And now, for the grand reveal," Bada said, holding out the photo cards. The excitement in the comments section had reached a fever pitch. "Let's see whose face graced my cards this time."

As she flipped through the cards, the inevitable moment arrived. Bada's eyes widened, and she looked at you with a mixture of surprise and delight. "Well, look who we have here. It's Y/N's photo card!"

KpopLover_23:Bada holding Y/N's photo card! 😱 Is this a sign? Aespa's power couple rise! 🌟

BadaIsMyBias:Bada is so supportive! Y/N is lucky to have her as a friend. 😊💜

AlbumCollector_99:I NEED that Y/N photo card! Bada, can you make it happen? 🖊️📀

Y/NsGuardianAngel:Bada, you're the sweetest unnie ever! 😇💕

Fans celebrated the unexpected turn of events with a whirlwind of emojis and exclamations. Bada laughed, participating in the fun. "I suppose dreams do come true!" "Y/N, do you have any words for our incredible fans?"

You smiled, going along with the act. "Wow, what are the chances?" Thank you for your love and support. "We hope you enjoy this album as much as we enjoyed making it for you."

LoveStruckFan:Y/N and Bada, you both look adorable! 💖😘

The live session continued, with you and Bada exchanging honest and lively banter. As it came to a close, Bada addressed the viewers with a passionate emotion. "Thank you for being a part of this unexpected live." Your love means everything to us."

With that, the live session ended, leaving behind a trail of excited fans and a studio filled with the lingering warmth of shared secrets. As the virtual stage faded away, you and Bada exchanged a knowing look, your unspoken bond stronger than ever.

Bada turned to you with a sweet smile in the calm aftermath. "That was unexpected, but enjoyable. I guess our secret is safe for now."

You nodded, your eyes reflecting the shared journey that brought you to this point. "Safe and sound, just like us."

The world outside the studio continued to buzz with the anticipation of Aespa's latest release. Little did the fans know that beyond the dazzling performances and flawless choreography, a secret love story unfolded – a story hidden within the beats and melodies of the albums they cherished. The city of Seoul held its breath, unaware of the intimate dance that continued to unfold behind the stage lights, a dance that spoke of love, dedication, and the unbreakable bond between an idol and her choreographer.

#bada lee x reader #swf2 #swf2 x reader #bada lee #bebe #bada lee fanfic #bada lee x oc #bada lee x y/n #street woman fighter 2 #bada lee imagines

[peterfankoffski]

okay okay hear me out. hatchetfield/ever after high au

i maaaaaayyy have been thinking about this since. the day i saw abstinence camp. in my defense dexven and lautski are the same ship and nobody likes either of these things more than me (/j) so like. rundown of ideas i had (and one piece of inspo from a gc i'm in)

Stephanie Lauter, daughter of the Evil King: Yeah, I'm just fully reusing Raven's backstory here. Steph's born into wickedness and expected to one day inherit her father's throne and oppress her people and possibly curse the future Snow White. Which earns her respectful fear from her fellow "evil" peers, fearful respect from most of her classmates, and dread from herself, because she doesn't want to be anything like her dad, for better or for worse, even if it means risking going poof. Doesn't really help she's just not a good student in the classes assigned to her and her father keeps telling her she'll be a terrible Evil Queen anyway. Would absolutely prefer to write her own destiny. Her current plans involve doing fuck-all as an adult.

Peter Spankoffski, son of one of the Generic Charming Families: More specifically, the ones from Beauty and the Beast. One problem. He wasn't exactly planned. His big brother has already lived out being the beast and a noble lady named Jenny broke Ted's curse yeeeeaaarrrs ago, so Pete's already seen what should be his story play out in real time. And given the assumption that Ted and Jenny's kid would take on one of their roles, Pete's not sure he even has a destiny. Pretty much ostracized by most of his peers for so obviously not having a destiny. He's the only non-villian not inherently scared of Steph, and when they talk it's all like "god, you're so lucky your story isn't a shitshow" "at least you have a story" and eventually they kinda further break destiny by dating because they are literally just Raven and Dexter in another font.

Ruth Fleming, daughter of The Mad Hatter: @mythuzalasheir3 suggested this one to me and I was so inclined to agree. Ruth is so Wonderlandian to me. She's theatrical, she's eccentric and not willing to turn it down, will just say what's on her mind as she sees it. Taking a bit from the books canon, she does sorta resent Steph at first for her father going off-book and poisoning Wonderlandian magic, but after Pete urges her to actually talk to her as they start hanging out more, she sees Steph isn't as scary as she thought and very quickly gets comfortable turning up her madness and speaking Riddlish around her like she does with her other friends. Speaking of which.

Richie Lipschitz, son of the Wizard of Oz: Yes. I really am making Pete the odd one out. Ruth is Wonderlandian, Richie is an (honorary) Ozian. Sue me. This basically stems from how Richie was in charge of taping the prank in the Waylons/putting on the music, so knowing he has special effects know-how, he is going to have a blast doing the hologram head thing in the Emerald City for a few decades. He also plans on introducing pop culture stuff to Oz, too, not just more science. Nerd. I think he's iconic for it.

(Side note: neither Ruth nor Richie can believe that they're just casually best friends with a prince, even though Pete really doesn't want it to be a big deal).

Grace Chasity, daughter of the Temple Woman from The Little Mermaid: Right. History time. If you're not familiar with the original version of TLM, after the mermaid brings the prince back to shore, a girl from a Christian monastery finds the prince, and he believes she saved him instead of the mermaid. And also she and the prince are married by the end. I chose this fully because she's very proud of the fact she already has an immortal soul, and doesn't have to do anything for a happily ever after other than be in the right place at the right time. She does not give a damn about who her prince is as long as they stick to the script. Basically, she's a Royal out of necessity more than anything.

Max Jagerman, son of another Charming Clan: More specifically, he's destined to be the Rapunzel's prince. He's in with Steph because he thinks it's a good idea to be on the good side of all royals in his class. But not Storiless Spankoffski. He does NOT fraternize with people whose existence could poof away a whole story. For as much as he tries to fit the example of Perfect Royals Accepting Their Destiny, he does still have a target of affection not in his story: Grace. Being much more stereotypically Royal than him, she keeps rejecting him due to not being interested and not even part of his story. Doesn't stop him from trying.

The Lords in Black, the heads of Ever After High: Everyone has a destiny. They're here to run the school and enforce them, and also dictate the destinies of the more ambiguous cases like Charming Number Twenty-Seven or "how do we find a replacement for a character who is dead." They say there's a spider in the basement but don't even worry about it, they'll take care of it eventually.

Webby, the Weaver in the Basement: Basically taking the place of Giles Grimm, her brothers have let her have less and less involvement with destinies over the years, so she's spinning up happier endings that hopefully won't go poof in solitude. Would definitely encourage Steph to follow her heart instead of her destiny.

Henery Hidgens as the Magic Botany teacher, and also former Jack of Jack the Giant Slayer fame: man I just think this would be funny

#i spent like. an hour typing this #team starkid #starkid #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #steph lauter #stephanie lauter #peter spankoffski #pete spankoffski #ruth fleming #richie lipschitz #grace chasity #max jagerman #lords in black #webby #eah #ever after high #eah au #<- in case i do more w this there's the tag #lautski

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance opens his eyes to white nothingness.

It takes him a moment to adjust, for the sight in front of him to focus into a plaster popcorn ceiling rather than a block of bright white. He blinks rapidly, clearing the bleariness, steadying himself on the steady couch cushions in the castle common room.

He stills.

The castle?

He glances back up at the ceiling, but it’s as smooth as it’s always been; dozens of feet above him. No bright plaster, no textured popcorn ceiling. He squeezes his eyes shut, wondering what he’ll see when he opens them again, wondering where he even really is.

But when he opens them again, it’s still the castle. He’s still in space.

“Did you fall asleep?”

He drops his gaze from the ceiling, landing on Keith, who’s looking at him in fond amusement.

“No,” Lance says, because he doesn’t remember losing consciousness.

“Yes you did,” Keith responds, grinning. “Loser.”

Lance rolls his eyes and tries to kick him, but Keith grabs his foot easily, tugging it towards him. Lance gets the hint, lifting his feet and placing them in Keith’s lap as he reclines back into the couch cushions. Keith rests his hands on Lance’s ankles, tugging up the hem of his pants to brush his fingers on cool skin. Lance matches his breathing with the steady movements.

“You can go back to sleep,” Keith murmurs. “I don’t mind.”

Lance almost protests. It’s lovely to be sitting with him. He’s cute when he’s soft, when he’s not worried about what they’re doing next, when he lets his guard down. Lance only wishes things were less slow, less lethargic, so his eyes weren’t so heavy.

.

.

.

The rain starts to come down harder, faster, and it gets harder and harder to see. Lance squints, trying to see through the sleet of rain. It’s hard; he can barely see the shadows in front of him even though it can’t be past noon. The wind is icy, blowing at the soaked fabric of his orange uniform coat. Strangely he’s not cold. He’s hot, actually, suffocating in a blanket of heat, even as the rain pelts his skin, drops down his nose.

“Taylor! Come on!”

A boy appears in front of him. Lance startles — it’s so hard to see in the storm that it’s like he’s popped out of thin air. The boy’s long black hair is plastered to his head, and he’s soaked to the bone. He reaches out and wraps a glove-covered hand around Lance’s wrist, pulling gently.

“Come on, it’s freezing, you’re going to get sick. Let’s go, Taylor.”

Taylor?

Lance’s sneakers are soaked through, and usually that would bother him. But for some reason he can’t bring himself to move, to walk away. He hasn’t felt the rain on his skin in two years.

That doesn’t make sense. It’s the middle of the rain season in the Arizona desert. All students are forbidden from going outside. He’s not supposed to be here. This boy isn’t, either, this boy who calls him Taylor.

Lance followed this boy. Didn’t he? That’s why he’s out here in the first place, against Garrison orders. He always gets in trouble for following this boy into trouble.

His shoes are heavy with water, but slowly he picks up his feet, crossing his ankles. He smiles slightly and lets himself twist, holding his open palms out to the sky, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. A raindrop hits his cheek and slides down to his lips. It tastes of salt.

“You’re ridiculous! It’s a storm, Taylor! We need to get back before we get caught! Or hurt!”

Lance looks over at the boy. His indigo eyes are narrowed, clouded over with frustrated, strong brow furrowed to protect his eyes from the water.

He looks troubled. He’s too young to be this trouble. They both are.

Lance shifts their hands, so they’re entwined, and pulls the boy forward. He stumbles, but doesn’t fall.

“What are you doing?”

Lance smiles, grabbing his other hand, and twirls him around to imaginary music. For a minute the boy stubbornly resists, then a small smile cracks his face, and he relents.

“You’re crazy,” he says.

Lance just smiles. It’s kind of nice to be rained on with this boy, whoever he is.

.

.

.

.

A hard bump in the road smacks Lance’s head to the window, dragging him awake.

“Fuck,” Keith curses. “Sorry, Bluebell. Go back to sleep, we’re still a little ways away.”

Lance yawns, shaking his head. “No, I wanna stay awake. Don’t want to lose any time with you.”

It’s clearly the right thing to say. Keith smiles, wide, showing the crooked incisors Lance loves so much. He reaches over and grasps Lance’s hand in one of his, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to one of the knuckles. Stubble tickles the back of his hand.

“Me either.”

Neither of them speaks after that. Keith’s broken car radio lets out a burst of static every couple of minutes, but it’s drowned out by the sound of rain pelting the windshield. Keith hums slightly as he drives, tapping a finger on the steering wheel. It feels familiar, almost, like the start of a movie Lance has seen a thousand times. He supposes he has, with how often they’ve made this drive.

The drive takes another hour, but it feels so short. Too soon they’re driving past the farm fields, turning onto a long gravel driveway, stopping in front of a brick house with blue paint peeling from the door.

Keith parks the car, pulling off his seatbelt and shifting to face Lance. His smile is kind of melancholy. He cups his hands around Lance’s face, and the leather of his gloves feels too soft, almost blurry, somehow, corporeal. He leans in and kisses Lance gently, reverently, sadly.

“Tell your family I said hi,” he murmurs, pulling away slightly.

“You could come in for a while,” Lance offers. He doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want Keith to leave.

But Keith is already shaking his head. “You gotta go, Lance.”

His words are muffled. Far away. Lance isn’t sure that’s even what he said.

Lance blinks and then he’s slamming the car door, running to the porch with his jacket hiked over his head. He turns back when he reaches the front door, but Keith is already gone.

.

.

.

.

.

Lance wakes to sunlight warming his bare skin. His sheets are smooth on his legs, resting on his thighs and belly, barely really covering him. Most of the sheets are tangled around toned, pale legs, knobby knees. Lance follows them all the way up to a wide chest, covered in scars, and a well-defined jaw, thick black hair streaked with grey. A man stares at him, bleary-eyed, smile making his crow’s feet more defined. A long purple scar stretches across his cheek. Lance realises he’s leaning on the man’s chest, fingertips tracing shapes on his rough skin.

“How long’ve you been ‘wake, sweetheart?” the man mumbles, slight Texan accent bleeding into his words.

Lance shrugs. Truly, he has no idea.

The man says nothing more, only pressing a kiss to Lance’s hair before leaning back into the pillows, holding him tightly. Lance takes the time to look around the unfamiliar bedroom, trying to find out where he is. There are pictures everywhere; the man, Lance, Lance and the man, Lance and the man and a group of other smiling faces. Lance recognises none of them. There’s a large vanity table by the window, surface covered in various bottles and lotions, obviously not the man’s. It’s all as familiar as it is foreign.

The man runs calloused fingers over Lance’s ribs, slowly, and he shivers. No one has ever touched him like that before; intimately, quietly, adoringly. Touching for the sake of touch, like there’s nowhere he’d rather be than in Lance’s space.

He’s cute. He makes Lance feel safe.

Lance should probably find out his name.

But the man traces what’s clearly a heart on Lance’s sternum, and Lance is so comfortable. He feels like all his worries are a step away. Something’s wrong, he knows it is, but it’s lovely to sit between this comfort and chaos.

He doesn’t want to ruin the moment.

.

.

.

.

.

.

This time there’s no rain. He’s not asleep beforehand. He simply comes to awareness in the car, hand clutched in Keith’s, static playing gently through the radio. They’re driving to Lance’s family’s house again, and the sense of deja vu is stronger this time, the sense of wrongness. It slips out of him, the feeling.

“Something’s not right,” Lance says quietly.

Keith snorts. “Yeah, no kidding. You could just move in with me, you know. Then we wouldn’t have to do this every couple of weeks.”

That’s not it. It’s not — separation. That’s not what Lance meant. He opens his mouth to say so, but as he does, he feels something hook around the inside of his ribcage, yanking him backwards, out the car, out of his body, out of the space. He hovers above, watching himself settle back into the passenger side, clutching Keith’s hand. Neither of them say anything for the entire drive.

Lance watches as his body presses Keith against the door when they park, kissing him soundly, laughing about something, then standing to get out. There’s no rain this time, so he lingers, leaning against the car door and sticking his head through the open window. He says something. Keith laughs, then leans over and kisses Lance again, gently, softly, hand sliding through his hair. Lance feels that, far away, from where he’s floating above them, the phantom hands in his hair.

As his body walks back to his family’s house, turning back and waving at least six times, Lance realises that it’s not real. None of it. Not the car, not the kiss, not Keith. None of it is. He presses his fingertips to his lips and they slide right through, like he’s made of air. He can’t remember the last time he was kissed. He can’t remember anything. The realisation is familiar, like the end of something, like watching the last scene of a movie and realising as the credits roll that he’s seen it before.

The familiar wrongness of it all bubbles up in him. Suddenly he wants to scream as loud as he can, but he finds he doesn’t have vocal chords to do it. Or a mouth.

Slowly, the world around him blinks in and out, the colours fade, the shapes and shadows disappear. All that’s left is a bright, endless white.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Lance opens his eyes to white nothingness.

#i don’t even know what this is. i was listening to ceilings by lizzie alpine on repeat and the next thing i knew i was writing this #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #established klance #kinda?? how tf do i tag this #unreality #dreaming #dreams #soft keith #autistic lance #my writing #fic #longpost #songfic #ceilings lizzy mcalpine #lance is taylor #past present and future #domestic klance #memory loss #i guess?? #literally how the fuck am i supposed to categorize this

[weemsgay]

Love Notes (Ch. 3)

Another playlist included for these lovestruck dummies. Also, @coffeemelko had a great idea to have Larissa know the hospital staff had been calling Reader her partner, hehe. Thank you for letting me write that in! :)

Larissa Weems x musicteacher!Reader

AO3 link

Spotify link

Getting Larissa inside and settled proved a harder task than it would seem. She kept demanding to stop and confirm everything was in order after being away from the academy to recover. She tried to inspect the grounds and interrupt the groundskeeper. She was stopped by several students who she confirmed were okay and didn’t need anything. Larissa even attempted to gather faculty for a meeting.

Oh, you felt like a tired mom who's toddler kept grabbing at all manner of items in the store only for you to sit it back down and try again. Once in her office, she continued the behavior, striving to call the mayor. Finally, having enough of this, you say agitatedly, “Shhh, Larissa. Enough. Just let me take care of you.”

Larissa seems to take the hint and quiets down considerably.

“How about I start to get you settled in the bedroom while you peruse your email. Only peruse, okay? And just until I’m finished.”

Walking into Larissa’s bedroom to turn down her sheets and prepare the space, your thoughts wander to the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. With the abundance of time spent with Larissa over the weeks, you began to pick up on the various genres that she likes—from 80’s power ballads to modern classical arrangements of pop songs to elegant classical music.

What started out as an effort to fill Larissa’s day with music while she recovered turned into a desperate attempt to disclose your feelings for the woman. The next mix CD you already started to create began to expose how much you cherished the principal-turned-friend. Though…the idea of only friendship was the furthest thing from your mind. You considered the assortment of music you had planned for Larissa’s next surprise. Desire. Affection. Appreciation. Yearning. These emotions undoubtedly flickered throughout the collection, tying each song together. If only you could pick up the courage to sign your name to these love notes.

Is it too late? you ponder warily.

Stepping back into the office, you hear Larissa typing frantically. With a sigh, you march over to where you left her at her desk. You reach out to slowly close her laptop until both of your eyes lock. “Hello,” You utter softly. “Ready?”

Larissa couldn’t help but feel secure and thankful for someone to be taking care of her for a change. Normally, she would resent the charity or pity, but from you, it didn’t read as those things. She can’t even be frustrated to be pulled away from her laptop. Instead, she replied definitively, “Ready.”

—

You and Larissa gather on the bed with wine after you tuck her in (quite literally). You can’t remember the last time you slipped blankets around someone’s feet and sides to make them feel snug. She just seemed so carefree for a moment at the action, wiggling her feet back and forth once she was bundled. You couldn’t help but feel a wave of adoration for the woman, as well as gratitude to be one of the select few who has seen her guard down.

“Oh gods, how I have missed red wine,” moaned the silver-haired blonde, downing a glass before you were even able to get one yourself and accompany her in the bed. “Excuse you,” you gasped. “Save some for the rest of us!”

“You didn’t have to give up wine,” she emphasized, teasing you. Regardless, you refill her glass and decide to bring the bottle bedside instead.

“And you are lucky that I’m letting you drink at all your first night out of the hospital.”

Larissa feigned astonishment with wide eyes. Revealing some of her typical poise and filter weakening, she returns, “You’re not in charge of me, you know.” With a gentle roll of your eyes, you mutter a bit under your breath, “Tell that to the staff.”

Perplexed, as if she is trying to catch up, Larissa questions, “What was that?” She turns her body to face you—to try to focus her eyes on your expression.

You giggle and steady her hand that almost spills some of her wine on the pristine duvet below.

“Oh, nothing.” Larissa feels a bubbling desire to press you for more information. However, she is suddenly struck by how heavy her arms and body are. How comfy the sheets feel. How warm her cheeks are. How can someone’s tolerance plummet this quickly after not drinking? she wonders as her head spins.

When Larissa lays flat on her back to still her spinning head, you roll onto your side towards her and tenderly stroke her forehead and hairline to provide her some comfort. The soothing motion feels right…feels natural. Her shoulders relax a bit and her breathing begins to even out. You wonder if she has already fallen asleep.

A few minutes pass. Eventually, you hear a soft proclamation, “I didn’t correct them.” The sleepy voice continues, “It felt nice, and I thought it was you.”

Your mind races. Does she mean she didn’t correct the staff? Does this mean she knew the doctors and nurses thought you were her partner? That the idea of you being her partner felt nice? Or just having someone there for her at all felt nice? What does she mean that she thought it was me? The mix CD? It had to be that… After another moment, with a nervous and fluttering heart, you question, “How would you feel if it was me?”

To that, you receive silence. No response, only steady breathing. Asleep, it seems.

You continue petting Larissa’s head, not wanting to rescind your touch. Her skin was warm from the wine and soft under your caress. You two didn’t discuss sleeping over, and you’re nervous to overstep or make her feel uncomfortable. Maybe you could get away with a few hours of blissful sleep next to the other woman?

You wake slightly at Larissa’s shifting body flinging an arm over your waist and pulling you close. Your stomach flips, and you’re not sure if you can get back to sleep. You lie in Larissa’s bed syncing your breaths to hers and trying to commit the feeling of her body next to you to memory.

Once the morning light started to trickle in through a crack in Larissa’s green velvet curtains, you decided it was time to untangle yourself from her and take your leave. You quietly grabbed a few of your things and exited the principal’s living quarters and office, heading toward the faculty showers. Hot water against your skin might ease the ache you felt from Larissa’s absence.

—

You attempt to sleep but can’t, so you make some buttered toast to munch on while you work in the orchestra room, knowing no students will be up to bother you. Last night strengthened so many of the feelings you knew you had for Larissa. What if that’s the first and last time I share her bed? The intrusive thoughts threaten your sanity, and you attempt to replace them with selecting songs for her next mix CD.

After an hour of immersing yourself in how to convey your emotions perfectly, you feel sleepiness begin to take you. Satisfied, you drag your feet to your own bed and plop down to rest.

Many hours later, you are jolted awake by an excited knock at your door. You glance at your clock to see that it’s noon. Confused, you stand up and put your father’s old robe on. It’s always been a comfort item for you—the way it was slightly oversized and could be wrapped around you tightly. You make your way to the door.

“Enid? What’s wrong?” You implore with concern as you swing open the door and are met with eager eyes and a slight bouncing up and down. You glimpse behind her to see Wednesday standing idly by, exuding mostly nonchalance but with an edge of analysis.

“Nothing is wrong. Sorry. It’s just that Principal Weems wants to see you in her office. Isn’t it great she’s back? I can’t believe Ms. Thornhill turned out to not be Ms. Thornhill and that she poison-“ you begin to interrupt the sweet, rambling young werewolf. “Thank you, sweetie, for letting me know. If you don’t mind, I need to get dressed.” Understanding, even though she wants nothing more than to keep talking and ask about the time you and Principal Weems have been spending together, Enid steps back. “Okay, see ya!” Enid assures, turning around to slip her arm around Wednesday’s to attempt to skip off. You stare after the unlikely couple for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and closing the door.

You drag your feet getting ready; you’re not sure why you are so nervous to see Larissa. Okay, yes, you do. You can’t help but think, What if she is upset with me?

You push the thoughts from your head and travel downstairs. Standing outside her office, you take a breath to prepare and knock.

“Come in!”

You receive a rather large smile from Larissa as you enter her office. To your dismay, she is in her work chair behind the desk. Are you seriously trying to do work right now? You mull over voicing your thoughts. She interrupts, “Where did you go?” Almost all anxiety around overstepping last night had left your body as you saw Larissa choosing to not rest.

“I couldn’t sleep. What are you doing up at your desk?”

“As usual Wednesday’s assimilation is once again rocky. I just got off the phone with the temporary replacement therapist in Jericho. I need to repost the job advertisement…” Guilt overwhelms you. Rather than trying to scold her, you should be understanding. You move to stand by her and rest a comforting hand on her shoulder.

You hear her out and strategize a plan forward. After posting on a few education and counseling job boards, you stand and stretch—letting out a bigger yawn than anticipated. “Is that all?” you ask sympathetically.

“Oh, I didn’t want to see you for this. I wanted to apologize for falling asleep on you.” You blush a bit, disclosing, “No, no, not a problem. A cuddle was nice.”

It was the blonde’s turn to react puzzled. “Cuddle? I rather meant falling asleep early. Did we cuddle?” Larissa seemed to tease and had a lilt to her voice.

Mortified, you backtrack and stutter, “I-I’m not sure. Y-your comforter was heavenly, though. You’re lucky I don’t steal it as compensation for taking care of you.” A deep, throaty laugh sounds from Larissa. You two banter a bit before you retreat to her restroom attached to her living quarters.

Okay, so using the restroom was a ruse for slipping out and delivering her new mix and letter. This time you included a poem special to your heart.

You quickly lock the door and phase into the adjoining classroom on the other side of the wall. Making sure no one is watching, you slip out of the room towards the principal’s office door. Your knuckles rapt against the door three times before you slid the gift underneath and to the other side. You begin to hear heels coming closer in determination.

The door opens quickly, Larissa’s torso peering out, inspecting the hallways to find no one. You had immediately disappeared into the wall to return to the bathroom before Larissa could suspect you were missing. Her mind reviewed the many possibilities, It’s almost impossible to vanish that quickly with no trace. Vampires could not transfigure into bat form that abruptly. No ghosts were enrolled or employed. Powers of invisibility were rare and difficult to control… She turns, closes the door, and heads into the bedroom.

Coming out of the bathroom, you hear Larissa, “Look what I found.” “Oh, shit. Another mix CD? Who is it?”

The taller woman sits on the bed, perplexed. “I confess I don’t know.” Larissa’s disappointment shines through, only you don’t notice that it is due to your alibi and not the impending mystery.

—

After you make Larissa promise to stop working on emails and paperwork for the rest of the day, you depart for your own room.

As soon as you are out the door, Larissa is rummaging through files on everyone associated with Nevermore. All faculty, staff, and students self-disclosed their outcast status and abilities annually. Things are bound to develop and change as powers evolve, but there is no mention of any power that could reasonably explain the mix CD’s presence in the absence of its creator or deliverer.

Her hands wander over your file. You were an obvious choice for the open music position when Mr. Altone, your predecessor, retired. Your ability to manipulate sound and generate music was unparalleled, and you could even compose according to specific emotions or mental states. Before you applied to Nevermore, you were a successful composer and closeted outcast, somewhat of a musical theater sensation. Nothing listed here that would explain the delivery of the CD, but plenty to incriminate you in its very creation.

Resigned for the night after another hour of scouring the internet and her book collection for an explanation, Larissa decided to put on the new playlist. She had almost melted the first one from playing it on repeat until her CD player was hot to the touch.

Larissa pulled a chair towards her magnificent fireplace and waited for the music to envelope her. A sweet melody begins to play, and she is transported into a warm, dream-like state. Behind her eyelids, swirls of purples, blues, pinks, and reds dance and convey the emotions behind the carefully curated songs. Her heart swells. Larissa still has doubts about who is behind the mix CDs, but when the music fills her up, she imagines you. She hopes for you.

@lilsmeaux, @suckerforcate, @rickistheman, @tundra1029, @asterlovesgwen. Let me know if any of you don't want tagged anymore! :)

#love notes....get it?? #chapter 3 #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal weems #larissa x reader #principal larissa weems #wednesday #ao3 #fanfiction #gwendoline christie #music teacher #nevermore academy #boss/employee relationship #principal/teacher #Spotify playlist #mix cd #slow burn #mutual pining

[respectthepetty]

Tagged in by @elizabethsebestianhedgehog @telomeke @wen-kexing-apologist @pandasmagorica (I'm missing someone. I know it.)

Current time: When do we roll back time? Today? Tomorrow? My current time is time is abstract, and I don't understand Daylight Savings.

Current activity: I just got back in from a Día de Muertos celebration the local funeral home was holding at a cemetery. Very quirky. Very small town. I loved it! Now, I *should* be grading, but instead I'm booking the hotel for a wedding I'm attending on Friday. I'm dragging my feet since I don't believe in marriage, but I'll show up in the name of friendship.

Currently thinking about: Why I'm into Dan x Shadow.

Current favorite song: I went to the When We Were Young Music Festival again this year a few weeks ago, so I'm fully in my emo feels, which means I'm listening to the most toxic songs like Bring Me the Horizon's "Die4u" with lyrics like "'Cause the truth of it, you could slit my wrists, and I'd write your name in a heart with the hemorrhage"

It's very Eddie coded. It has the lyric "I keep holding my breath for a miracle" which really just rubs salt in the Kiseki (aka Japanese for miracle) wound right now waiting for confirmation that Chen Yi is alive and well in this finale.

Currently reading: It should be students' essays, but I attended a lecture yesterday from Dr. Jody Shipka over Edible Rhetorics where she talked about recipes as a valid form of composition and technical writing as well as the narratives involved in them, so now I'm reading her book Toward a Composition Made Whole, which calls for people to move composition off of the page, and as an emo with plenty of Converse that have lyrics written on them, this hits me in all the right spots.

Currently watching: What am I not watching would be an easier question because I'm watching all the shows, all the time, but I'm about to rewatch ALL of Kiseki: Dear to Me before the finale because I'm obsessed with it. I'm also stuck on episode four of Shadow because the theme of "praying away the trauma" is really hitting my Catholic heart hard.

Current favorite character: EDDIE! All roads lead to my Multicolored Menace. He stole my heart in the very first scene when he said not to look back then tried to run away from Chen Yi, and my love for him has only expanded each episode as he continues to be the most colorful character on the outside in bright cardigans yet the darkest on the inside, just like me! If only he wore black nail polish with his chokers, then it really would be me.

Current WIP: I'm presenting on Polynesian rhetoric in a few weeks, and I'm connecting it to rap music since both are based on oral traditions and incorporate mastery wordplay even in everyday situations, but I'm trying to find "academically appropriate" examples since apparently "Pussy get popped, piñata" is too much for some people. *rolls eyes* Who knew?

Tagging no one because it always reminds me of MySpace Top 8, and I don't want my heart or favorites exposed like that.

#tag game #thanks for tagging me everyone! #Youtube

[afyrian]

ch. three - we meet again masterlist

    the water rises to your chin, your arms outstretched, laying above the water. it's calm, moving slowly as the sand wraps around your feet. seaweed wipes across your shins and sends goosebumps up your legs. you take in a deep breath, smelling the salty ocean air. this morning, it's perfect, the way the colors blend with the horizon. 

  even the beach is declutterred and free from people. you always enjoy a morning after a storm, no one around. precipitation still covers the boardwalks and restaurants are still closed until lunch. you have the silence that you so eagerly enjoy while being atsumu's roommate. you love how close you are, but sometimes he sets the music on high and enjoys watching a game of volleyball.

  you take in one more deep breath before wading back towards the beach, dipping in once more to let it encompass your whole being. feeling it cool the back of your neck and wash away any worries you feel regarding school. it calms you down so much that you nearly forget about- akaashi. you look up, noticing him on the beach when you resurface, walking through the sand.

  for a second, you want to say something, invite him over. he seemed friendly the night before, smiling with you, but now you can't quite tell. he could've just been friendly and not necessarily wanting any conversation further. "l/n, it seems we meet again," the warm voice pulls you from your thoughts, the black haired boy making his way towards your stuff.

  you take in a deep breath through your nose, a soft smile stretching across your lips. "yes, people don't normally come out mornings after storms. it's my getaway of sorts," you hurry to exit the water, grabbing your towel to throw it around your shoulders. 

  "well, i can 'get away' if you need me to," akaashi murmurs, resting his hands on his waist, head tilting a little.

  "oh no need, you can be the exception," you shrug, crossing your legs out of habit as you stand, eyes stuck on his like every time you catch a glimpse of him, "do- uh do you want to hang out? i did bring a couple snacks."

  he nods, a curt smile stretching across his own lips. they appear soft, matching the rest of his clear skin and calm character. "sure, yeah, absolutely, i just have some things to attend to in not too long," akaashi finishes, hoping to get across the 'absolutely', not wanting to seem like he's unenthusiastic.

  you sit down on one end of the blanket, pulling out the crackers and grapes you had saved. he sits across from you, legs sitting straight out, one hand resting against the blanket to hold him up. you look out at the sky once more before turning your attention to the handsome stranger in front of you.

 "so, what brings you to the beach so early in the morning?" you question, popping a grape into your mouth, keeping the bag open so he can grab some as well.

  "it's my favorite place. the water, the sand between my toes. plus the sun in the morning can't be beat," akaashi looks out at the sky, his eyes glimmering with the reflection.

  "yes! thank you! none of my friends seem to ever enjoy the peace and quiet of a good morning on the beach. despite the fact that almost all of them are receiving degrees in marine biology..." you shake your head, removing the towel from your shoulders to wrap it around your torso.

  he shakes his head as well, either with sympathy or an understanding of your situation. "so, what are you doing at the center? if you're not a student, are you working there now?" you tilt your head, resting your elbows on your knees.

  akaashi sighs, looking out at the sun rising in the sky. there's something beautiful about the way it shines on his face, golden and bright. "right.. my uncle works there and because of my knowledge of sea life, he offered me a temporary job there. it's nothing like you guys are doing, but still a great experience," he turns his attention back to you, a smile on his face.

  “you do seem like you have quite a knack for marine biology. that diagnosis really helped me with the assignment,” you cross your arms over your chest, keeping both the towel up and your arms warm. 

  “you guys had it down, i just knew the full name,” he laughs lightly, playing off the intelligence that he so clearly carries, “don’t underestimate yourself, you seem quite at home with the water and the creatures it envelops.”

  a smile stretches across your lips, heat raising to your cheeks. you’ve received compliments before but none that ever appreciated your love for the ocean. for once, it feels as though you’ve met someone who understands you. “thank you, akaashi, that means quite a lot. now if this isn’t too forward, could we maybe exchange phone numbers?”

  “phone numbers?”

  “yeah- i mean it’s okay if you don’t want to, we barely know each other so that would be strange,” you close your eyes for a second, feeling a wave of embarrassment overtake you.

  he shakes his head, “no, no, i just mean that i don’t have a phone. i’ve been meaning to get one, but i’ve just never needed one where i’m from.”

  you hide back the want for laughter, eyebrows raised. of course, it’s probably better that way, leaving him free of the brain rot that you’ve endured. however, he can tell by your expression that it’s a surprise. a large smile forms on his face as he explains, “but i’ve been meaning to get one! i have!”

  akaashi turns away from you, lightly laughing as you shake your head. “no, it’s okay! i mean it’d be great to talk to you again, but phones can be pricey. if you do end up getting one during your time here, feel free to share your phone number,” you bite your lip to hide another fit of laughter, hand raising to cover your mouth as well.

  he turns back to look at you, completely in the moment. the way he looks at you rivals that of anything you’ve ever seen. you can’t help but admit to yourself that you’ve fallen for a practical stranger, and honestly, you’ve fallen quite hard. 

a/n: i rewrote this like three times D: taglist: @zombriesworld

#haikyuu #a seaward spark #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #haikyuu x reader #keiji akaashi #keiji akaashi x reader #mermaid au #merman au #x fem!reader

[lunarwritesrandomness]

Truth Potion Problem 4

It was midday on a Saturday. Due to an upcoming basketball tournament, the only people in the Scarabia lounge are Kalim, Grimm, a few other students, and us. Some snacks are set out for anyone to take if they wish, as well as some drinks as well. Grim is sitting to my right as I lean back on my hands, watching and listening to Kalim as he rambles about his younger siblings. Sometimes I wonder how he can keep talking this fast without getting tired, reminds me of when Idia rambles about games or animes.

Only snapping out of my thoughts as Grim tugged on my sleeve. Looking down, he repeats whatever he said before, “Henchhuman! Tell me if this tastes weird to you too!” shoving the cup he was drinking from.

“Can’t you just get another cup if it doesn’t taste right to you?” “Mah! I already did!” he shouts and Kalim just laughs lightly. “Maybe you're just not used to the taste of it?” He jokes at the fire cat. Grim gives an angry hemp as I bring the drink to my lips, taking a small sip. The extremely pungent taste of something fruity hits my tongue, causing a slight drawl back and puckering. Kalim laughs and leans forward. “Are you okay?” he laughs joyfully, smiling widely. “You didn’t make this did you?” I ask, blinking a few times. He laughs and shakes his head. “No, one of my classmates made them, said it was something their mother used to make them.” He responded truthfully. Huffing slightly in response before shaking my head. “It is something,” I reply while handing the drink back to Grim. “Just pick something different if it bothers you.” Telling grim while taking a bite of a cracker to try and get the taste out of my mouth. “Anyway, I was wondering if you would like to come to our mini concert the pop music club is hosting?!” Kalim asks while leaning closer to us. I nod in agreement. “Sure, I would go anywhere you were,” I say while not meaning to add the last part. He laughs happily and smiles brightly. Goaning internally, mentally shaming myself for saying that. He just smiles “That’s so sweet of you!” he joyfully says, his smile giving more warmth than all of the scalding sands could ever do. He tilts his head when I cover my face and look away. “Is something wrong?” he asks in a worried tone. “Nothing, just embarrassed that I said that…”Face pales slightly before muttering ‘And that too’. He shakes his head before smiling again, crawling over towards us. “Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about! Friends always like to hang out with each other!” he cheerfully explains, not knowing that isn’t what I meant. “But I don’t want to be ‘just friends’ I want something more! But I can’t be with you, you're too pure and I don’t think your family would accept someone of lower status!” I argue all filters are gone. I don’t know why, but I feel like I have to say these things like I would burst if I didn’t. He looked surprised as I quickly stood up. “And now I ruined our friendship, this is why I didn’t want to say anything!” my voice starts to waver as I tear up slightly, ready to dash off. The few other students in the area are all looking this way, even Grim is looking up nervously. “Hench human?” grim asked quietly, standing up. I dash off before anyone can say anything, running to the portal to leave. I hear someone shout for me to wait, and I refuse to stop for them. Someone grabs my waist, pulling me back into their slim chest. Struggling and kicking do seem to reward me with freedom. “Let me go!” I shout while wiggling and kicking to get free. At this point, the tears were already falling as my chest tightened and breathing became hard. Everything is blurry as the world starts caving in, there are voices but that’s miles from my mind at the moment.

What seems like an eternity, but is only 30 minutes, for the world to start slowly coming back. A few voices can be heard whispering as a painful headache starts to split across my forehead. The voices stop as I move to sit up, opening my eyes only to be met with dim red lights. Feeling gentle touches on my back as they help sit me up. Looking over I see Kalim sitting beside me, his left hand holding my back. Jamil is leading on the doorway, he leaves once Kalim gives him a nod. The door shuts quietly as he goes, Kalim looks back over to me. “How are you feeling?” he softly asks, reaching to the bedside and gabbing a few pills. He places them in our hands, before grabbing water for me. “My head is pounding..” I quietly say, taking everything he is giving. He hums softly and nods. “What is the last thing you remember?” he asks, watching me carefully. I pause for a few moments before responding truthfully with, “Scared about confessing, even though I didn’t want to…..” pausing for even more time while I look away. “I felt like I was forced to…Like I was trying to lie about it… but I just couldn't..” I tell him in a soft voice. He nods and sighs softly. “When Jamil got back, he found out someone had spiked the punch with a truth potion. He’s going to find out why now, you just rest for now. You had a bad anxiety attack.” He says with worried laced tones. “but I-“ he cuts me off by shaking his hand and making me look at him. “You did not ruin anything, because I love you too. You ran away before I could tell you.” He gives a soft but warm smile. A feeling of relief washes over me as he gently pulls me into a hug. “Let’s just rest for now, we can celebrate this with a party later once you are feeling better!” he cheers loudly, apologizing when I wince from the higher volume. He smiles before dragging me back down and under the covers.

sorry this took me so long, college sucks the life out of me sometimes.

#x reader #disney twst #kalim al asim #twst grim #jamil viper #tw drugs #panic attack #fainting #fluff

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Cater Diamond Halloween Personal Story: Part 2

"What a bunch of lies"

(Part 1) Part 2 (Part 3)

[Classroom]

Kalim/Cater/Lilia: Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh～～～ So tireddddddd～～～

Cater: This year's Halloween's way too crazy. Especially 'cause of the guests all being so rowdy…

Kalim: I like entertaining guests and all, but Jamil's mood's gotten so bad that it's terrible.

Lilia: Even we're totally exhausted and we're supposed to be the three peppiest boys here. Most of the other students must already be at their limit.

Kalim/Cater/Lilia: Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh～～～

Cater: Well anyway, it's great that we ended up having all of the Pop Music Club members on the Halloween Steering Committee.

Cater: Let's have one of our club's customary snack breaks, while we strategize some countermeasures.

Kalim/Lilia: AYE, AYE～!

Cater: Ta-daa, I brought this. It's Trey-kun's handmade pumpkin pie! It's my absolute fave, 'cause it's not too sweet ♪

Kalim: I brought a knafeh. It's a type of cheesecake from Scalding Sands. It tastes best when it's eaten hot!

Lilia: Oho. You both brought stuff that suits Halloween, I see. And here, last, but not least, here's what I brought.

Lilia: Licorice candy!

Cater: That's the same thing you always bring!! Both me and Kalim already told you we don't really like it.

Kalim: Yeah, it's got a little too strong of a smell, it makes my nose crinkle～

Cater: But hey, I guess it's black, so it's got a kind of Halloween feel to it.

Cater: Oh yeah. Let's take a picture of the three of us together. It'd be great to show off how good we look with our Halloween costumes and sweets.

Cater: 'KAY, HAPPY HALLOWEEN ☆

[shutter clicks]

Cater: #TheBestHalloween☆ #OurCostumes #OurTreats #PopMusicClub #NRCHalloween

Kalim: The best? Weren't you just saying you were super exhausted, Cater?

Cater: I mean, I'm not lying when I say I'm excited, either, and it's better to be more peppy when posting online.

Lilia: That's the spirit, Cater. This is the age where you can connect to anyone in the world. It's better to spread happiness, rather than complaints.

Cater: Oh! I'm getting some good responses on that picture I just uploaded to Magicam!

♪♪♪

Cater: It's a message from that person again. Were they always this persistent?

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

Cater: Now they're calling. So persistent…

Kalim: Oh, is that a friend, Cater? You can answer it here if you want.

Cater: Hmm～ …More like an old acquaintance? But it's fine. 'Cause we're in a super important meeting right now, anyway!

Lilia: All we're doing is eating snacks and taking pictures to upload to Magicam, however…

Cater: We're in that age where we can connect with people whenever we want, right? So I can't be fielding calls in real time all the time, y'know.

Kalim: Wow, you get that many people calling you all the time? Man, you're really a social butterfly, Cater～

Cater: Eh, I guess, if you think that's what it means to have a wide circle of acquaintances?

Cater: My father works as a banker, you see. And banks have branches all over the world.

Cater: So, whenever my dad got transfer orders, the whole family had to move.

Cater: We probably moved about once every two years or so, so I guess you could say I'm a pro at packing, or something like that?

Lilia: We were always one of those families that never settled down.

Kalim: So, when you were younger, you traveled all over the world, huh. Well, I totally see how you made so many friends, then.

Cater: Yeah, that person who messaged me earlier also considered me a friend, I guess.

Cater: I definitely met more people changing schools in such a short amount of time like that, than I would have if I stayed in one place.

Cater: The best kinds of people, and the worst kinds of people… I met 'em all. But there was always just one thing in common.

Kalim/Lilia: ……？

Cater: I would leave there eventually, and they'd all stay.

Cater: That's why instead of a down-to-earth relationship with someone, I'd rather just have a casual and happy-go-lucky relationship with everyone.

Cater: Kind of like those circus guys who'll come in for a whirlwind of fun with people all around the world, and then leave when it's done.

Cater: That's why Magicam's real neat. I even can get messages from people I knew in school three years ago.

Cater: I'm able to make more and more casual and light friendships, y'see? Now that's Cay-kun approved ☆

Kalim: I don't think you gotta restrain yourself, just 'cause you're far away from them, do you?

Kalim: Oh, I got an idea! I'll lend you my magical carpet. That way you can go see your friend anytime you want.

Cater: … Thanks, Kalim-kun. Maybe I'll use it one day?

Lilia: ―I think I understand you.

Cater: Huh?

Lilia: The bonds built between people will never disappear. It continues on forever.

Lilia: And sometime in your future, new bonds will develop that you cannot avoid. That is just what happens.

Lilia: However, the more important a bond you carry with someone, the lonelier it will feel without them.

Lilia: Why do we feel this way? I've lived quite a long life, and yet it's still shrouded in mystery to me.

Lilia: Just as you professed earlier, Cater, perhaps one truth to it all is to avoid becoming too attached to certain people.

Cater: Lilia-chan, what just came over you? No, what I wanted to say was―

♪♪♪♪♪♪

Lilia: Hello, it's Lilia-chan. What's up?

Cater: Man, he's just super alright with answering the phone in the middle of a conversation, huh.

Lilia: Oh, Sebek. What's going on? Why are you shouting? I'm in a meeting with Cater and Kalim right now.

Lilia: WHAT!? MALLEUS IS WHAT―!?

Kalim/Cater: !?

(Part 1) Part 2 (Part 3)

#twst #twisted wonderland #cater diamond #kalim al-asim #lilia vanrouge #twst cater #twst kalim #twst lilia #twst translation #twst halloween #screaming halloween show #mention: trey #mention: jamil #mention: malleus #mention: sebek

[theyuniversity]

This post was inspired in part by the following tweet:

We have many followers for whom English is not their primary language. To their credit, they are motivated to improve their writing in English. (Before we get too far along, if you want to get better at speaking in English, British English Coach has compiled this comprehensive list of 33 tips.)

Writing is hard for everyone. It doesn’t matter if you’re a native English speaker or an ESL (English as a second language) or EFL (English as a foreign language) student. We offer the following tips that have been proven to work—not just for us but countless people we’ve worked with.

Let’s start with the most important tip of all:

1. WRITE EVERY SINGLE DAY.

Writing has been aptly compared to a muscle that needs to be built through exertion and repetition. Remember when you tried to master spinning a pencil around your thumb? It was hard at first, right? And if you recall, you didn’t get better at it by reading an instruction manual or asking a friend who was really good at it. You ultimately perfected it by trying a hundred times a day.

Writing works in the same way: you don’t get better at it simply by reading writing guides or hiring the most expensive writing tutor with the most prestigious diploma. The only way to improve your writing is by dint of hard work and practice. Fortunately, your daily practice doesn’t have to consist of composing a five-page essay on fungal meiosis. You can write a summary of your day, a review of one of your favorite bands’ music video, or a response to a random writing prompt. (If you want such prompts, Writer’s Digest recently compiled an interesting list.) If you get into the habit of writing daily, your writing muscle will strengthen, thereby enabling you to write better and faster.

DON’T: Say I’ll write for x minutes a day. The clock might say that you’ve spent x minutes, but your paper or computer screen might be completely blank, i.e., it was a waste of time.

DON’T: Say I’ll write when I have something interesting to write about. Even if you cure cancer or discover Atlantis, you’ll find a way to convince yourself that those achievements aren’t interesting enough to write about. Just write.

DO: Say I’ll write at least x sentences, paragraphs, or pages a day. Set a tangible goal that you can’t achieve unless you actually write.

2. BREAK THROUGH THE INEVITABLE WRITER’S BLOCK.

The dreaded blank page plagues people writing in their native language, so writer’s block will be particularly daunting to ESL and EFL students who have the additional burden of “translating” their ideas into English. If you find yourself drawing a complete blank or simply unable to get started, ask yourself trivial questions that don’t require much thinking: What did I eat for lunch today? What made it taste good? What could have made it better? What do I want to eat tomorrow? Start writing by answering those easy questions. Sometimes, all it takes to break through writer’s block is to see text going across the screen or your handwriting filling up a line. During your daily practice, your writing doesn’t have to be inspiring. You’re not trying to start a new literary movement; you’re just working out your writing muscle.

DON’T: Say I’ll start writing after I get over my writer’s block. That is just a convenient excuse to avoid writing. Writer’s block is not like the cold: you don’t get over it by taking a pill, and it doesn’t magically go away.

DO: Get your daily writing started by answering simple, mundane questions instead of waiting for divine inspiration.

3. FIND YOUR MUSE / INSPIRATION.

Muses come in all shapes, colors, and sizes. For us, it comes in the form of a K-pop idol named G-Dragon. Listening to his songs and watching his music videos bring out our creative side. (Not surprisingly, we are listening to a G-Dragon / BIGBANG playlist while writing this post.) Finding a really good muse is difficult, so when you find one, take full advantage of it. In our case, G-Dragon not only inspires creative thinking, but he also often serves as the topic of our writing. A quick look at our Twitter timeline will reveal that he is the protagonist of hundreds of tweets. This is what we tell each other: “When writer’s block is knocking at the door, write (tweet) about G-Dragon.” Your muse can—and should—do the same for you.

If the thought of looking for a muse is too abstract or awkward, try this simple exercise: write letters to your crush. In other words, make your current crush your muse. Whether you end up sending the letters you write is up to you, but writing them will be good for your soul. You’ll be able to release your pent-up feelings and get some inspired, heartfelt writing done at the same time. It’s a classic win-win situation.

DON’T: Say that muses don’t exist or think that you won’t find one.

DO: Keep an open mind, and when you search for a muse, start with your favorite artist, singer, writer, or your current crush.

4. READ A LOT. THEN READ SOME MORE.

We’ve never met a good writer who wasn’t an avid reader. The printed word is an excellent role model for writing. Read novels. Read newspapers. Read nonfiction. Whatever you decide to read, do so with a notebook and a pen. Pay attention to syntax (word order), sentence structure, and diction (word choice). If there are certain sentences that you like for whatever reason, jot them down. Rewrite them in your own words. If you come across a new word that captures your attention, look up what it means—then use it immediately in your own writing. (Start by using the word in your daily writing practice until you feel confident that you can use it properly in essays for school.) Read actively. Don’t do it just to entertain yourself or to pass the time. Remember: your goal is to become a better writer.

DON’T: Read only childish comic books or gossip magazines. They might keep you amused, but they won’t improve your writing much.

DO: Actively read good writing and imitate (not plagiarize!) good phrases, sentences, and even paragraphs. Follow the italicized steps above.

5. GET MORE EYES AND MOUTHS INVOLVED.

Following tips 1-4 faithfully can take you far toward becoming a better writer. However, it’s also helpful to get people you respect and trust involved. First, extra sets of eyes examining your writing for the first time can catch mistakes that you didn’t notice because you’ve been staring at the same writing for so long. Second, good writers can offer suggestions and different ways to revise your writing that you might never have considered on your own. Lastly, learning to receive constructive criticism is a valuable skill. Some people cannot bear to hear their work criticized, so they either refuse to ask others for help or ignore any comments they do receive. Predictably, most of them are average writers who rarely improve.

DON’T: Treat writing as a completely solitary activity. Although you ultimately have to do the writing by yourself, you don’t have to block everyone else out during the process.

DO: Consult your English teachers, older students who are good writers, or writing tutors and get feedback on your writing. See if their comments are accurate; if they are, apply them. Be humble and openminded.

6. IMPROVE YOUR GRAMMAR.

A great story, thesis, or argument won’t be so great if your readers can’t understand what you’re trying to say. Equally bad is if they actually can understand you, but your poor grammar is so distracting that they don’t want to read further. It’s like a movie that has a compelling plot line ruined by terrible dialogue or unrealistic special effects.

So why is this important tip at the bottom of the list? Learning English grammar is a never-ending exercise full of contradictions and inconsistencies. It is a skill that needs to develop with your writing, not before it. Otherwise, you’ll spend all your time memorizing irregular verbs and learning the difference between who and whom, instead of actually writing. So if you’re writing a sentence and you’re not sure if you need to use the subjunctive mood, use Google. If the search results are overwhelming, follow tip #5 and ask someone. 

Getting better at writing is hard. You will experience your share of failure along the way, but you can do it! Don’t give up!

Website | Twitter |  Instagram | Medium | Pinterest | Ko-fi | eBook

#grammar #writing #English #English class #writing tips #ESL #EFL #ELA #ELT #studyblr #study tips

[savnofilter]

what type of music do you think iida is into? 🐳🐳

               tenya iida

tw; sfw & different music genres!! 🙀

read more; masterlist | drabble masterlist | students masterlist

a/n; this one actually made me think,,, because we all think that iida is like some uptight right? but like let's be real, he definitely got some sneaks of what he listens to on his playlist! i kinda wanna do this for more characters:'). thank you, anon!

1 — classical

well...this one was obvious. mans needs stimulating music that can help him think, train and focus. if you think classical music dont go hard, YOU ARE WRONG! there is such a wide variety of what you can get whatever you are feeling for. he probably does poses in the mirror while he has earphones in his hero costume .. like yes it's that bomb. even calm music is what soothes him the most. you can not convince him otherwise. 🤷🏽‍♀️

☆ fave artist - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

✮ fave song - Waltz of the Flowers by Tchaikovsky

         ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2 — asian pop (specifically j & kpop)

OH YEAH, HES A GIRL GROUP STAN IDC IDC IDC IDC IDCCCCCCCC. he love him some girly pop music. learns the dances too. does he go to meet n greets and shit? absolutely not. will go to a concert though. he definitely love the bubblegum pop music too. actually tbh, as long as the singer has a sweet voice in it, he'll love it. he's also a sucker for the more mature idols too—theres a lot of back n forth of what he prefers. he just appreciates the feminine art lol.

☆ fave artist - Babymetal (jpop) & TWICE (kpop)

✮ fave song - Black Cherry by KODA KUMI & Heart shaker by TWICE

         ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

3 — swing

okayyy bc you know this mans is smooth asf. he love him some swing, if classical music is to stimulate him, this genre brings more ease to himself. he be feelin' so shnazzy and free listening to it. swing/jazz is basically straight deep vibes. whenever he needs to just sway, swing is his go to.

☆ fave artist - Luis Armstrong

✮ fave song - What A Wonderful World by Luis Armstrong

         ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

4 — house/dance electronic

YEAH HE GOT HAPPY LIL FEET 💃🏽 he don't how to dance but he really wants to learn how to shuffle?! like he genuinely tries, and hes low-key kinda really good at it now! another genre where he feels carefree and light. just straight vibes and grooves. ugh he is so real for this.

☆ fave artist - Daft Punk

✮ fave song - Push The Feeling by Nightcrawlers & Latch by Disclosure ft. Sam Smith

         ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

5 — folk/city/café pop

tbh the songs under this has been categorized as pop, but like?? it sounds like folk to me. probably the other most personal music genre for him. similar artist that he may listen to to put it into perspective is like Laufey and maybe Phoebe Bridgers. that's the type of soothing vibe he needs when listening to this music. probably goes to the beach listens to this when he's by himself, or when hes alone and can really sit in his thoughts.

☆ fave artist - Lamp

✮ fave song - Sleep Among Endives by Ichiko Aoba

    all rights reserved © do NOT steal, alter or copy this work.

#bnha #mha #iida tenya #tenya iida #ingenium #talk iida #music #bnha headcannons #bnha hcs #sav's sfwers #sav's sfwin #d drabbles

[ziesbunz]

NCT Legacy Challenge

Inspired by lilsimsie and alwaysimming's not-so-berry challenge and sims-himbo's Barbie Legacy Challenge, I give you the K-pop collaboration idea that comes from combining the large numbered group NCT and our beloved Sims 4 Legacy gameplay.

Make sure to use the hashtag #NCTLegacyChallenge, so I can catch a glimpse of what you're making on various social media platforms and in the gallery.

Still unfinished (NCT WIsh members are to follow)

For easier access, here is the link for the Google Docs of the challenge

Welcome! To the 26 generations of a legacy challenge inspired by the 26 members of NCT!

Here are some of the basic rules of the challenge:

Play on short lifespan this is to make sure that we get through all 26 generations of this let’s play.

But if you want to play on normal life span please refer to the normal life span rules

This legacy is patriarchal, meaning only male sims can be the heirs of this let’s play.

The firstborn son would be the recognized heir.

All skills and careers should reach level 7

Unless stated otherwise 

All aspirations must finish the third level

Unless stated otherwise.

All generations should start with 2,500 Simoleons

Unless they are set to inherit the previous sim’s wealth.

Auto aging should be on even for townies.

You may opt to, but are not required to:

Edit your sims to look like the NCT members

Edit their names to be the same as the generation

Live in different lots per generation (if moving is not a requirement)

Follow with mid life crisis situation and change paths as long as you've reached the level 7 of your career.

Before we continue, I want to apologize with the fact that I used a lot of packs for this legacy challenge.

This legacy is still unfinished, the last six members (all from NCT Wish) have yet to updated as they've only debuted and I need to get to know them better so I can plot out what their generation would have and need to complete.

Also, this challenge doesn't reflect real life personalities of the members. It is simply inspired by SOME aspects of their personalities and what they show to us as idols. I also do not own NCT, nor is this challenge affiliated with them.

If you're a simmer, who happens to want a little more legacy challenges to play with and is not familiar with NCT please feel free to follow through with the legacy challenge and use the hashtags #NCTLegacyChallenge in all platforms (including the Gallery)

ISTP | Gemini

You knew since the very beginning that you were going to be a music teacher. All your life has led up to this moment. Now you’re actually teaching and aim to be loved by your students and be dubbed as the school’s beloved music teacher– yet you still longed for the stage.

traits: music lover, overachiever, loyal

aspiration: musical genius

career: education -- administrator

skills to lvl 7: piano, singing

additional requirements:

Visit the lounge once a week and perform

Meet your future spouse at the lounge

Bring your child to a gig at least once [the lounge once a week]

Speak to all the kids you meet in the library.

ENTP | Aquarius

Born to a pretty well-known and talented father, and quite notably good-looking parents you decided to bank on your looks and your height. Knowing full well that you were straying away from what your father was doing. Yet, you can’t seem to stray too far away from music, it becomes hard to pretend you don’t love what you love.

traits: outgoing, self-absorbed, snob

aspiration: master actor

career: acting

skills to lvl 7: fitness, DJ mixing

additional requirements:

Previous generation’s wealth is inherited

Reach celebrity level 4

Avoid all music-related gigs in the acting career [ex. The guitar gig that requires guitar skills]

Only do the skill building for DJ Mixing once an adult.

ENTP | Cancer

Your father was a popular actor and your grandfather a pretty well-known musician, and you? All you want is a simple life, so you pack up your bags and move to the country, although the one thing you can’t seem to move away from is the premium-aged nectar your father had in abundance. Now, you dream of starting your own nectar-making farm to fulfill those dreams of yours.

traits: animal lover, loves the outdoors, childish

aspiration: master nectar maker

career: none

skills to lvl 7: nectar making, gardening

additional requirements:

Move to Henford-on-Bagley as soon as you turn into a young adult..

Strictly no career [no odd jobs or part-time jobs]

Spouse should be from Henford-on-Bagley

May ignore the last part of the aspiration [earn 100,000 simoleons from nectar]

SEXY | Scorpio

Why did your father pack up all his stuff to move to the countryside? The boring, lifeless countryside. You just can’t seem to see the appeal of the quiet life in a remote village where it takes a good commute to get you to town, the charm of the bars, parties, and flirting seem much more appealing. A little partying and flirting isn’t going to hurt anyone.

traits: romantic, art lover, non-committal

aspiration: villanous valentine

career: style influencer -- trend setter

skills to lvl 7: writing, charisma

additional requirements:

Move into a needs TLC apartment as a young adult – unfurnished.

Move into a better apartment as an adult.

Must have your heir with a short-term live-in partner.

Have a strained relationship with your child/children

ESFJ | Capricorn

Everywhere you went all you hear about is how your father broke their hearts. It was like a curse hunting you every day. The only way you could escape was when you watched the sky. The many your father romanced were from the city, it was crazy how with every turn of the corner this was how they remembered you as. Maybe the only answer for happiness was in the stars.

traits: genius, neat, snob

aspiration: renaissance sim

career: astronaut -- space ranger

skills to lvl 7: logic, rocket science

additional requirements:

Move into the suburbia (newcrest, willowcreek, etc.)

Build a rocket ship

If abducted by aliens keep the child [if it is a male, that will be the heir]

Cook with your child three times.

Sing in the shower every time you take a shower.

ISFJ | Aquarius

Your father was rarely home– heck even rarely on the planet. On the rare occasion, he was home he was either working on his rocket or cooking lunch with him. His unhealthy obsession with the sky made it a bit difficult to approach him, but he had always made time by cooking them food and it seems that this has stuck with you.

traits: perfectionist, foodie, creative

aspiration: master chef

career: culinary -- chef

skills to lvl 7: cooking, singing

additional requirements:

Cook with your father 

Aside from cooking together, you cannot talk with your father

Indifferent with the other parent.

Invite Kun over to your place to cook for him

Karaoke once a week.

Meet your spouse at the karaoke.

INFJ | Aquarius

Your father was a talented chef and before you even realized it you were only used to eating the best of the best. Your father, as much as he hates to admit it, was a talented singer. Being surrounded in a house where creatives were valued you were bursting with your own creative juices. 

traits: high maintenance, creative, dance machine

aspiration: painter extraordinaire

career: painter -- master of the arts

skills to lvl 7: painting, dancing

additional requirements:

Previous generation’s wealth is inherited.

Give a masterpiece painting to Doyoung

Go to the club (place) once a week

Create a club for painters

Earn 2000 club points for the club [can be used and consumed]’

Spouse should be one of the people in the club.

Make a painting of your heir and give it to them.

ESFP | Aquarius

As much as your father was busy with his hobbies and work he seems to have always had time for you. Thus, all you’ve ever wanted was to become a father present in kids' lives– but things are always easier said than done. With work eating you up and a marriage that was bound to fail promising a great life for your kids looked impossible.

traits: family oriented, active, slob

aspiration: big happy family

career: salaryperson -- supervisor

skills to lvl 7: parenting, charisma

additional requirements:

Previous generation’s wealth is inherited.

Marry someone you’re not compatible with

Have four or more children

Get married as soon as you turn into a young adult.

INFJ | Scorpio

You grew up in a big house, with a huge number of siblings, and barely any room and space to yourself. As your parents put you in some after-school activity– cough drama club cough– in hopes that it would help with your shyness. But it doesn’t seem to have worked at all. All that’s left is a confused identity, whether you want to act or not, or find a compromise for that– or whether you want to be in a happy long relationship or not.

traits: loner, creative, geek

aspiration: soulmate

career: secret agent -- diamond agent

skills to lvl 7: logic, acting

additional requirements:

Complete the drama club during childhood and teen years.

Live in a micro home (max 34 tiles) until your second child then may expand to a tiny home

Thus, it is required to have at least two children.

Spouse must be a co-worker in order to keep the secret of your work.

INFJ | Pisces

Tiny home with a father who has always wanted to be alone and a number of siblings sharing a room. Your life early on was a total disaster– not to mention you were sure that your parents did some dirty work to get them by. Now all you want is a stable career and a stable place for all your future kids. But no matter how much you want to be a better person you can’t help but joke around.

traits: over achiever, goofball, materialistic

aspiration: successful lineage

career: engineer -- mechanical engineer

skills to lvl 7: mischief, robotics

additional requirements:

Never have a balance of less than 1,000 simoleons

By the end of this generation all children should have the ff:

Their own room

Most expensive computers (that doesn’t need to be unlocked)

Their own TVs and gaming consoles

Visit the lounge once a week to tell jokes and cause mischief (ex. Pranking the toilets, interacting w/ other sims)

INFJ | Leo

Your father made sure to spoil you, but you were never truly attached to your physical things instead you have always wandered around in your mind. Not to mention his uptight way of running your home doesn’t seem to sit right with you. Thus, it doesn’t really come as a surprise that you want to be a famous author.

traits: ambitious, bookworm, bro

aspiration: best selling author

career: writer -- author branch

skills to lvl 7: writing, guitar

additional requirements:

Reach celebrity level 3

Always. Always pose for the paparazzi.

To gain fun the main way is through playing a guitar (do this thrice a week to be considered a main way)

Attend if your book gets nominated and meet your spouse through this event.

ENFP | Leo

 As seen by your ancestors, a popular father has always had its downfall, but to you, it was no disadvantage at all. You loved the attention, but you weren’t exactly the writer that your father was– though you are talented as a singer, you just couldn’t see yourself pursuing it. But if you were to bask in attention maybe there was a way– be an influencer.

traits: self-absorbed, clumsy, dog lover

aspiration: world famous celebrity

career: social media -- internet personality

skills to lvl 7: comedy, pet training

additional requirements:

Adopt a dog and name it ‘Bella’

Every time you take a shower you have to sing in the shower.

Just like your father you have a bad habit of posing in front of the paparazzi

Your spouse must have celebrity status as well.

ENTP | Libra

You lived under all the spotlight. It was exhausting! Constant cameras in your face and your parents were just as obsessed with fame as everyone was obsessed with your parents. So all you could really think about was moving out as soon as you could– and as far away from your parents as possible. What better way to run away from people than to constantly work from home– but that only seems too hard for an extrovert like you.

traits: outgoing, cheerful, lactose intolerant

aspiration: neighborhood confidant

career: freelance -- programming

skills to lvl 7: video gaming, handiness

additional requirements:

Finish the aspiration

Give your neighbors (all those in the neighborhood) crafted items from the woodworking bench.

Move to Tartosa as soon as you turn into a young adult.

Visit the beach once a week and do your work there.

Upgrade one of your toilets to have a composting container.

CUTE | Aries

You lived in a town of romance. Surrounded by several beautiful things in your life. It doesn’t really come as a surprise that you turned into a romantic. You adored watching sunsets and were a lot more drawn to the ocean than normal. So, it doesn’t come as a surprise that you want to give back to the ocean and make sure it’s in perfect condition.

traits: romantic, hot-headed, child of the islands

aspiration: beach life

career: conservationist -- marine biologist

skills to lvl 7: logic, fishing

additional requirements:

Collect 75% of the fish collection

Move to Sulani as a young adult

Your spouse must be from Sulani and be a mermaid.

Do odd jobs during the day offs related to Sulani ONLY

Host a Kava gathering

Attend one town festival with your whole family.

Part two

Google Docs Link

#sims 4 #sims #nct #nct legacy challenge #nct 127 #nct the sims #nct dream #nct u #wayv #nct wish #kpop gamers #kpop #kpop sims #the sims 4 #legacy challenge #sims legacy challenge #ts4

[twistiraki]

Cinderella and the jealous co-star

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗ TᗯIᔕTEᗪ ᗯOᑎᗪEᖇᒪᗩᑎᗪ Pairing Jealous!Ace x F!Reader Warnings None ‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Y/N had landed the lead role of Cinderella in the school play, and she couldn't be more excited. She had always loved the story of the fairy tale princess, and now she had the chance to bring her to life on stage. As the day of the performance drew closer, she practiced her lines and songs with her co-stars.

"Okay, let's run through the opening scene again," Vil said, clapping his hands. He was chosen to be the director of the play. "Y/N, you'll enter from stage right, and Ruggie, you'll be playing the fairy godmother."

Ruggie grinned, holding up his wand. "Bippity boppity boo, Cinderella, I choose you!"

The other roles were assigned to various students: Trey as the wicked stepmother, Azul and Floyd as the stepsisters, and Leona as the prince. Y/N was impressed by how well everyone was doing, even the stepsisters, who had to wear ridiculous costumes and wigs.

As the rehearsals went on, Y/N noticed that one of her co-stars, Ace, was acting strange. Ace had been cast as one of the mice, but he kept staring at Y/N during the scenes. Y/N thought it was just nerves, but as the dress rehearsal approached, she noticed that Ace was getting more and more jealous of Leona.

On the night of the performance, Y/N was backstage, putting on her glass slippers, when Ace approached her. "Hey, Y/N," he said, nervously fidgeting his tail. "I just wanted to say... break a leg out there."

Y/N smiled, not sensing anything amiss. "Thanks, Ace. You're going to do great too."

As Y/N took the stage, she couldn't help but feel nervous. She didn't know what to expect. But as soon as she started singing, she felt the nervousness fade away. She let herself get lost in the music and the story of Cinderella.

But then, something unexpected happened. The stage was suddenly filled with bubbles. The audience gasped as they watched the bubbles float around the stage, some of them popping and sending soap suds flying in all directions. Y/N looked around in confusion, trying to figure out what was going on.

Then, she saw Ace, standing off to the side with a bubble machine in his hands. He looked mortified.

"I'm sorry, Y/N!" he called out over the sound of the bubbles. "I just... I couldn't help myself. ."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. She walked over to Ace, her glass slippers slipping on the soap suds. "You're ridiculous," she said, grinning at him.

Ace grinned back, his cheeks turning pink. "I know, but... I couldn't stand seeing you with Leona. I... I really like you, Y/N."

Y/N felt her own cheeks heat up. She had to admit, she felt the same way. "I like you too, Ace. But... you can't just go around sabotaging things."

Ace nodded, looking sheepish. "I know, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you somehow."

Y/N grinned. "You don't have to. This is definitely a performance to remember."

The rest of the play went off without a hitch, and Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected turn of events. After the final bow, Ace came up to her, holding a bouquet of roses.

"I hope you'll forgive me," he said, holding out the flowers.

Y/N took the roses, smiling. "Of course I forgive you. I'm just glad we can still be friends... and maybe more."

Ace grinned, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Definitely more," he said, before walking away.

Y/N watched him go, feeling her heart race. She couldn't wait to see where this unexpected romance would take her. And who knew? Maybe they could even star in a play together someday... without any soap suds and sabotage involved.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twst fanfiction #fanfiction #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #ace x reader #fluff #jealous!ace #I played Cinderella too in my high school performance!! <3 #Ace was not jealous of the prince then though ; - ;