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#like classes don't take up that much of my time
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Yandere Puppy Boy Wants to be Your Good Boy
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[Yandere! Puppy Boy! Boyfriend x GN Reader]
·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆
You and Evan have been dating for about a year now. You met in freshman year of college, and seemed to hit it off really well. It kind of amazed you at first that you'd managed to snag a total hunk like Evan.
Evan was the epitome of jock bro: Always working out at the gym, goofing off with his fellow jock friends, and watching tons of sports on TV. Meanwhile, you were a skinny nerd who was at the college on an academic scholarship since you practically lived in the library.
Still, Evan proved to be a great boyfriend. He was funny, attentive, loving-- a total catch. Plus, he was muscular AF!
Then one day, you saw an ad online that sparked your interest, and you couldn't resist purchasing the advertised dog collar that was leather with little spikes adorning it. Once it arrived in the mail, you approached Evan in your shared apartment.
He was on the couch in just his boxers, playing video games. He eyed you, seeing the smirk on your face. "What's up, Babe?" he grunted.
You blushed a little bit. "I just wanted to try something tonight... if you're cool with it?" you asked. Your sex life with Evan was not lacking whatsoever, but it was still healthy to spice things up every now and then.
You pulled the dog collar out from behind your back, holding it up.
At first, Evan laughed. "You want me to wear a dog collar?" he snorted.
"If you don't like it, we can take it off," you shrug, walking up to fasten it around his thick, muscular neck.
The way the leather collar with the spikes fit around Evan's neck made him look really tough, but he felt ridiculous at first. His face was bright red.
You thought he looked kind of cute. "Aww," you cooed, "who's a good boy?" You playfully ruffled his hair.
Good boy...
Something clicked in Evan's brain as soon as you uttered that phrase, and he felt his entire wiring being redone, as if every single instinct he possessed was being reshaped.
Evan's face broke out into a smile alight with zeal, and he dropped onto all fours in front of your feet. "Me!" he happily gushed. "I'm a good boy!"
Holy crap!
You were shocked at how quickly Evan's mind had changed. You weren't sure he'd be into it at all, but looking down at him now, he seemed to be having the time of his life. His muscular pecs heaved with excitement as he sat on all fours in front of you, eagerly awaiting a command. His boxers were already tented out too, damn!
"You're my good boy!" you chuckled as you leaned down and gave your boyfriend some head pats.
"Woof! Woof!" Evan excitedly barked.
That night, he showed you that he was a pro at doggy style, even howling when he came inside of you. The collar was definitely $14 well spent, in your opinion.
·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆
Much to your surprise, Evan loved being a good puppy boy for you. Well... "loved" is probably an understatement.
Evan refused to take the dog collar off, even wearing it out whenever the two of you left the apartment for date nights. At first you thought at it was just him exploring his sexual side some more... but as time went on...
Every time you entered the apartment from work or classes, Evan would excitedly bound over to you on all fours, barking happily and begging for head pats and belly rubs. With his massive bulk, he easily pinned you down, refusing to let you move until he got his pets.
Evan would pin you down on the bed, leaning down to kiss you-- but now his versions of kissing were like puppy licks. He'd lap his tongue all over your face, barking with glee despite your annoyed expression.
You'd be sitting on the couch, trying to watch TV when Evan would crawl over to you (he's been constantly walking around on all fours), wearing nothing but his spiked dog collar. He'd mount your leg and start humping it, whimpering as he rutted his hard cock against you like a dog would against its toy. (You had to apologize to your friend, who was visiting, for the awkward sight.)
You'd be trying to fall asleep after a long shift at work feeling so utterly exhausted when Evan would whimper at the foot of the bed. "Whaaaat?" you'd groan.
"Am I a good boy?" he'd whimper, his voice cracking like an injured puppy's.
"...damn it, yes, Evan. You're a good boy," you'd mutter, getting fed up with this quickly.
·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆
Your friends were starting to pick up on your change of mood, seeing that you were more irritable throughout the day, and not wanting to leave work immediately.
Sensing this, they invited you to the bar after work, to which you happily agreed.
You loved Evan, of course, but you were totally over his new puppy persona. And despite how many times you tried to tell him, all he'd do was tune you out, and beg for pets.
You really needed a break.
"Y/N?" your coworker, Joshua asked, noting how you'd practically downed your cocktail in one gulp. "What's up? What's bothering you?"
You didn't want to be one of those people who go to others whenever you had relationship problems, but you felt lost. "It's just Evan..." you muttered.
Joshua, who was actually a genuine friend who just so happened to be a guy, put a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. "I'm sure things will get better," he smiled at you.
A large part of you felt guilty since you were the one who'd purchased the damn dog collar in the first place, but you couldn't stand the thought of Puppy Evan and having to listen to his barking or him chewing on his squeaker toys for one more night.
Before you could say anything else, a low growl made you jerk back.
Evan stomped into the bar, still wearing the studded collar, his eyes narrowed at Joshua as he bared his teeth at him.
"Grrr..." Evan bellowed out a deep growl, all of his large muscles tensed up, making him look big and ferocious.
Joshua immediately retracted his hand from your shoulder, backing away quickly.
"Evan? What are you...?" you try to ask as your puppy boyfriend wraps a large arm around your waist, pulling you roughly into him.
"Mine!" he barked at Joshua, tightening his grip on you.
You were stunned.
He stopped growling when he looked at you, his eyebrows knitting together as he whimpered. "You didn't come home," he whined, nuzzling you. "I had to come find you."
He didn't give you a chance to respond, and instead threw you over his broad shoulder. He puffed out his chest and held his head up with pride, as a dog does whenever they find a cool stick at the park, and carried you all the way home.
You were mortified, wondering how you were going to show your face at work after that. All you could do was seethe with anger as your puppy boyfriend took you home.
Once you were inside, Evan got down on all fours and whined at you. "Wasn't I being a good boy?" he asked. "Why didn't you come home? I missed you all day!"
"Evan, stand up--"
Evan whimpered like a puppy, nuzzling his head against your hand as he asked for head pats.
That was the final straw for you (a small one, but it was like death by a thousand paper cuts).
"I'm done," you finally huff, walking down the hall so that you could pack up some clothes and leave.
"D-done?" Evan yelped, quickly crawling behind you. "But why? Haven't I been a good boy?"
I grabbed your suitcase out of the closet, trying not to look at your puppy boyfriend as he begged in the doorway, perched on his legs with his arms out in front of him, his eyes wide and pleading.
Annoyed, you turned to sneer at him. "No!" you spat. "You've been a bad boy!"
"I'm a bad boy...?" Evan yelped.
You kept your back to him as you packed up your suitcase. Just as you were almost done, you heard that eerie growl again.
"Grrr..."
You quickly turned around and paled when you saw Evan on all fours, standing in front of the door. He was baring his teeth at you and growling deeply, his chest muscles puffed up and making him look all the more menacing. The pissed off glare on his face was akin to a feral dog, and he snarled in your direction.
"E-Evan, please g-get out of the way," you trembled, taking a small step towards the bedroom door so that you could leave.
Evan barked loudly, stomping his hand/paw onto the floor forcefully as he steeled his stance. He continued to snarl at you, lunging forward to scare you.
It worked and you stumbled back, falling onto your ass. You tried to back away from him, but Evan quickly crawled over to you.
He pinned both of your arms down onto the floor above your head, unleashing a loud snarl and he pushed his angry face up close to yours.
"Am I a good boy?" he snarled, baring his sharp teeth at you. "Or am I still a bad boy?"
Your heart raced in your chest. Evan is much stronger than you, and you knew you couldn't fight him off. Plus, the way he bared his teeth at you and the animalistic growl that escaped his throat was much more dog than man, making you shudder.
"Y-yes!" you stuttered. "You're a good boy, Evan!"
Instantly, Evan stopped growling and his broke out into a joyous smile. "I'm a good boy?" he asked, his muscles tensing with with excitement. He still kept you pinned down.
Hell no!
But you didn't want him to maul you or bite out your neck with his teeth. So instead, you slowly nodded.
"You're the bestest boy," you cringed.
Evan's smile grew wider. "'The Bestest'?" he repeated. "I guess if that were true... then you'd never, ever leave. Right?" He narrowed his eyes at you, trying to gauge your reaction.
His chest rumbled as a growl began to form, warning you to answer correctly.
You force a smile onto your face, but it's pained.
"O-of course not," you stammer, your heart falling as you sealed your fate. "You're... my, *gulp, good boy."
Evan smiled widely as leant down to lap at your face as he gave you puppy kisses. "I'm a good boy," he playfully growled as he began to rut his hardening cock against you.
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ghyulia · 2 days
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Shouto Todoroki x reader, wc ~2.9k
tw: injuries, a little bit of angst if u squint rlly hard just dumb todoroki in luvv
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There are three times with you when Shouto has to physically stop himself from kissing you.
The first time is when you two are cleaning up after the UA festival. You had offered to stay behind to clean up the little that was left while everyone else had headed to the beauty pageant. You didn't mind missing out on it, really. The performance with your class was already so much fun and left you feeling content enough for the rest of the day. Todoroki, upon hearing your offer, also decides that he wants to stay back and clean up. His excuse is that "Most of what's left is my ice anyway." You smile and say that you would definitely appreciate his help. You fail to notice how the tips of his ears change into a redder hue.
You two work in comfortable silence, getting rid of most of the ice. It stayed like that for a while, until you heard one of your favorite songs playing from somewhere on the UA campus. "Oh, I love this song!" You said, humming along. Todoroki couldn't help but stare. You look so happy. He felt something warm blooming in his chest again. At first, Todoroki had wondered why this only happened when he was around you. He thought he might be sick, but after these..weird phenomena in his body kept on occurring, he took to the web, which gave him a better insight into his strange feelings. Love wasn't something he was experienced in, as he didn't receive much as a child. It was his first time ever feeling this way...
He's so busy staring at you that he doesn't even realize when he stabs himself with one of the props.
"Todoroki, Oh my God! You're bleeding!" You yell as you frantically rush over to where he is. "Oh. I am." The boy murmurs. You grab his hand without a second thought and inspect the damage done. "It's not that deep, which is great! You should probably put a bandaid on it though." You say, flipping his hand front and back. You're so close. Shouto has to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking to kiss you. You two had finally started getting closer. If you didn't see him that way, or if you just didn't want to kiss him, Todoroki thinks he would probably never recover. Ever. So he just tries his best to avert his gaze from you. "I should probably head over to Recovery Girl, then." Todoroki mumbles, still not looking directly at you. "Actually, I think I have a bandaid. Wait one sec!" You abruptly let go of Todoroki's hand before running over to where you left your bag. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and tries his best to calm his nerves. You dig in your bag for a while, before finally jogging back to where you left the boy. "Here! It's a bit childish, so if you don't want to wear it I totally understand, haha." You smile.
The bandaid is pretty childish. It's hot pink, with little kirbies and yoshies plastered all over the flimsy material. Todoroki can't help but crack a smile. "I'll take it. Thanks, (Name)." You smile at him before getting back to work.
30 minutes later, everywhere is clean. Todoroki bids you a short goodbye before heading to the auditorium's exit.
"By the way, Todoroki?" "Your hands are really pretty."
Todoroki swears he can feel his heart explode. He utters a quick "Thank you" before hastily exiting the room.
He never ends up using your bandaid, instead opting to keep it safe in the confines of his wallet. (He just wants to have it forever and stare at it. It's his first gift from you, after all.)
The second time is during your hangout together. Upon visiting Todoroki's dorm a week prior and finding out he had never done the fun average teenage stuff (Amusement parks, zoos, aquariums, the like) you insist on taking him out along with a few other classmates to paintball.
You explain how it works and the rules, and he listens, head nodding up and down like a puppy. Cute, you think.
Paintball is a blast, is all Todoroki can think. The first round was pretty calm, with everyone trying to get into the feel of the game. The matches afterward are pure chaos. The good kind. Everyone is doused in paints of various colors. Hours go by, and everyone decides to have the final match before going to lunch. You and Todoroki are on different teams, which disappoints him a little, but nothing he can't handle of course. (He's sulking miserably.)
The game progresses, and still no sight of you. Todoroki lets out a small sigh before scouting the area for a potential target. He doesn't notice you sneaking up behind him. You decide that instead of shooting him, it would be more surprising if you just throw all of your paintballs at him. By the time he realizes you're behind him, it's too late. "Gotcha!" You shout. Todoroki's covered in paint from head to toe now, but he knows that your arsenal is wiped out. He gets to work, quickly trying to grab his gun and extend the distance from you two. You don't allow that though, closing in on him even more and attempting to grab the gun from his hand. As a last-ditch effort to get you, Todoroki tries to reach for the paintballs attached to his thigh. You frantically grab his hand and intertwine your fingers in them, pushing him backward until you both fall over. At this point, you both are rolling, trying to take the paint on Todoroki's thigh until you roll right into a designated trap that ends up spilling paint all over the both of you. You both stop and blink. You guys look like a mess. You burst out into a fit of laughter, and Todoroki just stares at you. He didn't even realize the proximity you two are in until now. You smell like green apples...or something else that's fruity. He can feel your breath as you laugh, and he swears he might just kiss you right now.
You finally realize that one of your hands are still intertwined together, and blurt out a quick apology before wiping away some paint from your eyes. Todoroki gets up and offers you his hand, smiling wider than you've ever seen him do before. You take it, and he doesn't let go until you reach the paintball locker rooms.
The rest of the day is just as fun. When the evening rolls by, Todoroki offers to walk with you back to the dorms. "Today was really fun, wasn't it Todoroki? Next time I think we should totally go to the aquarium! Spring break is coming up soon, so we can ask Mr. Aizawa beforehand for permission if you want!" You beam. Todoroki smiles.
"Yeah."
(And it was on that trip to the aquarium where you two ended up on a first-name basis. Todoroki thinks that the paintball and aquarium trips were genuinely the happiest he's ever been in his life. The pictures from those days hung up on the wall in his room attest to that.)
The third and final time is when you get badly injured. Due to Todoroki's feud with Yoarashi, and Bakugou's poor performance during the rescue section, They had both failed to get their provisional hero licenses. You however had successfully gotten your license and had started your hero intern studies with the rest.
You were doing your internship with Ryukyu and were enjoying it for the most part. It was hard, but you were learning new things, so it was pretty rewarding. You hadn't really talked to Shouto much as you were busy with your work and he was busy taking his supplemental makeup lessons. You would occasionally say hi and bye, but that was pretty much it. Shouto was losing his mind. He already felt annoyed that he had let his feelings about his old man get the better of him during the test, causing him to lose his license, but he was losing way more now. He was losing time with you.
Eventually, you and a few of your classmates are pulled into an operation regarding the Shie Hassakai. You learn about the plan to defeat Kai Chisaki, the mastermind of this yakuza group, and to save a girl named Eri. You hear about the horrors being done to her and it sickens you to your stomach. After the briefing, you, Midoriya, Ochaco, Kirishima, and Asui are sworn into secrecy. You can't tell anybody about the mission. (but you so badly want to tell Shouto.)
The days leading up to the mission are horrible for you. You feel so nauseous every time you think about poor Eri. How could Chisaki do this to his own kid? The rest of 1-A seem to take note of the damper on a few of you guys' moods, with Iida always offering an ear to any problems you may be facing. It doesn't go unnoticed by Shouto either. He hates seeing you look that way. He's never seen you make such a sad expression. He doesn't know what to do or how to approach how you're feeling, so he just watches from afar. Occasionally, he offers you some of his lunch. You just force a smile at him and politely refuse, making him feel even more useless. He was so frustrated with himself for not being able to make you smile like you did that day. (His mind wanders back to the paintball trip...).
(You yourself were in your own turmoil. Every time Shouto talked to you, offered you a smile or some of his lunch, you fought the urge to just spill everything and cry in his arms. When did your crush on him get so bad?)
Shouto decides to let it go for now, resolving to visit your room later and ask force you to tell him what's wrong.
But that resolve is quickly crumbled upon making his way to your dorm, hearing the faint sounds of sniffling and muffled sobs. Shouto freezes in his tracks, unsure of what to do. Should he still knock? He knows you'll pretend to not have been crying. He doesn't how he would comfort you...
And so he decides that tomorrow, he'll definitely talk to you. For tonight though, he'll think of all the ways to make you feel better.
As it happens, tonight turns out to be the night of the operation. You slip out of your room at an ungodly hour and meet up with the others.
The mission goes as it goes. You end up separated from the others, left to fight some of Chisaki's goons. You hold your own, making them bite the curb. You only sustained minor injuries, to your luck. You're about to go regroup with the others when some of the underlings inject themselves with a quirk booster shot and all but pounce on you. You grit your teeth and prepare for a rematch. Does it even count as one? You think. You fight, but it feels never-ending. The enemies just keep on getting stronger. Eventually, you're bruised, bloody, and losing stamina. You feel yourself getting weaker. Your field of vision starts to distort, leaving you queasy. You need to wrap this up, quick. One of the enemies manages to leave another deep wound on your abdomen, but you fight through the pain and use this moment to land a fatal attack yourself. After fifteen more minutes of gruesome fighting, you finally land the dealing blow on the last of the goons. You think you did until you see him get up again. At this point, you're bleeding from too many places to count, and you can barely hold yourself up, let alone attack again. So you brace yourself for an attack that never comes. You open your eyes and realize that the enemy couldn't even handle the quirk booster in his system anymore, passing out from the strain. Thank God. The adrenaline wears off, and you pass out, lying in a pool of your own blood. The only thing you can think of before you're out is Shouto and his smile. That day you two went to the aquarium was really fun.
When you come to, you're in a hospital bed. You blink, trying to adjust to the light. You dart your eyes around, observing your surroundings. Is it over? You think, before slowly sitting up. Your wounds don't hurt as much as you thought they would.
You later learn from the Doctor that you had been asleep for almost two days. She also tells you that since your injuries seem to be healing well, you should expect to be discharged by tomorrow. And you do along with the others.
You're greeted at the dorms with a warm welcome and a 'great job!' from most. You look around for Shouto and spot him sitting on the couch saying something to Bakugou. You want to talk to him and catch up on things, but maybe that should wait... You opt to talk with Mina and Hagakure instead. (Once again, You fail to notice the boy staring intently at you.)
You decide to retire to your dorm for the night, feeling tired yet relieved. With the whole operation done and Eri saved you felt like you could sleep peacefully--- for the most part. A part of you really wanted to talk to Shouto. It felt so long since you two had done that. He didn't say a word to you today. Was he mad you didn't tell him about the operation? You tried to talk to him after your conversation with Mina and Hagakure, but by the time you finished, he was gone. You let out a sigh and wait for the elevator.
"(Name)." You turn around to face the white and red-haired boy. Your heart does a little jump for joy. "Hey, Shouto! It's been a while hasn't it?" You attempt to make small talk, but it seems like he isn't having it at all. The elevator comes, and you both get on. It's silent, but not the comfortable kind. You feel him staring at you. "Is something wrong?" You inquire, smiling politely. "Yeah." Shouto leaves it at that and you turn to face him. "Oh..do you wanna talk about it? I was heading to my room if you wanna come with." He nods, not saying anything else until you close your room door.
"So..What's up?" You ask, tilting your head slightly. You take a seat on your bed and pat the spot next to you, motioning the boy to sit. He does. Shouto doesn't know where to start. He doesn't know what to say, so he just exhales and lets all his feelings pour out.
"You...When you first began your work-study you got really busy...Which is normal, of course. We didn't get any time to talk to each other anymore, which hurt me a little (A lot). Then the special operation came along, and you got really gloomy. I know why now, but at the time, I didn't. And I didn't expect you to tell me why you were down in the dumps because it was obvious you didn't want to tell me, but it was still hard to watch you be so sad. I hate watching you make such a pained expression, (Name). I felt helpless. I just wanted to make you smile and laugh like you did for me. Whenever I see you smile, it makes me want to smile too. To make things worse, I wanted to talk to you about your feelings, but I froze when I got to your room after hearing you crying. I hate myself for it. I told myself that I would do it the next day, but by then, you were gone. I regret it so much. Fuck, I really wish I had just knocked on the door. And then I heard that you got seriously injured during the mission and it felt like my heart was being clawed out from the inside. I hated that feeling so much, (Name). And honestly, I lied. Not talking to you hurt me a lot, because I love talking to you, (Name). I love..." Shouto stops and looks at you.
You stare at him for a while, processing everything he said. "I didn't know you felt that way, Shouto." You moved closer to the boy before placing your hand on his. "I...felt the same way, for the most part. I hated not talking to you as much, too. And also, I did want to tell you about everything. In fact, you were the only person I wanted to talk about it to. But I couldn't. But I should've at least talked to you on a general level. Also, I didn't know you heard me crying, hehe. You shouldn't blame yourself for not coming in. You were going to come the next day, weren't you? It was just bad timing. And I love making you smile too. For me, just being around you is usually enough to lift my spirits too. During the operation, and even in my fight, I was thinking about you. So don't blame yourself, Shou."
Shouto just stares at you. All he really wants to do is kiss you, but he stops himself because he's unsure and anxious. He doesn't want to ruin things. He likes you too much to run that risk.
But when you intertwine your fingers with his, lean in, and press a chaste kiss to his lips, Shouto stops denying himself heaven and crashes his lips against yours.
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a/n: ahhh that's it!! I actually really like this and I love todoroki sm :))) I hope ygs like this as much as I do!
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thegoldencontracts · 18 hours
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Housewardens with a Tsundere!Reader (Pt. 1)
I've seen this a lot, and I wanted to share my own takes on how I think they'd act! This is a part one, including Riddle, Leona, and Azul.
Summary: You're tough, brash, and rude, getting snippy at all those who try to approach you. All for the sake of covering up your soft side. How do the housewardens react?
Notes: Romance, GN!reader
Contains: Riddle, Leona, Azul
Riddle Rosehearts
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He thinks your behavior is highly improper.
When he first approaches you, you do not hesitate to screech that he's an idiot.
He can and will try to collar you if you're getting particularly loud.
All in all, he thinks you and your defensive, brash nature are utterly infuriating. If you hit him, expect to be collared. You're just- so annoying.
...So why does his heart race whenever he's around you?
That's right. Riddle's also a tsundere (sometimes, at least)
And that means you two are evenly matched
Poor Trey often has to watch you two and your constant bickering, and your occasional stammering.
You yell that Riddle's an idiot, he says you're a buffoon who never learned to respect the rules. Both of you secretly like each other. It is painful to watch.
You make Riddle lunch and you claim you just had extra. Of course, he responds by denying his appreciation.
Who will confesses first? It really depends on whose friends decide to finally intervene.
All in all, you two have a cute yet infuriating to watch relationship.
Leona Kingscholar
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He doesn't have time for you, or so he thinks.
When he first sees you, rebuking you for encroaching upon his territory, you call him an idiot for thinking anyone would ever take his ridiculous territory claims seriously.
You're not off to a great start. Leona is very likely to try and make you put your money where your mouth is.
...With a game of chess, of course! Leona just woke up and doesn't feel like particularly like fighting right now.
That, and, he doesn't know why, but he really doesn't feel like getting you hurt.
Considering just how good Leona is, there's a very good chance he'll absolutely demolish you.
But if you manage to win, he'll definitely be impressed.
Either way, he'll tell you to stop bothering him. You huff, and say he was the one bothering you, and that's that.
Except it isn't. Of course, somehow, the two of you end up stuck together. First you're paired up in a joint class, then you're both locked in the botanical gardens during an emergency, and then Ruggie keeps making the two of you talk.
Leona hates it. Considering the way you huff, you do you.
Except, once again, neither of you do.
You actually try to get closer to Leona - despite the roundabout, brash way you go about it - and he hates that he likes it.
Your average interaction at first consists of him telling you to 'get away, herbivore', and you yelling at him to 'stop bossing me around, idiot!'
But slowly, he stops pushing you away. And you warm up with time too.
You're weirdly friendly - though sometimes, your insults do genuinely get to Leona. You'll apologize in that roundabout, flustered way of yours, and though Leona rarely vocalizes, he'll accept.
He doesn't want to lose you, after all, no matter how much he pretends he couldn't care less.
Leona doesn't confess first. You don't confess first. Ruggie confesses first on both of your behalfs, and though Leona plans to chew him out at first, when things work out, Ruggie quickly finds himself on the receiving end of countless donuts.
While dating, both of you will likely be softer with one another.
Once again, very cute relationship, and both of you are so harsh and yet so soft with each other at the same time.
Azul Ashengrotto
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At first, Azul genuinely dislikes you. Your posturing, your pride, the way you seem to look down on him with your endless insults reminds him of those who bullied him.
But, Azul isn't that same little octopus anymore. He's grown used to insults, sadly. He's been looked down on all his life.
Your words mean nothing to him. They're a slight sting at most.
Overall, he'd just like to stay away from you. The moment you first met, you told him to "S-Stay away from me, you scheming idiot!"
Then, when he - in an attempt to stay smug despite his burgeoning temper - asked you if you were scared, you replied that you could never be scared of a slow, clumsy loser like him.
Slow, clumsy, idiotic octopus. That's what they called him as a kid.
And then, he sees your cuter moments. The more endearing ones. And he can't help but feel his heart flutter against his wishes.
God, Azul hates it. He hates how cute he finds you, how his heart races whenever he's around you.
Love is a position of vulnerability. Azul's meant to take advantage of it, not be the one stuck with it!
And, well, Azul's never known anything but rejection when it comes to true connection. Even the twins always insisted they were nothing more than his business partners (though the accuracy of their claim is rather dubious).
And you? You're going to mock him for sure.
Truth be told, Azul's scared. He's scared of what'll happen if you find out about the budding feeling in his chest, and he's scared of being laughed at by someone who he can't help but love.
So, of course, he tries to keep his walls up. Never drop that smug air of his. Never let you see the burgeoning fear underneath.
But that doesn't work out. You do manage to squeeze out the cracks in his facade, but then you laugh, saying he should really drop that infuriating smug face and do this more often because it looks cute, and he doesn't know what to do.
People aren't supposed to love this side of him. Least of all you. You're always insulting him, after all!
And yet, you think he looks cute like this. He hates how much his face flushes at that.
Now that Azul's developed a crush, he can't deny that, now, there are times when your jabs get to him. He doesn't say anything. He can't. He had to remain composed, because otherwise he's opening himself up to endless mockery.
But one day, it gets to him, and he finds himself hunched in a corner, reverting to his old habits as he furiously checks himself for any imperfections. What's he doing wrong? Is his voice truly annoying?
...And then you walk in on him.
How had he forgotten to lock the door? He feels like such a moron, but he can't let you see, or-
You're nothing but patient and apologetic. Even as he hisses at you to leave, threatens you, and tries to make you a contract, you're still patient.
You apologize, for once. He can't help but still get prickly with you, after all, you've just witnessed a humiliating moment of his that you caused. But he still does appreciate it.
You two do gradually get closer, softer, doing favors for one another. Feelings are budding. And yet, neither of you do anything.
Eventually, Jade and Floyd intervene, and just straight up set you two up. It's embarrassing for the both of you, but hey, at least you got together.
Azul's still docking their pay, of course.
Though the two of you get off to a rough start, you still manage to find your way together in the end.
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bvidzsoo · 13 hours
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♡Boyfriend!Wooyoung♡
Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x female reader
TW: none
Word count: 678
Genre: fluff, comfort, established relationship, bullet points, non-idol!au
A/N: Hello, anonie, I see that you have sent the request to my other blog, which I use for rebloging my favorite works (something that I haven't been doing for a long time lol I have to pick up on it again) I'd like to clarify that I don't take requests, sorry guys, but I simply don't have the time rn and I usually struggle coming up with anything unless it's my own idea lol. And if you do send a request, it might take a long time for me to write it, my apologies. This story is in bulletpoints, just letting you know. Hope you enjoy it! ^^
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it had been a long day
too long, actually
normally, tackling a long day of work and going to your Pilates class too wouldn't have made you so exhausted
but you were sick, very, apparently
you had spent the weekend up in the mountains last weekend, at your boyfriend's best friend's weekend cabin and it was rather cold
so naturally, you caught a cold
but life doesn't stop there, no matter how unwell you felt
you still had a job...a very demanding one, at that
and you had just picked up more shifts last week, unknowing of the predicament you'd find yourself in after your little trip
so now, by the time you had reached home at the end of the day, you had no power left in your body
your head was dizzy and you were grateful you managed to get home without crashing your car, but walking up the stairs to your apartment felt like an eternity, and it was horrible
as you fiddled for your keys, on the verge of tears as your whole body was burning up, you became aware of the music coming through the front door, and you boyfriend belting out high notes alongside it
and as you finally unlock the door and push it open, you're met with your boyfriend standing in the middle of the living room in nothing but an oversized t-shirt reaching past his naked thighs and knee-high socks he uses when playing football with his friends after a long working day
and oh, he's holding a wooden spoon, looking completely off-thrown by your arrival
he misjudged the time and thought you wouldn't be home for another hour
now you'd have to wait for dinner, and that's not how he had planned your date night to go
which was a surprise that Wooyoung came up with last minute
you stare at Wooyoung for a second, before dropping everything from your hands and kneeling, holding your head in your hands, tears finally springing from your eyes
Wooyoung is flabbergasted and immediately rushes to your side, dropping the wooden spoon on the small coffee table in the process
he's by your side in an instant, cradling your head to his chest as he presses a kiss to your forehead before he's wiping your tears away, making you finally feel at ease despite the headache, dizziness, and nausea you're feeling
Wooyoung is your pillar when you're feeling even the slightest bit off and he certainly understands that what you need right now are silence, a warm bath, and some painkillers, of course
and so just like that, he helps you up and walks you to your bedroom, leaves you on the bed to discard of your clothes and goes prepare the bath for you
and once you are done with the bath, feeling slightly better as your head isn't pulsating so much anymore, Wooyoung surprises you by bringing dinner to bed, of which you can't eat too much now, but it'll be good in the morning
and then Wooyoung gives you some water and you take the painkillers and before he could go and let you rest, you grab Wooyoung's wrist and offer him a small smile
and he understands without you saying anything
and so, he shuts off all lights in the apartment before joining you in bed, and because you don't want him to catch a cold, he becomes the small spoon as you burry your head into his back, holding onto him tightly
and suddenly all your worries melt away, and today doesn't seem so grim anymore
your head is still thumping, and your nose is still stuffy, and you think your fever is finally going down
but what matters most, is your boyfriend being by your side and humming quietly, tracing your skin gently with his fingers, your right arm resting around his torso, feeling safe
far away from the exhausting world and demanding assignments from your work
and you know you'll feel a lot better by the morning, all thanks to your lovable boyfriend, Jung Wooyoung
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⚞ Masterlist ⚟
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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^
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otdiaftg · 3 days
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The King's Men - Chapter Seventeen (19)
Day: Friday, April 26th / 27th* Time: 9:33 PM EST
The only Raven making a second appearance on the court tonight is Riko. The other two filing on are brand new, another striker to balance Riko out and an offensive dealer Neil remembers from last October's game. The Ravens intend to tear the Foxes' defense wide open, and by this point it won't take a lot of work. They are almost halfway through the second half. Even though the Foxes are built for the long haul they are quickly running out of steam. It costs them too much to go up against a team like this. "They're not fast enough," Andrew says. He has to mean their defense line, so Neil says, "I know." "Are you tired?" Andrew asks. It isn't concern, Neil knows, but that doesn't make it a less confusing question. He hasn't gotten the ball often enough tonight to be tired, but he can't say that with Matt standing two feet away from him. "Not yet." "Then I'm taking my turn. Matt," Andrew says, and Matt turns toward them immediately. Andrew lifts a finger from his racquet to point at Neil. "We're subbing Dan for Neil and Neil for you." Matt stares. "We're what?" "You're limping," Andrew returns. Neil hadn't even noticed, too focused on the ball and the Ravens. He shoots a startled look down at Matt's feet like he can somehow see the source of Matt's pain. "You're no use to me right now. Get Abby to put a brace on that. Neil can hold them in the meantime." They've said all night that speed is the fatal weakness on their defense line. Neil is the fastest player in Class I Exy, but how Andrew thinks this is a feasible solution Neil doesn't know. Neil wants to point out every reason this is a bad idea, but he doesn't have the right to turn Andrew down. "I started this game as a backliner, remember?" Neil says to Matt. "The Ravens put me up against Riko when I stayed with them in December. I know how he moves." "Two weeks of practice don't make you ready to face the best striker in the game." "Kevin's the best striker," Neil corrects him, "and I don't have to be the best backliner to counter Riko. I just have to be faster than he is. We both know I am. Trust me. I can keep him away from Andrew while you rest." "Coach will never go for it," Matt says. "Tell him he has to," Andrew says, like it was that simple.
Art used with permission by Ziegenking094. Thank you @ziegenkind094!
*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.
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042502 · 5 hours
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Enemies // M. Sturniolo x Reader.
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SYNOPSIS: You and Matt are archenemies, he constantly harasses you at school. But one day something slips out of his hands.
WARNINGS: violence, enemies-lovers, insults, attacks, bullying, among others.
NOTES: My first language is not English, so if you find any grammatical errors you already know why :)
MASTERLIST!!
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You found yourself pressing that pencil tightly against the table. You had so much anger inside, You needed him to shut his damn mouth once and for all.
All he does is be a stupid rich nerd. As if that were a big deal, He's just a son of a bitch.
"Hey" he shouts at you. "Don't they teach low-income people not to scratch school tables?"
He had this stupid arrogant expression on his face. You wanted so badly to kick him in the face until you disfigured his face and eliminated that damn expression.
"I guess they didn't teach you that, Because your parents had to share ten new pencils, true?"
The class ended and we were grateful that it was like this. You couldn't stand his presence more than necessary. You grab all your things and leave the room.
Why so much hate towards Matt Sturniolo?
In addition to the aforementioned, he was a fucking idiot. He thinks it's all about him, Never in history have you seen a fucking nerd be the popular kid who puts everyone down, Since when is this like this?
He harassed you, like bullying. But that's already in the past, you wouldn't let him abuse you anymore.
You were walking at a fast pace through the hallways, eager to leave damn school. But out of nowhere something hits you from your left and you stumble.
A door opens with the weight of your body and you are dragged inside, the door closes and you find yourself trapped with Sturniolo.
"Didn't you have enough? Does your lab rat girlfriend not have enough fun for you?"
Mention that standing up, You discover that are in reduced storage.
"From time to time you have to take care of pets."
"I'm not a pet."
"If he throws a branch at you... Would you go after her?" He just implied that you were a bitch.
"What did you say?"
"What you heard."
"I'm sorry, but I don't listen to Nerds" you push Matt's chest with your hands, causing his back to hit the door.
"Well, I want to clarify that I value your option as much as what a white pencil writes."
"Your parents will have all the money in the world, Matt..." I smile proudly. "But you have poor tastes."
Low blow for the new toy Matt had gotten in recent months, It was a new foreign girl, I was almost as stupid as Matt, a complete nerd who thinks she's big just for being the new one at sucking Matt's cock.
"Hey, I'm sorry sweet peach, It's not that you don't make me bigger, but if you were in a coma I would disconnect you to charge my third phone" stands firm. "You should worry less about me and more about your eyebrows being even."
"Fuck you Sturniolo!" you tear off the stupid glasses that adorned his damn blue eyes, the parts and you throw it to the ground to step on it.
"Oh no, you just destroyed my glasses 78" use a fake sad tone. "Come on, you still have to destroy 22, but don't worry" smile. "I can buy another 22 more."
"You're so stupid, What the fuck are you looking for?"
"I want to see you suffer like the bitch you are, that you kneel for me and beg."
"Tell your Spanish girlfriend to suck your cock well."
"You're not understanding me, not even if you are the last woman in the point I would let you suck my cock."
"It's not something that fascinates me, Now get out of the fucking door once and for all."
You pushed him and before you can open the door he catches you, His face was so close to yours, Their breaths mixed with each other.
"fuck you..."
"fuck me."
Matt's lips catch yours, it was so painful, His teeth spared your lower lip and you pushed him away from you with both hands.
"Fuck you, you idiot!"
You open the door and leave, bringing your hand to your lips, I was bleeding like shit.
"Shit."
What the hell was all that?
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NOTES: I don't know what the fuck I just wrote, just ignore it.
Remember to hit the heart and share it with your friends! Thanks for reading^^ If you want to be part of the taglist leave a comment!
TAGLIST: @luverboychris @alexandernvr @prisciliin @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @hotreaderliin @tillies33ssss @sturnioloxlver @jnkvivi @stvrniolowh0re @dirtylittleheartsworld
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meichenxi · 1 day
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languages, travel, identity, grief
Maybe some of you have heard of Xu Zhimo's Second Farewell to Cambridge (徐志摩 再別康橋 Translation: Saying Goodbye to Cambridge Again, by Xu Zhimo | East Asia Student). It's an achingly lovely poem about a Chinese scholar who studied in the UK, and how he left so gently, taking nothing with him as he went. It brought me solace over the last year.
I thought for a very long time about how I felt about having to leave China, and what it felt like to mourn for a future that was never going to mine. I cried. How am I supposed to explain why? I'm not Chinese. I've got no family there, or a childhood to look back on. I couldn't explain it even to myself.
That pain was coupled with a type of uncertainty, a discomfort at myself for feeling so strongly. This feeling was not allowed. It meant - what? Something awful, probably. I was a racist, probably. I should hate myself, probably. Fetishization is the word that gets thrown around for white people and their time spent in East Asia at one end of the spectrum - at the other end it's just seen as embarrassing and deeply, you know, cringe. It's a self-interrogation - why do I feel so sad? Why do I feel this pull so strongly anyway, to a country that's not even mine? Why should it matter so much when I leave? I didn't feel like this grief has any sort of legitimacy. But it has taken from September - eight months after leaving - for me to pick up Chinese again.
I felt, for months, hollow and unsettled and drifting from place to place. I opened my textbook, and closed it again. The memories there were too painful. I'm not going to write about why I had to leave, but it wasn't by choice. I had loved the people in the school, even if it was for a short time. When you have no internet and are training eight hours a day, the days are coloured more sharply: bright and hurtful and wonderful all at once. We had no running water. It was in an abandoned hotel. I miss the monk at the temple door opposite the school, always on time at 6am to open it for our classes. I miss the folk at the local shop who invited me to watch films on their projector; once they killed a chicken for us. I miss the woman in the woods who gave me the chestnuts she had picked. I gave the chestnuts to the cook, and we steamed them and ate them by the lake. He wanted me to marry his son; he wanted it so strongly that he brought me pork, and desserts, and gave me paper, and promised me I could have a jade bracelet, that he would buy me a house. I miss the oldest martial arts teacher, who spoke in such strong dialect I could barely understand him. When I was sad and missing home one night, he told me that I should stay after dinner. In the silence and against the cicadas, he started to play the erhu for me. Later, my friend told me that he hadn't know what to say, how to comfort me; I was a foreigner and a young woman, after all. We had very little in common. But nobody has ever played a piece of music for me like that before.
And I miss X, my best friend there and partner in snack-smuggling crime. She is 19 years old, and a janitor's daughter, and one of the wisest people I have ever met. (She also rides an excellent motorbike, and lent me her hanfu, and we sped through the city giddy with our own daring and trying not to be caught.) We got matching haircuts; she had always wanted to cut her hair like a boy, and was too scared to do it alone. When I left, I told her to stay in touch: she shook her head. She said that some people were meant to know each other for some time, and no more. I think the death of friendship by attrition, by - as Elrond said! - the slow decay of time, is one of the saddest things of all. I deleted Wechat. I don't want to read over the old messages. By having this place - her, and the chestnuts, and the cicadas - as a memory, I can tuck it away it. I can keep it close.
I wrote a poem myself on the plane. That was the last I thought about China, the last thought I let myself have, in eight months. I kept myself away from it. It felt like a wound. And against that hollowness, there was constantly the question: Why should I have any right to miss this place? Who I am there? Why does it matter? We are all different people, wherever we go, and whoever we are with; we wear different skins, large or small. In China I was [...]. She was who I was. That name, that I introduced myself to people with - she was bright and friendly and tried to translate things just so. Everybody who goes as the only foreigner to a place - or the only foreigner that speaks the language - is a little bit self-obsessed. It happens. It's unfortunate, and something to guard against. But it also gives you its own kind of identity in a way: your identity is Foreigner. Your identity is a cultural bridge. Everyone you meet, in a country as friendly and curious as China, has questions about you. You stand with your feet in both worlds, and are not really part of either of them. That identity is easy to slip into, like cool water, like trying on new clothes. It's easier that thinking: who am I outside of that? Where am I going? I don't really know. I don't think anyone really does.
And then the second thing happens. I speak Chinese well, by this point. My accent is there, but it's slight. I am short, and have dark hair, and a generally similar build to many East Asians - so the questions I have got in the last few years have changed. Sometimes people think I have been raised here. Sometimes they think I am ethnically Russian, and nationally Chinese. Sometimes I get asked if I am half Chinese. Usually they know I am a Foreigner, 100% white - but not always. There is a peculiar rush that comes from that acceptance; from feeling the relief, just for fifteen minutes, that you belong. It's not about 'passing', or race-bending, or anything twisted - it's nothing so unnerving as that. It's just the human need to belong. Everyone gets tired of being stared at, after a while. And after a while, you start to think - I wish I understood. I wish they understood. I wish this were easy.
But then the conversation keeps going. You don't know a local word, or you misunderstand. You say something in a strange way, or you make a strange gesture, and the glass shatters, and - there you are again, naked again, exhausted again, explaining yourself again. That's the other half of it. There's solace in the Foreigner identity, because that means that's all you are. You don't have to think about your parents, or whether they worry about you so far from home; of course they do. The Foreigner is good and filial and a wonderful daughter. You can craft her into any shape you like. But it also marks you out again and again, endlessly and again, as Other.
There was a paper published a while ago that showed measures of acceptance of non-natives in native-speaking communities. It highlights a strange, but familiar experience to those who have lived abroad - the people who spoke the language to a medium level felt more accepted and less lonely than those that spoke the language to a high degree. It makes sense, and mirrors what I have found with both Chinese and German. When you speak a little Chinese, you are a wonder - a curiousity! Look at the Western girl go! People are kind, and curious, and will slow down to include you in conversations. You are thrilled with what you can access - all this knowledge, that other people don't have! Look how special you are!
And then you get better. And then you realise, cut by cut, that you will never be one of them. You don't want to be Chinese, per se; but you do want to be accepted. You are happy to be British; but you miss China like a wound, an old one, festering, even when it was never yours. How do you tell your family that you are not grieving a lost romance, a beautiful girl, but a language and a life? That there are words of majesty, of playfulness, that will never be yours? You speak well enough that people no longer bother to dumb things down, or explain them; you sit with your discomfort, smile painted on, because - you know. It's not bad. You understand most of it. And on the edge of that circle, smiling uncertainly, following the vast majority of what is being said, you are not clever enough and not witty enough to keep up with the chengyu, the cultural references, the slang, and the raucous laughter around you erupts, and you don't know what you've missed, and everybody says - she's quiet, that one. Maybe all the foreigners are? And all you are doing is sitting and feeling the distance between You and Them as heavy and as stifled in your chest as an ocean of dark.
So you go back. Back to your people. But when you sit with the other foreigners, you are apart. They laugh; what are these nutters doing? The Chinese don't make any sense. The Chinese do this - they do that. You sit there, and then there is a pressure building in your chest too, a discomfort, the desire to stand up and say - well, actually.
You are responsible for everything the Chinese teachers do, and have to explain things in a way that the students understand - Confucian thought, and Buddhist philosophy, translated in pithy bite-size adages for the West. You have no qualifications for this; everything you assert, you feel unsure. Uncertain. Someone else could explain it better, more nuanced, and you need to do more reading anyway - but here you are, and here they are, and you're the only one. And you do know. Not enough, but enough that their jokes, their pains, make you uncomfortable. You feel the need to defend both parties; to be a diplomat, every second of every day. In turn, when the students come to the teachers with problems, you have to translate their grievances in a way that the Chinese teachers will be sympathetic towards. Once I got asked: why do you never join us after class? Why are you always so quiet when you're not working? As a translator, you are always working. Every time you speak, you are working; what you choose to say, and what you choose to not say, and where you choose to intervene. You are building relationships, and disappearing, and you are becoming invisible, and you're a nothing, and you're everyone and you're nobody and nobody realises you are doing anything more than translating at all.
I wanted to stay. I couldn't have stayed. I wanted to be accepted as one of them. I wanted to be accepted for who I was. That means a foreigner. I wanted to be true to myself, which means that I would always be the Foreigner, which means I would always be apart from them. It is that contrast and juxtaposition which causes the grief. And there was never an ending to it, a resolution, a chance to reconcile myself (in China) with myself (in the UK), because all at once I had to leave. The grief comes most from the second arrow - not the pain of leaving, but the bewilderment of not knowing why I was in pain at all.
It's been eight months. Slowly, as spring comes, I feel like I am on surer ground. I can look at my old books, those painstaking notes, and I could look at new ones too and I'm starting to think, because this is what I tell my students, and maybe there's some truth in it - it's okay if you're not perfect. It's okay if you didn't achieve what you wanted to, and that the language - in its wholeness, and who can ever know that? - will never, not quite, be yours. It's the struggle and the process that means that I will know and understand Chinese in a different way, in my own way, in a slanted-to-reality sort of way, that is a treasure in and of itself. There is beauty in its brokenness too.
And there is sorrow, too. The sorrow that comes with easing yourself into a different life, and it holding you gently for a while. I sat there - I spoke to them. It's not only missing a place; it's missing a person you were, a stage of your life, for a time. It's knowing that a place has reached inside your ribs and taken root there - even if you don't return, you can never fully get rid of that again. You are two people now, with feet straddling two oceans. There are parts of you that loved and suffered and hated and grew in Chinese, not English. You can't explain that. You can't even begin. Sometimes - not often - you are a stranger in your own land. The poets spoke of that. In the age of fast travel, of the weekend break, we have forgotten the ways a place can burrow itself inside you, and find its own home.
It's not the same as the grief that someone Chinese will face. But it's still grief. I have put my life into Chinese. Maybe that is all it takes to grow love.
Now, I turn back to Chinese - as a foreigner, as Melissa, as myself. It's a bittersweet thing. I know that I cannot hold all of it. It will spill out, like the sun, and there is no way I can be that without losing myself and my history and my own green woods. But I think I am ready now. I am surer, and a little steadier on my feet.
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wolfs-archive · 3 days
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"Woah, now I know why you don't drink with us!!!!" || Part 1
Part 2 || Masterlist
Summary: Y/N has a secret crush on Felix. Little did she know he too liked her. All the boys are Y/n's friend as they go to the same college and live under the same roof. The other boys did know of Felix's crush but are clueless about Y/N. Little did the blooming couple know that an anesthesia would be the one bringing them together.
Pairing: NonIdol!Felix X Female!Y/N
Genre: slightly suggestive, fluff maybe, mentions of alcohol, high Y/N
Note: Y/N is sedated, The Felix or his other roommates mentioned here are no where related to the idol Stray Kids and are just a fictional character. Minors DNI please!!!
"Initially we give less dosage of anesthesia to patients who come for the wisdom teeth removal, since Y/N's so sensitive, we had to give her higher dose. So she would be high for some time, and would come to her senses after 8 hours. Meanwhile, if she faces any issues you can tell her to take the prescribed tablets. Also she is advised not to have any spicy or hard food for a week. Only liquid food for an entire day and soft food for the rest of the week." said the Dentist. "Thank you Doctor", Han said as he helped Y/N get up and made her go out . "Y/N, I'll get the medicines and you stay here" he babied her. "Who are you? I do what I want to." Y/N retorted. "Y/n ah, I know you are a brat, but I'll let this pass once, only just because you are under sedation" a triggered Han said as he left her on the chair to get medicines. On his way to the pharmacy, he met Hyunjin. "Han ah, where is Y/N? Chan asked me to tag along in case you needed help". "Bro, I have made her sit on the chair, can you please take a look at her. She is spewing nonsense. Such a menace she is." Han replied. After the medicines were bought, Hyunjin and Han helped Y/N walk on her way to their car. Hyunjin sat in the driver's seat and a staggered Y/N went to occupy the passenger seat. Not even 5 minutes later, she was transferred to the back seat and was made to sit with Han with all the fuss she created. "Chan, we are on the way back and .... Y/N!!! stop pulling my specs" Han yelled and after a heated argument Han relied to Chan about Y/N's diet and the dentist's advise.
Y/N is usually a bubbling extroverted girl. A beautiful girl who is one year younger than I.N. A person with both beauty and brains, had a lot of people courting her, but her eyes laid only on one of her roommate, Lee Felix Yongbok. Being a bratty roommate with others and making fun of everyone with all possibilities, she has always had a soft spot for Felix and has never made fun of him. The others had never doubted this because, she had treated him like how all would treat him. But be it arriving on time for a class, or making any meal, or saving a book she had all done it ready for him. Often the members would have late night outs and parties and she being the only girl was literally treated like a younger sibling and was never allowed for any late night parties. Whenever it would be, just "Saturday Nights" at their dorm, she would always insist on having orange juice or sparkling water rather than alcohol. The members though knew it, that it was because of her lower tolerance level and that she would be difficult to handle, didn't force her. On the other hand, she didn't want to because, she knew she would pour her heart out if she drank and didn't want to miss the friendship she cherished. So, it was only when she was with he girls that she drank. That was how much she loved him.
Similar to Y/N, Felix liked her but didn't open up his heart to her for the fear of loosing her friendship. He kept it to his heart, until one day, where they had a game of truth or dare during their "Saturday Nights" and he confessed to have feelings for a particular girl. Upon closely watching his previous movements, the group concluded that it definitely was Y/N. When he asked how, each of them had their own answers for confirmation. Seungmin said, "I saw you waiting for her after class, to walk along with her to our dorm, even thoug you didn't have class that day". " One night when I went to drink water, I saw you tucking up her bedsheet " Hyunjin replied. "I saw you having her as your wallpaper on your phone" replied Changbin. He also added, "I didn't mean to peak at your phone, remember; when I had asked for your phone to text the professor. It was that time I realised it". "Not to mention, we share the same room and one day I saw you texting her, you slept with your phone. When I tried to keep the phone on the table beside, I saw a notification with Y/N's name along with a light blue heart." replied the youngest. "Don't you think I know the way steal glances of her during our combined sessions?" asked the eldest. "I knew it the moment you told me weeks ago about how you wanted pasta for dinner just because Y/N had a bad day at college. You have never done it for anyone else" said Lee Know. "Remember the one day I borrowed your book for reference? Do you not remember what you had written in it? The entire book had Y/N's name on it just like how a psychopath writes a person's name" said Han "You have been too obvious with it around us. Y/N must be either dumb or must be really clueless about it" he retorted.
Back in the car, when Han cut the call, Y/N "Bro, where is my love? I wanna meet him" she said. An astonished Han, asked who it was for which she replied that he knew him. Hyunjin in the driver's seat replied "I guess Felix is screwed!!!" Meanwhile, "You Quokka like human, where is my love? I want to meet him. Kiss him... Please bring him here." Han knew it wasn't easy and not right either to bring words out from her, so he decided, "Y/N let's play this game 10 questions. I'll ask you 10 questions and you have to answer them honestly. By the time you are done, I'll bring you your love. Deal? " he asked. "Deal" she challenged.
Even after 10 questions, he was not able to find out who it was and had arrived to their dorm. Han and Hyunjin had tricked Y/N into make her believe that they were at her "Love's" home and that she had to go in to see him. As soon as she entered, she started yelling "Lee Felix Yongbok!!!! where are you?". Hearing her voice, Felix came out to see what was going on.... "Come here!!!!" she ordered as she sat on their sofa, pointing her hands, implying him to sit near her. "What is it Y/N?" asked Felix as he sat near her. A wild Y/N, grabbed Felix's shirt by the collar, just leaving a gap of 2 inches between them. She could feel his breath pace take off and her cheeks now tinted with red. With a raspy voice, she said "Do you know how much I love you? Those freckles and the cute smile is definitely the death of me. In the future, if I get married, I want it only with you and our kids will have beautiful freckles just like you" she confessed. Everyone were too stunned to speak at the confession. Meanwhile Hyunjin, "Han, we were so clueless, the entire ride she was talking about.... was it Felix????" Han replied "Now with what she confessed, I think, no conclude that it was definitely Felix." "You know why every time you call me to have drinks I deny? It is because, if I drink, I would pour my heart out. I don't know what is in your mind and if you don't like it, I would crumble into pieces. i wouldn't be even able to face you" she said. Her hands now across his neck as she pulls him in for a deep kiss. Breaking out from the kiss, Felix says" Who said I don't like you? I've always loved you, and will love you. " as he tucked the small fringe of hair behind her ears. " Woah, now I know why you don't drink with us. It's okay." he says, as he carried her to her bedroom.
Idk if y'all want Part 2. But if you want, please feel free to ask it in the comment section.
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mercurygray · 2 days
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#76 broken pieces for whatever two characters you would like, please.
I have a brainwave that these two needed to share a scene - so here they are.
This was the third date this month.
It felt funny, saying that, that Molly was going on a date, but Billie wasn't sure she had any other word for when a fellow dropped by in a nice suit, picked up a girl in a nice dress, and the two of them went out to dinner.
A date. Could you even imagine? It was Berlin and the war was over and they were going on dates again, real dates, where you spent time cleaning yourself up first and the fellow actually had a front door to show up at. Not like they'd done during the war, where a date could be meeting a guy for dinner in the next foxhole, or sharing a blanket, or watching a fire. Any spare five minutes alone.
But here he was, on the front mat, shoes shined and hair combed. She wondered what they were paying him - his suit looked too nice for Berlin. Everything here was shabby after six years of war, and he looked out of place in the hallway. "Mr. Rosenthal." She opened the door and let him inside before returning to her seat at the table.
"Sergeant Mitchell."
"She's almost ready - she found a run in her stocking and had to change."
He shrugged. "We're not in any hurry."
Billie nodded, and returned cagily to her magazine, glancing up to follow his eyes around the room, taking in the small bits of art on the walls, some of it stuck up with tape, the calendar in the kitchen, the dishes in the drainer by the sink.
George Stout wasn't ever one for running a really military outfit, and the fact that they were Army without the Army meant private billeting rather than barracks. It was just the two of them in the apartment, though there were several other officers in the building, which was run by an absolutely ancient little old lady who knew very little English. (Molly was trying to learn German, just to get by a little with her, but the Army phrasebook wasn't getting them very far.)
He looked a picture, standing there in the front room - you could say that much. He would have looked even more handsome in class As, with that dark dark brown bringing his eyes out in full force and the mustache that made him look like Tyrone Power. An easy charmer, one of the gang would have said. But she'd known easy charmers before. What do you know about him, Mol? Like, really know? Apart from the blue eyes and the curly hair and the manners and the smile and the fact that he can't sing? He's been coming here for a month and what is he? A hotshot pilot and a lawyer and what else? What's he hiding? Where's the catch?
Because there's always a catch, isn't there? With a boy like that. He's too good.
Billie rose from her chair and moved to put her now-cold cup of coffee in the sink. "I don't think she ever told me where you're from, Mr. Rosenthal."
"Brooklyn - Flatbush."
Billie had a sudden desire to call up Ruth and ask her what she knew about flyerboys from Flatbush. "And you still have family there? Parents, siblings? Girlfriend?"
He nodded. "My mother, and my sister." He smiled a little. "And no girlfriend."
Notice I didn't ask about a wife. "You still close with them?"
His smile never wavered for a moment. "My mother writes me nearly every week. Sister less often, but she'll put a word in Mom's."
"And your firm, are they - are they taking you back, when this is over?"
"I'm sure they will be." He moved closer to the kitchen and looked her in the eye. "You know, I could provide personal references, if that would take less time, Sergeant. Former commanding officers, friends - my rabbi." He smiled at her surprise. "I'm a lawyer. I know what an interrogation looks like."
Billie squared up, her eyes meeting his with no hint now of gentle prying. If you thought the rabbi was going to trip me up, I'll tell you now I don't care. "I like having all the facts." And the fact is that I don't know you, Robert Rosenthal, and I don't like that.
"And the fact that I like Molly an awful lot?"
See, you say that and I believe you, and I hate that I do. "Lots of guys can say they like a girl, Mr. Rosenthal. Maybe even use the word love. Doesn't mean a thing later. I'm trying to establish intention and motive." There's been a war on. People say things they don't mean all the time. Isn't that why you have a job?
He was watching her with a kind of respect in his eyes, smile tugging at his mouth. "Have you ever considered becoming a lawyer, Sergeant?"
Billie felt off balance at the compliment. "The bar wouldn't have me."
He laughed at her casual brutalism, and glanced down at his shoes, considering his next words very carefully. "When you fly a bomber, the only guys you trust are the other nine in the plane with you. Imagine it's the same in a foxhole."
"After they've given you a reason to, sure."
"Guess I'll just have to work on that, then."
It was then, of course, when they were nose to nose and eye to eye that Molly walked in, beautiful in her dress uniform. "Billie Mitchell, are you interrogating him?"
Rosie stepped back, supremely unconcerned by all of it. "It's all right, Mol. We were just talking. It never hurt to have friends who care."
He calls her Mol. And he calls me Sergeant, because he knows we're not friends yet. That's what Ron did, too.
Billie met Molly's eye with a clenched jaw, almost afraid of what she'd find there. It's what you did for me, isn't it, care? And I never listened. But you're smarter and better than me, and you deserve better, too, better than broken promises and broken pieces of a heart. And if he is what he says, you deserve him, Molly. You deserve the world. And if he's not then I'll bury him.
"No," Molly said, softening a little, realizing what they were saying. "No, it never did." She sniffed and checked the fastening on her purse, fiddled with a button. "Will you wait up?"
Billie shook her head. "You'd better take the key. I'm not going out."
Molly nodded, grabbing the key and its chain from where it hung near the door and closing the door behind her as she and Rosie left. He would ask her, at dinner, what that had all been about, and perhaps Molly would tell him - or not. She fell in love with a guy she thought she knew. It ended like you think it did.
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hi this is my first time sending a request and this one was rejected by other writer so I wondered if you could write it instead. I love quinn and I was thinking about a quinn fabray x fem!reader where reader was quinn first love back in middle school in that old school of hers and they had confessed to each other. reader loved quinn since her lucy caboosey phase and you could add that russell or Judy found out and separated them and encouraged quinn to get the nose job and lose weight. anyways, reader goes to McKinley during season 2 where quinn is trying to get her life together and she snaps when reader tries to approach her using her old name they don't speak anymore but reader always look out for quinn from the sideways (she's not from the glee club but she befriends Rachel) and quinn gets even more pissed when she catches rachel mentioning you before glee starts. the whole mess with lucy caboosey gets out and they finally speaks w reader comforting Quinn. make it angsty with a happy ending do not spare our feelings😂
-🫧
Still By Your Side
You know you're staring, but you can't help it. Something about this girl in your class is so familiar. You just can't put your finger on it.
See, you used to live in Lima, but you moved away in middle school. Forced away, rather. Now you're back and junior year began at McKinley High. While you recognized a lot of people, this one person just couldn't jog your memory.
Not until her eyes bore into yours.
As soon as class ends, you pack up your things and dart after the blonde.
"Hey! Wait!"
The blonde turns around, eyebrows cocked with an annoyed look on her face. She doesn't say anything, waiting for you to tell her why you're bothering her.
You take a moment to take her in. This girl was beautiful, that's for sure. There was a grace about her to match. Even her annoyed face looked pretty. You shake the thought from your head before finally speaking.
"Lucy, right? Lucy Fabray? It's me, Y/N."
Almost immediately, a hand covers your mouth and you're shoved against the lockers. Eyes blazing with fury found your shocked ones.
"I don't care who you are. I don't care how we met. But you will NEVER utter that name ever again." She leans closer and dangerously lowers her voice. "I am not Lucy and I will never be again. I am Quinn Fabray. Lucy is dead."
She pushes off of you, shoving you further into the lockers before striding away. You just watch her leave, your heart breaking with each step she takes. You didn't even notice the person next to you until she spoke.
"Sorry about her. She's always been like that."
With a jolt of surprise, you turn to look at the short brunette next to you. There's a moment before you look towards Quinn again.
"No... Not always." A sigh escapes your lips before you turn your attention to your companion. "You're friends with Lu-er... Quinn?" The brunette lets out a soft, rueful laugh.
"Kind of? More like rivals, I guess. We're both in Glee Club together. I'm Rachel Berry." She holds out her hand, which you take to shake.
"Y/N," you reply. "Y/N Y/L."
"If you wanna get close to Quinn, you can join Glee. We always need more members anyway." She offers. You consider it for a moment before shaking your head.
"Nah. I won't bother her like that. And I'd rather get myself settled before joining any clubs." You smile. "Thanks though. Maybe in the future." Rachel returns your smile with her own wide one.
"I'll hold you to that."
-----+++++-----
As the days pass, you learn more about Quinn thanks to Rachel. Her pregnancy and the resulting fallout with her parents, her life with the Glee Club, and now her determination to return to life before her baby. It was a lot and you weren't surprised by how much it affected her. You've already decided to stay out of Quinn's way, but they didn't mean you weren't still drawn to her.
While you tried your best to avoid directly interacting with the blonde, there were times when it was inevitable. Much like when she and Santana got into a fight in the hallway and you made it a point to pull Quinn away while blocking the Latina's attacks with your body.
Quinn didn't even acknowledge you.
It wasn't ideal. Your heart squeezed in pain with every rebuff. But the love you held for her, from the moment you met Lucy, it was worth every glance.
Only once did Quinn speak to you after meeting again. It had been months of just being in her orbit. But suddenly, you're slammed against the wall.
"Stay away from Berry." She growls. "I already have to deal with you everywhere else. I don't need that dwarf opening her big mouth to speak your name."
Recovered from the push and sudden rant, you retort.
"We haven't spoken since the first day! I even honored your request, Quinn. I don't understand why you dislike me so much."
"You don't get it." She leans into your space. If you weren't so frustrated, you would've blushed. "You're the only one who knows about Lucy. About everything I had to go through because of her. You can ruin my reputation with that knowledge. How can I not hate you?"
You could only blink in shock. So much was forgotten. Or rather, repressed. After a moment, you sigh.
"Quinn... What would I gain from that?" With a slump, your head thumps against the wall. "You may have forgotten but I... I loved Lucy." You hear a soft gasp. "I still love her. Even after your parents forced me away. Even after all this time."
You finally look straight into Quinn's eyes.
"If I ever talk about Lucy, it will only be with love and adoration. But since you don't want any indication of her existence, then she'll live in my heart. I'm not here to hurt you, Quinn. You have my word."
With that last word, you push past Quinn, leaving her in the hallway. You laid everything out there and you hope the blonde would trust you.
You didn't notice the look of awe in her face.
-----+++++-----
The first thing you noticed when you walked into school the next week were the whispers. Gossip sprung up all around you. You were confused until you were faced with a poster of a familiar photo.
Lucy Caboosey.
Almost immediately, you move to look for Quinn. At the choir room, you were met with most of the New Directions. Upon seeing you, Rachel rushed up.
"Y/N!"
"What's going on?" Another girl piped up.
"Fabray was being more annoying than Rachel." You recognized her to be Lauren Zizes. "I found out her little secret and decided to even the odds for Prom Queen."
You just stared at her. "YOU WHAT!?"
Everyone jumped at your voice.
"Do you know what she had to go through because of that bullying? I basically had to be her bodyguard in middle school just so she wouldn't be pushed to do anything drastic. And. You. Bring. That. BACK!?"
It didn't matter that Zizes was twice your size and stronger. She shrunk at your rage.
"You better damn well hope I find her before I see you again."
You whirl around to continue your search for Quinn, leaving the group in fear and awe.
Eventually, you follow the trail of torn posters to a classroom where you find the blonde crying at a desk. Quietly, you take a place across from her and wait for her to acknowledge you. It didn't take long for her to look up at you with teary eyes.
"Y/N..."
You smile. "Hey, Luce. Sorry I wasn't around to protect you this time." Quinn let's out a scoff.
"Please. I pushed you away. It's my own fault." A sigh escapes her lips. "How am I going to face the school now?"
"The same way you always did."
Quinn just looks at you, confused.
"Sure, you had an outburst. But you can't let that, or your past, dictate what you do now." You reach out your hand, palm up in an inviting manner. "You show that it doesn't control you. Even if you're just faking it."
She stares at your hand.
"Why are you doing this? After everything that's happened between us." You just give her a sad smile.
"I told you before. I love Lucy. Always will. I told her that as long as I was around, I'd protect her. I intend to keep it."
A tear falls from Quinn's eyes as she looks at you with wonder. Her hand covers yours and she revels in its warmth.
"Do you think you can... Love Quinn like you did Lucy? I've changed so much since you left. I'm not Lucy Caboosey anymore."
"Quinn," you start. "I don't think I could love you like I did Lucy." The blonde wilts, her heart breaking. Her hand clutches tighter onto yours. She had been so scared of her reputation crumbling that it masked her own feelings for you. Feelings she held for so long.
Quinn's actions catch your attention and when you look into her eyes, you're struck by the emotion in them. In an instant, you're back in middle school and falling in love all over again. You let yourself stay in that moment for a bit before speaking again.
"Lucy has a special place in my heart. She's my first love." You watch as your thumb caresses Quinn's hand. "It'll always be there, but it'll never grow." Your eyes meet again. "It can grow with you though. I may not know Quinn as well as I did Lucy, but I'd like to."
The smile on your face is immediately covered by soft lips. In a surge of emotion, the blonde leaned forward to kiss you. Before you could even react, she retreats.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself..." The light blush on her face sparks another memory and your smile widens.
"And here I thought I'd be the one to break." You chuckle. Gently, you lift her hand and kiss each knuckle. "Maybe let me kiss back this time?"
Quinn's blush deepens.
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ivaspinoza · 23 hours
Text
Does a writer love to write?
Oh, to be a writer! A poet, an artist. What a blessing — or a curse? I said this before, as a joke, that "writers are cursed to write, no matter what" happens or how long it takes between intervals. Writers will write. They might struggle, mostly inside their own heads, but they will write. And they will feel accomplished for doing that.
During my block time, I used to try and try to write, not because I had to, but because I couldn't help but to keep trying and writing the weirdest words, absolutely nonsense shit — until one day, I went back on track. Not writing was never an option. I tried to give up this, many times when I was at a bad place mentally. I felt that I wasn't a writer because I wasn't writing, but this only led me to this previously shared conclusion I keep as a mantra:
"I do not write because I want to be a writer, I write because I am one."
Some people will lick an artist's shoes and treat them as their saviour. This is the same type of people who might think having a degree makes them automatically smart, that every doctor knows what they are doing, and that artists are somehow a superior class of people. I was talking with my beloved @goodluckclove about it today (the main reason I'm writing this), about how being an Artist, or a Writer, is just another job, like being a Teacher, a Baker, a Parent, a CEO or a Janitor. Some artists will even tell you they had no "talent" at all, they just decided to commit and learn. I can draw and I always tell people that it is pure muscle memory. Just practice. Just commit.
But there is also that sparkle, that inspiration, that epiphany, right? That thing that art causes. What makes some works of art shine and hit you with eternal impact? Just practice? This is a long, deep, crazy, boring, infinite debate, but to me the answer is simple.
It's the soul.
That's why AI will never be able to do it. The soul carries memory, information, patterns, feelings, mysteries, and language (unspoken, holy, different languages, that we don't know much about). Some works are technically fantastic but soulless. Some are full of soul, but lack skill. However, the soul is always a part of it, as it is for a doctor when their soul shakes in grief after putting everything they had in for a 72-hour surgery just to lose their patient. Everything goes through the soul. Have you met a soulless doctor? I have.
What about a teacher helping a student to overcome their difficulties? A mother in a 72-hour labour to deliver her baby, with a father who didn't leave her side? Parents that actually take their time and energy to raise conscious, cared for and loved human beings? When a CEO thinks of what is best for the team, and comes up with a brilliant idea, instead of just caring about money? When a janitor makes a place clean and tidy for others, instead of neglecting it? It is not the job itself that is important, but the motivation, the intention, and the heart behind it. That is what makes it valuable.
Our trades will always affect the ones around us. Human nature is deeply connected to the desire to be useful and serve. Not to be stuck at this point forever, but to me, a big reason for so much pain and depression in the modern world is how self-centred our culture pushes us to be. "All about me"! Too much thinking in your head will make you crazy (I would know). But when we are useful, we find peace and rest from ourselves, we connect, and we are in reality, grounded in the present.
Will you love it every time? Nope. Not naturally. But do we have to hate it?
As an artist, poetess, writer, I can tell you that I didn't always love to do it. Sometimes, it was painful. Sometimes, it brings me physical discomfort or it can be disturbing because of my own limitations and issues — the artist himself is in his work (I will die on this hill, because of the soul). But I don't believe and I won't ever advocate for the tortured artist figure, for the "I hate being a poet", although I can't think I ever got these words from any poet.
"I hate making art!" "I hate my kids!" "I hate to live!"
I think it's time to wake up to the levels of desensitisation we have come to. These contemporary times unfold in absolute glorification of evil as if everything painful and ugly was "more artistic". We don't have to avoid hard themes and make it taboo out of them, but we do need a counterbalance. We also need responsibility and honesty when choosing our themes and our artistic or literary approach. And we do need to stop hating things all the time. We need a mature creative world.
It is easier and faster to break than it is to build. It's easier to hurt than to heal. Look around. We have almost nothing left to "break" at this point. I'm in search of beauty again. Out with lanterns. The beauty in you and in me. Not for the glorification of the artist, or of the art itself, but for the Love that keeps me going, that designed me for a particular job, and that I plan to execute in love.
"Let all you do be done in love", it's written. But because I know Love is not only feeling, even when I don't feel like doing it, I will go back into Love, into humility, and do it to the best of my strength. I will do it so that when I have the opportunity to serve someone by it, they feel love. We put our soul into it, and it's not an aesthetic, not a fancy ethereal trend; there is no need for applause. I will do it like that because in that doing is the reward itself, not in the praise or the prize.
All is vanity. Love is the reward.
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bad268 · 7 hours
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For 1k celly (congrats btw) could you do "I can't sleep" or something like that with Matt or Chris Sturniolo?
#~📝~ "I can't sleep" + Matt Sturniolo
Thank you love <3
POV: First Person (I/me)
~
It was too silent for me. I was staying at Matt’s place while he and his brothers went to film a video with some other creators. I said I would make sure no one broke in, but I regretted it the first night. The place was too big. Much bigger than the one-bedroom condo I had, and it was really echo-y.
I couldn’t remember the timezone difference off the top of my head, but I knew they weren’t going to start filming until the day after their plane landed. They landed sometime this morning or early afternoon, so I pulled out my phone.
“You up?” I sent to Matt. It did not take long to see the three dots show up in our message thread before they disappeared again. Instead of a message, he was factiming me. I immediately answered as I propped my phone up on Matt’s usual side of the bed as it connected. When it did, I couldn’t see much on his side as the lights were off. I whispered, “What time is it there?”
“Like midnight,” Matt whispered back as he moved closer to the phone, so the LED lights shining through the phone could illuminate his face. “What’s wrong? It’s like 4 AM there.”
“I didn’t even realize,” I said to myself, but he heard it clearly, laughing lightly. “I can’t sleep. It’s too quiet here.”
“Are you sure it’s too quiet or do you just miss me being next to you?” Matt asked as he smiled through the camera.
“Can I say both?” I asked with a smirk, leaning toward the camera more.
“I can’t blame you,” Matt laughed but cut himself short as one of his brothers moved in their sleep. When the coast was clear, he leaned back toward the phone. “If it makes you feel better, I miss you too. Chris is a blanket hog.”
“I bet he is,” I chuckled lightly before cutting to a yawn. “Can we just stay on Facetime? Please?”
“I’ll always stay on Facetime with you,” Matt consoled as he blew a kiss at the camera for me. “Get some sleep, you have class tomorrow.”
“Okay, I love you,” I whispered as I got more comfortable under the covers.
“I love you too.”
“And, I’m not a blanket hog for your information.”
“Shut the fuck up, Chris.”
~
Part of 1K Celly (Requests open)
Side note: I don't have any more things for the challenge lined up (HINT HINT if anyone wants a blurb)
© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.
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What if the reader acts like Nicole from Class 09? Like all the things that happened to her but g/n?
Okay, I got that idea after I start thinking over that request. I slightly changed it. I hope, you are okay with that, and I apologize in advance.
Masks we were forced to wear
Sort of! Self-Aware! Yosano Akiko x GN! Traumatized! Reader
Description: Your past still haunts you. You just want to escape.
Warning: English is my second language. AU - World of Tech-magical Progress. Film Industry Abuse (Reader are forced to be filmed, forced to act like Nicole) Mentions of heavy topics (drugs, shooting). Open finale.
You couldn't move. Medical restraints were keeping you in one place. Your body was shaking, you were sweating.
Wet cloth were put on your forehead. Through pain and foggy gaze, you see Yosano.
Doctor had bags under her eyes. She whispered.
"Don't worry, [Y/N], we will go through it together."
You breathe through your nostrils. It has only been two days, since your treatment started, and you already wanted to quit it. But, you knew, that they won't let you go back.
Because they cared. For some reason, they cared about someone, like you.
__________
This world was full of magic, technology and progress. Every aspect of everyday life and tied with hundreds of magitek gadgets.
Teleports, machines that make food out of water, holographic screens...
And Restarter... The "Holy Grail" of Entertainment Industry.
Years of research. Years of building. Years of magic power flowing into the mechanism.
And it was done.
Mechanism, that will scan a person, save information, and, after said person would put into Restarter's cabin, revert them to the state, described in saved information.
What kind of sick bastard thought, that this thing should be used to make films more realistic, instead of putting it into hospitals?
It all started small.
Real bruises and scratches, instead of makeup. Real tattoos.
It was only a matter of time, before they will go further.
__________
That TV Series supposed to be progressive. To show, how terrible schools can be. How terrible teachers can be. How terrible students can be.
And you were a mane star.
You had some similarities with the main caracter. Your families had a similar past, your older brother was a lazy man, who couldn't care less about anyone, besides himself, and you, while not as bad as the main, character, you could be a jerk sometimes.
Everything changed, when filming started.
Countless failed scenes. Days, spend in a studio.
Being chocked, shot, drugged...
And every day was ended in a cramped cabin of Restarter.
It could reverse your body injuries.
It could never reverse your mind.
___________
You hated everyone.
Your fellow actors, director, producer, operator, your mother, your brother, your father, fans of the series.
You hated, that you can't quit, that you were forced to go through borderline torture in studio, that you were forced to acts a sociopath before fans.
Because that's what people want to see. Because Restarter will undo the damage. Because you have no reason to complain, shut up, and bring your mother another paycheck...
You stopped care. If you had some sympathy in you, it was buried deep inside you by years of "industrial abuse".
You were forced to wear a mask. And, after all this year's, remains of it still clung to your face.
When you finally became eighteen, you took last paycheck, broke the contract and left the country.
__________
You avoid talking to people as much as you can.
You stopped watching anything, that have real-life actors. You stuck to animation and drawings.
The world was full of sick people. And you were the sickest among them.
__________
When BSD Cast appeared before you, you thought, that time, you get some strong painkillers. However, no hallucination can be warm and try to take away the bottle of pills from your hands.
Yosano can be surprisingly strong.
_________
Your head hurts. You just got a bunch of information dumped on you. You spoke up.
"You... You are mistaken... I am not a hero... I am not a good person... I... can't care about real people, including myself.... I... still care about you all.... But... I could stop..."
You looked up at them.
"You heard me ranting about my past, right? You knew what you will deal with... I can give you money, I still get royalties. But, please... Leave. Don't sink with me."
Everyone was quiet. Then Naomi spoke.
"Tea. You promised Kirako and I drink tea together. Are you... care about us enough to fulfill this one promise?"
You wanted to snarl at her, but get over it. You were hungry. You can keep yourself and have one tea party.
You slowly nodded and stand up.
"Fine. I will bring the cattle..."
You turn on your heels.
You made step forward kitchen.
Something sharp pricked your neck.
And world became black.
____________
🐾 And long month of treatment started. Yosano explained, that they can't just leave you in that state. They will cure you, made few visits to your “colleges”. And, after justice is served and you are healthy, they will leave.
🐾 For months, you were under constant watch. For months, you were getting news about your family, director, actors and everyone, who were involved, being exposed for various crimes.
Restarters were banned.
What you needed all this years ago finally happened.
And BSD Cast always were near.
Taking care of you, getting psychological help to you.
Trying to bring [Y/N], the real person back from the stink mess, called [Y/N], The Lead Actor, playing the role 24/7.
You finally felt emotions again.
_________
You opened your mouth, letting Naomi feed you another spoon of porridge. Yosano was checking the results of the blood test.
"Your test is showing better results, then the test from last week. It is good. Soon, you will be healthy."
You opened your mouth. Before Naomi could feed you again, you spoke.
"Just... Just leave me... Find a better person to stay with..."
Your voice was soft again. But, you knew, that you couldn't truly become how you were, before the filming.
Yosano raised an eyebrow.
"Do you really want it? Or did you change your mind?"
You didn't answer.
_______
It was over.
You got justice. Your health became better.
You were standing before BSD Cast, like a year and a half ago.
And you finally have an answer about the future.
Stay... Or leave....
You opened your mouth.
And tell them about your decision
_________
A/N: Reader's choice is up to you. Did they stay? Or did they leave?
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silent-raven13 · 2 days
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High School AU
(Au: All the Spider gang are in high school except for Miguel, Peter, Jess, Ben, and etc. Miles and Hobie are dating. Gwen is Grunge aesthetic with Hobie's group of friends. Pavtri is dating Gayatri being the typical high school sweethearts.)
In Brooklyn Vision Academy, Miles giggles being pin against the school lockers while his tall skinny punker's hand on his waist muttering very dirty, yet romantic words towards the graffiti artist.
Miles is only seventeen years old having on his white collar uniform with spray paint stains and embroidered sunflowers on it, his blue jacket around his waist. His hairstyles into twist part is dye red.
The Academy may be strict on their educational system, and provide more opportunities, they are quite strict on dress code. Luckily, Miles always stated he's part of the art club and they are working on a massive mural right outside in the courtyard.
However as for Hobie, the punker didn't care how many dentition, warnings and all the other lectures, he does what he wants and wears what he wants. And he never steps out of bound from the dress-code policy, he specified how his ripped pants is suitable for low income students, and brings up classism. Either way, the principal normally left him off the hook not wanting to hear him.
So here's Hobie with his wicks tied into a bright blue loose ponytail, he wore two belts of different colors of yellow and pink, and miss match shoes and socks. His blue pants with patches, ripped white collar shirts and piercings. His lips painted black, wearing eyeliner and a messy smokey black eyeshadow with a bit of dark purple. All breaking dress code in the eyes of older teachers.
The seventeen year old teenager smirks at his boyfriend having to whisper to him again, "Mi, you gonna ditch Spanish or what?" His lips hovering over his Sunflower's lips as they make out.
Miles wraps his arms around his punker's neck, "Bae, you know I can't miss Spanish. My mamí got mad for having a B in class."
"Tsk," His punker sucked in his teeth then whispers again, "Luv, you can skip a couple of classes. Yuh a smart lad." His cockney accent coming out from time to time.
"Mmm," Miles' big doe eyes on his hot boyfriend, still thinking about it. When he thinks to himself, he does this put pout where his lips puckered out.
Hobie's heart flutter by his Sunflower's cuteness. Ugh, he wants to be greedy for today, so he flirted some more. "Come on, Sunflower." He purrs having his voice low, his hands pulling his boyfriend's hips forward feeling his crotch. "Don't do me like this. I want you to go to my pad and maybe we can you know."
"I know what?" His Sunflower asked pretending to not know what his boyfriend means.
"You know," The tall teenager leans over for another kiss, his lips feeling such soft sweet lips. The sounder of their lip locking echoes up in the third floor in building A, a place no one is ever around. "Hmm?"
"Mmm," Miles sighs loving how great of kisser his boyfriend is, "Okay, but if I get in trouble I'm gonna be mad at you."
"Luv, I'll take all the blame as long I'm with you." They made out with tongue this time, Hobie purrs lowly as he pull away, "Your so fine, right now. I gotta have you." His mouth hungry for more as he went in another heated kiss.
"Ohh, mmm." His Sunflower's knees felt weak feeling those soft lips. Pulling away to kiss him, "Bae, you're too much."
"But you love it." This made Miles bashful, he does love it when his boyfriend spoil him. They were about to kiss again, until one of the doors to the second floor opened wide open. The two froze seeing their happy bubbly friend spotting them.
"I knew you two would be up here!" The brown skinned preppy boy happily said, he saw Hobie looking annoyed. "Awe, don't be mad."
"Pav! What are you doing up here?" Miles asked. He tries to avoid his boyfriend's grumpy attitude.
"Gwen kept texting you if your gonna skip your last class, but never responded." Pavtri chuckles, "and I knew it's because ya'll were up here. Were you the ones leaving used condoms on the staircase." Just joking around, he likes seeing Miles' face. So priceless!
"What! No!" The Black Latino looks so horrified like hell he'll get caught in the school. Sure him and his boyfriend done things like touching each other, but never full blown sex in the school staircase. "That's so ballsy! I'm not the type!"
Hobie chuckles, his Sunflower is too cute. His arms wrapping around his hips. "He's only teasing, Sunflower."
"Yeah, like you ever done that." Pavtri cracks up. "Anyway, are we down at your pad, Hobie?"
"Miles said yes, so yeah. We should get going!" The punker chimes.
"Alright, I'll go let the gang know. See ya there." Their friend left them alone, which was a lot better.
The punker was about to go back to kissing his boyfriend, until a hand stops him. "What?"
"If I'm skipping, I need to get my art supplies from my club. I left it in the art class instead of my locker." Miles pointed out. "And my painting is there."
"Okay, we'll go get it, but first..." His mouth went in for another kiss. The two happily share kisses.
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nompunhere · 2 years
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gaaaAAAaaaAAAUUUUGGHHHHHH I wanna make VORE CONTENT but I'm in COOL LEG and I got CLASSES and HOMEWORK and all my ART TIME has been repurposed into ART-HOMEWORK TIME
(rest of the vent in the tags)
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dawnthefluffyduck · 2 months
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Free time has (sort of) arrived
(cat is katsrkole on instagram)
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