euriiverse

[euriiverse]

chapter one ── pest control. the spider’s sense: a spidercaleb series.

♥︎ spider-man!caleb 𝑥 fem!reader

synopsis. ┆ caleb’s life was perfect—until it wasn’t. a radioactive spider bite turned him into linkon’s friendly neighborhood spider-man, the daily bugle started hunting for the man behind the mask, and to top it all off, he was forced to partner up with you—his smart, competitive, and infuriatingly perfect classmate who threatened his spot as number one in the class rankings.

warnings. ┆ college/modern au, academic rivals to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut, gran isn’t evil in this LOL, the canon event, college parties, alcohol consumption, cliches, depictions of serious crime, references to the spider-man comics and movies

chapter summary. ┆ caleb's worst fear comes true when the two of you are assigned as lab partners, especially after your first experiment together goes horribly wrong in more ways than one.

series masterlist. ┆ next: soon!

Most days in Linkon City begin with sirens.

Loud, blaring, unmistakable screeches that cut through the early morning quiet like a blade, carving their way through alleyways and avenues alike. They seep into walls, curl beneath locked doors, and coil around the restless minds of those who have long since stopped flinching at their call.

To them, the inhabitants of this city, it is nothing more than background noise—a city’s heartbeat, rhythmic and ceaseless. But to you, it is a warning. A sign that the world beyond the window of your dorm room is a battlefield, and you, a stranger in its midst, are only beginning to understand the rules of this strange place.

Perhaps, in time, you will grow desensitized as they have. Learn to sleep through the wailing cries, to walk these streets without the ever-present weight of caution pressing against your ribs. In a way, they forbade you from venturing out, instilling a fear within you that if you did, you would be the individual these melodies chased—or worse, the victim they had been called for in the first place. 

The entirety of the first semester has passed, and you haven’t even finished unpacking. Your suitcase remains half-full, a tangible reminder that you do not yet belong here. That you still have a choice—to do something before this place sinks its teeth into you, before you become just another soul who mistakes chaos for comfort.

But that choice is an illusion.

Here, people like you make no difference. You are not a hero, nor anything close to it. You are just a student who knows better, one who recognizes that the sirens will always be there, a requiem for the city’s unrest. And the crime will persist, as will the men in uniform who fail to stop it.

Somewhere beyond the blaring wails, beyond the tangled skyline and shadowed alleys, someone is fighting a battle you will never quite understand.

And for now, all you can do is listen.

Yet, in a way, you know that this was exactly where you wanted to be.

Despite its rapidly deteriorating surroundings, Linkon University remained a place of prestige. Young children dreamed of acceptance into its ranks, babbling to their parents about how they, too, would one day make these halls their stomping grounds. Maybe it was naivety that brought you here. Or maybe it was the last remnants of a dream that hadn’t yet died on your tongue.

Or perhaps, it was the medical journalism program—a rare gem, dwindling into obscurity at every other university.

You were lucky to be accepted. But humbly speaking, luck had very little to do with it. Your stats spoke for themselves: a 1540 SAT, a 4.98 weighted GPA, more extracurriculars than you could count on both hands. A smart cookie, as written in the shining letters of recommendation that paved your way here.

And yet, imposter syndrome festered like a quiet disease, creeping into the spaces between your confidence. You have spent your entire life at the top. Always number one.

Here? You were number two.

Number two to whom? You did not know. Not yet, anyway.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Caleb’s perfect life has unraveled in the span of a week and a half, but he positively swears it’s not his fault.

It’s yours.

Ten days ago, at precisely 12:57 PM, he endured the worst torment known to man: his seat in the lecture hall was stolen. A cruel move, truly. Class had been in session for four days, he’d claimed that seat twice—twice—and by the unspoken law of university students everywhere, that granted him full ownership. So why, then, were you sitting in his allotted property?

Looking back, Caleb sees only two possible explanations. The first: you had unknowingly taken the seat after enrolling just before the census date. The second: you were out to get him from the very start.

And personally? He’s convinced it’s the latter.

But alas, he hadn’t made a fuss about it then. It wasn’t like he’d just lost the single best seat in the entire hall—the one with perfect access to the exit, the projector, and the professor’s desk. But hey, he could be cool about this, right? Yeah… totally cool. So cool. The coolest.

Days passed, and everyone seemed to be settling into the spring semester just fine. The weather was getting warmer, flowers on the great lawn were blooming, and Caleb was thriving.

That was, until the unthinkable happened.

Time? 2:19 PM. Class? CHEM 001 AH. Location? The Grand Hall.

Caleb sat directly behind you, having resigned himself to the second best seat in the room, as the sound of pencils scratching against paper filled the otherwise quiet space.

Taking practice exams felt pointless. A waste of time, really. His efforts could be better spent elsewhere—like taking the real exam or absolutely demolishing his roommate Zayne in Apex Legends yet again. But instead, here he was, surrounded by classmates diligently scribbling away as the session inched closer to its eventual end.

And when it did, Caleb would have simply packed up and gone on his merry way—if not for the single most bone-chilling sentence he had ever heard in his entire academic career.

You were chatting with the girl beside you, talking about things he had zero interest in. Your shared biology class at 3 PM, your dorm building, plans to meet up at the dining hall later… blah blah blah. But then—an acronym. A single, horrific acronym triggered him like a sleeper agent.

“My GPA? Oh, it’s… 4.30. I think. To be honest, it’s been a while since I checked.”

His jaw went slack. His eyes widened. The color drained from his face.

A 4.30 GPA? No. No. That couldn’t be real. That could not be real.

But as his gaze flickered between the back of your head and your friend’s, he came to the most horrifying conclusion of all.

You weren’t lying. And if that were true… then that meant you had the same GPA he did.

Which meant that, depending on your course load and how well you performed, you could take his spot as number one in the class rank.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Caleb burst into his dorm room, slinging his backpack onto his mattress before face-planting into it with a sound somewhere between a groan and a hmph.

Across the room, Zayne didn’t even glance up from his desk, fingers tapping away at his mounted laptop. Click, clack. Click, clack. For a stretch of time, that was the only sound in the room—until he finally exhaled, the kind of quiet sigh that could only mean here we go again.

“Rough day?”

Caleb didn’t even hesitate. “The worst day.”

Zayne closed his eyes for a moment, like he was mentally preparing himself, before pushing away from his desk and turning his chair just enough to look at his roommate. “What happened?”

Still face-down on the bed, Caleb let out a long, exaggerated sigh—nowhere near as silent as Zayne’s. “I think I have to take trig next semester. Honors.”

That made Zayne pause. Brow quirked, he leaned back. “Why? Your counselor quite literally said you’re already on track to graduate with honors and as one of the top-ranked students in our year.”

That was the problem, though. Caleb wasn’t satisfied with being one of the best. He wanted to be the best—and now, that source of pride was under attack.

“Well, that was before I found out I’m sharing a GPA with some girl in my chem lecture,” he said, rolling onto his back to stare blankly at the ceiling. “Which means if I don’t get my shit together and pack on a few more honors courses, I’m cooked.”

Zayne laughed. Actually laughed. Shaking his head, he turned back to his desk, plucked his glasses off the mousepad, and slid them on. “You should hear yourself right now.”

Caleb’s head snapped to the side, eyebrows pinching together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just amusing, is all.” Zayne smirked. “I find it endearing that you, Mr. ‘I can skip the final and still pass with a 94%,’ Mr. ‘I think I might take astronomy honors for fun this semester,’—”

“All riiight, I get it,” Caleb cut in. “What’s your point?”

Zayne snickered, amused. “My point is that if you of all people feel threatened by a classmate you hardly know, maybe there’s a reason for that.”

Caleb hated that there was probably some truth to that. Not that he’d ever admit it. Being threatened by a classmate he barely knew? Please. He knew enough. (And yes, he had meticulously sifted through the entire roster of his chemistry class to stalk your Canvas profile. What? It’s… field research.)

“Y’know, you’re terrible at pep talks,” he muttered, folding his hands behind his head.

“I’m not trying to be,” Zayne replied easily. “But if you want my input—take the trig course next semester. Something tells me you’ll need it.”

Caleb rolled onto his side, fishing his laptop from his backpack as the weight of his evening workload settled in.

And maybe Zayne was right.

Maybe he would need all the help he could get.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

It wasn’t until six days later—today—that Caleb knew for certain fate was no longer on his side.

The professor’s voice cut through the shuffle of students packing up their belongings, all of which were currently praying that their first lab of the semester wouldn’t be a complete and utter disaster. It was a well known fact that Dr. Rappaccini was quite the harsh critic, and an even harsher grader. Her score on Rate My Professors was a whopping 2.8/5 for crying out loud.

“Alright, it’s time for you all to receive your lab partners for the semester. Before heading to the lab next door, please check the list of pairings at the front.”

Luckily, Caleb had committed the syllabus to memory and knew that each person was scored individually no matter how their partner performed, but it was recommended that the pair conduct their experiments together to save time and... okay, maybe he hadn’t memorized it as well as he thought, but at least he knew the core details, right?

Scanning the list, his blood ran cold. He squinted, hoping that the prescription of his glasses had failed him, but of course, it was unmistakable. Your name was printed next to his. Emboldened, unignorable, in a perfectly neutral 12 pt Times New Roman font.

The walk to the laboratory was a quiet one, and you were walking a few feet ahead of him without a care in the world. Reaching for the door handle, he twisted the metallic lever and gestured for you to enter ahead of him with a single nod of his head. It was a force of habit. He may not care for you as an academic peer, but you didn't directly wrong him in any way. Not knowingly, that is.

With a curt nod of your own and a sliver of a smile, you entered the class with a quiet “thank you.”

And before he could follow in step behind you, the neverending line of your fellow classmates began to flood into the room, leaving him to stand idle while offering each of them a thin-lipped smile. It felt like an eternity before he was able to step inside of the laboratory too, and his first instinct was to map out the classroom to find the best possible seating arrangement. 

To his surprise… you’d already claimed the most optimal lab station, and as he approached, you made the first move to speak. 

“I hope you’re okay with sitting here,” you say, fishing out your sleek notebook and a bright blue pencil. “It’s the only lab station with equal access to the exit, the supplies cabinet, and the professor’s desk.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side as bewilderment etches into his features. Were you inside of his brain? He clears his throat, shaking away his confusion as he nods. “Yeah, I’m alright with this spot. Good choice.” 

Smiling, you nod too. “Cool.” 

A beat of silence passes, and you smooth your hands over the black resin material of the table, a movement that his eyes instinctively follow. Then, your hand raises and extends out to him, forcing him to blink himself out of his state of daydreaming. 

You say your name while tilting your head with a smile—this time, a smile with teeth—as you wait for his hand to take yours. “And you’re… Xia?” 

Raising his eyebrows, he shakes his head while a chuckle slips through his carefully crafted exterior. “Caleb,” he corrects, his firm grasp enveloping your hand as he gives it a shake. “Caleb Xia.”

“Ah, got it,” you remark, an epiphany dawning on you as you slip your hand from his hold. “Well, I’m going to go get our safety goggles.” 

But before leaving, you straightened, eyes glued to him—or rather, his head.

Huffing out a laugh through his nose, Caleb’s lip tugs up in the corner. “What are you doing?”

Tapping your chin, you sigh. “I’m trying to see if you have a big head. If you do, I’ll have to go fight tooth and nail for one of the ones with adjustable straps.” 

Rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm, he rests his elbow on the edge of the table before leaning his cheek into his hand. “Well, lay it on me. What’s your diagnosis?”

Humming, you tilt your head back and forth before nodding your head a single time. “Big-head syndrome. I’m positive.”

Caleb’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “I should take that as a compliment. Big head means big brain, you know.”

“Or a big ego,” you retort with a shrug, giving him a once-over with raised brows before whisking away towards the horde of students currently going to war over the remaining pick of the litter. 

Yeah, that too, he thinks. 

In your absence, he takes the liberty of prepping the lab for the both of you. Beakers? Check. Random substance that the two of you were going to be experimenting on? Check. Hydrochloric acid? Check. Sodium bicarbonate? Check—

“Safety goggles,” you state, plopping down on your stool and handing his pair to him.

Without missing a beat, he speaks. “Check.”

Drawing back slightly, you turn to look at him with an arched eyebrow. “Uh… yeah. Check.”

Faltering, Caleb slides the item onto his face as he stammers through his words. “I was just… never mind, let’s start.”

The class had settled into a low hum—the murmur of newly paired partners, the scribbling of notes, the soft hiss of chemicals reacting. 

As the two of you began the experiment, an incredibly prominent conclusion dawned on him: Disliking you as a person wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped. As a competitor? You were treacherous. As a lab partner? You were… tolerable. Efficient. Annoyingly easy to work with. 

It wasn’t the end result that he was hoping for, if he were to be entirely honest with himself. He wanted you to be difficult to be around, he wanted you to be stuck up, he wanted you to give him a genuine reason to dislike you apart from being the root of his newfound insecurity. But you weren’t, and that was a problem. 

“Pass me the baking soda?” you ask.

“The sodium bicarbonate?”

“Yeah. The baking soda.”

Caleb tilts his head with a smile. “Also known as sodium bicarbonate.”

You glance his way, and your eyes met. “Congrats, big guy. You know big words. Now pass it.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Biting back a smile, he hands it over, only to retract it at the last second. “Wait. What’s it called again?”

Your force smile was all teeth. “Sodium bicarbonate.”

Finally relenting, Caleb places the bowl in your orbit with a triumphant grin. 

He was smart enough to know that this was a bad idea. Despite how easily the two of you worked together, he knew that he couldn’t entertain this any further. You weren’t just his classmate, his peer—you were his competition. And while he’s heard the saying keep your friends close, but your enemies closer just as many times as the next person, he knows that mixing any ounce of developing friendship with his pursuit for greatness would be wrong.

It would work best that way. You can’t be friends, and that’s okay.

And for the first time in what felt like ages, fate seemed to agree with him.

“Hmm,” Caleb soon rumbles, squinting at the beaker. “This isn’t lookin’ too good. You said you added the sodium bicarbonate, yeah?”

You frown, glancing up from your notes. Your stomach twists at the sight of the clock—barely any time left before the lab ends. The professor would be making her rounds any second now.

“What? I didn’t add it. You said you added it.”

Caleb flits his gaze to the side of your face. “No, I added hydrochloric acid.”

Your head snaps toward him so fast he was surprised it didn’t snap right off. “No, I added hydrochloric acid.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

You exhale sharply, frustration creeping up your neck. “How are you gonna tell me what I did or didn’t do?”

Your pulse ticks up a bit faster than it naturally should, and your eyes rose up from the glass cylinder. Around the room, students were already wrapping up their conclusions while the two of you hadn’t even finished the experiment. You suck in a breath and push up from your stool.

“Fine. Fine. Can you just pass me the baking soda?”

Caleb nods, handing over the pre-measured bowl of sodium bicarbonate. While you worked to fix the mess, he jotted down a few quick notes. You added just enough of the powder to neutralize the acid—but not smother it completely.

And then? Silence. The two of you sat. Watching. Waiting. Hoping. Praying.

Then, miraculously, the beaker decided to behave and the fizzing subsided.

Like clockwork, you both exhaled, shoulders slumping as small, victorious smiles tugged at your mouths—

Until yours vanished entirely. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Caleb falters, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t say thank you.”

“Well, you should have.”

“Why? If I hadn’t pointed out the weird reaction, we’d have been screwed.”

“Oh? If I hadn’t realized neither of us added the sodium bicarbonate—which was your responsibility, by the way—we would’ve actually been screwed.”

Tension thickened between you like a drawn bowstring. You clench your jaw and look away, scribbling down your final observations. Stupid man, you thought to yourself. And here you were, actually believing that this semester wouldn’t be a total shitshow, that maybe, just maybe, you’d gotten lucky.

Unfortunately not.

Then, your attention was caught by something out of the ordinary. Your gaze lands on his neck, and your breath hitched. Staring back at you was a small, multi-legged beady eyed monster. Sticking out your pointer finger, you still find yourself instinctively drawing back, as if it were out to get you next. “There’s a spider on—”

But before you could finish your sentence, Caleb winced, his veins tightening as he instinctively flicked the eight-legged menace off. You sucked your teeth, drumming your fingers on the table. So much for your timely warning.

Glancing his way, your brows elevate as you see the already forming bite mark on his neck. “Yikes. It got you good.”

“Did it?” he asks, raising a hand to rub over the mark with narrowed eyes. “Hm. Guess so, yeah.”

Reluctantly, you ask, “Are you okay?” 

With a nod, he picks up his pencil once more and works on finishing the last of his lab report. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Sighing airily, you can’t help the smile that tugs on your mouth. “Poor spider, being flicked through the air like that.”

Like routine, Caleb shot a glare your way. “Funny.”

“Thanks.”

With that, you left for the washing station. Meanwhile, Dr. Rappaccini stood from her desk, making her rounds. It was in that moment that a shrill of panic shot up his spine—the stimulation foreign, unfamiliar, and… terrifying. 

He could feel his heart rate shooting through the roof, a sweat break on his forehead, and his fingertips flex at his sides—all things that he wasn’t even conscious of. And before he knew it, he was glancing in your direction, noting that you were distracted. Good.

With a quick ease, he snatched up your notepad and erased a few numbers, replacing them with subtle, logicless mistakes. 34? Now a 26. 32 to the power of 5? Not anymore.

It wasn’t his proudest moment. Sabotaging his own lab partner’s work? Definitely not.

Ten seconds. That’s all it took to ruin you just enough. He slid the notepad back into place, brushing away the eraser shavings. Like clockwork, you returned, none the wiser.

Exhaling softly, you turned to him. “Look, I just wanted to say that—”

“Now, you two,” Dr. Rappaccini’s voice cut you off.

You both turned as she scanned and picked up Caleb’s report, making a few marks with her fine-pointed marker before sliding it back into place. You glanced over, making note of his grade. 94.

Then, she picked up yours. A moment later, she handed it back. Your professor held up a roll of stickers, tearing two off before setting them down on the table.

Despite the vibrant designs on the stickers, your stomach dropped. Your grade was big, bold, and unmistakable. 82.

“Wait—Dr. Rappaccini,” you call after her, staring at the page with widened eyes of shock. “I… I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?”

“Well, your experiment was solid—your observations were well-written, and your documentation was precise. But your math?” She sighs. “Completely off.” A beat of silence. Then, a smile. “Don’t feel discouraged. You’re a good student as you are—no need to compare your scores to others.”

The implication was clear. She thought you were smart—just not as smart as Caleb.

Huffing, you toss your notebook onto the table, fingers curling against the edge of it.

“You got cut off earlier,” he says casually, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “What were you sayin’?”

Blinking, you tried to retrace your thoughts. “Oh, yeah… I was just saying that…”

Your voice trails, eyes drifting to your lab report. Caleb caught the flicker of realization dawning on you—and when you turned to him, his not-so-hidden grin said it all.

“I was just saying,” you snap, “that you’re an asshole whose handwriting looks like a drunk chicken clawed at my report.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he says with a shrug, peeling off his sticker to plaster it onto your shoulder. “Good luck on the exam tomorrow morning”

And with that, he walks out of the lab.

“Yeah, you too,” you murmur, though he was already gone before he could hear the hissed “bitch” that followed.

Irritation pricks at your skin as you stuff—more like shove—your belongings into your backpack. Prick. So much for not knowing the single person you were beneath in the class ranks.

Guilt stirred in his chest as he walked towards his dorm building… but only a little.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

By the time Caleb stumbled back to his dorm, he felt like he’d been hit by a freight train.

He barely managed to push the door open before kicking off his shoes, letting his backpack slump to the floor with a heavy thud. His head swam, his breath uneven as he widened his eyes in a feeble attempt to stay awake. Slapping himself on the cheek, he quickly realized it was no use. His neck stung worse than it had when the spider first bit him, the dull throb pulsing beneath his fingertips as he rubbed over the puncture point.

"Are you drunk?" Zayne’s voice drifts from across the room.

"No," Caleb mutters, face buried in his pillow. "Just… tired. Really tired."

He sank into the thin mattress like dead weight, the springs groaning beneath him. With sluggish hands, he pulled his glasses from his face and tossed them onto the bedside table, missing by an inch. His breathing grew heavier, his skin slick with cold sweat. His pupils—blown wide as saucers—fluttered shut as he barely mustered the strength to tug his shirt over his head and toss it aside.

And within seconds, he was out like a light.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

The morning sun sliced through the blinds, painting golden stripes across Caleb’s bare back as he jolted awake.

His chest rose and fell in sharp, erratic breaths, but despite the abruptness of it all, he felt… alert. Fully awake in a way that didn’t exactly make sense.

Blinking rapidly, he reached for his glasses and slid them onto his face with a groggy groan. And then—he froze.

His vision was still blurry.

Frowning, he pulled his glasses off, breathed onto the lenses, and wiped them against his bedsheet. When he slid them back on—blurry again. He pulled them down. Clear. Glasses up. Blurry. Glasses down. Clear.

He stares at them in his hands. “...Weird.”

Setting the frames down, he threw his legs over the bed and staggered toward his closet—only to catch sight of his reflection in the mirror. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

Since when the hell did he have abs?

He flexed instinctively, stomach tensing under his own scrutiny. Then his gaze trailed up—to his arms. His biceps. His shoulders.

Turning, twisting, he inspected every angle of himself like a stranger in his own skin. He’d been in shape before, sure, but this? This was different. He would’ve noticed this.

Knuckles rapped against the door, making him flinch.

“Caleb? Are you awake? I forgot my key.” A pause. Then, “Are you feeling any better? You slept like a log last night—perhaps you’re catching a bug.”

"A bug?" Caleb echoes under his breath, flexing again just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “Holy shit… Uh, yeah, man, I’m good. Just—gimme a sec.”

Turning back toward his desk, he reached for his chair, only meaning to push it aside—but the moment his palm touched the wood, it stuck.

His brows furrow.

He yanks once. Then again.

Nothing.

His heartbeat quickens as he curls his fingers, attempting to lift his hand—and instead, he lifts the entire chair clean off the ground.

“What the—” His stomach drops. He waved his hand. The chair waved with it. Up. Down. Side to side. Still stuck.

“Caleb?” Zayne calls from the other side of the door.

Caleb whips his head toward the sound, panic tightening in his throat. Shit. He bolted across the room—chair still attached to his palm—and somehow managed to unlock the door just as Zayne strode in.

Zayne, clearly in a rush, barely spared him a glance as he grabbed a stack of papers from his desk, clipped them together, and breezed back out with a nod.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Caleb exhaled sharply—only to realize his hand was still stuck… to the doorknob.

Huffing, he gave it a firm tug, expecting it to pop free. Instead, the entire knob wrenched out of the door, hinges snapping with a loud crack.

"Shit."

He barely had time to process before his body betrayed him once again—this time, with a sharp thwip.

A thick strand of silk shot from his wrist, attaching him to his bedpost.

His pulse stuttered. 

"What. The. Fuck."

Another sharp tug. Another web. More panic. Before he knew it, his dorm room looked like a crime scene from some horror movie—threads of silk stretching from walls to furniture to the ceiling.

His gaze snapped to the clock on his desk. 12:56 PM.

"Alright," he mutters, inhaling deeply. "Exam starts in four minutes. I’m sticking to everything I touch. I’m half-naked. Cool, cool, cool."

But nothing about this was cool.

If anyone in the history of Linkon University could take an exam like this, it was going to be him.

series masterlist. ┆ next: soon!

a/n i could not stop laughing while writing this at 4am bc i was just imagining caleb coming up with an elaborate ass internalized beef with reader and she’s just sitting in her chem lab like:

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[euriiverse]

the spider’s sense! a spidercaleb series.

♥︎ spider-man!caleb 𝑥 fem!reader

synopsis. ┆ caleb’s life was perfect—until it wasn’t. a radioactive spider bite turned him into linkon’s friendly neighborhood spider-man, the daily bugle started hunting for the man behind the mask, and to top it all off, he was forced to partner up with you—his smart, competitive, and infuriatingly perfect classmate who threatened his spot as number one in the class rankings.

tags/warnings. ┆ college/modern au, academic rivals to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut, gran isn’t evil in this LOL, the canon event, college parties, alcohol consumption, cliches, depictions of serious crime, references to the spider-man comics and movies, mdni

a/n. ┆ fanart art is by 长白山小葱头 on weibo. this is my first series on this app to celebrate hitting 1K! if you want to join the taglist, comment on this post or send me an ask.

main masterlist. ┆ talk to me!

chapter one ── pest control.

caleb's worst fear comes true when the two of you are assigned as lab partners, especially after your first experiment together goes horribly wrong in more ways than one. (4.6k)

[euriiverse]

There is a new 'Caleb' in town..

[euriiverse]

Caleb likes you. He really, really likes you. To the point that it would even be considered too much, to the point that he could drown the world out at just the sound of your voice calling his name.

That was exactly the reason why he was so disciplined, so hard on himself. He was used to yearning, used to being so close to the object of his affection, the apple of his eye. It’s precisely the reason why he’s so— Immune to you.

Because if he didn’t, if he was a lesser man who couldn’t— he wasn’t so sure if he could control himself, wasn’t sure if he could hold himself back from drowning in the most depraved of his desires.

Not even if they were dangled like low-hanging fruit right before his very eyes.

“Caleb!~” You’re hugging his arm tight, pressed inbetween your chest and purposely rubbing the firm muscle between them. “How is it? Isn’t this dress pretty?”

The size doesn’t matter— It doesn’t because he has your bra size memorized down to a T. He could calculate the surface area that was touching his arm, the volume that was enveloping the muscle—

“It’s pretty.” His hand even reaches up to pat your head ruffling your hair as he lets an easy smile take over his face, completely, utterly unaffected by your coy ploy. “But I’d go with the lighter dress, though. Don’t you usually prefer wearing those colours in spring?”

You: 0

Caleb: 1

——

The next move you pull is a little obvious, a little more mischievous with little room for miscommunication. There’s no way, right? Definitely not when you’re straddling his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and cuddling your face against his shoulder.

“Caleb~ Pay attention to me…!” You even pout and bury yourself closer, taking a little too much delight in pressing against his well-built body and even playfully biting at his skin.

Surely, there’s no doubt this time, right? Surely, even the densest of men would be able to tell, right?

“Just a little longer, pipsqueak.” He’s ignoring you as his fingers fly across the holographic screens floating around him. “I didn’t expect this to take so long either,” A sigh escapes him as his eyes meet yours momentarily, an apologetic hand coming up to stroke against your cheek.

“I’m sorry for making you wait longer than usual.”

It should make you feel bad— And it does. That usual genteel and softness that you’re used to, the pretty shine of his twilight eyes and the way he spoke to you oh so gently… It makes you feel bad for ignoring him.

Yet, you just can’t help but be annoyed at the fact that he had a hand on your hip, had you balanced on his lap as he held you close. It would only take a small movement of your hips, a maybe unintentional adjustment of your position to brush against sensitive areas, to be able to be skin-to-skin with regions that you’ve never—

But you’re still mad he can’t even notice that a pretty girl was on his lap and waiting for him.

You: 0

Caleb: 2

——

Maybe it was a culmination of events— From that night that you ‘couldn’t sleep’ so you had an excuse to cuddle him in his bed, to the time you ‘accidentally’ slipped and fell into his arms…

Nothing seemed to work.

So you can only stuff your face with another spoonful of the parfait he had made for you, sitting across from him as he sat there, watching you with a far too cute smile on his face and his pretty upturned eyes.

(Curse his good genes. Curse his good cooking. Curse his damn discipline.)

“Is it really that good, pipsqueak?” He’s chuckling, a napkin lightly dabbing at your cheek to get the spot of cream that had been erringly left behind after you had so angrily partaken in the sugary treat before you.

What should you do now? When you’ve lost so badly, when there is no way to win—

“Caleb, close your eyes.”

Maybe the answer wasn’t in hinting— Maybe the answer wasn’t all that complicated. It’s just a thought, a pebble that created a ripple that was the still pond of your mind.

So he does, with that ever so carefree smile, hiding the pretty purple of his eyes behind his pretty eyelids.

“I hope you’re not thinking of rubbing the cream all over my face, pipsqueak. That new cleanser you got for me— Mmph!”

A kiss. Something soft, something sweet. And as abruptly you had started it, you pulled away just as fast— Minus the larger hand that was already reacting, tugging you back in the moment you had even dared to leave, your lips captured once more without even a moment for you to breathe.

He finally breathes when you pull away, painstakingly separating him from your sweet, sweet lips as he meets your now slightly embarrassed eyes, your face tinted with that he feels through the palm of his hand, rivalling the heat of his own face.

(You’re impossible to deal with.)

You: 1

Caleb: 2

masterlist

[euriiverse]

you ask caleb to help you with your science project and, although he happily sits by your side answering questions as you work, he absolutely refuses to do any of it for you. the night before the science fair, he sees your calculations are off by just a few points. he tosses and turns in bed trying to forget about it—you need to learn on your own, he thinks. but after an hour of no sleep and anxiety on your behalf, he redoes your work in the middle of the night, careful to cover his tracks so no one suspects his involvement. the all-nighter he pulled becomes worth it once you nearly tackle him in a hug, greeting him in a rush of thank you’s as you show off the shiny 1st place medal around your neck 

[euriiverse]

i'm sorry for scaring you

synopsis: caleb shows a new side of himself during one of your fights. it almost makes you believe he's changed.

tags: angst, suggestive (psychologically), fluff (sorta kinda), caleb kneels, caleb crawls, caleb is pathetic, caleb is overprotective and unwell pairing: farspace colonel!caleb x reader word count: 1.7k

a/n: this is angstier than i intended i wanted it to be hot, maybe it's still hot, when he tries to lock u up in his house but he has lethal booboo face ⬇

“I didn't ask for any of this! I didn’t ask for your protection, and I sure as hell don’t want it.”

“You not wanting it doesn’t change the fact that you need it,” Caleb replied blankly. 

In the four months since you’d reunited with Caleb in Skyhaven, your relationship had taken a hit. In the first few weeks, you’d barely seen each other; he’d stop by to check on you, assume you thought him the scum of the earth, and abruptly retreat back home. It wasn’t until you’d grown fed up with the awkwardness and uncertainty that you began approaching him again—asking him about his day, initiating phone calls, and even starting the rare video call, if he was lucky. 

Around the last month or so, things had gotten better. During your increasingly frequent visits, you’d gone out together several times—to see the new cyberpunk action movie, to window shop in the pet store, to marvel at the Skyhaven nightscape from the safety of his personal aircraft. Just as you thought you’d both been making progress adapting to your new dynamic, a wave of highly dangerous wanderers had infiltrated the city, and Caleb had had the nerve to essentially place you on house arrest until the threat was dealt with. Fast forward to now, his composure threatening to overpower your impassioned rebuttals. 

“Did you honestly think I’d let you leave right now?” he asked. “You’re here for a week. The Fleet will take the next couple of days to sort out the problem, and we can go out together when it’s done.”

“We can go out together. Right. So you can rush me back here the second someone looks at me the wrong way?”

“No one will look at you the wrong way. Not here. Not while you’re with me. But you need to understand, Pipsqueak: you came to Skyhaven for me. You’re in skyhaven for me. I won’t stand by and watch you put yourself in danger, and you won’t change my mind,” he replied, his large frame looming over you as he stepped closer. 

You’d had enough. You’d spent almost an hour on the losing side of this back-and-forth, and you were too exhausted to pull your punches anymore. “My first time seeing you after the explosion,” you started, voice trembling. “Do you know how it felt? When you stepped off that plane, when you interrogated me behaving like you never have in your life—I didn’t know what to think. But when you brought me back here? Started spewing off that shit about a world where my only world is you? I was scared, Caleb. I thought I’d needed to be afraid for you, but I was afraid of you. That you’d lock me in this house forever, that I'd only see the sun when you decided it wasn’t top bright for me. I was afraid that I’d die here having grown to hate the person I’d wanted to live for,” you finished, your words dripping with venom.

Seething, you spun around, ready to storm out of the kitchen and into the quiet of the guest room Caleb had remodeled for you. 

You’d taken three steps toward the door when you heard something hit the ground with a heavy thud. 

Body still facing the door, you stopped in your tracks. This was new. Unexpected. You’d been prepared to hear a few calls of your name, some “Wait!”s, maybe even a “Don't walk away from me.” Worst case, you’d expected him to pin you in place with his Evol, preventing your exit and prolonging your fight. 

But a thud? A thud could mean many things. Enough things for you to remain frozen contemplating the possibilities before the voice in the back of your head broke through your thoughts, reminding you of the very real chance that you’d spiked Caleb's blood pressure so much that he’d fainted.

The fear that he was hurt made you finally turn around, only for Caleb to catch you off guard yet again.

Caleb the Loathsome, the overprotective, obsessive, now cold-blooded colonel of the Farspace Fleet, was on the floor before you. Kneeling.

All at once, your anger dissipated, melting into shock at the assertive man before you’s sudden display of submission. 

Realizing you’d turned around, Caleb lifted his head, meeting your flustered expression with his pained one. His furrowed brows, shining eyes, and pouted lips—he looked pitiful, honestly. And as much as it tugged at your heartstrings, it awakened something dormant inside you. 

It made you feel powerful. It gave you an idea. 

Biting the inside of your bottom lip, you took several steps toward Caleb’s kneeling form, closing the distance you'd been so eager to put between you all of ten minutes ago. A slight gasp escaped Caleb at your movement, and he swiftly lowered his gaze back to the floor, as if worried that daring to watch your approaching form would make you retreat. 

When you came to a stop, you were just in front of his knees, looking down your nose at his bowed head. For a few moments, Caleb’s heavy breaths were the only sounds between you, thickening the cold air in the room. 

Then, finally—finally—you touched him, lifting his chin up before resting your palm on his cheek. At your touch, he leaned forward, nuzzling his head against your thigh. 

“…You want this that bad, huh? Want me that bad?”

“More than anything,” he breathed. 

You stared at him. 

“Please,” he whispered, turning his head into your hand to brush his lips across your fingers. 

At this, you hummed softly, running your thumb across his cheek twice before turning away from him once more. When you break contact, Caleb freezes in the midst of rubbing his face on your leg, his eyes popping open in panic. He only calms when he sees you heading for the armchair tucked into the right back corner of the room, slowly taking a seat, your legs spread. 

��Relax,” you call out, settling in your chair. He didn’t move a muscle.

You decided you’d had enough of the tense silence after a few more beats. It was time to test him.

“…Come here, Caleb.”

In an instant, his head snapped up. His gaze, abruptly ending its budding relationship with the floor tiles, held yours for more than a few seconds this time, your slight smirk challenging his slight disbelief.

Caleb had all the cunning in the world. Since joining the Fleet, nothing got by him—and on the rare chance that it did, he’d chase it down and make it beg for mercy. He was a prideful man. He was a calculated man. So when you called for him in your sweet voice, slightly breathy with unadmitted nerves, he figured you out quite quickly. 

You were testing him—to see if he’d walk or crawl to you—and he knew it. 

And unfortunately for his dignity, any reservation he held about the latter was overshadowed by his desire for you: to be in your space, to breathe your air, to be close enough to feel you—even if he rarely did now, out of fear that his touch would repulse you.

He needed you to need him. So he crawled. 

Inch by inch, Caleb crawled toward you, the only person who would ever see him reduced to this. The only person who could reduce him to this. And all the while, as the fabric of his dark pants dragged across the floor, his violet eyes never left yours. In them, you saw resignation. You saw anticipation. You saw the shattered remnants of a pride that he’d let be broken, and you saw them rebuild themselves in lust the closer he came.

A few inches away from you, Caleb stops, sitting demurely on his heels. His hands twitch in hesitation before falling into his lap. His vulnerability is palpable, and you can feel him banishing himself back to his hell of self-deprecation, the guilt-eroded space in his mind where he repeats how little he deserves you. Before he can lower his gaze again, you beckon him upwards,  guiding his palms to rest on your knees. His kneeling form almost equals your seated one in height.

“I used to love watching you scare off the boys who were mean to me,” you tell him, placing your palm back on his cheek. “But as much as I like you intimidating, this little act might be my new favorite.” 

His nervous breaths come to a momentary halt before he brightens slightly, chasing your touch. He nuzzles into your palm like he did your leg earlier, and you sigh. 

“You scared me, Caleb,” you murmur. 

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“I know you want to keep me safe, that you have kept me safe for as long as either of us can remember,” you say, continuing to stroke his head. “But I don’t want to be afraid of you, Caleb. I won't be afraid of you. So if you want to keep doing this, if you want us to move on, if you want me—it can’t happen again. Tell me it won’t happen again.”

Your movements still as you tighten your grip on his jaw, forcing him to meet your eyes. A grimace flashes across his face as he goes quiet for a moment. But you wait for him. You have to. As exhilarating as it’d been to see him crawl before you, this was the true test—if you extend your trust, will he extend his lenience? You have to believe that he will. To give him the chance to. 

And as you’re wrapped up in your optimism, your fantasies that he’ll acquiesce and let your relationship go back to normal, Caleb responds. 

“...I’m sorry for scaring you.” 

[euriiverse]

i'll keep every promise (if it's a promise with you) | oikawa tooru x reader

oikawa tooru has a bad habit of breaking promises and running from his first love. or: the four times oikawa breaks his promises and the one time he keeps one

( a / n ) - oh my god this is my magnum opus... my baby.. its a little bit of angst and a little bit of fluff and a little slice of life. u go through ages 6 to 28 LMFAO. iwaizumi + you + oikawa were such a fun trio to write for and i hope u guys enjoy !!

gn! reader | 2k words | happy birthday OIKAWA

Oikawa Tooru has a guilty conscience and a bad habit of breaking his promises. 

For every promise made and every promise broken, Tooru repents: 200 yen slid in a saisen-bako, a ninety degree bow, two wishes at a shrine. An offering to counter every promise he breaks, ample water to wash away his sins, and apologies written on wood.

 ( Iwaizumi has made the grand suggestion of: Maybe not breaking your promises? on several occasions, but Tooru can’t help it. ) 

He’s broken four promises and made eight wishes so far: four on blue Tanzaku and four atop Ema boards, followed with a prayer and an offering if the promise broken was particularly heinous or particularly his fault. 

He breaks his first promise at six years old– one made with you and Iwaizumi when the three of you were four and freshly neighbors. It was Tooru’s birthday, and he had promised this: 

I swear that I will take us all to the Ryokan before I turn six.

It’s a small promise: one that neither you nor Hajime had expected him to follow through with. But Tooru believed it, and Tooru had tried. He takes every single chore and odd job in the Oikawa household, scraping together a two-year-old Ryokan trust fund with mismatched coins and crumpled bills. He saves his allowances and puts everything in a glass jar next to his bed, and dreams.

Two Julys pass. Oikawa blows out four candles and then five, the jar gets bigger, you start Elementary school, and you and Hajime forget about the Ryokan. And then, on the third July, when Tooru turns six, you and Iwaizumi find Tooru mumbling about a broken promise— courtesy of his failure to take the three of you on an all inclusive trip to that Snow Monkey Ryokan that Iwaizumi wanted to go to. 

So he apologizes through prayers at a shrine and two wishes under a red Torii gate. It’s a thirty five stair climb to the neighborhood shrine: Hajime and Tooru race up and you come last, but the view is gorgeous and Tooru feels considerably less guilty.

It is 100 yen for each wish on a colored paper strip. Hajime says they’re called Tanzaku. Hajime drops one coin, Tooru drops four, you drop two. Seven thunks, four wishes. 

Tooru gets the honor of tying your tanzaku on bamboo branches as the tallest of your trio, and with it, the honor of reading your wishes.

Iwaizumi’s wish is messy and scrawled on bright red— Tooru tells him to Please work on your handwriting, but it’s legible and all well wishes for volleyball and you and Oikawa and cicadas.

Tooru’s got two wishes— a cyan one and a turquoise one, but he only lets you and Hajime read the cyan one. His cyan one is a little neater than Iwaizumi’s and reads:

Sorry I couldn’t take us to the Monkey Ryokan. 

He hangs the red one on his tippy-toes. Cyan next. Hajime cheers a little when Tooru hangs turquoise next to your pink one, and then asks: 

“Whaddya need two wishes for anyways?” 

He shrugs. 

“Guilty conscience, maybe?”

You’re thirteen when Tooru promises that he is going to ask you out in two years. Tooru is not allowed to date until he’s in high school, so he tells you under a blanket of stars that when the two of you are a little older, he will ask you out properly and maybe take you on a date. 

He walks you to school every morning. Hajime comes too, but the pink skies before the sun rises are for you and Tooru. Moments before you make it to Iwaizumi’s block are moments that Tooru gives you his scarf, and then his gloves, and when the wind bites at your cheeks too hard his jacket is draped over your shoulders. On rainy days, Tooru holds the umbrella and laughs as your fingers brush and your cheeks flush. Some mornings he brings you toast: and tells you in hushed whispers to eat it before Iwa-Chan sees. 

Oikawa and Iwaizumi walk you home after cram school and volleyball practice. Hajime’s house is first— so Iwaizumi bows first, heads back inside first, waves goodnight first. When the door closes and the light turns on, the black sky and twinkling stars are for you and Tooru. He always says Good Night saccharine sweet with a smile like the sun that makes you feel like you really can’t wait to turn fifteen. 

Oikawa blows out fourteen candles. The three of you graduate in blue and walk home like usual. Summer passes, another July goes by, Oikawa blows out fifteen candles, and high school starts.

You learn several things in your first year at high school: you really like the student council, Hajime is actually pretty smart, and Tooru is afraid of commitment. 

Tooru is popular: he is athletic and tall and the Volleyball Club’s golden first year. He smiles at the girls in his class, he slings arms around their shoulders, he winks when he passes by the student council room, and he preens a little and shines a lot.

Oikawa is fifteen when he goes on his first date with a girl from another school: and when he tells you and Iwaizumi after he gets home, he plays dumb as Hajime gives him a look and takes you home, overhearing Iwaizumi’s apologies and your crestfallen voice as you say something about a promise.

Oikawa’s chest hurts that night so he walks to the shrine with 200 yen in his pocket and a sorry scrawled on two pieces of colored Tanzaku. 

Oikawa turns sixteen and goes to the shrine again. 

This time, it’s a broken promise with a girl in his class. She was popular– she smelled like cotton candy and reminded Tooru of strawberries and daisies, so when she asked Tooru out, he had said Sure, and he had smiled like she was the sun. 

But he’s a bad boyfriend– a terrible boyfriend– because he’s only there when it’s convenient and he ditches her for volleyball practice and maybe sometimes he catches himself thinking about a certain childhood friend when she holds his hand and buys him milk bread at lunch. 

She was sweet and she was terribly pretty, but he doesn’t feel anything when she kisses him or when she rests her head on his shoulder.

Iwaizumi asks him what he’s running from after practice one day. Tooru knows Iwaizumi is asking why he is running from you. 

Tooru is a little scared of how you make him feel too much. Oikawa likes being in control and Oikawa likes stability, so when he realizes that his heart thumps erratically whenever you’re around and he finds himself all consumed with thoughts of you and a burning desire to please you; he rejects and refrains. And runs.

His girlfriend dumps him after a few months. Tooru says sorry, removes her phone contact, and faintly remembers a promise he made with her four weeks ago. 

I swear I’m not in love with someone else. 

from: tooru (23:20) shrine time!!! ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

from: hajime (23:21) You broke another promise?? Ur a piece of shit lol

from: tooru (23:22) iwaaa chan U￣ｰ￣U  ur so mean !

from: you (23:24) bro . don’t tell me it was about ur ex ur a manwhore !!!!

from: hajime (23:25) Average Shittykawa moment

from: tooru (23:25) i can’t help it !! (✿ ♥‿♥)  everyone wants a piece of me !!! ill pick u guys up and we’ll go to the shrine and ramen after plsss ☆

from: hajime (23:26) Ur treat?

from: tooru (23:27) iwa-chan’s treat !! i’m going through a nasty breakup, remember ? \_( ◉ 3 ◉ )_/¯

from: you (23:29) hajime we know his address we can burn his room down

from: tooru (23:30) OK FINE my treat! it’s on me!!! everyone say thank you tooru !!!

from: hajime (23:31) thank you tooooruuu chan (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

tooru and y/n reacted with: Scared !

from: tooru (23:32) um please don’t do that ever again

Oikawa’s fourth promise is one to himself and one to Seijoh. 

We will make it to Nationals. 

He doesn’t leave his room for a week when he breaks it. He’s inconsolable. He says he’s sick: he’s got a bad fever, it’s contagious, he’s bedridden, he’s fine. But the lights are never on in his room, his curtains are always drawn, and you know that Tooru devoted everything for a chance and a dream and a volleyball. 

He comes to you first. He’s standing in your doorway and there are bags under his eyes and he says, Hi, and then, I’m fine. He tries for a smile— and then you give him a look, and suddenly he’s in your arms and sobbing. 

He cries for two hours. Tooru ugly cries– his chest racks when he sobs and his arms are tight around you and digging into your back. Oikawa Tooru is not weak: but he is not a prodigy.  

He falls asleep in your bed with his head in your lap and your hands in his hair, but his eyebrows are furrowed and he’s shifting a lot and he’s probably having a nightmare. You call Hajime before gently shaking Tooru awake. 

He blinks up at you— all puffy eyes and tousled hair and swollen cheeks, but he sees you and he softens.

“Wanna go to the shrine?”

Iwaizumi still grumbles the whole way up the thirty five steps, but he’s quiet as Oikawa slips two coins into the saizen-bako. Hajime wraps an arm around your shoulder as the coins rattle in the box and you know he’s upset too— his hands are slightly shaking and he keeps sniffing. Nationals might have been Oikawa’s dream but Iwaizumi was also a dreamer, and sure, Oikawa was going to go, but they were going to go together.

Tooru hangs two Ema boards and for the first time, he bows at the Honden. Two claps. Head down and hands together as he prays. Iwaizumi joins him: and you watch as Oikawa apologizes to him and Hajime shakes his head- because it was Hajime’s promise too. 

Oikawa is twenty-eight and on a plane when he finally keeps his first promise. 

It’s a small promise: but a promise nonetheless, one that he made before he left for Argentina. He tells you he loves you at the airport but he has his boarding pass in one hand and his passport in the other. And you tell him you love him too, but also that he’s being unfair, and no you won’t go out with him. And Oikawa knew you would say that, but he still finds himself making a promise– a promise you laugh at because Oikawa Tooru never keeps his promises.

If we’re still single in ten years, I’m going to find you, and I’m going to ask you out. 

You cry, and Tooru wraps his arms around you and cries too— and then Iwaizumi’s there, and Iwaizumi’s crying, and you don’t know which part of you is Oikawa or Iwaizumi. Oikawa leaves for Argentina with a heavy heart but a hunger for the future. 

In the ten years that pass he plays a lot of volleyball. He tans a lot. He learns some Spanish. He tries beach volleyball. And then, he buys a plane ticket on his birthday. 

from: y/n (21:12) happy birthday tooru !! me n hajime r having an honorary drink for u. hope ur having fun in argentina!!! hajime and i say te amo !!!!

from: tooru (21:15) i’d like a hot sake plssss thank u!!! ( ˙▿˙ )

from: y/n (21:15) LMFAO. no. me and haji r drinking ASAHI DRRRRRRYYYYYYYY for u bro also hajime got BUFF wat the hell hope ur tanning good in argentina 

from: tooru (21:16) well tell BUFF iwa chan that ill be there in 5 and i want a HOT SAKE and also YES i tanned good SO EYES OFF IWAIZUMI

from: y/n (21:17) ? what? ur funny lol … TOORU?

Tooru is twenty eight and might retire soon. Thirty five stairs is too many to climb and keeping promises is far more fun than breaking them. So he taps your shoulder, hands Iwaizumi your bouquet, and takes your cheeks in his palms to tilt your chin over. 

“Hi!” He says. 

 Tooru bends down to kiss you. 

[euriiverse]

i miss you, come here ! | t.oikawa

-> pairing: ts!oikawa tooru x gn!reader | sfw | cw: headcanons, suggestive content under the cut, reader is in university, long distance, manga spoilers ig, bittersweet ending | mlist 

-> rq: boyfriend headcanons with oikawa tooru

boyfriend!oikawa who started dating you in high school. you were heartbroken when he told you he was going abroad post-graduation, but he assured you that long distance would work.

boyfriend!oikawa who has never failed to text you “good morning” and “goodnight” despite the time difference between you guys. the messages are also always accompanied by a selfie of him. he says it’s to prevent you from “ forgetting about his pretty face,”  but that’s nearly impossible to do considering images of him are plastered on every magazine you read and news channel you turn on. it’s nice to have pictures of him that are solely for you, though. 

boyfriend!oikawa who brags to everyone he meets in argentina about how lucky he is to have you as his partner. his teammates feel like they’re the ones dating you from how often he rambles about how much he loves you. he could drone on for hours about how smart you are for going to university, or how cute you are when you scrunch your nose at him. he’s obsessed with you and makes it everybody else’s problem. 

boyfriend!oikawa who gets offended when his PR team suggests marketing him as an available bachelor to increase his popularity. he reassures you that he’d never sacrifice the integrity of your guys’ relationship to get a little ahead in his career. he express-ships a big bouquet of flowers to your door as a way to apologize even though he did nothing wrong. (he calls it “proactive damage control”) 

boyfriend!oikawa who unfollows everybody except for you on his social media accounts to prove his devotion. this causes quite a stir and results in your classmates staring at you when you walk into your lectures. you’re known around campus as “oikawa tooru’s significant other,” but you and him agree that there are worse things to be known as. 

boyfriend!oikawa who notices how stressed you get from being a university student, so he surprises you with a round-trip business class ticket to argentina. he squeezes you so tight when he sees you for the first time that you think you may suffocate. as he holds you, you can feel the wetness of his tears against the back of your shirt, but you decide not to tease him about it. you missed him too.

boyfriend!oikawa who’s excited to show you the life he’s built for himself. he shows you his favorite beaches, introduces you to his teammates (who you apologize to in broken spanish about how annoying your boyfriend is), and takes you to the best restaurants in town. when you two go out for food, he orders for you in perfect spanish, and the dishes he recommends for you to try are always better than what you would’ve ordered for yourself. it reminds you how well he knows you.

boyfriend!oikawa who’s shocked when you admit one night during dinner that you’re afraid that he doesn’t need you anymore because of how well he’s assimilated to argentina without you. he takes your hand and fervently reassures you that despite moving here, you’ll always be his home.

boyfriend!oikawa who won’t let go of your hand the entire time you’re walking on the beach afterward. “people are staring, tooru.” “let them stare.”

boyfriend!oikawa who takes you to the airport when you eventually have to leave. he impulsively buys a ticket for the flight solely to wait with you at your gate for as long as possible. when it’s finally time to board, he watches with teary eyes as you walk away. it takes all his willpower not to get on the plane with you.

boyfriend!oikawa who loves you more than life itself and is counting the days until he can be with you again. 

extras ! (cw: suggestive :3)

boyfriend!oikawa who’s loved kissing you since the beginning of your relationship, but now that you’re long distance, there’s a little more desperation in his touch. during nights spent together, he makes a habit of littering you with kisses. his lips start at the top of your head, make their way down to your stomach, and if he’s feeling lucky he goes a little further.

boyfriend!oikawa who unwinds after practice by hand-feeding you food. it’s cute at first, but sometimes it goes overboard and makes you wonder what his true motivations are.  “try this one. this one too!” “tooru, you’re gonna make me choke” “im just getting you prepped!” “FOR WHAT.” 

boyfriend!oikawa who almost convinces you to extend your trip simply by how well he knows how to make you tick. when you kiss for the last time, his hand snakes down your waist and pulls you closer in a way that leaves you breathless. he laughs at your blissed-out expression and tells you, “you’ll have to visit your lonely boyfriend again to get another one of those.”  you roll your eyes and whisper in his ear to inquire about other things you’ll get when you visit him again, and he goes red in the face.

—a/n: me making oikawa content on this blog is the equivalent of walking into your kitchen and seeing a fish cooking pasta.

[euriiverse]

HUSBAND OIKAWA HCS OMAGHAUSHSHD

husb!oikawa who helps you do the taxes and puts his glasses on and brings a calculator only for him to get bored after 20 minutes and whines when you don't give him attention

husb!oikawa who is your plus one to any events your office is doing and your female coworkers gawking over him only for him to show off his ring before wrapping an arm around your waist, swiftly saying "i'm taken, ladies" with a smug smirk

husb!oikawa who panics and screams whenever he thinks he lost his wedding ring bc he can't wear it in games!

husb!oikawa who ties the ring to a necklace so he can wear it during games, he'll also give the ring a kiss before any serve

husb!oikawa who watches horror movies w you, expecting for you to hide your face in his chest from the jumpscares and he can act all tough and cool by protecting you from said jumpscares— only for him to be the one hiding in the crook of your neck when watching them

husb!oikawa who picks you up from the bar that you and your coworkers went to bc he doesn't trust anyone on returning you home when you're drunk as a sailor

husb!oikawa who makes hangover seaweed soup along with some hot chocolate when you wake up all lightheaded bc of the drinks you had and nags you for drinking too much

husb!oikawa who will reserve you a VIP seat for his games and will shamelessly kiss you in front of the whole crowd, he could also shamelessly make out w you too but that would earn him a smack

husb!oikawa who gets upset when you can't go with him to his overseas games because of your work, muttering a "you can be a housewife instead, yknow!! I'll be the source of income!!" which he got smacked for because you didn't work your ass for a degree just to be a housewife

husb!oikawa who'd act all tough and nonchalant when both of you have a fight and he's lying on the couch with crossed arms but in reality he's thinking about the fight and he hates getting into arguements with you

husb!oikawa who will beg you to listen to his explanation bc he doesn't wanna go to sleep with you being mad at him

husb!oikawa who just grins and wiggles his eyebrows at you whenever your parents start asking for grandchildren when you both come over to visit

husb!oikawa who will not show up to work if you're sick and will take care of you

husb!oikawa who whines when his mother and his older sister treats you like their own family to the point they forget about him (he's actually happy that the important women in his life get along)

husb!oikawa who has an ID photo of you in his wallet and has a polaroid of both of you on your wedding day in his clear phone case

husb!oikawa who comments on ALL your instagram posts and shares it on his story. he will also reply to every men in the comments section that dares to flirt with you

husb!oikawa who always has a hand on one of your boobs when he's sleeping because he says it's comfy! (he just wants to feel something soft)

husb!oikawa who spoils you rotten and sends bouquets to your office on a weekly basis

THATS ALL FOR NOW KEKE

[euriiverse]

req by @lizbix for 700 event

OIKAWA who is “just a friend”

OIKAWA who dedicates every serve (even the ones he misses) to you with a wink and a cocky grin, throwing in a “just because you’re special to me,” on occasion, but it’s all strictly platonic. yep.

OIKAWA who tosses his volleyball jacket over your shoulders when you’re cold, and just before you can see the gentle fondness in his eyes, he brushes it off with a “just displaying my kindness. thank me with a kiss later, mhm?”

OIKAWA who only smiles when you hit him in return, but really just wishes you’d take him seriously.

OIKAWA who is always staring at you when his fangirls try to get his attention — he doesn’t even realize it, but they sure do.

OIKAWA who sniggers to himself every time he’s asked if you two are a thing, because in his mind, you kind of are. he won’t deny what he believes to be true. if he’s right, he’s right.

OIKAWA who always manages to somehow slip into your house, and you often find him sprawled out in your bed, snoring like he’s in hibernation.

OIKAWA who smirks lazily as you let out a deep sigh and crawl in beside him, wrapping his arms around you and ignoring your excuse of “I’m tired” and “it’s obvious you won’t move anyway.”

OIKAWA who is just a friend, but you’re curled up under the covers with him and sinking into his warm embrace, soft skin brushing over his as his heat seeps into you.

maybe OIKAWA is just a friend, but as he presses his face into the crook of your neck and mumbles something that sounds scarily similar to “I love you,” it doesn’t feel like it. not like you mind.

OIKAWA who denies any hints at his sleepy confession profusely, telling you it must’ve been a dream — a fantasy of yours that you’d gotten caught up in that day. he says he doesn’t blame you, he gets it a lot.

OIKAWA who only admits that he did, in fact, tell you he loved you back then three years later. he figured it was a good time, because now you’re curled up in bed once again, except the covers are not yours. they’re his too; property of the home you’d created not long after graduation.

OIKAWA who stares at the back of your head, stunned, when all you responded with was a smile and an “I know.”

OIKAWA who feels really dumb afterwards, but he figures it’s alright, since he ended up at his planned destination all the same. he’s still mad he lost so much time, though.

I cannot write for oikawa I think. please don’t attack me for this.

gen tags: @sh0ot1ngst4r @azinniyaa @kashee-h @bubybubsters @lizbix @mayyhaps @adoresia @gumims @cinnamxnangel @aldebrana

[euriiverse]

puppyboy!caleb who just wants to fuck a litter into u :((

cw — breeding (dadoy), use of gege, typical caleb activities except hes a germand shepard, pet names (baby, honey, wife but theyre not married). fluffy prequel here.

he thinks you should have known. all the signs were right there, practically jingling in your face.

“did you— mm . . really think i’d invite you over for somethin’ as harmless as a common cold?”

he knows you won’t respond verbally. can’t respond, he thinks, not when his hips are slamming against your juicy ass, cock filling you up to the brim after his fingers and mouth worked so hard to stretch you out.

and even that hadn’t been enough. he still had to go reaaaal slow, ease it into that filthy, drooling hole, and by then he was just so impatient that he couldn’t wait any longer! :p

caleb will be gentle next time, he promises.

saliva and tears dribble down your chin, rolling down your chest and onto his sheets, and he wishes he could lean forward to lap it all up with his tongue. instead, he nuzzles into the side of your tainted neck, pressing little loving pecks against reddened skin as if to make up for the brutal way he’s splitting you open.

“y-yer just so gullible, baby. always takin’ your gege’s word for fact.”

you attempt to shake your head, a few, rare pieces of coherent thought stringing together enough to actually speak. “ungh, ngh! n-no, ‘m not . . not dumb.”

look at you. stubborn as always, ready to defend yourself and your beliefs at a moment’s notice. it’s cute.

“of course you aren’t,” caleb coos with a breathy chuckle, and he takes your soft, warm skin into his mouth, sucking another bruise to join the others. “never said you were. you’re a smart girl. my smart girl, and that’s exactly why i have to breed you.”

he feels the way your velvety walls clamp down on his aching cock at his words, and he grins. he knows all of your little weak protests earlier were fake.

all those “but, caleb, i don’t think it’s a good idea, we’re not even married” and “i’m just not ready yet” and “we’re both so busy, how will we have time for the baby?”

that was all bullshit.

you want this. you know you do, and caleb definitely knows you do.

you’re just in denial. but don’t worry — he’ll fuck that out of you.

“it’s o-only right to— shit–” plap “spread my wife’s beauty and smarts–” plap “to the rest of the world, right?”

caleb slams forward, hips stilling for a moment as he whimpers against your bitten-up neck, and a desperate mewl leaves your own lips as the impact lunges you forward.

his weeping tip is smooching your cervix, ready to pump a load into your temporarily empty womb.

“say . . say you want it.”

you blink, brows drawing together as you try to focus through the drunken haze. “w-wha?”

“say you want my cum, say you wanna be a mommy f’me,” he groans, and despite the low roughness of his voice, you can hear that almost pathetic pleading underneath.

and how could you deny caleb like this?

your head bobs, throat dry. “i wan’ it. please, caleb. fill . . fill me up.”

that’s all he needs.

caleb’s thick tail gives a happy thump against the sheets as his hips start up again, this pace much more demanding than the previous. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d be trying to fuck you into the mattress.

“thaaaat’s it,” he sighs, and all you can do is squeal as the bed creaks and rocks beneath you. “lemme stuff this pretty pussy full, honey.”

“i’ll . . f-fuck, ngh— give you as many pups as ya want. a whole . . a whole fucking football team—!” his words break off into a whine when you clamp down on him again, and he already knows what’s going to happen before you even try to say it.

this time, you really can’t speak. all you can do is moan and attempt silly, broken cries of his name, pleasure coiling to a fever pitch in your gut.

he knows you better than you know yourself, after all.

“mmf, a-ah, ‘m cumming— c-caleb!”

his name sounds so beautiful on your lips, like a siren’s call to his heavy, tightening balls and twitching dick.

within seconds of you gushing all over his cock, squirt spraying all over that dark, almost curly patch of pubic hair, his hips are stuttering, pretty violet eyes rolling back as he mumbles your name again and again like a damn prayer.

caleb dumps thick ropes of gooey seed into your warm, waiting womb and, oh, it is so much. much more than you expected, and it feels . . good.

a small bulge appears on your tummy where caleb has stuffed you to your limit, and you’re sure it’s going to leak out, make an even bigger mess all over your sheets.

the knot at the base of his girth swells, trapping his cum inside, and even if caleb had the traitorous thought of pulling out of you, he couldn’t.

even his basic biology knows that a single drop can’t and won’t go to waste.

he whines, hot, damp breath ghosting across your skin as he shoves his face into your neck again, that feral need mostly disappearing. you can feel his chest heaving in time with your own against your back, fluffy ears twitching.

“i’ll make up to you for rounds four and five, how about that?”

“l-let’s take a small break, okay? ‘m sorry for bein’ so rough on you, baby,” he mumbles, and your heart gives a helpless flutter at the genuine guilt in his tone.

you’ve never quite gotten used to his flips in personality.

doing gradients is actually hell on earth wtf

[euriiverse]

I draw an unhealthy amount of Ace actually.

Refrence + bonus some silly sketches under cut.

Truthfully the Ace drinking Tyskie keeps me awake at night.. what if. What if Ace One Piece was in Poland on vacation.

[euriiverse]

Birthday

Tags/Warnings: Ace/GN!Reader, pre-relationship, reader's birthday, spade pirate!reader Word count: 649 Happy birthday @possiblyelven

There was one day a year that you were allowed to sleep in late, and that was your birthday. Usually you’d need to wake up early to do chores, being a pirate may be all about freedom but it certainly didn’t feel like it when you dragged yourself out of bed at 7am to mop the deck after sailing through heavy rainfall during the night. Not on your birthday though, that was true for all crew members, no spade was to wake up early on their special day. Captain had mainly decided that for his own sake when being pulled out of bed on his own birthday, but you were all happy to take advantage of that. You weren’t expecting all that much, really. For most birthdays, you’d all get together at the end of the night and make sure you shared a huge meal, as a special treat, usually the favourite of the birthday person. Otherwise, a normal day.

So, when you finally pulled yourself out of bed, roughly two hours after you usually would, you felt pretty pleased with your lot for the day. You bathed, making the most of your late rising to have the bathroom to yourself for as long as you wanted, then finally made your way to the main deck to join the rest of the crew, and start on whatever you needed to do. Your hair was still slightly damp as you stepped foot on the deck, and when you looked up from your nails that you’d been inspecting, you found the crew all staring at you, grinning, a cake on a small table.

“Happy birthday!” They called in unison, startling you. You rested a hand over your heart as you laughed, making your way to join them, wrapping each of them in a hug in thanks.

“You didn’t have to do this.” You said, turning to look down at the cake, which was messily iced and piped, but it looked good regardless, and it was clear that it’d been done with love.

“It was Captain’s idea.” Deuce said with a small smirk, nudging Ace gently with his elbow. Ace rolled his eyes, a light flush on his cheeks, but nodded.

“Just thought we should say thanks for everything, and congratulations for surviving another year, or whatever.” He said, waving vaguely as if to separate himself from the sentiment of the action.

“Thank you, Captain.” You said, approaching him with a smile. You gently grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to you to press a kiss to his cheek, before turning back to the others as if you’d done nothing at all.

“Cake for breakfast?” You suggested, answered by a knife already cutting into the sponge and the laughter and cheering of the others, all eager to get a taste of the cake that had been prepared for you. It was your favourite flavour too, someone let you know, which only made you smile wider.

The others slowly trickled away, heading back to what they’d been doing or starting new tasks, leaving you alone with Ace as you continued eating the large slice you’d cut for yourself.

“I uh.. I made the cake.” Ace said, stepping up to stand beside you, though he didn’t look at you as he spoke.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wanted to do something nice for you.” You nodded at his words, smiling down at the slice on your plate, considering what your next words would be.

“You know, someone might say you were giving me special treatment.” You gently teased, looking up at him with a mischievous smile.

“Me? Never.” He replied, finally looking down at you with a matching expression on his face, which made both of you laugh. Still, it would ultimately be a normal day once the cake was finished, but you’d carry the feeling it gave you in your heart for years to come.

Tags: @cainnoable @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @categoryace

If you'd like to tip me and get exclusive ficlets, Kofi

[euriiverse]

Husband!Rafayel, who has a big portrait of your wedding picture in his studio--he made sure to place it where the sun reflects brightly, so it shines as brightly as you did on your wedding day.

Husband!Rafayel, who made your kiss mark as a seal to every painting he made ever since you two met.

Husband!Rafayel, who is known for his abstract paintings--surprised his fans when he started painting his wife in his recent works.

Husband!Rafayel, who always has you by his side in every art exhibition, interview and event. Proud to show the world that he has a loving wife by his side.

Husband!Rafayel, who made sure to give you two rings---one on your finger while the other one hangs on a necklace. Incase you forgot to wear your ring, you still have the other one hanging around your neck!

Husband!Rafayel, who loves to bring you cute little trinkets and souvenirs whenever he returns from his trips. He always makes it special--he's a "I bought it because it reminded me of you" type of lover:(( you'd be surprised seeing different types of seashells displayed in a big elegant box.

Husband!Rafayel, who claims to hate kids a lot because they are annoying and loud-- but the way you interact with them makes his heart flutter in awe:( it makes him wonder what it would be like to have his own together with you.

Husband!Rafayel, who cried a lot after finding out you're carrying his baby--he's more emotional than you were actually. Hugging you so tightly as he weeps against your chest. He's happy that he's now able to have a miniature version of both of you. You can't help but giggle at his reaction while you pat his back.

He loves you so much:(

[euriiverse]

Poison I am on my hands and knees BEGGING PLEADING IMPLORING for some more teacher Rafayel i did not know I needed it until you made me see the light godbless biggest fattest kiss for you MUAH

(I hope you don’t take this as me demanding you to write anything, definitely only if you want of course!!)

teacher's pet?

♱⋅── a/n: 3k of Professor! Rafayel. It's not his fault you're so easy to tease, to rile up, to get you right where he wants you when you're being a brat and not listening to your dear professor. art credit to @/sugarqiyu on x

Rafayel is a world-renowned artist, known for his masterpieces communicating all the rage and depth of the ocean, a devotion so palpable apparently you could drown in it. A rumor second only to his notorious reputation of having the face of an angel and personality of the devil. 

You can vouch that both these rumors are damn near true. 

Linkon University jumped at the opportunity when the Rafayel offered to become an adjunct professor for the senior year art capstone.

From the first day, the entire lecture hall was captivated under Rafayel's siren spell, his voice like sweet poison as he first introduced himself to the class, words a careful balance between arrogant and playful— that is, until you introduced yourself. 

It was barely noticeable, something you almost swear you imagine, but those sunset eyes light up when you say your name, his smile becomes a little less hollow, and something in his gaze arrests you so violently you nearly forget to look away. 

Little do you know Rafayel has been looking for you in this lifetime for nearly seventy years. And finally, finally he’s found you. So what if these circumstances are a little less ideal than usual? 

He’s not letting you go again. 

Professor Rafayel gives you impossible standards to meet, critiques that cut deep enough to make you want to scream, and grades that keep you shackled to his office hours.

He’s careful, though. His feedback is always just shy of unreasonable, his authority unchallenged, his reputation untouchable. And when you come storming into his office demanding an explanation, he just smiles, leaning back in his chair with the air of a predator who knows his prey walked right into the trap.

“Poor thing,” he drawls, feigning sympathy as his eyes slowly trace your figure from behind his glasses. “Maybe you’re just not cut out for this. But I suppose... with the right guidance...”

He lets the offer dangle, his gaze heated and unwavering. You hate that your heart races, hate that you need his approval, his help. Hate that he looks so damn smug knowing just how to make you beg, just how to make you come looking for him instead. 

Professor Rafayel savors every insult you hurl behind his back, every time you grumble to your friends about his impossible standards and arrogant demeanor. He listens, silently cataloging each biting word, each curse muttered under your breath.

And when he finally has you moaning his name, his mouth wicked and merciless between your thighs, he can’t help but remind you of every cruel thing you’ve said.

“You’ve got such a filthy mouth, cutie. Didn't you call me a sadistic asshole last week?” His fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place as he flicks your clit with his tongue again, smirking as you writhe in overstimulation. “I suppose I am... but you love it, don’t you?”

The way you choke on a sob only makes him smile wider.

Private lessons with Professor Rafayel become a blur between you learning and losing your mind. 

Half of the time, Rafayel is a masterful teacher, and his passion for art is as mesmerizing as his paintings. He speaks about color theory with a fervor that none of your other professors have come close to, his eyes alight as he explains the emotional weight of each shade, the way hues can whisper secrets or scream rage. His knowledge is boundless, and his lessons on storytelling through art are so captivating you almost forget to breathe.

But it’s the tales of Lemuria that leave you spellbound, like something out of a fairytale or tragedy. Ancient techniques lost to time, rituals where pigments were mixed with seashells, and spells hidden in brushstrokes. He speaks with such reverence, his voice low and haunting, and sometimes, just sometimes, you catch a flicker of sorrow in his gaze, as if he’s lived through it all.

He shows you his personal collection, paints richer and more vivid than anything you’ve ever seen. Reds deeper than blood, shimmering blues that seem to ripple like water. He teaches you to paint underwater landscapes that feel eerily familiar, scenes of ancient temples swallowed by the sea, fragments of a forgotten and drowned world.

You convince yourself it’s just Rafayel’s eccentric genius rubbing off on you, a byproduct of his intoxicating charisma. But then he watches you with that knowing smile, his eyes gleaming as if he’s waiting for you to remember something you’ve long forgotten.

The other half of the time, Professor Rafayel’s lessons are nothing short of madness. He invades your space, his body always too close, his mere presence overwhelming.

His hands are always on yours when he shows you how to sketch the curve of moving muscle, the delicate slope of a hip, fingers guiding yours with agonizing slowness. His touches linger, featherlight in ways that make you shiver, his breath brushing your ear as he murmurs instructions, his voice addictive and velvety.

You try to stay focused, try to be professional, but his scent wraps around you, warm and heady, and your mind spirals. You spend far too long watching the way his hands move, the lithe grace of his fingers, the gentle strength that could so easily ruin you.

Your paintbrush trembles, your breathing uneven, and you can’t help the way your heart races when his chest presses against your back, his hands guiding yours as he whispers, “Just like that... perfect.”

Your professor knows exactly what he’s doing, of course. Rafayel feels the way your hand trembles around the paintbrush, sees the way your pupils dilate, hears every shaky breath. Rafayel drinks it all in, his smile infuriatingly smug, his sunset eyes heavy with satisfaction.

And when he finally touches you—really, truly touches you—all your remaining morality crumbles.

Of course, it’s punishment when you fail to turn in your twenty still-life practices by the end of the week. 

You’re slammed down on his desk before you can think to protest, paint-stained fingers clutching the wood as he presses you down, his body caging you in. He kisses like he paints, with passion and devotion, stealing your breath and sanity in one fell swoop. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your hips, your thighs—touching, gripping, claiming.

You gasp as he pushes your skirt up, his fingers slipping beneath your underwear, babbling nonsense about how dare you wear something so cute, so sinful to his class and how he’s been thinking about ripping it off your slutty little hips all day long. 

“All that complaining, but you’re rather obedient now,” Rafayel teases, his voice mocking as his fingers curl, instantly finding that spot that makes you scream around his fingers. “Maybe if you weren’t so stubborn, you’d learn faster.”

You curse him, or at least you try, but the words dissolve into a broken moan as he curls them up again, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. Rafayel laughs. “You’re very cute when you’re frustrated.”

He doesn’t stop until you’re crying his name, apologizing for being a brat, every stroke and curl of his fingers calculated to drive you to the edge, to make you lose all sense of time and reason. And when Rafayel finally lets you come undone, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, he watches you fall apart with that infuriatingly smug smile, as if this was his plan all along.

And maybe it was.

Later, you’ll try to paint again, your mind hazy, body aching. But every brushstroke feels too intimate, every color too vibrant, too alive. You’ll stare at the canvas and swear it’s moving, the paint shimmering, swirling, forming shapes that look hauntingly like his eyes. You’ll feel his presence behind you, his hands warm on your shoulders, his voice velvet-smooth as he purrs, “See? Was that so hard?”

Private lessons were always his trap. And now, Rafayel’s got you exactly where he wants you.

When Professor Rafayel suggests you sketch him nude “for practice,” he’s already won. 

You know it the moment his lips curl into that wicked, knowing smile, the kind that makes your pulse race and your stomach flip. You should have said no. Should have refused, made up some excuse, anything to avoid this situation.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. And now you’re trapped, heart pounding as he begins to strip in front of you.

He’s maddeningly slow about it, drawing out each movement with practiced ease, and you’re hyper-aware of every single detail. The way his fingers deftly loosen his tie, the silk sliding from his collar with a whisper that makes your breath hitch. His eyes never leave you, watching every nervous fidget, every time you shift in your seat pretending to be unaffected. But you don’t fool him. Not for a second.

Rafayel’s hands continued down to the buttons of his shirt, his long fingers working methodically, one by one, exposing more pale skin with every pop of fabric. You can’t help it—your gaze follows the path of his fingers, tracing the lines of his collarbones, the lean muscle beneath his skin.

You swallow hard, mentally debating if it would be worse to watch him or worse to chicken out now, practically surrendering and acknowledging what watching your professor does to you. Not that you could think at all when his shirt falls open, slipping off his shoulders to pool on the tiled floor, leaving him half-naked, so casually beautiful it makes you ache.

Rafayel’s enjoying this far too much. There’s the same smug glint in his eyes as he watches you struggle to maintain your composure. He begins to thumb at his slacks and you whip your head away, your entire body going rigid at the sound of his belt unbuckling, the click of metal on metal echoing through the empty lecture hall.

You don’t dare look, eyes glued to the blank canvas before you as heat floods your cheeks. But your traitorous mind cruelly fills in the details, painting a picture more vivid than any still life you’ve ever drawn. You hear the rustle of fabric, the soft creak of the pedestal as he positions himself, and when you finally gather the courage to glance back the sight makes you forget the canvas entirely. 

Rafayel lounges on the pedestal like he belongs there, all long limbs and lazy grace, his body on full display with a confidence that borders on obscene. His skin is milky pale, the delicate arch of his ribs leading to the defined lines of his abdomen and fuck of course he has a six pack, his muscles lean and corded beneath flawless flesh.

Rafayel is every bit the masterpiece you expected, unfairly beautiful even like this, his glasses still perched on his nose, that infuriatingly smug smile playing at his lips.

“Well?” he drawls, arching an eyebrow as he settles into a pose, one arm draped artfully over his head, his body a careful composition of sharp lines and curves. “I thought you were supposed to be drawing, not gawking. Not the best student, are you?”

Your cheeks burn hotter, and you force yourself to look back at the canvas, gripping the charcoal so hard it threatens to snap. You try to be professional, try to focus on the technicalities—the shapes, the shadows, the proportions. But it’s impossible when every angle of him is so utterly mesmerizing, when every stretch and shift only highlights the elegance of his form.

Your strokes are shaky at first, charcoal dust smudging your fingers as you outline his figure, but it’s hard to stay steady when his ocean dual-toned eyes are fixed on you, gleaming with mischief and something far more dangerous. He knows exactly what he’s doing, each subtle change in his posture designed to make you squirm. When he stretches, his body arching like a cat, you almost drop your charcoal, your mouth going dry at the ripple of muscle, the unapologetic sensuality of it all.

“You’re tense,” he comments, his voice soft, lilting with amusement. “Your lines are stiff. Rigid.” He shifts, his body unfurling as he sits up, one leg bent, his arm resting lazily atop his knee. You make a sound in protest, frowning as you lose your reference. “Heh, you won’t capture the fluidity of the human form like that. You need to relax, loosen up.”

You bite back a retort, teeth grinding as you force yourself to adjust your grip, trying to follow his advice. But then he’s standing, moving toward you without a semblance of shame or modesty, his fingers curling around yours, guiding the charcoal along the paper. His completely bare body is too close, his skin too warm, the faint persistent seasalt and driftwood scent of his cologne too intoxicating as he presses against your back.

You don’t even realize you’re leaning back into his touch, one hand still shading the muscle and contour of his body as the other blindly reaches out for Rafayel’s body, hitting the edge of his abs before sliding downwards ever so slowly. 

“Don’t stop there, I’ll help.” And Rafayel’s hands come to meet yours, encircling the charcoal with one as the other wraps your palm around his dick. “You have to move your hand like this…” Gently flicking his wrist to show you the proper shading technique for the lighter areas, groaning into the back of his neck as you repeat the movement around his base, already leaking down to your fingers. 

“Just like that, nice and fluid.” His fingers guide yours around his shaft, setting a pace that makes his breath hitch, his head dipping to rest against your shoulder as his hips roll forward, chasing the friction. “Good girl.”

You can barely focus, your vision blurring as he curls his fingers around yours, moving the charcoal in slow, fluid strokes over the paper. But your other hand is trapped—held in place by his, wrapped around the velvety heat of his cock, his hips giving the tiniest, most subtle thrusts into your palm as if he can’t help himself.

He’s so hard, so hot, already leaking onto your fingers, and your breath shudders as he groans against your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin.

“You’re sooo tense, cutie. Why is that, hmm?”

“Professor…” His title slips out before you can stop it, your voice trembling, your fingers tightening instinctively around him. His laugh is breathy, wicked, and he nips at your ear, his teeth sharp, his tongue soothing the sting. 

“Remember, it’s just Rafayel when we’re together.”

You can’t breathe, can’t think, not when he’s so close, not when he’s touching you like this, guiding you, molding you. His thumb rolls over yours, smudging charcoal across the page, and you realize you’ve accidentally traced the same curve over and over, lost in the rhythm he’s set. You’re not even drawing anymore, just following his lead, letting him control every movement, every sensation.

“Rafayel.” You repeat, and he swears he loses his mind just a little. 

“That’s it,” he urges, his voice shaking slightly, rougher. “You can be braver than that. This is your art, isn’t it? You decide what to do with it.” Rafayel’s teeth scrape along your neck, and you shiver, your eyes fluttering shut as he ruts against you, his cock twitching in your grip, his moans muffled against your shoulder as he loses himself to the pleasure you’re giving him. 

When suddenly, he pulls away. 

You’re entire body goes rigid. Did you do something wrong? Did he change his mind? Has he finally realized how utterly inappropriate this is and chose to save himself the scandal and embarrassment of being caught with you? 

Mind still racing a mile a minute, it’s Rafayel’s gentle touch on your tense shoulders that has you breathing again.  “On second thought, maybe I’m not in the right condition to teach you. Maybe you also need to…” Rafayel’s arms come to wrap around you, fingers slipping under your shirt as lips trace the shell of your ear, and you swear you feel a light nip. “get comfortable.”

The charcoal hits the ground with a hollow crack. 

Your back hits the wall of his office with a muffled thud, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. This was supposed to be a professional meeting, it was supposed to end with you getting that damned A back on the last assignment. But not like this. Not this.

It’s reckless, dangerous, stupid. But Rafayel’s hands are already beneath your shirt, those stupidly gorgeous and talented fingers caressing bare skin, and each heated touch makes it harder to remember why you were fighting in the first place.

“Wait,” you gasp between kisses, your voice trembling as his mouth trails down your neck, “People might see...”

“Shh, it’s okay, cutie,” Rafayel laughs, his voice a low purr that vibrates against your collarbone. His eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown wide with desire, a wicked grin playing at his lips. He’s already ruined you, already got you drunk on his touch, and yet you’re still worrying about silly, inconsequential things. That means he’s not doing enough. “No one will know.”

Not that he’d mind. In fact, the thought of someone catching you like this—of someone realizing that you’re his, completely and irrevocably—only excites Rafayel more. After all, he didn’t lock the door. Anyone truly could just walk in, and his cock jumps at the thought. 

Teeth grazing your pulse, Rafayel’s tongue soothes the sting as his fingers tease below the waistband of your jeans. “You’re so cute when you try to be good,” he teases, his voice mockingly sweet. “Too bad you’re not really the model student you pretend to be.”

Your protest dies in your throat as his hand finds your clit with practiced ease, stroking slow and deliberate through your panties, drawing out a needy whimper that you can’t quite swallow. His mouth is on yours again before you can think to be embarrassed, the kiss possessive, consuming, swallowing every last protest you can think of. 

“See?” he whispers against your lips, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “You don’t really care who hears, do you?” Rafayel then curls his fingers, thrusting deep in as you scream, clawing at his shoulders and desk as your knees go weak.

God, you hate him. You hate the way he knows your body better than you do, the way he unravels you so easily. You hate the smug look on his face, the cocky confidence as he drives you to the edge. But you hate yourself more for how desperately you crave him, how much you want him, consequences be damned.

Because he’s right, nothing matters here. Not anymore. 

Nothing besides your dear professor.

[euriiverse]

The 'Nice Lady'

ONE SHOT (REQUEST) - Portgas D Ace/Reader (female)

REQUEST: I am not sure if you take requests but if you do, can you do a small fluff of ace introducing y/n as his wife in alabasta to the strawhats!

WARNINGS: english is not my first language, explicit language, use of pet names, Ace is a little touchy but you don't mind, stealing, fighting marines

WORD COUNT: 3,7K

✰ masterlist ✰

NOTE: This request was so fun to write so I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did ♡ I know that it took me a month to post it and that is why the end is kind of rushed, for which I'm sorry, but I hope you guys understand that things take time and that writing is just a hobby for me ♡ Thank you for all the support ♡ Feel free to like, comment and reblog as it helps reaching more people ♡ Enjoy♡

Arabasta – the hottest island and country you have ever been on. Sand and endless kilometers of desert between each city are everywhere. Right now, you are in Alubarna, an ancient city and the capital of Arabasta. The city architecture is manly domed buildings and towers, with ruins from the past all over the outside parts of it, making it very exotic and attractive for people from other islands to visit and explore, though now it is mostly local people around as the country has suffered a big lack of water so the drought that has taken over the country is life treating, except for the capital.

Looking for an escape from the burning hot sun in the busy market streets in Alubarna, you have found yourself in a small clothes shop, trying on different and typical for the country dresses or two-piece sets. Taking look at the mirror and twisting your body left and right you will lie to yourself if you say that you haven’t fallen in love with the current two piece set you are wearing. It is a beautify long white skirt with golden belt on top of the waistline with small Caribbean blue stones attach to it. Your chest is covered by a white top – white see-through long sleaves and a bra part, covered in white and golden sequins with a beautiful crafted Caribbean blue stone in the middle of it, you have never felt prettier in a pair of clothes as you feel now. Looking at the mirror you feel like a princess of the desert.

“You are definitely coming home with me.” You murmur with a smile to yourself as you check yourself out one last time. “How much are you by the way?” Tapping with your hands trying to find the price tag your eyes widen once you have found it. “A thousand and five hundred berries! Are they crazy?” Shaking your head in disbelief you take the price tag in your hands and tear it away from the skirt. “Not like I was planning to pay for it anyway.” You whisper with a smile as you gather your own clothes in the small green zebra print bag you have carried with yourself. Stepping out of the changing room you look around carefully before going to the cash register.   

“Oh, I see you have liked the set, m’lady.” The middle-aged man, the owner of the shop you guess, says as he sees you approaching him.

“Yes, I did – in fact I plan to buy more, but you see...” Your gesture to him to get closer to you like you don’t want the rest of the customers to hear what you are about to say. “I’m very pretensions and I was wondering - do you by any chance have something that it hasn’t been displayed yet?” You flutter your lashes at him. “The price doesn’t matter.” You give a little wink as you see him falling for your little act.

The middle aged, slightly round and bald man’s eyes spark with happiness as he hears this – you are his favourite type of client. He tells you to give him a second and that he will be back in just a second and the moment he leaves the cash register you don’t waste any time and run out of the shop. After a moment you hear a scream, a yell, something among the lines “Catch the bugler!”, but it is too late now as you have already escaped and blend yourself with the crowd in the market.

Walking along the streets you start to look around for your husband. He has to be somewhere near by, you just hope he hasn’t wandered somewhere far away, as sometimes he has the habit to does so.

“Buy this apple and you will be able to live up to thousand years.” You hear a merchant offer his scammed goods to someone.

"Sorry, I'm not interested in living thousand years. I just need to live today." You hear the person responds, and a sly smirk appears on your lips. Fixing your posture and lifting your chin up a bit, you start walking around the market a bit more confident. It doesn’t take long before you hear a voice behind you. “Who in their right mind has let you wander around all by yourself?”

Biting on your inner cheek, trying to stop yourself from smiling, you answer. “My husband.”  

“Ah, what a fool is your husband. Letting a gem like you all alone.” The person walking behind dramatically says. “What if someone steals you?”

“I doubt someone would dare.” You shrug with one shoulder as you make a turn, walking into a small dead-end alley, away from preying eyes.

“Hm, how so?” The man behind you smirks as he has followed you and now stands even close to you.

“Because my husband always finds me.” You smile as you turn around to face the man standing behind you and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a burning, full of passion kiss.

“You look beautiful baby.” Ace says as he pulls away from you and checks you all without any remorse. “Damn, I really need to stop letting wander by yourself, because someone might steal you from me for real.” He pulls you close to him as he runs his hands around your bare waist, feeling your soft skin under his fingers.

“I can say the same for you Portgas.” You giggle as you place your fingers on his broad muscular chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingers. He is always so warm, even without the burning sun, Ace is like a walking one, but you don’t mind it, you never had and never will. After all you have gotten a personal heating blanket in the face of your husband for the rest of your life, how can you complain? “Are you hungry my love?”

“Always.” He slowly nods and licks his lower lip, not being able to tear his eyes from the curves of your body in this two-piece set. He usually can’t take his eyes of you no matter what you are wearing, or not wearing, but this piece of clothing is doing something to him.

“I meant food Ace.” You softly sigh as you place two fingers under his chin and lift it up so he can look at your eyes. “Eyes here boy. So, are you hungry?”

“Always.” He says as he pulls you close to him once again and kisses the top of your head before you get on your way to dish and dash somewhere.

You are both sitting at the bar in the first restaurant you have found. While Ace is already on his third plate you are still on your first, taking your time savouring the taste of the tipical local dish you have ordered for yourself, enjoying the new flavours that you are trying for a first time ever, while your husband just appreciates the fact that the food is good.

“Have you got any leads so far?” You ask your raven-haired husband.

“No.” He answers with frowned brows. “But I’m sure I have something on Lu-” Hearing a loud splash noise from the plate of your husband, you jump on the side as you don’t need to look to see that it is in fact him having a narcolepsy attack midway lunch.

“Thanks God, he didn’t eat something with sauce on it.” You breathe out relieved, after checking your outfit to see it has gotten a spot or something from the food. People in the restaurant gather around your worried, but you told them not to worry as you got this. Pulling Ace up, you clean his face with a napkin as this has become like a second nature to you now, as he slowly starts to wake up.

“Sorry, baby. Please don’t tell me I ruined your clothes.” He gives you an apologetic look as he checks you out to make sure he hasn’t splashed any food on you. You shake your head with a smile and before you get the chance to respond to him - he is gone. Your husband is literally gone, as he has been swept away with a force straight through some walls and now instead of him, a guy identically looking like your husband, stands next to you.

“Ha, now this is interesting turn of events.” You chuckle as you observe the boy with the straw hat standing next to you. “Running away from trouble Luffy?” You ask like you have known him for years, even though this is the first time ever you see your husband’s little brother, whom you only know from stories and his bounty poster.

“Yes, this annoying Smoker doesn’t leave me alone.” He answers to you without even questioning how you even know him or what is he running from. “Hey, are you eating all this by yourself?” He looks back and forth between you and the three extra plates left with food from your husband.

“Eat them if you are hungry.” You smile and hand one of the plates to the young reckless pirate and his eyes widen from happiness as he takes the plate and devours it in seconds. “You can take the rest as well.” You say standing up as you make your way to where your husband has been sent flying to make sure that he is okay, you know he is, but you are sure he would like to know that it was his little brother who caused all that.

“Thank you, nice lady.” Luffy screams after you with full mouth.

You just giggle as you make your way through the broken walls. “Damn, this was quite the impact.” Murmuring under your breath you finally reach your husband, who is getting up from the ground and doesn’t look very happy with what have happened. “Are you okay, Ace?” Your sweet voice catches up his attention and he just nod. Opening his mouth to say something he is getting interrupt by a yell from Smoker, who you haven’t even noticed until now, but he is long gone before any of you can react as he goes to chase after Luffy once again.

“Straw-hat?” Ace looks at you with excitement.

“Yes, I forgot to mention that the person behind this mess in no other than your little brother, so I think you might want to jump in the chase.” With a little twist of your body to the side you gesture to your husband to go run after his brother.

“You know where to meet me princess.” Ace says as he gives you a quick peck on the lips and runs after his brother.

“Huh? That’s weird. Why am I the only one here?” Luffy wonders as he finds himself in a dead alley sitting on a water barrel, with neither his crew nor brother around. Speaking of his brother, he still can’t believe he has reunited with him after not seeing each other for who knows how long. “Where did everyone go?”

“Sheesh! I guess my letting you escape was pretty pointless.” Luffy hears the too familiar voice sarcastically says somewhere close to him. Looking around and then finally up, Luffy sees his older brother standing there with a big smile.

“Yo, Ace!” Luffy jumps on his feet as his brother lands on the ground.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Luffy.” Observing now his grown little brother, Ace can’t feel anything else but be proud of him and of the man his is becoming.

“You too, Ace.” Both grip on each others’ hands is a strong lock over the barrel. “How long has it been?”

“Good question, but Luffy, it looks like you still go on your own pace, just like you did when you were kid.” Ace smirks mischievously as he can feel his brother putting force in trying to get Ace’s hand down and claim himself a winner.

“You too, Ace. I was surprised you ate a Devil Fruit, but besides that you’re the same.” Luffy says with a big grin.

“Oh, ye?” Ace laughs out loud as he hasn’t expected to hear this. He has definitely changed a lot since they last saw each other.

“Like when you would sneak into the fields and eat a hundred watermelons and then spit the seeds like your mouth is a gun and run?” Luffy blurs out fast as Ace has taken upper hand in their hand fight.

“This wasn’t me. It was you.”

“And then you got big bumps right here.”

“That was you again. I just watched and laughed.” Ace says as he is close to take the hand of his little brother down, but the barrel with water under them breaks due to their strength and their hands stay in the air locked in a firm handshake.

“I guess we’re both the same.” Luffy’s big smile spread across his face as him and Ace unlock hands and go for a high-five. “This brings back memories.”

Walking around town the two brothers are having small talks and catching up to each other, yet Ace still hasn’t mentioned the fact that he has married the girl of his dreams recently as he wants to do this when you are standing next to him. You have turned his life upside down in the best way possible and having you in it makes it finally worth living.

“Say, what kind of crew you have?” Ace is curious to know with what people his little brother has surrounded himself and Luffy wastes no time telling him about his crew – a swordsman, a navigator, a cook, a lair and the latest addition a reindeer. “That’s quite the variety you’ve got there.”

“We also have a princess and a duck now.” Luffy excitedly exclaims. “They’re all so interesting.”

“I’m sure you are the most interesting of them all.” Ace chuckles. “Still, a handful of people for a pirate crew... That’s just like you.” He smirks looking at Luffy.

“And I want a musician, too.”

You are waiting patiently by the Striker. It has been some time now, but you are sure that Ace is just catching up with his little brother. As you are sitting and waiting, finally, you see you husbands silhouette approaching you. You get up on your feet and smile at him once he stands in front of you.

“How was it?” You ask while wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You have to meet him officially.” Ace tells you with a big smile. “He is already on his ship so we can make a quick visit. After all I need to check his crew personally, what if they are not good enough for him?”

“Ay, ay commander.” You laugh out.

You and Ace gather your things quickly in the Striker and get to the open sea fast. As you are approaching the Going Merry you notice that there are quite lot of marines.

“I will take care of them.” Ace winks at you and you playfully roll your eyes. He just wants to show off to his little brother and crew, but you won’t deny that you enjoy the show yourself. It doesn’t take long for your husband to take down the three marines ships after all he is Fire Fist Ace, what else is there to be said?

Landing on the railing of the Going Merry, Ace is met with an awe by the entire crew. While they are having their little interaction you have reached the ship with the Striker and quietly made your way up to your husband who sensed you the moment you stopped your little boat.

“Hey, Luffy.” Ace awkwardly says with a big grin spread across his lips. “There is someone I would like you to meet.” He scratches the back of his neck as he is not sure exactly how to announce to his brother that he is a married man now. “You see I-”

“Hey, what are you doing here, nice lady?” Luffy asks confused as he is the first one to notice you standing next to Ace on the railing, and now him, his crew and your husband all look at you confused. A sea of questions start being thrown at you from how you managed to get on the ship to who you are, until one particular question takes everyone out by surprise.

“Nice lady? Why does he call you this?” Ace looks at you in confusion.

“Oh, we met in the restaurant where he sent you flying.” You explain with a smile and Ace’s eyes shit to Luffy who nods his head in confirmation.

“She let me eat for free.” Luffy adds and now it all makes sense to Ace why he calls you the ‘nice lady’. “How you two know each other?”

Looking at you, with all the love and admiration in the world, Ace can’t stop the smile which spreads across his face as he says, “This is my wife.” You return the smile as you two step down of the railing into the deck and interlace your fingers. “Luffy and crew, this is my wife (Y/N).” Ace introduces you to everyone and they are all in awe, now that the confusion and shock has passed away.

“He is a good big brother.” Chopper, the cute reindeer doctor says, and Usopp the guy with unusual long nose nods in agreement.

“Wish I had one growing up.” Usopp adds to Chopper’s comment.

“And he is a good husband.” Nami the navigator of the ship as she has introduced herself to you exclames as she cluches her chest admiring you and Ace.

“A loving one on top of it.” Vivi, the princess of Arabasta, adds as she wraps her arms around Nami.

“I hope I get blessed with such a beautiful, gorgeous wife myself one day.” Sanji, the cook of the ship cries out, and for a moment you even think that if his eyes can turn into a heart shape they will. 

“Simp.” Zoro, the swordsman, makes fun of him, but the blush on his face is not helping as he shyly takes glance at you.

“Wife? Why?” Luffy’s eyes shifts between you and Ace in slight confusion. The whole concept of marriage has been something he has never understood so this is a bit confusing for him.

“What do you mean by why, you idiot?” Sanji screamed at him. “Having a wife as beautiful as (Y/N)-swan must be the closest feeling to heaven.” He cries out again.

You and your husband just laugh at the scene in front of you. His brother is exactly as he has described him, but he is obviously a good kid with good friends along his journey.

“When did you two married?” Vivi looks at you excitedly and Nami follows her with a question.

“How did you two meet?”

“How do you find a woman like her?” The lovesick cook cries out... again.

Before you or Ace can answer any question Luffy interrupts. “Why don’t you stay with us for a bit?” To which you agree.

Two days have past since you have joined the crew and both, you and Ace, are having fun with his brother and friends. The similarities between Ace and Luffy sometimes scare you a bit, due to the fact that you are aware they are not biological brothers by any means, yet they act and look like ones so much.

The night has taken over the desert and you are having fun with the girls, missing the feeling of having female company around you, as the crew you are part of is mostly made of men, which you don’t mind, because not only you have met the love of your life among these men, but also your family.

Everyone has started preparing to go to sleep, while the little adorable reindeer Chopper is having a little banter with Usopp, but Zoro is quick to put an end to it. Meanwhile Ace is observing everyone and everything carefully, enjoying the night, but also lost in his own thoughts.

“Yo, Luffy. Come here.” Ace calls out for his brother and signals to him with a nod to follow him. Stepping aside from everyone and making sure that no one would hear him, Ace looks at Luffy seriously. “I want you to promise me something.”

“What?” Luffy raises one brow a little annoyed with his brother interrupting his fun before bed.  

“If something ever happens to me, I-” Ace can’t finish his sentence as he is quickly being interrupt.

“What do you mean if something happens to you? You have promised me that you won’t die.” His brother is quick to remind him the promise Ace has given a long time ago.

“And I won’t.” Ace replies slight harshly as his brother doesn’t even let him finish his sentence. “Now let me finish what I have to say.” He scolds Luffy. “I’m saying – If something happens to me, I want you to promise me to take care of her.” Ace can’t help but look at your direction. “I know she is strong and can handle herself no matter what, but please, promise me that you will look after her if something ever happens.” He returns his attention to his brother.

“I promise Ace. But you also have a promise to keep.”

“And I will.” Ace winks to his little brother as he pats his back, and they return to the rest of the group.

Seeing them coming back you give Ace a smile – a smile for which he is willing to die for but also keep on living for every day, as his days have become better since the day he saw it for a first time ever. Back there he has promised to himself on the spot that he will call you his wife no matter what, and he did keep his promise.

writing, format, header & dividers © eand47 ©eand47, do not copy or plagiarise my work.

[euriiverse]

body shot

— zayne x reader 

synopsis: when sylus called you over to play a game, you didn’t expect it to be with the TA who hated your guts, or did he?   warning/s: college!au, one sided enemies to lovers, teaching assistant!zayne, alcohol, drunk sex, one-sided hate sex (you hate zayne, he thinks its hot), zayne takes a body shot off reader, lots of kissing, onychinus is a frat, wingman caleb and sylus bc i said so note/s: same universe as cherry pop but is read as a standalone! wc: 5.9k 

“He’s looking at you again…” You hear Yvonne whisper from beside you as you tapped on your phone. You rolled your eyes. 

“Let him. I’m not doing anything wrong.” You reply as you swipe through another Moments post on your phone. 

“Seriously, does he have something against you? Why does he keep looking at you?” 

“Dunno.” 

The man in question was the subject’s teacher assistant, Zayne. The old geezer who taught Human Anatomy was nowhere to be found— most likely black out drunk in his car, so the poor med student had to pick up the slack. It was good for his credit, or so the student believes. 

“Ms. (Y/N), mind repeating what I just said?” You snapped out of your trance as you shot up from looking at your phone to see the entire class staring back at you. Zayne stood firm at the front, piercing green eyes staring back at yours as he awaits for your answer. 

You grit your teeth, not liking the attention on you. You also didn’t know what to say as you’ve drowned out his voice for the past hour he was talking. 

“Deadlines…” Yvonne whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. 

“Something about deadlines.” You say nonchalantly, staring back at him as if you were challenging him. Zayne looks at you for a few seconds before he turns away from you, explaining something about an essay to be resubmitted by the end of the week… or something like that. 

“Class dismissed.” You hear almost silent cheers erupt from different sides of the classroom but you paid no mind as you tried to hastily pack up your things and leave. 

“Ms. (Y/N).” Your brows furrowed as the TA called your attention. “Please stay back, I’d like to have a word with you.” You looked at Yvonne who looked just as confused as you are. 

“I’ll… wait for you outside?” Yvonne offers. You shake your head. “No need, I’ll see you at lunch.” You add, your friend nods and informs you that she’d buy your food ahead so you didn’t have to wait in line after whatever talk you’re gonna have with the raven-haired man at the front of the classroom. 

Yvonne was the last student to file out before only you and Zayne remained. 

“Yes?” You asked with a little attitude. Zayne sighs before he starts. ”Your essay on the causes of arrhythmia and how to prevent it is…” he trails off, you cock your head to the side, awaiting for his continuation. 

“It’s mediocre at best.”

Excuse me? Though you didn’t voice out your disbelief, your face sure showed it as Zayne shakes his head. 

“It’s nothing persona—” “Nothing personal?” You scoffed. “Ever since you started out as Doctor Noah’s teaching assistant, you’ve always had something against me.” You poked his chest with an accusatory finger. 

“There are students literally fucking each other in the back but noo–” you draw out sarcastically, “call me out for doing absolutely nothing. God. I know you don’t like me and I don’t like you either, and honestly, I’d rather be anywhere but here if it weren’t for attendance possibly fucking up my GPA.” 

“I have no idea what your problem is but knock it off. It’s annoying, nerd.” You finish off, staring straight into his green eyes, his lips twitch for a split second– something you fail to notice before he calmly replies. 

“You have until the end of this week to resubmit, (Y/N).”

“Go fuck yourself, Zayne.”

—

Your pissed off mood was hidden to none as you stabbed your fork through your lunch. Yvonne looks at you with a slight hint of concern. 

“That bad?” She asks as she takes a sip of her water. You groaned. 

“He told me that my essay was ‘mediocre at best’.–” You imitated his deep voice, sarcastically as you ate another fry. “Can you believe it? Half the class doesn't even pass the damn thing but it’s a problem with me? I’ve never even known of Zayne before this class, what the hell is his problem with me?” 

You didn’t mean to go into a rant, but shit. Ever since he’s become the TA your anatomy classes have been significantly harder. It almost seemed like Zayne was intentionally making your life more difficult for you. You didn’t understand. 

It’s a pity, actually. When Zayne was first introduced as the teaching assistant, you were at a loss for words that there was someone as attractive as him within the vicinity. He stood tall in front of the class, face emotionless but alert. He donned a black button up with slacks, sleek glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he scanned the classroom before his eyes landed on you. 

You remembered feeling self-conscious under his stare, thinking that you looked weird but instead of showing it, you stared right back at him, quirking a brow in response, almost as if challenging him. From the distance, you didn’t see the way Zayne’s lips quirk up in amusement. 

“Babes? (Y/N)? You still with me?” You snapped out of your little reminiscing session to see Yvonne snapping her fingers in front of your face. You gave her a guilty smile before shaking your head no. 

“Sorry, I was thinking about something. What did you say?” You asked, Yvonne shook her head teasingly. 

“Is it about a certain TA?” “Don’t make me want to vomit, Yvs.” You groaned before asking her again. 

“I was asking if you’ll attend the party tomorrow night.” 

You hum. “Who’s hosting again?” 

“Onychinus.”

“Fuck yeah.” 

Yvonne scoffs. “Well that was quick.” 

“Two reasons. One, With the week I had, I need this. And two, Onychinus throws the best parties on campus.” You explain, already mentally planning what you’ll wear tomorrow night. 

“You just think Sylus is hot.” 

“Yeah well, that too.” 

— 

The party was definitely nothing short of wild. Of course, it was thrown by Onychinus, you expected nothing less from the frat house. 

Music was booming, alcohol kept getting refilled and the eye candy was astonishing, Onychinus knew damn well how to throw a party. 

You belatedly realize that this was held in honor of Sylus’ homecoming– hell, you didn’t even know that he was away. You and Yvonne giggled as you tossed back another shot, lips immediately sucking on the lemon in your hand. 

The music was loud and you could barely hear anything, bodies were swaying on either side of you as the DJ played upbeat rap music. 

You felt a little tipsy as you swayed to the beat, losing yourself entirely with the music. You could feel eyes on you but you ignored it. It was a party and you looked absolutely stunning, of course people were going to stare. You knew you looked good and you were going to own it. 

Your eyes flit around the room before it stutters to a stop once it locks hazel green eyes who were locked into you. Your hazy mind almost makes out the striking features of the man you hated most. 

Zayne. He was standing off the side where none of the partygoers were as he observed the crowded dance floor. 

God. You hated how good he looked. He donned a gray button up– clearly too hot for the venue he was in as the first few buttons were unbuttoned, the tie he wore could barely be called a tie as it hung loosely around his neck, he was holding a red cup, eyes seemingly staring straight back at you before he breaks eye contact first and leaves the dance floor.

You follow his movements but ultimately go back to dancing with Yvonne once he leaves your peripheral. 

“Holy shit, was that Zayne?” Yvonne asked, talking loudly over the music. “I think so.” You answered back, hating the way she smirks wryly.

“Isn’t it a bit too early for eyefucking?”

“What?” 

Yvonne giggles as she loops an arm around your neck. “Girly, everyone and their mothers can sense the tension between the two of you.” Yvonne winks. You groan, pushing her away. 

“You’re delusional.” “And you’re in denial!” 

You paid no mind to her retort, hoping to forget your little moment with Zayne as the song changes. Cheers were heard as another trendy song played and you and Yvonne were no exception to that as you got lost in the music.

A tap interrupts your little bubble and you turn around to see the man of the hour looking right back at you. Sylus.

“(Y/N), right?” He asks, his voice almost sobering you up from how deep it is. 

You nod. “Yeah?” 

“You’re open minded, aren’t you?” You raised a brow at his question. You looked at Yvonne who was enthusiastically encouraging you with her face. 

“That depends.” You answered, taking a step forward, grinning at his newly formed smirk. He was amused, Sylus could see why he took a liking to you.

Sylus places out a hand in front of you. “Are you up for a joyride?”

You raised a brow, looking back at the hand and back at him who looked at you expectantly. 

“Where do you want to take me?” You respond, taking a hold of his hand. He pulls you away from the crowd, into a new room where there were a few of his brothers, seemingly drunk out of their minds as they cheered at your arrival. 

Around you, you can see groups playing spin the bottle, never have I ever and you can hear muffling noises in the closet beside the door so you can only assume a certain game of heaven was played.

“Oh shit, dude. I didn’t think you would bring her.” You hear someone laugh, you turn around to see Caleb. The brunette that seemed to drive girls insane.

Of course, pretty men knew of each other. 

Before you could even ask what this was about, Caleb calls someone from the side, laughing as he forcibly pulls a male out of hiding. 

“She’s here. You have no excuse now.” Caleb says before pushing the male in front of you. 

If you were tipsy, you definitely sobered up. 

There stood Zayne who looked back at you with a blank expression on your face. 

You felt tiny under his gaze. He was staring down at you with an expression that was almost calculating, as if he were trying to see right through you. 

“What’s happening here, exactly?” You couldn’t help but ask, looking around, locking eyes with Caleb who smirks and slings an arm around the raven-haired male. 

“My roommate here didn’t want to participate in a game unless he gets who he wants.” Caleb smirks as he rubs Zayne’s shoulders mockingly, his hand holding the red cup points to you. 

“And with his description of his dream girl, all signs pointed to you.” Caleb winks and you couldn’t help your face heating up. 

First of all, Caleb looked handsome doing that and secondly, Zayne wanted you?

Caleb removes his arm from Zayne and pulls you close, teasingly whispering. “You see how so many girls are looking at you with jealousy? Yeah. All of them wanted to be Zayne’s partner but he only wanted you.”

Your eyes widened at the brunette’s words, you looked around the room, some were glaring daggers at you, some looked at you with a hopeful expression– as if they were waiting for you to decline the offer so they could pounce and some looked amused. It wasn’t everyday they got Zayne to attend a party much more participate in the games he used to call childish. 

Your eyes circled back to Zayne who looked at you with the same blank expression you’re used to, but there was a glimmer of intrigue in his deep hazel-green eyes. He was waiting for your answer. Zayne blinks before his pupils focus on Caleb’s arm that was still hanging on your shoulder, his jaw twitching just a little bit, nothing noticeable. 

“W-What…” You stuttered, flustered at the attention on you. “What’s the game?” You asked as Caleb pulled away from you and pats Zayne’s chest, smirking as he walks over to the table and grabs a small tray. 

You recognized the contents to be a shot glass, a little bowl of salt and a lemon. 

You knew the game, you knew it a bit too well. 

“Body shots.” Caleb said your thoughts out loud. 

“‘You willing?” He asks and you look back at Zayne who seemed to be awaiting an answer. 

You didn’t know what it was, maybe it was the fact that you were escorted by Sylus to the room, or that Caleb exposed Zayne’s conditions out loud, or it was because of the power you felt for being the object of Zayne’s desires despite the crowd of girls that wanted him, but your mind was screaming at you to accept. 

“Yeah.” You answered, staring straight at him. 

Zayne’s eyes widened just a tiny bit, not expecting you to accept. In all honesty, he was mentally preparing himself to walk it off, he’s definitely glad the worst didn’t come true. 

Cheers erupted, led by Caleb as he pushed the tray into Zayne’s hand, smacking his back making the two of you wince at the sound. 

Zayne takes a step forward, close enough that your senses can pick up the scent of his cologne and god, did it smell good. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Zayne says, only loud enough for you to hear and hell, his voice almost made your knees buckled. Has he always sounded attractive? 

“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out now, Zayne.” You smirked, baring your neck. Zayne says nothing but you can feel his face coming close to your skin. 

You jolt as you feel a heavy hand on your waist, keeping you in place as his tongue introduces itself on your neck. His moist muscle was flat against your skin as he licked upwards, his breaths tickling your ear as he pulled away. 

Your face heated up as he settled the tray on the table closest to you, his fingers pinching an ideal amount of salt before lathering it over your neck that he just licked. 

The world around you seemed to fade away as you couldn’t take your eyes off his veiny hands that flicked open the hard liquor with preciseness, pouring himself a shot that was waaay too high. 

With his eyes back on yours, he looks down at your chest, you unconsciously jut it out causing the raven head to smirk. Zayne looks back at you, shot glass in hand. 

“May I?” he asks while gesturing at your top. You nod and his fingers loop through the straps of your top, pulling it just enough for him to settle the shot gloss between the cup of your bra and your breast. 

Finally, the lemon slice came as he grabbed it from the table, staring straight at you. 

“Open up.” Zayne whispers and you do so with no complaint, you keep your eyes locked on him as he gently pushes your jaw back up, the sour juice that seeped out shocking your senses. 

“Good girl.”  

With Caleb’s signal— that you barely heard… 

Zayne starts. 

The raven places both of his hands on your waist, he was so close and you couldn’t help but stiffen as he dips his head down once more. You felt his soft tongue laving away at the salt he placed. His lips sucking down on your neck for good measure, causing a stifled gasp to escape your lips as you tried hard to keep the lemon slice in your mouth. 

Zayne ventures downwards, hot breaths leaving your skin rising in goosebumps as he was face to face with your chest. You feel one of his hands move from your waist to your back as he grabs on the shot glass with his mouth, tossing his head back, downing the shot with almost no difficulty. He lets go of your back to place the shot glass blindly on the table. 

Now you truly felt like time stopped as he bent face to face. His eyes remain in contact before it flits to a close as he nears your face. You unconsciously close your eyes, waiting for his lips to finally touch yours. 

Your eyes blinked open once you feel the meat of the lemon sinking under an opposite force. Lemon juice trickled down the side of your lips as Zayne bit and sucked on the fruit. His lips were so close to yours that they were almost touching. One small nudge and it would meet but Zayne pulled away ever so slightly, eyes opening and you can see a confident smirk on his face as he raises his hand to pluck the lemon slice off your mouth. 

You were suddenly reminded of where you were as cheers erupted once more, you see Sylus smacking Zayne’s back once and Caleb letting out an exaggerated cheer. You can feel the thumping of the ground due to the music being played outside, but you could only see and feel Zayne. 

You could still feel his hands on your waist and his breath ghosting over your lips. You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your thoughts as you left the room with no goodbye. 

You needed a drink. 

You grabbed a random red cup from the table, downing it in one go before you walked back to the dancefloor, attempting to relocate Yvonne, but before you could take another step a hand pulled your arm back. 

Zayne.

You looked back at him with a mix of shock as he pulled you flush to his chest. You wanted to say something but no words fell out as he dragged you upstairs. If this were anyone else, you would’ve fought back but you knew that you trusted him to not do anything bad. 

He takes you to a room that was unoccupied, quiet as he shuts the door. 

“What the fuck, Zayne? Why am I here?” You asked, a bit hostile but you’d blame it on the alcohol.   

“We need to talk.” Zayne says, his speech a bit slurred you huffed. “And it couldn’t be by the dancefloor?” You retort. Zayne sighs as a response, ignoring your defiant retort.  

“You felt it too, right?”

You cock your head to the side, feigning ignorance but you couldn’t deny out loud because you indeed felt it too. 

Even now you could still feel the proximity of his lips before yours, his scent tickling your nose and you hated it. Or did you? 

You don’t notice the way that he languidly walked over to you, his hands planting itself right on your waist, startling you away from your thoughts. 

“(Y/N)...” Zayne says, barely audible as he makes you stare right back at his eyes that were considerably darkened. 

“I’m not known for towing between the lines.” He says as he takes a step forward, you unconsciously get closer, his nose brushes against yours, breaths intermingling as his eyes fall into a close. 

“If you do not feel the same, if you do not want this, push me away.” Zayne whispers, surrendering the stakes to you. 

You shakily exhale, overwhelmed by his close proximity. His lips were inches away from yours, just a little more push and you would feel his plush lips against yours. No lemon getting in the way this time. 

God. You wanted him so bad. 

It felt like hours that you and Zayne were on a standstill before you threw all inhibitions away and smashed your lips onto his. 

Zayne lets out a sound as he tightens the hold on your waist, your hands fisting in his hair as you pull him closer. 

It was a clash of tongue and teeth as the two of you scrambled backwards on the bed, your body under his as you pulled apart, a string of spit connecting the two of you. You opened your eyes to see Zayne staring down at you with a dark expression on his face, he was breathing heavily, the glasses on his face skewed and foggy as he panted.  

“T-Take them off…” You whined, pawing at his glasses, failing to take it off. Zayne does so, throwing it to the side before he dips down once more and locks your lips with his. You moan, hands roaming on his back as you press him close, the alcohol prior making you more sensitive as Zayne ventures down, sucking down on your neck.

 “Z-Zayne…” You moaned, hands slipping from under his shirt, feeling at his bare back, trying to tug his shirt off but you were shocked as Zayne stops his ministrations and clasps your wrist through his shirt. 

“Tell me…” He breathes heavily, “You want this.” Zayne resumes marking your neck. “Need to hear you say it…” He finishes as he pulls away, leaving you to whine as your neck is exposed to the cool air. 

“Tell me you want me.” He whispers, tongue tracing the shape of your ear. You moan, fisting his shirt. 

“I want you…” You confess, pulling his chin to meet yours. “I want you so bad, Zayne.” You hear Zayne groan as tongue traces his lips. 

His mouth falls open and you take it as an opportunity to meet his tongue with yours, your fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt as you finally take it off. Zayne lets out a sound that resembles a growl as he feels you pull away and push him off, catching him off balance as you switch your positions. 

You sit right on top of his forming bulge, moaning at the hard member that was poking through his slacks. He hisses, closing his eyes as his hands settle on your hips, just resting there as you slowly grind on him. 

He opens his eyes to see you tugging at your shirt, Zayne moans out loud as he sees your breasts sitting prettily in your bra, gulping as he sees your hands reach backwards to unclasp the garment. 

Zayne couldn’t help it as he shot up, hands planted at your back and mouth kissing at your breasts, moaning slightly at the subtle taste of salt. 

You push him back on the bed, smirking at the way his eyes widened at the movement. You kissed your way down, moaning as you reached his happy trail, eyes focused on him as your hands unbuckled his belt and pulled the waistband down, gasping at the length that almost hit you on the face. 

Your mouth waters at his member that stood against his stomach, leaning a little to the left as it stared back at you red, angry. 

“You’re so big.” You say, dazed as you mouthed at his length. Zayne hisses, his fingers gripping down on your hair as you lap on the head. 

“Y-You don’t have to–” Zayne tries to say, only to be interrupted by a loud moan from him as you swallow his length in one go. You couldn’t fit his entirety so you settled on pumping what was left. 

You moaned at the feeling of his tip assaulting your throat as you bob your head, watching as his face contorts in raw pleasure. Zayne’s brows furrowed, mouth falling into an open as he grunted out your name, his hips unconsciously bucking up to reach your mouth.

“You taste so good.” You try to say with his length lodged in your throat but it only serves as vibrations around his length. You could only savor his taste for a few more seconds before you were pulled away from him. 

A whine escapes your throat but before you could complain, his lips smash against yours, tongues intertwining as he repositions you on the bed. He pulls away, and kisses his path down, tugging at your skirt, removing it and your panties in one go. 

You suddenly feel vulnerable as his eyes trained on your soaked pussy. You try to press your legs closed only to have his hands on your thighs. 

“You’re so wet.” Zayne says, as if he were hypnotized before he dives in, tongue sloppily making out with your cunt. He basically moans as your legs twitch against his hold. 

You could feel his tongue drawing patterns wildly, as if it had no direction. You realized early on that Zayne had no idea what he was doing as his tongue licks at your cunt that was almost to where you wanted it but not quite. You pulled at his hair, guiding him to your clit as you used your fingers to expose the hood. 

Zayne, being the smart man that he was, immediately catches on as his longer fingers rub your clit before he places a kiss on it, sucking it with tender care that leaves you writhing under his hold. 

Before you could voice it out, you feel a finger prodding at your hole as his pointer and middle enters, curling up almost immediately as your back arches as his long fingers find your spot. Zayne, watching you with careful eyes pulls away from your clit, blowing on it slightly at the same time adding a third finger in your pussy. 

“M-More… Zayne, please!” You whined. 

Zayne rises up, kissing you once more, forcing you to taste yourself on your tongue as you wrap your arms around his neck, hips bucking up to meet his hard length. Zayne huffs out a breath as he pulls away, taking a look at you who lay before him, eyes widened as your chest heaved out heavy breaths. Your eyes screamed lust and your body was littered in his marks. 

He could feel himself throb before he reaches down the ground to where his pants laid, grabbing at his wallet and taking out the condom that his roommate mockingly put in there, Zayne thinks to give him something in return as he rolls the latex down his length, pumping it for good measure. 

Zayne cages you in, your legs wrapping around his thighs as he pushes his length inside you. 

He had to stop halfway. Fuck. He couldn’t breathe. Your mouth felt waaay different than your cunt does. His eyes fall into a shut as he inches forward. 

“Zayne.” You snap him out of his thoughts. You pull his head down, your lips latching onto his neck as you bite him through your moans. 

It was like music to his ears and a sight for sore eyes. The girl who glared daggers at him in class was now under him, moaning his name. Looking at him with glassy eyes as he fit all inches in. 

“W-Wait.” You say as you felt him bottom out, the stretch making you take a moment to adjust to how full you felt. Zayne watched with heavy breaths as you writhed under him. 

“Move.” You consent and Zayne lets out a groan as he thrusted, pulling halfway before he gently pushes back in, clearly not wanting to mess it up. 

“You can do it harder.” You say as Zayne mouths at your nipple, tongue playing with the hardened bud.

With your words, Zayne balances himself on his arms, hips thrusting at a steady pace as a symphony of moans and grunts echoed in the room. You aided Zayne as you bucked your hips up, chasing his movement as he hits your spot relentlessly. 

“Zayne– Aah—Ngnh. Fuck. Please, Zayne!” You whimper as he grinds on your spot, mouth kissing at your erogenous parts, grunting as he feels your nails dig into his back. 

You can feel his pace lose its rhythm as he thrusts with reckless abandon, very far from the composed and calculated pace he once set. 

Zayne stutters in his moans, hips chasing the feeling of a high that he only knows of in theory, he reaches down, fingers rubbing down at your clit as his hips slammed onto yours. 

“Ah–ahh. Zayne. ‘m so close.” you wailed, eyes closing and head tossing back as you feel yourself getting pulled and his tongue forcing its way to meet yours in an act of sloppiness. You can feel spit running down the sides of your mouth as you twitch. 

“;m cumming… ‘m cumming, Zayne!” You gasp as you feel yourself release. Zayne gasps as your walls squeeze him, as if you don’t wanna let him go.

That triggers his own orgasm as he weakly keeps thrusting his hips, riding out his high before he lets himself fall on top of you, your sweat intermingling as the two of you try catching your breath. 

“Shit.” Zayne whispers as he pulls out, flopping beside you, catching his breath as he takes the condom off, tying it before tossing it aside, deeming it as tomorrow’s problem. He turns toward you, waiting for you to open the topic but no words come out of your mouth as the alcohol you ingested finally took a toll on you. 

You were sound asleep, chest rising and falling as quiet snores left your lips. Zayne chuckles to himself as he stands up and looks for something to clean you with. Once he does so, he lays beside you, pulling you into his arms as he closes his eyes. 

Whatever the two of you needed to talk about was tomorrow’s problem.

— 

You didn’t know what time it was when you woke up. You wake up to a heavy blanket that covers your naked body, your clothes folded neatly on a chair nearby and a glass of water with pills beside it. 

Based on the condensation on the glass, you concluded that it has not been a while since someone left it there. 

Your eyes widen as your sober mind realizes. 

You slept with Zayne. The TA you swore you hated. And worst of all, you liked it. How could you regret that night when the man literally left you hangover pills and folded your clothes for you? 

You shook your head, not wanting to think about anything as you swallowed the pills and drank the water. You sighed, knowing that Zayne probably left so the parting process would be less awkward, you knew how this went, having done a handful of one night stands but nothing felt as good as last night. 

The door to the room opens and you freeze in your place as you hike up the blanket, covering your chest. 

“You’re awake.” Zayne concludes as he enters the room with clothes in his right hand and a bag of takeout food in the other. 

“Yeah…” You quietly agree.

You watched in silence as he settled the food down on the foldable table that he set up, ignoring your stare. 

You couldn’t stand the silence, usually you would bolt out the moment you wake up but you were stuck frozen as you watched Zayne move as if there was no elephant in the room. You hated him and he hated you, so why was he pushing a fresh set of clothes in your hands and preparing a plate of breakfast for you? 

“... is this the part where I leave?” You ask awkwardly, not knowing what to do in this situation. Zayne scoffs. 

“This is the part where you wear the clothes I got you and hopefully… share a meal with me.”

You nod dumbly, standing up from the bed to clothe yourself, not realizing that you’ve exposed your naked body to Zayne once more, not realizing that he was staring at your body filled with marks. 

Zayne gulps, shaking his head as he finishes setting your plates. 

“About last night…” You start, wanting the awkward tension to disappear. “I… What was that?” You recall Caleb’s words. 

“My roommate here didn’t want to participate in a game unless he gets who he wants.” 

“And with his description of his dream girl, all signs pointed to you.” 

“Was what Caleb said true?” Zayne says nothing and that seemed to confuse you as you pointed an accusatory finger. 

“But you hate me!” Zayne sighs, “I truly don’t.” He corrects. “I never did.” 

“Then why did you always pick on me in class?” Zayne looks down guiltily, “It was the only way I could get your attention.” 

“I…” You trailed off. Zayne chuckles as he pulls you back to sit on the bed as you arrange your thoughts. 

A glare breaks through your face as you punch his chest with no force behind it but it was as if you pushed a domino as he fell on the bed, dragging you with him. “You told me my essay was mediocre, was that true?” 

Zayne stays silent and you gasp, before he catches your hand that was raised to punch him once more. 

“It was… decent. But that wasn’t the reason why I asked you to stay behind.” 

You ignored the backhanded remark before asking. “Then why?” 

“You looked really cute that day, I wanted to get a close up, and I wanted to talk to you.” 

“That is a terrible way to get my attention, Zayne.” 

He smirks as he intertwined his fingers with yours, placing a kiss on your fingers. 

“Well you’re in bed with me, aren’t you?” Checkmate. 

“You—” you try finding the words to say until you ultimately give up with a weak. “You’re the worst.”

“Let me make it up to you.” Zayne proposes, you raised a brow at him. “How would you do that?”

“For starters, let’s eat the breakfast I brought and maybe, when you’re all freshened up. I can help you fix your essay over a cup of coffee?” He asks, stumbling over his words a bit as his face flushes, not exactly used to asking people out on dates but you were endeared to his expression as you hummed and pretended to think about it. 

“How about we don’t bring the stupid essay into this.” Zayne chuckles at your words. 

“Then would you like to go out for coffee with me?”

“As long as you’re paying.” You teased. Zayne smiles as he begins to see a new side of you.

“Of course.”

—

The next time Zayne calls you out in class, you no longer felt the offense of being singled out and you were always the last one to leave the classroom. Yvonne found it weird at first but when she spotted you and Zayne in the library, hands intertwined as he quizzes you on your upcoming exams. 

Yvonne smirks, she’s always known there was tension between the two of you. She couldn’t wait to tell you I told you so.

note/s: art student rafayel next...?? or fratboy caleb...