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solxamber · 3 months ago

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And I Pick...

In which you choose the club that caught your eye

Part 1

After much contemplation you've finally decided to pick the:

Basketball Club

The basketball court was quiet for all of two seconds after you announced your decision.

Then Ace exploded.

"HA! I knew you’d pick us! I called it!" He was practically doing laps around the court, pointing at nothing in particular. "Ace Trappola: the ultimate recruiter, the club MVP, and now the guy who brought you on board! This is the best day of my life!"

"Eh, it’s about time," Floyd drawled, stretching lazily. "Took ya long enough to figure out where the fun is." His sharp-toothed grin widened. "Now we can play my version of full-contact basketball. Hehehe."

"Absolutely not," Jamil cut in, but Floyd wasn’t listening.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, throwing an arm around your shoulders like you’d been lifelong teammates. "If you survive the first practice, you’ll survive all the practices. Probably."

Ace jogged back over, breathless but triumphant. "I told you we’re the best club! No boring rules, no endless laps like in Deuce's lame track team, and best of all—" He struck a dramatic pose, arms wide. "You get to hang out with me every day!"

"Please don’t make them quit on the first week," Jamil muttered, giving you a look that seemed to say, Are you sure about this?

"Quit? Nahhh!" Ace grinned. "They’re gonna thrive here. I’ll even teach them my signature moves—like my no-look, backwards, mid-air layup."

"You can’t even do that," Jamil said flatly.

"Not yet," Ace shot back. "But it’s the thought that counts."

Floyd leaned in closer, his grin somehow growing wider. "You better keep up, shrimpy. Otherwise, I might have to… spice things up a little."

"Spice things up?" you echoed, immediately suspicious.

"He means doing things like replacing the basketballs with watermelons," Jamil deadpanned.

Ace snorted. "Or throwing the ball at the hoop so hard it breaks the backboard. Oh wait, that actually happened. Twice."

"It was fun," Floyd said, completely unrepentant.

Jamil sighed like a man who’d aged a decade in the last five minutes. But then, to your surprise, he turned to you and offered a small, genuine smile. "Still… I’m glad you’re here. Welcome to the team."

The words were simple, but coming from Jamil, they felt like a warm endorsement.

Ace clapped his hands together, clearly ready to move things along. "Alright, enough talking! Let’s get you on the court and see what you’ve got!"

"Or we could start slow," Jamil suggested, but Ace was already dragging you toward the center of the court, Floyd trailing behind with a basketball under one arm.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly. "If ya mess up, we’ll just laugh at ya a little. No big deal~."

"No one’s laughing at anyone," Jamil said firmly, already pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ace threw an arm around your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "Ignore him. We’re gonna have a blast! First practice starts now!"

You weren’t sure what you’d gotten yourself into, but judging by their enthusiasm (and Floyd’s maniacal laughter), you were in for one chaotic ride.

Track and Field Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the track and field club, Deuce’s face lit up like someone had just told him he passed his midterms.

“You’re… really joining?” he asked, like he needed double confirmation. When you nodded, his grin widened, the kind that made him look both relieved and excited. “That’s awesome! Uh—welcome to the team! Seriously, it’s great to have you.” His usual earnestness shone through, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m still kind of learning the ropes, but we can figure things out together. It’s gonna be great!”

Jack, standing beside him, gave a firm nod of approval. “Good call. Track and field’s a solid choice. You’ll fit right in.” His tail wagged just enough to betray how happy he was, even if his tone stayed calm.

"Yeah!" Deuce agreed. “And, uh, don’t worry about keeping up or anything. It’s all about improving at your own pace. Right, Jack?”

“Sure,” Jack replied, glancing at you. Then he added, almost casually, “We’ll work on your stamina. You’re gonna need it.”

It took you a second to catch the faint glint in his eye, and then you remembered—oh no, the fridge comment. Jack had been disturbed ever since.

Deuce, oblivious to the subtext, chimed in, “Yeah, Jack’s great at that stuff! He’s got this crazy endurance. Like, he can run forever. I’m still working on it, but, uh, you’re in good hands!”

Jack’s tail swished again. “Just be ready to push yourself. But don’t worry—we’ve got your back.”

“Exactly!” Deuce said, his fists clenching like he was ready to run a marathon right there. “This is gonna be awesome. I mean, not that it wasn’t already great, but now it’s even better. Right, Jack?”

Jack gave a small, satisfied smile. “Right.”

As they led you toward the field, you couldn’t help but wonder what you’d just signed up for. One thing was certain, though—Jack’s still thinking about that fridge, and he will make sure it’s not an issue anymore.

Board Game Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the board game club, Azul adjusted his glasses, looking smugly pleased with himself, like he'd just negotiated the deal of the century.

"An excellent decision," he said, his voice as smooth as the perfectly polished board games stacked behind him. "With your addition to our club, I foresee a new golden age of strategic victories."

Idia, sitting half-hidden behind a pile of unopened game boxes, choked on his energy drink. "W-Wait, you’re serious? They actually chose us?" His hair flared a brilliant shade of pink for a moment before he pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. "Th-this isn’t some prank, right? Like, I’m not gonna look up and see them bolting out the door laughing, right?"

"Nope," you replied with a grin. "I’m all in."

Ortho, ever the enthusiastic hype man, zipped into the room with his jet thrusters. "Welcome to the club! Now we have a full party for dungeon raids. This is amazing!"

Azul cleared his throat, waving a hand. "Ahem, while cooperative RPGs are certainly an option, I believe we should start with a game of strategy and wit to introduce them properly. Perhaps a round of Chess of Betrayal?"

Idia groaned, sinking further into his hoodie. "Ugh, that game takes, like, three hours. If you’re gonna scare them away, at least wait until they’re too deep in to quit. Why don’t we start with something easy, like Goblin King Gauntlet?"

Ortho clapped his hands. "Ooh, I love that one! It has a random trap mechanic! Let’s play that!"

Azul raised an eyebrow, his smile shark-like. "Trap mechanics are hardly a proper welcome. It would be far better to demonstrate the finer nuances of strategy, wouldn’t you agree?"

Idia muttered something about Azul turning everything into a power play, but you interrupted before they could spiral into a full-blown debate. "Honestly, I’m fine with anything. Just deal me in."

Azul’s smirk widened. "Very well, then. I shall prepare the game board. And don’t worry, I’ll make certain you’re fully equipped for our upcoming campaigns. You’ll find we offer more than just fun—we offer victory."

Idia peeked out from his hoodie, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto his face. "You’re not bad at this whole club thing. Maybe this won’t be so terrible."

As they started setting up the game, you felt an unexpected warmth. Sure, it was just a board game club, but there was something endearing about their chaotic enthusiasm.

Though one thing was clear—Azul would probably try to sell you game tokens at some point, and Idia would absolutely try to teach you how to min-max your dice rolls.

But hey, you were ready for it.

Film Studies Club

When you announced your decision to join the film studies club, Vil paused mid-sip of his herbal tea, one elegantly arched eyebrow rising. For a moment, he looked like he was considering whether he had heard you correctly. Then, with a practiced air of nonchalance, he set the teacup down.

"Hm. Acceptable," he said coolly, though his tone betrayed a slight uptick of satisfaction. "It’s rare to find someone with enough taste to appreciate the art of cinema. I suppose your presence will be… useful."

But the slight curl of his lips gave him away.

He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat, and gave you an appraising look. "We have much to discuss. If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to commit entirely—no half-measures, no excuses. The camera is unforgiving, and I have no intention of allowing this club to falter under subpar contributions."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he was already pacing, gesturing dramatically like the star of an avant-garde production. "Lighting, blocking, composition—they are all integral to creating art, not merely entertainment. I trust you won’t embarrass yourself, or me, for that matter."

Despite his words, you caught the faintest hint of pride in his gaze as he turned to face you fully. "And, if for some reason, acting isn’t your strength, there are other roles. Cinematography, set design, editing… Perhaps backstage work would suit you, should you fail the audition."

He didn’t say it to be harsh; this was Vil’s version of encouragement. And as he continued outlining the club’s vision—"a modern renaissance in storytelling"—you realized he was genuinely excited to have you there, even if he’d rather gargle poison than openly admit it.

Finally, he stopped and gave you a small, approving nod. "Welcome to the film studies club. Don’t make me regret this."

Translation: I’m glad you’re here.

Science Club

The moment you announced your decision to join the science club, Rook’s eyes lit up like you’d just declared him the ruler of the universe.

"Ah, mon ami! What a magnifique choice!" he exclaimed, sweeping you into a theatrical bow so deep you thought he might topple over. "You possess the soul of an explorer, a true seeker of knowledge! Together, we shall unlock the mysteries of nature and celebrate its beauty in all its forms!"

"Uh… don’t scare them off, Rook," Trey interjected, though he was smiling. He adjusted his apron, clearly relieved that you hadn’t bolted under Rook’s enthusiastic greeting. "We’re glad to have you. Really. It’s nice to have someone else around who won’t accidentally set the lab on fire."

You raised an eyebrow. "That’s a low bar."

Trey shrugged. "You’d be surprised how many fail to meet it."

Before you could respond, Rook was already spinning grand plans. "Imagine the adventures we will have! Scaling mountains, crafting elixirs, nurturing delicate blossoms—ah, the poetry of science!" He clasped his hands to his chest, radiating so much joy that you were worried he’d break into song.

Trey, ever the grounded one, sighed fondly. "What he means is: we do a little bit of everything. Growing plants, chemistry experiments, cooking—you’ll fit right in. Assuming Rook doesn’t scare you off first."

Rook turned to Trey with an exaggerated gasp, as if the very suggestion of him being overwhelming was the greatest insult he’d ever received. "Chevalier des Roses, how could you wound me so?" He turned back to you with a theatrical flourish. "Fear not! I shall be your guide, your companion, your—"

"Assistant," Trey cut in, giving you a knowing look. "We'll assist you. Don’t let him take over your projects."

You grinned, feeling oddly at home already. Between Rook’s boundless enthusiasm and Trey’s steadying presence, you realized the science club might just be the perfect balance of chaos and calm.

Pop Music Club

When you announced your decision to join the Pop Music Club, Lilia was the first to react. He shot up from his chair with a dramatic flourish, his cape—where did the cape come from?—billowing as if on cue.

"Ah, an excellent choice! Welcome to the most electrifying club in the entire school!" Lilia declared, his voice reverberating like an arena announcer. He played an imaginary riff on an air guitar, complete with sound effects that you were almost certain were magically amplified.

Kalim clapped his hands, beaming as brightly as the sun. "This is going to be so much fun! We can sing duets, make up dances, throw a party for every new song we write—oh! We should have a welcome party for you right now!" He was already halfway to grabbing balloons out of thin air before Cater stopped him.

"Easy there, Kalim," Cater said with a laugh, pulling out his phone to snap a picture. "We haven’t even started jamming yet! Gotta document this first—‘New Member Alert 🚨🎶! Welcome to the coolest club at NRC!’” He posed next to you, flipping through filters. "Ooh, should we do a pastel vibe or go all-out neon?"

"Why not both?" Lilia suggested, somehow holding a tambourine he hadn’t been holding two seconds ago. He shook it with gusto, the jingles creating an impromptu beat.

Kalim joined in instantly, dancing around the room with energy that could probably power a small city. "This is going to be amazing! Do you play any instruments? Can you sing? Or maybe you’ll write the songs? Wait, can you do all three?!"

Before you could answer, Lilia leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Don’t worry, even if you’re terrible, I can teach you. After all, I’ve had centuries of experience."

"Centuries of experience at what exactly?" you asked, though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted the answer.

"Everything," Lilia replied cryptically, shaking the tambourine once more for emphasis.

Cater gave you a wink. "Don’t let him intimidate you. He’s mostly harmless. Mostly."

As the chaos swirled around you, you realized joining the Pop Music Club was probably going to be as much about managing everyone’s energy as it was about making music.

But looking at their genuine excitement, you couldn’t help but feel you’d made the right choice. It was going to be loud, unpredictable, and—most importantly—a lot of fun.

Equestrian Club

When you chose the Equestrian Club, Riddle’s reaction was immediate and deeply Riddle. He straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and gave you a small but dignified nod, though his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

“A wise decision,” he said primly, but his voice wavered just enough to give away his excitement. “The Equestrian Club values discipline and care, and I trust you will uphold those values. Welcome.” He paused, then added with uncharacteristic softness, “I’m glad you chose us.”

Sebek, on the other hand, reacted with his usual intensity, which was to say, very loudly.

“AS EXPECTED OF SOMEONE WITH DISCERNING TASTE!” Sebek bellowed, saluting for no discernible reason. “THE EQUESTRIAN CLUB IS A PLACE OF HONOR AND DILIGENCE. YOU HAVE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE, AND I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, SHALL PERSONALLY ENSURE YOU MEET OUR HIGH STANDARDS!”

“You’re going to scare the horses,” Silver muttered, patting a dozing mare who didn’t even flinch at Sebek’s volume. Clearly, she’d built up an immunity.

Silver turned to you with a sleepy but genuine smile. “Welcome. It’ll be nice having another person around who actually seems calm. I’ll show you the best places to ride, and we’ll make sure you’re comfortable with the horses.”

“And with the rules,” Riddle interjected, already retrieving a stack of laminated pages. “Equestrian care is not something to take lightly. You’ll need to memorize these guidelines to ensure both your safety and that of the horses.”

Sebek leaned over your shoulder to inspect the stack and immediately saluted again. “AN EXCELLENT INITIATIVE, HOUSEWARDEN ROSEHEARTS! I, TOO, WILL MEMORIZE THESE IN CASE THEY EVER REQUIRE REINFORCEMENT!”

“I think they’re fine,” Silver said. “We don’t need to make this harder than it needs to be.”

Riddle frowned. “Standards exist for a reason, Silver. Though I appreciate your enthusiasm, perhaps we can—Sebek, stop shouting—perhaps we can go over the basics first before overwhelming them.”

As Riddle and Sebek debated, Silver handed you a carrot to feed one of the horses. “Don’t worry,” he said, as the horse happily munched away. “It’s not as intense as it seems. Usually.”

You glanced at the stack of rules in Riddle’s hand and the fervent look in Sebek’s eyes. It was definitely going to be an adjustment. But seeing how genuinely happy they all were to have you—yes, even Sebek—you felt like this would be worth it.

Magift Club

When you announced your decision to join the Magift Club as their manager, the reaction was instantaneous and… surprisingly chaotic.

Ruggie let out a whoop, immediately dropping to the floor in a mock bow. "Ayo, everyone, bow to the boss! Finally, someone who can keep this circus in line!"

Leona, lounging on the sidelines, cracked open an eye and smirked. “’Bout time. Herbivores usually flake out, but I knew you were better than the rest.” He stretched lazily, like he’d personally orchestrated your decision. “Just keep the snacks coming, and we’ll get along fine.”

Epel looked between them and grinned, his enthusiasm much more grounded. “It’s great to have ya! With you around, maybe Leona will actually show up to warmups... or not just sleep through it.” He shot a pointed glance at their captain, who was, of course, ignoring him entirely.

“Eh,” Leona drawled, flicking his tail dismissively.

“You could work on that attitude,” you muttered, earning a low chuckle from him.

“See, I told you they’d fit right in!” Ruggie said, gesturing at you dramatically. “They’re already roasting him. This is gonna be great!”

Epel, suddenly inspired, added, “And they’ll keep Ruggie from stealing the fresh apple juice we get after games. That’s worth it alone.”

As the reality of your new role settled in, you felt a bit like a lion tamer walking into a den of mischievous cubs and one very lazy big cat. But their enthusiasm—expressed in their own peculiar ways—was endearing.

Ruggie threw an arm around your shoulder. “Alright, boss, first order of business: snacks! Let’s discuss our game day budget and whether I can convince you to sneak me a sandwich before practice.”

Leona snorted but didn’t argue, which you took as a sign of approval. Epel pumped his fist. “We’re gonna crush it this year!”

Maybe managing this bunch wouldn’t be so bad after all. If nothing else, it’d definitely be entertaining.

Mountain Lovers Club

When you joined Jade for a hike to "test the waters" of the Mountain Lovers Club, you had your doubts. You were prepared for a lot of things—maybe getting lost in the wilderness, maybe Jade pulling out his eerie cryptid knowledge, or maybe just a weirdly formal lecture about moss. What you weren’t prepared for was… actually enjoying yourself.

Jade led the way with an unhurried confidence, pointing out various wild plants, their uses, and fun facts about the environment. He wasn’t his usual enigmatic self, either. He seemed lighter, almost enthusiastic, as he described a tiny wildflower you would’ve missed entirely.

“This particular species only blooms during the autumn months,” he said, crouching to show you. “Quite fascinating how it adapts to the cooler temperatures, don’t you think?”

You nodded, trying not to stare too hard at how his face lit up when he spoke. Jade was… cute? When he wasn’t talking about mushrooms in a way that made you question your mortality, he was actually kind of charming.

By the time you reached a rocky outcrop with a gorgeous view of the campus, you realized you’d been smiling for most of the hike. Jade noticed too.

“It seems I’ve made a decent impression,” he said, turning toward you with a soft grin. “I’m pleased to see you enjoying yourself.”

“It’s… relaxing,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. “I didn’t think it’d be this fun.”

Jade tilted his head. “Does that mean you’d consider joining the Mountain Lovers Club?”

You hesitated for a moment, but as you looked at the breathtaking view and the rare, genuine smile on his face, the answer came easily. “Yeah. I’ll join.”

For a split second, Jade’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly schooled his expression into his usual composed smile. “Wonderful. I must say, I wasn’t expecting this outcome, but I’m glad. It’s not every day someone sees the beauty in what I love.”

There was an odd warmth in his voice that made your heart skip a beat. As he turned to lead the way back, he added, “Now that we’re a team, I look forward to our next adventure.”

Jade Leech was genuinely happy. And, you realized, so were you.

Gargoyle Research Society

When you told Malleus you were joining the Gargoyle Research Society, his reaction was almost imperceptible at first. A slight widening of his eyes, a pause as though he was waiting to see if you were serious, and then—pure, unfiltered delight.

"You have an interest in gargoyles?" he asked, his voice both surprised and reverent, as if you'd just confessed to enjoying a rare and ancient art form.

You nodded. "Yeah. I think they're fascinating. The designs, the history… They’re like stone guardians with stories etched into them."

For a moment, Malleus simply looked at you, his emerald eyes shimmering like the light of distant stars. Then, as if unable to contain his joy, he smiled—a soft, genuine expression that sent a wave of warmth through the chilly Ramshackle evening.

"This pleases me greatly," he said, his tone unusually light. “Not many share my appreciation for gargoyles. Often, I speak of them, and others… how do I put it? Pretend to listen.”

“Well, I’m definitely not pretending,” you said, grinning. “I’m in for real.”

Malleus clasped his hands together in what could only be described as regal excitement. "Then I must share something with you. Sometimes, I create gargoyles myself."

“You what?” you asked, laughing in delight.

“Yes,” he replied earnestly, his eyes alight. “Carving stone requires patience, but there is a certain satisfaction in breathing life into something lifeless. Well, not literal life, of course, but a soul of sorts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the image of Malleus with a chisel and hammer popping into your head. “I never would have guessed. That’s… really cool.”

“I can show you some of my creations, if you’d like,” he offered, almost shyly.

“I’d love that,” you said, genuinely glad to have joined him. “I think I’m going to enjoy this club.”

The glow in his expression was impossible to miss. It wasn’t just that you had joined his club—it was that, for once, someone truly shared his passion. “And I am glad to have you,” he said softly.

In that moment, under the watchful eyes of the stone guardians scattered around campus, it felt like you had chosen exactly the right place.

Masterlist

tags: @techno-danger

a/n: it completely slipped my mind that ortho is a part of film studies sorry :(

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afictionaladventure16 · 11 months ago

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A Little Unsteady (Tim Bradford x Foster!Teen!Reader)

Pt. 2

The Rookie Masterlist

Word Count: 4,162

Warnings: Mentions Sexual assault and abuse.

Authors Note: Requests for this fic and The rookie are open!

You woke up to the sound of birds chirping, and your heart leaped into your throat.

“Oh no,” you jolted out of bed and quickly got dressed. “Fuuuck!” you muttered as you rushed to put your shoes on. Somehow the bed was too comfortable and you slept through both alarms, meaning you now only had five minutes to get to school. Five minutes to do your twenty-minute walk, which is now probably longer since you are further away.

You ran out of the room and ran into the living room, “Whoa! Good morning to you too! Where are you going in such a rush?” Tim asked as he placed his coffee mug on the kitchen counter before walking over to you. Kojo quickly got up from his spot on his bed and began following you.

“I’m going to be late for school!” You exclaimed.

“Y/N”

“Officer Bradford, I don’t have time for this, I gotta find my backpack and go to school. I have midterms com-”

“Y/N, just hold on a minute.” Tim followed you as you walked back over to your room, Kojo trailing behind you, you looked around for your backpack.

“I don’t have a minute,” you groaned in annoyance, “did I leave a backpack in your car?”

Tim sighed, “Y/N, your backpack is in the car, I’m driving you to school and breakfast is ready. Now, go brush your hair and put on shoes that match and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“I-I can walk.”

“I’m not letting you walk to school, especially when it’s ten miles away. You’re going to have a proper breakfast and I’ll drive you to school afterward.” Tim began leading you to the bathroom, where you could properly get ready for the day. “But don’t take too long because classes start within an hour.”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t take long.”

Tim chuckled and walked back to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but laugh at the scene you had just caused, the way Kojo followed you around like a lost puppy. He was loving it, loving the noise inside his home and the way things lit up. There was life and somehow he found himself being okay with this being a norm.

Tim didn’t sleep much the night prior, he spent most of his time tossing and turning, weighing out his options. There was one in particular that was heavy on his mind, one that he felt like it was the best for not just you, but him as well. He wasn’t even sure where to start, but he knew that when he spoke to Sasha today he would find out more.

His mind wondered if it could be possible to make you stay at his place for a little longer, Maybe something long-term, something safer and reliable until you went to college.

He wasn’t sure how you would feel about the idea, but he knew he did not want to bring it up until he had spoken to Sasha. Once he was sure it would be possible then he would bring up the idea to you. For now, he had to remain quiet.

Five minutes later you came back out to the kitchen, your hair a little more tame and your shoes now matched. “Toast?” Tim asked as he placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of you.

“Please,” you said as you began to eat the food in front of you.

Tim placed a piece of toast on your plate. He leaned against the counter as he drank his coffee.

“Thanks for letting me stay the night,” you commented.

“I’m gonna be picking you up after school, you can leave your things here while you’re at school.” You gave him a nod, “I’ll give Sasha a call and see what we can do for you, alright?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you sighed. “She’ll just be sending me to another home and we’ll be doing the same thing over and over again.” You began, pushing around the food on your plate with your fork.

“Who knows, maybe this time it’ll be different.”

“Didn’t take you as an optimist,” you retorted.

Tim rolled his eyes, “we should get going if you don’t want to be late.”

“You’re right,” you got up from your spot and followed Tim out to the car.

Throughout the drive to school, you rummaged through your backpack, panic was beginning to settle in when you couldn’t see the essay you had worked on the day before within your folder. “Fuck,” you whispered to yourself.

“What’s wrong?” Tim asked.

“I Uh-” You sighed in defeat, as you zipped your backpack up, “I lost my paper that I’m supposed to turn in today during fourth period.”

“Where’d you last see it?”

You remained silent, trying your best to think back on when you last saw it. You remembered placing it in your duffel before moving spots, you had been working on it when you decided on moving spots. That was when Tim saw you. “Fuck,” you groaned, “it’s back inside my duffel.”

“Wanna go back and grab it?” Tim offered.

“No, I can’t be late to my first period, we have a test and if I’m even late by a second I get docked by five points.”

“It’s just five points,” Tim commented.

“And if I miss a question it’s another five points, I can’t take those chances.”

Tim couldn’t help but notice how you were being so hard on yourself, especially when it came to your schoolwork. On one hand, he was impressed with how serious you were on your school work given what you were going through, but on the other, it felt like you were being too hard on yourself.

“It’s fine, I’ll have to take the L.”

“Take the L?”

“Take the loss?” you looked at him in disbelief, “You’ve never heard of that term?”

“I don’t know if it’s obvious but I don’t spend my time learning all the new terms you kids make up almost every single day.”

“The grey hairs make it a little bit obvious,” you muttered to yourself.

“I do not have grey hairs!” Tim glanced at himself in the rearview mirror.

You smirked, “Made you look.”

Tim rolled his eyes, and he pulled into the school drop-off lot, “Alright, I’ll be here at three to pick you up.”

“You know you don’t have to,” you said as you got out of the car.

“And I said I would make sure to keep you safe. So, meet me here at three, alright?”

You gave him a nod before closing the car door and making your way inside. Tim made sure you made it inside, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, it was more so that it was a habit of his. To wait until the person that he dropped off got safe inside.

Once Tim made it home, he got ready for his daily run with Kojo. It was like clockwork, but this time he started it late since he had to drop you off. He wasn’t complaining, it was just something he had to adjust to. Today he decided to walk back home instead, but when they were almost home, Kojo decided he had enough.

“Get up, Boot! “Quit” is a four-letter word. Do you hear me? Failure is not an option,” Tim yelled at Kojo, but the dog just stared at him. Part of Tim missed having Lucy as a boot, but he’d deny it if someone asked. Tim sighed, “Oh, come on, man. We’re almost home.” Tim felt his phone buzz, and he quickly took it out to find a message from Angela. He smirked to himself, she was just the person he was about to call.

“Let’s go,” Kojo was quick to get up.

Back at the house, Tim walked into the spare bedroom. “It feels wrong doing this,” he whispered to himself as he looked around. He didn’t have to look for long because the papers you had been looking for were on top of your duffle bag. He grabbed the papers and made his way out of the house. He texted Angela that he was on his way, but had to make a quick pit stop.

He was thankful that the school was on the way to where Angela was, He walked into the front office of the school.

“Hello, can I help you with something?” An older lady behind the counter said with a wide smile.

“Yes, I am here to drop off something for Y/N L/N.”

“Sure, let me just see what class she is in, right now. Give me one second, hon.”

Tim waited as the receptionist searched through her computer. “Looks like she’s in biology right now, I’ll just call the classroom and have Mr. Gomez send her up.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Tim walks over to sit down on one of the chairs nearby. He waited for a while until he heard footsteps nearing.

“Morning, Ms. June,” He heard your voice. “I was told to come see you?”

“Good morning, Darling. Yes, there is a handsome gentleman here to see you.” She gestured to the direction in which Tim was sitting.

You quickly turned to the direction she had gestured at, confused to see Tim sitting there. Your heart began to race, and your mind started jumping to conclusions. Was this it? Was this the moment that someone told you that your mom was dead? “What happened?” you asked.

“Nothing happened, I only came back here to give you this,” he handed you a few pieces of paper.

You couldn’t help but smile, “my paper!” you exclaimed. “T-Thank you!” You looked at him in disbelief, “You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

` “Just promise me this paper is at least B-worthy.”

“Given that I spent 10 hours over the weekend just editing it, I’m hoping it is A worthy.”

“10 Hours?” you shrugged, “Alright, well, get back to class, would hate to have you miss anything important, Nerd.”

You rolled your eyes, “Thanks, Officer Bradford.”

Tim sighed, “How many times do I have to tell you, you can call me Tim?” You rolled your eyes and walked back to class. You could recall the first time Tim had asked you to stop calling you Officer Bradford, it was one of the first times he had done a wellness check shortly after Rachel had left. If you were honest, you thought once Rachel left that he would have forgotten about you. So, you were surprised to see him at the door that evening.

– Then –

It had been a week since Rachel left, and her goodbye was bittersweet. Part of you wanted to beg her to stay or to even take you with her, but you withheld your tongue. Thankful for all the things she had done for you and hopeful that she could do the same for other kids in New York.

Now as you sat on the bed in your bedroom, which was also a laundry room, you began to wonder if anyone would ever care for you the way Rachel did.

You could hear muffled voices coming from outside, you walked over to the window to get a glance outside. You could see a cop car parked on the side of the street, something within you knew that you had to go see who was outside.

Tim walked up the steps, although his heart was still aching about Rachel leaving, he couldn’t get rid of this feeling that he needed a check-up on Y/N. He had been informed that she had been taken to a new foster home only a week ago and he hoped this home was better than the last.

He knocked on the door only to be greeted seconds later by an older-looking man with a beer in his hand. “Can I help you?”

“Good afternoon, I’m just doing a welfare check on Y/N.”

“Well, She’s fine, thanks for checking,” the man began to close the door.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m gonna have to hear it from her that’s fine,” Tim insisted as he placed his foot in between the door to stop it from closing.

The man rolled his eyes, letting out a deep sigh, “She’s not home,” he shrugged.

Tim smirked as he spotted Y/N peaking around the corner from behind the man, “Hey, Y/N, it’s me, Officer Bradford!” The man quickly turned around, glaring at the young girl behind her. Tim was quick to see the fear appear in her eyes, he knew right then and there that he had to get her out of this house. “Mind if we talk for a bit outside?”

The man stepped aside giving Y/N the space she needed to walk outside. The door was quickly closed behind her, “How are you?”

“Peachy,” you stated as you sat down on the steps. Tim followed your lead but decided standing would be best.

He scanned your body, noticing newly formed bruises on your neck and arms. He knew the ones of your arms were from defending yourself. He clenched his jaw in anger, letting out a deep sigh, “How long have they been hurting you?”

You crossed your arms, trying to hide the bruises. “At this point, I think I deserve it. Sometimes I just don’t know when to shut up.”

“No one deserves it, especially a kid.”

“It started yesterday,” you began, “It was just once, otherwise they’ve been really ki-”

“Don’t defend them, especially when the man himself didn’t even want to call you to the door for a welfare check. I’m getting you out of here,” Tim stated.

“To go where? Another home with the same result?” You shook your head, “I’m better off here.”

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but one night in the shelter won’t be too bad.”

You scoffed, “Then I’ll have all my things taken from me.”

“If that’s what you are worried about then you can leave your things with me and take what is essential,” Tim offered. He hated that this was his only option for you, but it was better than staying another night in this home. He wanted to prevent something from happening to you again.

You let out a defeated sigh, “you’d do that?”

“I’ll even pick you up from the shelter in the morning and take you to school,” Tim could see that you were thinking it over. He stood there hoping that you would take the offer.

“Fine.” Tim gave you a soft smile before ordering you to go get your things. He had called in his findings and asked for a backup. Nolan had arrived minutes later, arresting your foster dad for child abuse.

You watched as Nolan put your foster dad in the back of the shop, “is that everything?” Tim asked.

You had felt like you were forgetting something, “Um,” you began as you quickly rummaged through your duffel. “Fuck!” you dropped the duffel and ran back inside the home. You ran inside the room you had been staying in, quickly spotting the tan-colored leg, of a stuffed animal, under the bed. You grabbed it and ran back outside, earning a raised eyebrow from Tim, “I need you to keep him safe,” you stated as you handed him to Tim.

“A stuffed Bunny?” Tim questioned as he took the bunny from you. You gave him a pleading look and Tim quickly understood, “I’ll keep him safe.” Tim gestured for you to follow him to his truck, Tim had contacted your caseworker, while you were packing, who, in turn, asked Tim to take you to the shelter. In other circumstances, Tim would have probably said no, that he had other things to do but that wasn’t the case this time. Tim wanted to take you to the shelter. He needed to make sure you were safe and from there on, he did.

– Now –

“This is the kid you’ve been checking up the past couple of months, right?” Angela asked as she looked at herself in the mirror. Tim had come over to the bridal shop to help Angela pick a dress and frankly, he needed advice right now.

“Yeah, and I’m waiting on a call from her caseworker and… I think I want to foster her. Like, is it crazy to want to foster her?”

Angela shrugged, “Maybe, but maybe it’s because you think you should’ve had a kid by now so you’re in this mindset of wanting to be some type of father figure to something.” Tim looked at Angela dumbfounded, “or maybe it’s just crazy,” she added with a smile.

“So, should I do it?” Tim asked.

Angela sat down beside Tim, “You want my honest opinion?” he nodded, “I think you should. I feel like this will be good for you and who knows, maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

Tim smiled, “Thanks, Angela.”

Angela smiled, “Now be honest, you sure this dress doesn’t make my belly look big?” Tim rolled his eyes and laughed.

It didn’t take long after for Angela to find a dress she liked and once she did they were out of there. She insisted on bringing over cake samples later for him to help her decide, part of Tim thinks she used it as an excuse to just meet you and get to know you a little better. Yet, Tim didn’t say no, because the other part of him wouldn’t turn down cake if it was offered.

Once Tim had left the Bridal shop, he decided to give your caseworker a call, tired of waiting on her.

The phone rang a few times before she picked up, “Hello?”

“Hey, Sasha, it’s Tim!”

“Oh, Tim! Hey! I am so sorry, I meant to call you back right away I just got caught up on some stuff”

“It’s alright, don’t have to explain. I understand how hectic it can be.”

Sasha smiled through the phone, “What can I help you with?”

“Well, like I said in the message, I found Y/N last night and she’d been living under a bridge the past week. So, I took her in for the night and now I’m wondering if I can foster her. I know there's probably a lot of paperwork that needs to be done an-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sasha interrupted, “I think it’s best if she stays with you, I’ll talk to a judge and see if we can get you emergency custody until I can get started on the paperwork. At this point, I have no other place for her to go.”

Tim let out a relieved sigh, there was hope, “Anyway I can get the rest of her stuff from her previous foster parents? I know she carries around this stuffed bunny and… well it’s probably not important.”

Sasha had never noticed the bunny, but then, she never thought to notice. “Y-yeah, I can send you the address and notify them that you’ll be there soon to pick up her things.”

“Another thing, Um- Y/N mentioned that her foster father he um- he watched her shower a few times.”

Sasha took in a deep breath, “that’s heavy.”

“Yeah, look, if it were up to me this man would be behind bars.”

“I’ll call it in, get him off the foster list, and see if we can get him convicted.”

Tim sighed, “Alright,” if it were up to him, the man would be six feet underground by now. But it wasn’t up to him.

“I’ll text you the address right now, and maybe it’s best if you have someone else with you when you go.”

Tim chuckled, “Don’t worry, I’m angry but not stupid, Sasha.” Sasha said her goodbyes. It was only a minute after when Tim got an address sent to his phone.

It didn’t take Tim long to get to your foster parent’s home. Once he had gotten out of his truck a man waited on the porch for him, “Hey,” Tim said coldly.

“I assume you’re Tim,” the man said in a rough voice, Tim gave him a nod. “All her shit is in this bag,” the man said as he gestured to the garbage bag that was leaning against the wall of the house.

Tim walked over to the bag and began rummaging through it, “um, there’s this stuffed bunny-”

“I threw it out, she’s too old to be holding on to shit like that,” he scoffed.

Tim rolled his eyes, “Come on, man. It’s more than that to her.”

“Well, if you’re gonna be such a bitch about it, it’s in the trash up front.” The man gestured to the pile of trash that was waiting to be picked up. Tim felt his blood boil, but he had to control his anger. The last thing he needed was to lose his cool, not only would he potentially lose his job, but he could lose the opportunity to give you a safe home.

Tim gave the man a nod, “Thanks,” he picked up the bag, he then walked over to his truck, and placed the bag in the backseat before walking over to the trash to search for the bunny.

“Alright, Mr. Hops,” he muttered to himself, “if you could hop on out that would save me a whole lot of time.” After pushing aside a bag or two, he spotted Mr. Hops with ease. “Ah-ha!” Tim smiled to himself as he grabbed the bunny and walked over to his truck.

Tim drove back home to put your things in your room. Well, the guest room, which is now your room. Tim couldn’t believe it when he thought, that his guest room was no longer a guest room, but your room. Tim found himself excited for what was to come, hopeful that you would be excited too. Yet, he had this fear within him that you wouldn’t be excited.

He glanced at his watch, “fuck!” he muttered as he realized the time. Running out of the house and to his truck, he was going to be late to pick you up and he didn’t want to risk you leaving, thinking that he would never show. Tim parked in the pick-up area at the high school, watching as kids walked out of the gates. He spotted you quickly, smiling as you were already making your way to the truck.

“Hey!” Tim exclaimed as you hopped into the truck, quickly putting on your seatbelt. “How was school?”

You shrugged, “‘s alright, I guess.” you sighed, “Any luck with Sasha?” You had been anxious about it all day, just wanting to get it over with, were you going to spend the night at the shelter or another shitty foster home?

Tim nodded as he drove away from the school, “I did actually. We uh- found you a foster home and they’re really excited to take you in.”

“Same old story,” you rolled your eyes.

“They actually requested for me to take your things straight over so you could go straight to their house right after school,” Tim stated, he couldn’t hide the smirk on his face.

“Jesus, they sound… controlling.”

Tim shrugged, “who knows, maybe they won’t be that bad.”

“What about my things from my other fos-”

“I already picked up your things from there,” Tim interrupted.

“Oh,” you whispered. You didn’t know why you felt sad that Tim was so quick with his responses, so quick to find you a new foster home. Part of you liked staying with Tim, even if it had been one night, it had been the safest you felt in months, maybe even years.

“Here we go,” Tim stated, you felt the truck go up a driveway, and you looked out to see where he had taken you. You quickly looked over at Tim with a confused expression.

“W-wait, I’m confused, I thought you said you were taking me to-”

“I did,” Tim interrupted.

“But this is your house,” you stated.

Tim nodded, “I spoke to Sasha and I told her that I think it’s best if you stayed with me for the time being and she agreed.” Tim couldn’t help but smile as your face lit up.

“You’re going to foster me?”

“Yes, if that’s okay with you, of course, if not I can call-”

“No! I mean, yes! This is perfectly fine with me!” You smiled from ear to ear, “thank you, Tim.”

Tim smiled, “Of course,” he cleared his throat, ”Now how about we get inside so you can unpack and I’m thinking pizza tonight?” You weren’t going to argue with his ideas, you followed him inside and went straight to your room. Staying with Tim was probably the last thing you thought would happen, but you were happy that you were, but somehow you felt like this was only the beginning of something.

Taglist: @reignsboy19 @halsteadstyles @daffodil0darling

#the rookie #the rookie x reader #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x yn #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x teen!reader #tim bradford x foster!teen #tim bradford x foster!teen!reader #dad!tim bradford #tim bradford teen!reader #tim bradford fanfic #tim bradford fic #tim bradford angst #tim bradford x teen!reader angst

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ast4tarion · 1 year ago

Note

hi!! hope you’re having a good day:)

i was wondering if you can write a smut where mike is a nerd in college and the popular girl needs to bring her grade up so he tutors her. she would always flirt with him and make him get all nervous. she repays him by giving him a blowjob and you can add anything else to the story if you want!! thank youu

ooooo i havent written anything like this, thank you for a new idea :D ty for the kind words too i hope everyone reading this day is a good one too <3 (god this is way longer then i meant for it to be)

cws; sub!mike, slight dom!reader, virginity taking, blowjob, gender neutral reader, a little messy

“Have you ever had sex with a girl before?”

The question you ask Mike is completely genuine but he stops writing in his tracks, his face visibly flushing red.

The two of you are studying for midterms (actually, more like Mike guiding you through the subjects) together in his dorm, books and papers strewn everywhere at his table.

“I—what?” He really wasn’t expecting you to ask that and he looks almost nervous.

“Have you?” you ask it like it’s the most casual question in the world, flipping your pencil around in your hand.

“Uh….no,” he looks very embarrassed, it’s cute on him. “I haven’t gotten close to anyone like that before, and no one was particularly interested in the guy hiding behind his engineering book.”

You were quite surprised to learn this, in your opinion he was quite the attractive guy.

“Would you be up for an offer then?” His eyes widened, and he let his pencil slide out of his grip completely.

“What kind of offer….?” He said it, but the implication after the topic of conversation was understood between the two of you, but he clearly didn’t believe it.

“Well I’d really like to do something nice for you in return for tutoring me, we’ve already talked about this but I really wish I could pay you but everything’s going to food and tuition right now and I couldn’t ever ask my parents so I was wondering if you’d let me make you feel good instead?” You said.

His entire face was visibly red now with blush, and his gaze dropped and avoided yours as he processed what you were saying. He seemed in total disbelief, his hands tapping the table which you knew was a nervous habit of his.

“I-um, but I-I’ve never done that with anyone? I wouldn’t wanna, um, somehow do it wrong.” He was incredibly sincere and it was quite endearing.

You leaned back in your seat, trying to catch his nervous eyes.

“I’m cool with that, I could even teach you if that would make you feel less nervous? Think of it as…….a tutoring session. Only if you want too though.” His hands found themselves, wringing and thumbing his palm. He was clearly deep in thought and given permission you wanted to wipe that stress from his face. It would be an honour to teach him, after all the exams and quizzes he’d helped you pass.

“Alright…I think I’d, uh, like that. When?” You smiled at his confirmation of consent, excitement and arousal already beginning to build up inside you. You stood up, walking around the desk and sitting on one of his thighs.

“We’ve been studying for a while now, I think this would be a good opportunity to take a break and learn something new.” You put your hands on his chest, your voice dropping in a suggestive way that earned a shiver out of him.

“O-Okay,” he gulped, finally gathering the courage to look at you in front of him. “What’s the first step?”

You leaned in to kiss his neck and he gasped loudly. “First the ground rules. One, if you decide it’s too much we can always stop, alright? Two, tell me if you’re going to cum. Three, listen to your body, Mikey, tell me what feels good.” You purred into his ear, trying to take things slow so he could adjust to them. He quickly nodded, and you starting leaving light kisses down his chest.

As much as you wanted to grind down on his thigh you had an objective: make him cum. You moved off his lap and he watched you the entire time with a mix of nervousness and curiosity in his eyes. You slid to the floor in between his legs as he was seated at his desk.

Your first step was massaging his thighs, getting closer and closer to his dick. Your hand settled over the fly of his jeans, palming the denim and smirking when you felt the bulge it held.

You began unzipping it, speaking as you worked. “First step is to relax, this parts all about you baby boy.” He felt the urge to whimper and aggressively bit it back.

Just the tiny amounts of friction and sultry words you provided had began to work him up. You pulled down his boxers enough for his cock to be freed, hardening at every touch.

He was fairly big, your fingertips just barely met around it when you gave it a couple experimental jerks. He made a little noise at this, and you smiled.

You spit in your hand, spreading the wetness across his length to make it easier. It was clear he was unuse to his own boner, his mouth agape and his hips beginning to shift in the chair.

You started by giving the tip a tiny kiss, followed by short little licks to the head. You flattened your tongue and swirled it all around the head, running your tongue over his sensitive slit.

This gained an immediate reaction, another little noise escaping his mouth followed by his hands gripping his own thighs. You were barely touching him and he was already panting at the sweet sensation.

You took it a little further, pumping the base and farther into your mouth. You were licking the underside of his dick, dragging hot wet stripes further and further down each time. You were halfway down his length, finally taking it all into your mouth and pushing it in until your lips reached your loose fist.

His pants were evolving into full blown moans, his hand white-knuckles gripping his desk. He spread his legs further, hoping to give you more access. Every moan is music to your ears, coming out in little “hnngs…” and “mmmfng…..”

The tip almost reached the back of your throat and there was spit dripping down your chin, mixing with whatever slick he was leaking. You moved forward and back, your tongue sliding wetly and stimulating him. You repeated this, grinding into the floor for any ounce of your own friction.

His cock was a wet mess, and the sounds coming from your mouth became more and more vulgar. Slick-filled wet slaps of skin on skin as your fist pumped faster and faster and your tongue swirled around his girth.

He was getting closer and you could tell because he was absolutely loosing control of himself. He’d been reduced to drawn-out moans and whimpering at how fast you were going; his hips had also started bucking forward, pushing more and more of it into your mouth until you were almost completely swallowing him.

Your own desperation made it even more wet and messy, you drew back and a long string of precum dripped from his tip to your tongue thinly connected. Your gaze was driving him crazy, the combination of your eyes locked on his and the slurping wet kiss you licked up his shaft again.

When your mouth dove back on it you could tell he was getting incredibly close to finishing. His thrusts were becoming sloppy and so pathetic that it was hitting the walls of your cheek and the very back of your throat.

It was ultimately your groan that sent him over the edge, the vibrations sent through your mouth felt all over his cock and it felt so good, so wet, so overwhelming that he barely had time to whimper “fuck, I-I’m going too—!”

His cock throbbed and pulsed as you licked his slit once more, taking it out of your mouth absolutely cockdrunk. It barely took a single pump for him to explode, thick white ropes bursting from his tip and all over your chest.

His head was thrown back and he was panting hard, his cock head was flushed a pretty pink like his blush and it kept twitching, smaller streams erupting until it came to a slow stop.

Your face was a mess of his hot cum and your underwear absolutely soaked through. His eyes were closed and he was still gasping, sighing as he slowly loosened his grip on the desk as he rode out the end of his orgasm.

“Fuck, holy shit, thank you.” He mumbled, still coming down from the adrenaline of finishing. When he did look down he swore he could’ve came a second time, the way your face was lit up by a smile and absolutely drenched in his sticky white seed.

“Of course, if I wanted to teach you about sex I had to make sure you’d at least get to cum before you made someone else do it,” You stood up, standing close to him and running your hand through his pretty brown hair.

“Tomorrow after we finish calculus, I’ll show you how to eat someone out~”

#requests open #fnaf x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt ns/fw #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #x reader #fnaf movie x reader #fnaf nsft #fnaf smut #mike schmidt x you smut #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader smut #gn nsft #nsft concept #fnaf ns/fw #fnaf x reader smut

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jessiexflem · 2 months ago

Text

- all-american | jessie fleming x reader

content: fluff, UCLA Jessie! (and Teagan being a butthead)

word count: 1.4K

requests are open :)

“You’re staring again,” Teagan pokes her teammate with the eraser on her pencil.

Heat rises up Jessie’s neck and face as she turns her head to glare at the Australian, “I am not!”

“Oh, whatever,” Teagan scoffs, rolling her eyes, “you’ve been giving her heart-eyes the entire time we’ve been here.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah? Then what’s the answer for number twelve?”

Jessie glances down at her calculus homework, the paper mostly unaltered except where she had scribbled her name in the top corner.

“Thought so,” Teagan replies smugly, “Gotta get your head screwed on, Jess, our grades depend on it.”

“You aren’t even supposed to be talking right now,” Jessie points at the ‘quiet please’ sign above the librarian’s head before focusing back on her homework, hoping it would encourage her friend to drop the subject.

“Come on, Jess, why don’t you just ask her out?”

“I thought you told me to focus on our homework,” Jessie sets her pencil down with a huff, “Plus, why would I do that?”

“Because you like her?” the Australian gives her a ‘duh?’ look.

“No, I don’t!” Jessie’s cheeks flush, “What makes you think that?”

“Well, for starters, we’ve been sitting here for over an hour, and you haven’t noticed that I moved your calculator underneath my notebook” Teagan chuckles, “Not to mention, any time you see her, she’s all you can talk about for hours. ‘Y/N’s so smart, Y/N showed me how to do this in lab, Y/N wasn’t in class today, and I missed her so mu–’”

“We’re just lab partners, that’s all,” Jessie shakes her head.

Teagan crosses her arms, tipping her chair onto its back legs. She narrows her eyes at her roommate, a cheeky smile tugging at her lips. “Alright, so if you insist you don’t like Y/N, you won’t mind if I ask her out on a date?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But you don’t like her, right? So, you wouldn’t be jealous?”

“Go for it,” Jessie replies dryly. She knew there was no way Teagan would actually ask you out, she barely knew you. She wouldn’t even know who you were if she hadn’t (annoyingly) crashed one of your study sessions during midterms last semester.

Putting her head down, Jessie redirects her attention back to her neglected math problems. The assignment was due at midnight, and she managed to make zero progress. Copying the numbers from the first question, she starts working through the equation until she realizes she needs a function on her graphing calculator.

“Can I have my calc–” Jessie stops mid-sentence as she looks up to see Teagan waving you over to their table, “What are you doing?!”

“You said I could ask Y/N out, so I figured I’d catch her as she was leaving.”

Backpack slung over your shoulders, you weave your way toward where the two were sitting. You notice Jessie’s posture tense as she whispers frantically to her teammate. Catching her eye, you direct a smile at your lab partner.

“Y/N!” Teagan greets cheerfully, “Done studying for the day?”

You shrug, “I should probably look over my ethics study guide a bit more, but I could feel my brain going numb and figured it was time for a break. What about you two?”

“Well, if you’re needing another study break later this week,” Teagan starts. Intrigued by what she had to say, you didn’t notice the color drain from Jessie’s normally rosy cheeks. “We were wondering if you were free Saturday afternoon? Jessie and I have a game at 4, and we wanted to invite you to watch.”

Jessie, realizing she was subconsciously holding her breath, let out a deep exhale.

“I’d love to! I haven’t been able to make it out to one yet,” you say as your phone begins to buzz in your hand, “I’ve got to head out, but text me the details, Jess?”

Jessie nods rapidly, her brain unable to form a coherent answer. She watches you walk away, feeling Teagan’s eyes burning a hole in her cheek. She didn’t even have to turn her head to know that her friend had the biggest smirk on her face.

“So, if I ever think that my lab partner’s getting asked out on a date, should I look like I’m about to puke, too? Or are you going to admit you have a crush on the girl?” Teagan teases.

“I hate you,” Jessie mutters, glaring at her.

“Bet you can’t wait to show off your first team All-American skills, huh? You better practice what goal celebration you’re going to dedicate to her.”

“I’m done talking to you.”

“Jessie and Y/N, sitting in a tree, K–”

“Just give me my calculator back.”

--------------------------------------

Jessie was having a horrible game. She couldn’t remember the last time she played this poorly. Constantly losing the ball in the midfield, getting outrun and out-muscled by her opposing mark. Her head was running a thousand miles a minute, and the only thing she could focus on was that Y/N was sitting front row.

It was the opposing team’s corner, and Teagan was shouting directions, ensuring each of her outfielders had their mark. The ball gets served in, and Jessie goes up for the header, making contact square on her forehead. However, instead of directing the ball out of the 18, her body was angled slightly toward the goal, meaning the ball veered toward Teagan instead. Luckily, it hit off the post and fell to their teammate, Hailie’s, feet, who cleared the ball toward midfield.

“Jessie, what the hell?” Jessie hears Teagan shout from behind her.

The halftime whistle blows, and Jessie couldn’t get to the locker room faster. Before she could reach her cubby, Coach Cromwell pulls her off to the side.

“Fleming, do you want to explain why it looks like you’ve never touched a soccer ball before in your life?” Coach Cromwell raises an eyebrow at her.

“I–I don’t know, nerves, I guess,” Jessie gnaws on the inside of her cheek, unable to make eye contact with her coach.

“Well, you better get your nerves sorted by the end of halftime unless you want to get benched for the rest of the game.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jessie nods, keeping her head down as she shuffles to her locker. Teagan, assigned the cubby next to her, frowns at her, brows furrowed with concern.

The second half went smoother for the midfielder. Her tackles were timed better, and she had better possession of the ball. The game remained tied at 0-0, UCLA pushing the ball into the opposing half of the field. Hailie sent a ball into Jessie’s feet, and she dribbled down the sideline, the opposing winger closing in on her. Faking left, she got the opponent to bite, leaving her a hole for Jessie to slip the ball between her legs. The crowd went nuts, you included. Jessie laid the ball off for her teammate, Ashley, who took the ball into the corner drawing a defender so the Canadian could make a run in. Ashley crossed a low-through ball into the box, which Jessie met at the top of the six, slotting it into the bottom-left corner of the goal.

You jumped to your feet, cheering as loud as you could. Noticing Jessie scanning the crowd, you give her an overexaggerated wave, to which she acknowledges with a smile. The game ends 2-0, Ashley tacking on another goal in the final two minutes. Waiting for Jessie and Teagan to complete their “good games” and post-game huddle, you stick yourself by the fence in a spot where they could easily find you.

“Y/N, you made it!” Teagan exclaims, jogging over, Jessie not far off her heels.

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” you beam, “you guys did awesome! Great goal, Jess.”

Jessie’s cheeks flush as Teagan throws an arm around her, “She nearly had two.”

“You’re never letting me live that down, will you?” she groans, trying to avoid Teagan’s soft punches to her ribs.

“Teagan!” the three of you turn to see Hailie motioning Teagan back over to the bench, giggling, “Come here!”

“I’ll be back,” Teagan says, shooting Jessie an obvious wink before running off. Jessie throws her hands up in protest, grumbling something under her breath. She turns back to you, cheeks still red.

“Um, thanks for coming to watch,” she smiles sheepishly. A few yards behind her, she can hear Teagan making loud, fake coughs. Their conversation from the other day flashes through her mind. “I still have to shower, but would you, uh, maybe want to get dinner? With me, I mean?”

“Teagan and Hailie, too? Or, are you asking me out on a date?” you grin.

“I–well, I mean,” Jessie stammers, her face hot.

“Because I’d much rather it be a date,” you assure.

Relief floods through Jessie’s entire body. “Then it’s a date.”

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #jflem #woso #woso one shot #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #woso soccer #teagan micah #womens football

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elegantlyeva · 3 months ago

Note

Hey! I loved the story! Thank you so much! I hope it isn’t too soon to request again and if it is please ignore! I was wondering what those days in the hospital was like with Scott? How did he get hurt? Did he not like (actually loved it) having her fuss over him? Don’t worry about not getting to it right away. I truly just appreciate you even giving it a thought! Thank you!

A while

a/n: Thank for the request bb <3 This is like weeks overdue, but I’m finally done with midterms so to the others who requested I'm getting through everything right now!

Word Count: 1.1K

The hospital smell flooded your senses as you walked through the doors.

The call you got from Kate, of all people, was not something you expected. You liked the girl, sure. She was nice and had separated you and your boyfriend. It was weird having her call your phone, though. You hadn’t even been sure she had your number.

She barely got five words out before you hung up and started to drive.

Apparently, Javi and Scott had gotten into a little mishap after underestimating how close the tornado was going to get.

You packed Scott a bag, knowing he was a bit germ-crazy, adding some clothes, his toothbrush, and some other night things, assuming he’d have to stay the night.

Maybe it was a little premature. You knew he had been taken in the ambulance—Kate had said he was conscious but also looking concussed. Still, even if he wasn’t staying the night, he’d probably want to change.

Walking through the hospital hallway after lying to the secretary about being Scott’s wife—since only family was allowed—you popped your head into Javi’s room next door. Tyler and Kate were sitting in the visiting chairs.

Tyler smiled, waving you over, but you shook your head. “Sorry. I’ll come back. I’m going to check on Scott. Just wanted to make sure Javi was fine.”

Javi laughed, knowing damn well you weren’t coming back after seeing Scott.

His door was closed, so you knocked softly, but there was no answer. Assuming he was asleep, you opened the door anyway and headed in.

The sound of voices filled the room, and you mentally face-palmed when you heard Scott arguing.

“I’m fine. Get this shit off me.” Heading fully inside, you saw that the "thing" he wanted off was an arm cast. No one had seen you yet.

“Sir, we’re trying to set your arm back in place. If you don’t have the cast, you’ll move it too much. The bones will heal on their own, but they need support, and if you’re moving it and banging it into things, it’s never going to heal.” You could hear the doctor’s exasperated voice, so you cleared your throat and made your way over.

The frustrated expression on Scott’s face softened when he saw you but didn’t disappear. He let the corners of his mouth tip up and moved out his good arm to beckon you over. With no objections, you quickly made it to his side, hugging him awkwardly so as not to hurt his bad arm.

“What took you so long?” There was a bit of a whine in his voice, not that he’d ever admit it.

“What do you mean, what took me so long? Kate was the one who called me!” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“My phone got crushed. And I would’ve called you myself from Javi’s phone, but these doctors are insistent on me not using my arms,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the poor nurse.

“Arm, sir. One. The other is alright. I mean, you should take it easy. You still have a couple of bruises, but you’re fine overall.” Scott scowled, letting his head fall on your abdomen while the nurse left with a sigh.

You smiled softly as he moved over so you could sit on the bed next to him. “I told the secretary we were married,” you said, assuming it would get a smile out of him.

And it did. “Yeah? Where’s the ring?” he asked, picking up your hand.

“I should be asking you that,” you said, and he rolled his eyes, putting an arm around your shoulder to bring your head to rest on his chest. “Give me a few months.”

You had only been teasing anyway. “So, why are you giving these poor nurses trouble for doing their jobs?”

“I need both my arms. Both. How am I supposed to get anything done with only one? I’ll be half as fast and more of a liability than anything, and—” You cut him off by pressing your lips to his, and he sighed softly.

When you pulled away, you looked at his food tray before actually speaking up. “You okay? It’s not the best news to get when you’re driving home from work, hearing your boyfriend is being taken to the hospital.”

Scott groaned, letting his head fall back onto the bed. “I’m fine, really. Don’t sweat it. It was a stupid miscalculation. All of this could’ve easily been avoidable if we hadn’t been moving so slow. Javi said we had more time. I thought we had more time.”

You didn’t say anything right away, knowing he needed to take a few breaths when he got like this. “I’m fine, though. Sorry. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you. I swear I would’ve called, but my phone got crushed with the back of the truck.”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry. I was only messing around earlier. I’m glad you’re okay.”

He sighed, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, and shook his head. “A sweatshirt would be great. S’fucking cold in here,” he mumbled, and your ears perked up.

“I brought you a bag. That’s what took me so long,” you said excitedly, happy you could give him that. He squeezed your waist with his good hand.

“This is why I love you,” he mumbled into your hair. You side-eyed him a bit.

“That’s it?” you asked, and he rolled his eyes, holding out his hand for the sweatshirt and toothbrush. You snorted, handing him both, and after a struggle to get the sweatshirt over his head and helping him to the bathroom despite his dizziness, he settled himself against the hospital bed.

“I took off from work,” you mumbled, letting your hand brush through his dark hair. He glared at your words.

“Why would you do that? I’m fine,” he grumbled, attempting to roll his eyes, but it worsened the pounding in his head. You laughed, mumbling something about karma, and he pinched your side.

“We can just stay home for a couple days. I don’t trust you to actually stay home without anyone watching you.” He went to protest but was cut off when you gave him a disapproving look.

“Fine,” he said, looking like he was going to say more but glaring at something behind you. “What do you want, Owens?” You turned around to find Tyler leaning on the doorway.

“Relax. I’m not here for you. Your girlfriend said she’d come back to hang out with us in Javi’s room once she was done checking on you,” he said, smirking at Scott’s scowl.

“She will not be hanging out anywhere near you. She’ll get a worse headache than mine if she’s around your obnoxious ass.”

You rolled your eyes. This would go on for a while.

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kayewrite · 4 months ago

Text

Accidentally in Love

Bangchan x reader!!! chan x reader!! word count: 10.1k

genre: fluff and a little bit of angst. strangers to lovers!!

Summary: You were so careless. You always caught accidents!-- but then you met chan-- accidentally, was is still because of your carelessness? then.. you should do it again.

an: i know today was our midterms week but then why i cannot help but to post TT. anyways. please read it <3

What’s an accident?

Well, an accident is when you’re crossing the street, minding your own business, and suddenly a biker flips over because you may have accidentally stepped into the bike lane without noticing. “Sorry!” you call out, but honestly, how do you apologize for something so awkward?

Or maybe an accident is when you try to send a selfie to your best friend to show off your new hair, but you mistype the number and end up sending it to your mom’s boss. Now they have a picture of your duck face saved on their phone, and your mom will never let you live it down.

Oh, and don’t forget that one time you were playing catch, and somehow the ball decided to fly out of your hand in the completely wrong direction and smack someone in the face. “Oops!” isn’t going to make that less embarrassing.

These were all accidents, but honestly, you’ve started to notice a pattern here: you’re a little careless. Scratch that—you’re very careless. So careless, in fact, that even the simplest things seem to go wrong.

And now, thanks to all these accidental mess-ups, you’ve become so self-conscious that you’re a little too shy to even attempt anything without worrying you’ll mess it up.

“Ms. Kim, I swear it was an accident!” you practically begged, standing in front of your English teacher with wide, apologetic eyes. You had no assignment to present because, well… your homework somehow ended up floating in the school fountain. It had looked so promising this morning. Until it went for a swim.

Ms. Kim raised an eyebrow, but after a long sigh, she gave you a sympathetic look. “Alright, I’ll forgive you this time. But try to be more careful.”

“Yes, Ms. Kim! I promise! Thank you, and I’m so sorry again!” You rushed back to your seat, hoping to avoid further embarrassment, but of course, your best friend Chae was waiting with a grin that told you she’d witnessed the entire thing.

“I’m never going to let you live this down, you know,” she teased, leaning over with a wicked smirk.

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “Haha, very funny.”

Chae laughed. “You know, you could’ve just copied my assignment if you’d told me earlier.”

You let out a huff. “It was supposed to be an original poem, Chae. I’m reminding you for the hundredth time!”

“Oh, right.” She waved it off with a laugh, clearly enjoying your misfortune.

The class finally ended, and you and Chae headed to the cafeteria, where the usual chaos of students trying to grab food filled the air. Trays clattered, voices overlapped, and the smell of fried food lingered as you navigated through the bustling crowd. You had your tray of food in hand, carefully balancing it as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.

“Please, not today,” you whispered to yourself, praying that for once, nothing would go wrong.

But of course, in classic "you" fashion, the universe wasn’t going to let you off that easily.

Just as you turned a corner, completely zoned out, you collided with someone walking in the opposite direction. BAM. The impact sent your tray flying. You could only watch in horror as your drink splashed all over the guy’s shirt. Food scattered everywhere, some of it landing on his shoes.

“Oh my gosh!” you shrieked, nearly dropping everything else in your hands. Napkins, where are the napkins? You grabbed a bunch from your tray, your hands trembling as you tried to wipe the stain off his uniform. “I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to—I swear I wasn’t looking! Oh no, look what I did…”

The guy looked down at his soaked shirt, momentarily surprised. His hair had a few strands out of place, but despite the mess, his face softened. He didn’t seem angry at all, which only made you feel worse.

“It’s okay,” he said gently, offering you a small, reassuring smile. His voice was calm, like he was trying to stop a nervous kitten from freaking out. “Really. It was just an accident.”

But you were beyond saving at this point. Your heart was hammering, and your hands wouldn’t stop shaking as you dabbed at his shirt, which now looked worse with the blotchy wet patches.

“No, no! This is my fault. I’m so sorry! I’ll fix it, I promise. I’ll wash it for you! Let me make it right!” Your voice came out in a frantic rush as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and pleading.

The guy chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You don’t have to do that. I have an extra shirt in my locker.”

“But it’s my fault!” you insisted, still dabbing uselessly at his uniform. Your eyes welled up with frustration—how could you be so careless? Again?! This was just like all the other times where accidents seemed to follow you, and this time it wasn’t just a ruined poem or a floating homework assignment. You had ruined someone’s day.

He noticed your teary eyes and sighed, his smile turning a little softer. “Look, I promise, it’s fine. I can handle a little spill.”

But your guilt wouldn’t let you accept that. “No! I—I can’t let it go like this. You don’t understand! I’ll feel terrible all day.” Without waiting for him to protest further, you grabbed his arm and gently tugged him in the direction of the nearest comfort room. “Please, let me fix this.”

His eyes widened in surprise at how determined you were. “Wait, what? Where are we going?”

“To fix your shirt!” you declared, leading him away as if it was a life-or-death mission. You handed him your jacket to cover the stain, holding it up like a shield in front of him. “You can’t walk around like this! It’s—ugh, I feel so bad. What’s your locker number?”

He laughed at how serious you were. “Arts department. But really, this is too much.”

Your head whipped around to look at him. “Arts department? No way! Mine too!” Your eyes widened in realization.

How had you never noticed him before? How could someone like him, with that gentle smile and calm voice, be so… handsome? You couldn’t stop staring at him, and suddenly, you felt even more flustered.

When you reached his locker, he pulled out a clean shirt. “See? I’m all set now. You can go back and eat,” he said, trying to brush it off, but you were having none of it.

“Absolutely not!” you said, crossing your arms in defiance. “I’m not leaving until I make sure everything is fixed.”

He let out another laugh, shaking his head at your stubbornness. “You’re really not going to let this go, huh?”

“Nope,” you replied firmly, standing your ground. He seemed amused by your persistence, but also a little impressed.

As you walked toward the comfort room, he glanced at you. “You know you left your food behind, right?”

“It’s fine,” you muttered, though your stomach betrayed you by grumbling at that exact moment. You cringed, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

He chuckled, his voice light and teasing. “Sounds like your stomach disagrees.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little despite your guilt. His laughter was contagious, and even though you were still panicking inside, something about his calmness was starting to settle your nerves.

By the time you reached the comfort room, you had relaxed enough to have a normal conversation. “Why are you so calm about this?” you asked as he went inside to change. “If someone did this to me, I’d be freaking out.”

“I’ve had worse accidents happen,” he called from inside, his voice echoing slightly. “This is nothing.”

You paced outside, tapping your foot nervously. Worse accidents? What could possibly be worse than having your entire lunch dumped on you? You shook your head, trying to calm yourself down.

When he finally came out, you froze. Time seemed to slow down as he ran a hand through his wet hair, his clean shirt clinging to his frame. The droplets of water sliding down his neck caught the light, making him look… well, really good. Your heart skipped a beat, and before you knew it, it was racing like it was trying to tell you something you weren’t quite ready to hear.

“See? All fixed,” he said, flashing that same comforting smile.

You nodded, but your thoughts were far from calm. Why is my heart doing this? It was as if everything about this moment was trying to make you notice something you’d never felt before. Something fluttery and confusing, but undeniably there.

You got quiet for a moment, staring up at him, completely lost in thought. His wet hair, the way his shirt clung to him, that easy smile—it was like everything else around you blurred, and for just a second, you forgot where you were.

“Hello? Earth to you?” he teased, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

You blinked, snapping out of your daze. “Oh! Uh, right, yes. It’s done,” you mumbled awkwardly, stepping back and fumbling with the sleeves of your jacket. Your face felt like it was on fire, and you wished you could disappear right then and there.

He laughed, a soft, easy sound that made your heart skip a beat again. “You sure? You look a little lost.”

“No, no! I’m totally fine!” you said, waving your hands in front of you. “I can go now.”

Before you could make your great escape, he stepped closer, extending his hand toward you with that same amused smile.

“I’m Chan, by the way,” he said, his hand hanging in the air between you two.

For a moment, you just stared at his outstretched hand, your brain working overtime to process what was happening. Chan. His name is Chan. You reached out slowly, feeling the warmth of his hand as your fingers met his.

Your voice barely came out, still a little shaken from the chaos of the last few minutes. “I—I’m…”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently.

“I’m… just really sorry again,” you blurted out, completely missing the introduction moment, but he only laughed more, shaking your hand.

“Nice to meet you, really sorry,” he joked, his smile growing wider.

You felt your cheeks heat up even more. “No, no! I mean, I’m—” You cleared your throat, trying to gather your thoughts. “I’m y/n.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Well, y/n , it’s nice to meet you too. Even under… interesting circumstances.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, the tension starting to lift. “Yeah… sorry about the whole… you know.”

He waved it off like it was nothing. “Trust me, this is one of the more entertaining things that’s happened to me this week.”

You smiled, feeling a little more at ease. He was so easygoing, so calm, and it made the situation feel less like a disaster and more like a… funny mishap. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling the weight of your guilt finally easing up.

But as you looked at him again, standing there, smiling at you like this was the most natural thing in the world, that flutter in your chest returned. Why am I still nervous?

“Hey,” Chan said, breaking your train of thought. “If it makes you feel better, I’m glad we bumped into each other.” He winked playfully, and before you could respond, he added, “I mean, now I know there’s someone who cares enough to make sure my shirt’s spotless.”

You bit your lip, trying not to smile too widely. “Yeah, well… I couldn’t just leave you like that.”

Chan grinned, giving you a quick nod. “I appreciate it. Anyway, I’ll see you around, y/n.”

And just like that, he turned to leave, but something inside you wanted to stop him. You stood there for a moment, watching as he walked away, your mind still reeling from everything that had just happened.

What just happened? You thought as you absently touched your hand where his had been moments ago.

Days passed, and you went back to your usual routine as the good student you were—well, the good student who occasionally made accidents. You submitted your assignments on time, participated in class, and did everything as you should. But no matter how busy you were, there was always a lingering thought in the back of your mind. A name that kept coming back to you: Chan.

After that incident in the cafeteria, you hadn’t seen him again. It was as if he’d vanished into thin air, leaving you with nothing but the memory of his laugh and that smile. You weren’t sure why you kept thinking about him. It wasn’t like anything major had happened, right? Just an accident. And yet…

“Your drawing is really nice,” Jeongin’s voice snapped you back to reality. He leaned over, studying your work on the easel with an approving nod.

You blinked, looking at your painting. It was your class in the arts department, and you’d been lost in thought, working quietly. But now that you looked at what you’d painted, your eyes widened.

It was a man. A man with soft features, standing against a background of delicate flowers. The detail in his face, the way his eyes seemed to hold a quiet kindness… it hit you like a ton of bricks. Chan. You painted Chan.

“What—” you muttered, staring in disbelief. “Did I just…?”

You turned to Jeongin, who was giving you a confused look. “What’s wrong? Did you paint that by accident or something?” he teased, not realizing how spot on he was.

Your face flushed. “I—uh—no, it’s just…”

“Come on, it looks really good,” Jeongin said with a grin. “You should be proud of it.”

You laughed nervously. How did I not realize I was painting him? You thought, staring at the canvas. The flowers around him gave the whole thing an almost dreamlike quality, and the expression on his face was so familiar it made your stomach flip. What is wrong with me?

Before you could process it, the teacher walked around the room, acknowledging everyone’s work. “Alright, class, it’s time for everyone to explain their paintings,” she announced, clapping her hands to gather everyone’s attention.

Oh no. You glanced at your painting again, heart racing. How were you going to explain this?

As each student took their turn, you grew more and more anxious. And when it was finally your turn, you stood in front of the class, staring at the painting as if it might offer you some kind of excuse for what you’d done.

“So,” the teacher prompted, “tell us about your work.”

You swallowed hard, gripping your hands together. “Uh, well… this is a… um…” You stuttered, completely lost for words. What do I say?!

Jeongin, sitting in the back, raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your nervousness.

“I—uh, I painted a man,” you started lamely, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. “With, um… flowers.” Great. Very insightful.

The class waited, but you had no idea how to continue. “The flowers are, um… a representation of…” Oh no, why did I paint flowers? You stared at them, desperately trying to come up with something meaningful to say.

“…of how fragile and… fleeting moments can be?” you mumbled, hoping it sounded deep. You heard a few murmurs of approval from your classmates, and you exhaled in relief. Okay, not bad so far.

“And the man?” the teacher asked, her head tilted as she studied your work.

You froze. The man. Oh no.

“I, uh, I didn’t really plan on… painting him. He just… kind of happened?” You winced at your own explanation. The teacher raised an eyebrow, but thankfully, she didn’t press further.

“Well,” she said after a pause, “it’s beautifully done. Accidental or not, you’ve captured a lot of emotion here.”

You nodded stiffly, trying to suppress the rising panic inside you. Emotion? I didn’t even realize I was painting Chan!

As you sat back down, Jeongin leaned over with a smirk. “So… did the flowers represent how ‘fleeting’ your accidental crush is?” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I don’t have a crush!”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” he said with a knowing grin. “You keep telling yourself that.”

One day, as you were walking down the hallway, your arms full of books and your mind racing, you couldn’t stop mumbling to yourself. The upcoming oral examination was consuming your thoughts, and you found yourself counting the names of famous artists on your fingers, trying to memorize them.

“Okay, Picasso… Monet… Van Gogh… oh, and Da Vinci…” you muttered, completely focused on your mental checklist.

Just as you rounded a corner, you collided with someone. Your books flew out of your hands, scattering across the floor with a loud thud. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!” you blurted out, dropping to your knees to gather your belongings.

“Hey, it’s fine!” a familiar voice replied. You glanced up, and your heart skipped a beat. It was Chan.

“We meet again,” he said, a playful smile lighting up his face as he helped you collect your scattered books.

“Wow, what are the odds?” you replied, still a bit in shock. “It seems we have a knack for bumping into each other… literally.” You couldn’t help but laugh, a bit embarrassed by the situation.

He chuckled, his laughter warm and inviting. “Yeah, at this rate, we might as well call it fate,” he joked, handing you the last of your books.

You stood up, brushing off your pants and trying to regain your composure. “This time, I was so focused on artists that I completely forgot to look where I was going,” you admitted, a sheepish grin on your face. “What about you? Are you just wandering the hallways, waiting for your next accidental encounter?”

Chan raised an eyebrow, pretending to think. “Maybe I’m just here to collect the most interesting stories,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “And you, my friend, seem to be a goldmine.”

You felt a rush of warmth at his words, a playful banter sparking between you. “Well, if that’s the case, I should probably start charging you for my accidental stories,” you shot back, enjoying the lightness of the moment.

“I’m all for it,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning slightly against the wall, making himself comfortable. “So, what else do you have planned for today, besides running into me?”

You hesitated, your nerves creeping back as you remembered your oral exam. “Just… trying to survive this exam,” you admitted, biting your lip. “I have to present on famous artists, and I keep mixing up their names.”

Chan’s expression softened, and he nodded in understanding. “You’ll be great, I’m sure. If you want, I can help you practice later. I mean, I have some free time in the arts department.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Did he just offer to help me? “Really? That would be amazing! I could definitely use some backup,” you replied, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.

“Perfect! Just let me know when you’re ready,” he said, flashing that signature smile that made your heart race. “And try not to bump into anyone else on your way to the exam, okay?”

You laughed again, feeling lighter than you had all day. “No promises! I might have a talent for accidents.”

With a final wave, he turned to leave, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this encounter was different—something more than just another accident. Your thoughts raced as you watched him walk away, the hallway buzzing with energy. You had a lot to prepare for, but suddenly, the day felt a little brighter.

As the days passed, you found yourself wishing for those unexpected encounters with Chan every time you walked through the hallways. Maybe if I just keep my eyes peeled… But it seemed like the universe had a sense of humor; you only ever bumped into him when you least expected it—just like the last time.

Today, you were on a mission. You needed a specific art book for your upcoming project, and, of course, it was stored on the highest shelf in the library. Determined to get your hands on it, you made your way to the stairs, your heart racing with the hope that maybe, just maybe, you’d see him again.

You climbed the stairs, reaching for the book that was tantalizingly out of reach. Just as you stretched your arm up, your foot slipped slightly on the step, and in a split second, you stumbled backward, teetering precariously.

“Whoa!” a familiar voice called out, and before you could process it, Chan was right there, steadying you with a firm grip on your arm. “Careful there! Looks like you’re trying to give gravity a run for its money.”

You blinked in surprise, your heart pounding—not just from the near mishap but from his unexpected presence. “Chan! I didn’t see you there!” you exclaimed, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Clearly,” he replied, his lips curving into that teasing smile that always made your heart skip. “What’s the goal here? Trying to become a librarian superhero?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, I was just trying to get this book.” You gestured to the high shelf, and he raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Do you need a hand?” he offered, glancing up at the shelf. “I’m pretty sure I can reach that without turning it into a circus act.”

You nodded, grateful for his help. “That would be amazing! I think I’d break the library record for most accidents in one visit if I tried again.”

As he stepped closer to the shelf, you couldn’t help but admire the way he moved with ease. He reached up, effortlessly grabbing the book and handing it to you. “Here you go, the hero of the day.”

You took the book from him, your fingers brushing against his for just a moment. “Thank you! You’ve saved my day.”

He shrugged, playfully nonchalant. “Just doing my part to help a fellow artist avoid disaster.” There was a pause, and you both shared a laugh, the air between you crackling with an easy connection.

“So, what’s this one about?” he asked, glancing at the cover.

“It’s about different art movements throughout history,” you said, opening the book to show him some of the illustrations. “I thought it would help with my project, but I got sidetracked with all the high shelves.”

“Maybe we should have a study session later,” he suggested, leaning casually against the shelf, making it seem like the most natural thing in the world. “I can help you brainstorm some ideas, and we can avoid any more… accidents.”

You felt a flutter of excitement in your chest. “That sounds great! I’d love the company.”

“Perfect! Just let me know when you’re free,” he replied, flashing that charming smile again. “And try not to climb any more shelves in the meantime.”

As you watched him leave, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Each accidental encounter felt like a step closer to something more, and you found yourself wishing that every day could be filled with these little moments.

You were placing your things in your locker one day when you noticed him—Chan—just a few lockers down. Your heart fluttered at the sight of him, and you couldn’t help but smile as you organized your books.

This time, it felt different. You weren’t colliding into him by chance; you were actually seeing him on purpose. “Hi!” you greeted, your voice brighter than you intended.

“Hello,” he replied, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

You hesitated for a moment, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. Finally, you took a breath and said, “Do you have time today? I’m going to brainstorm some ideas for my project at a café.”

He paused, considering it for a moment. “I have lots of time,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “What café are you thinking of?”

You felt a rush of excitement at his eagerness. “There’s that little one down the street, the one with the comfy chairs and those amazing pastries,” you said, your enthusiasm bubbling over. “I could really use a fresh perspective.”

“Sounds perfect. I’m in,” he said, closing his locker and leaning against it casually. “When do you want to head over?”

“Right now?” you suggested, feeling a little nervous but also thrilled at the idea of spending more time with him. “I have my books, and I could really use some caffeine to kickstart my creativity.”

“Let’s do it!” he replied, his enthusiasm contagious. He gestured for you to lead the way, and as you walked side by side down the hallway, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

As you exited the school, the warm sunlight enveloped you, and the hustle and bustle of the outside world filled your ears. You glanced at Chan, who walked with an easy confidence. “So, what do you want to brainstorm about?” he asked, looking over at you with genuine interest.

“Well, I’m thinking about how to blend different art movements for my project. I want to create something that reflects both modern and classical styles,” you explained, your thoughts starting to flow.

“I love that idea!” he said, nodding enthusiastically. “You could play with color palettes and textures from different eras. That could really bring your piece to life.”

As you talked, you found yourself more at ease with each passing moment. The café came into view, and you felt a rush of anticipation. “Here it is! I hope they still have those pastries,” you said, glancing up at the sign.

“Oh, they do. Trust me, I’ve been here enough to know their secret menu,” he said with a mischievous grin. “You’re in for a treat.”

Once inside, you ordered your drinks and pastries, and found a cozy table by the window. The atmosphere buzzed with the sound of chatter and clinking cups, adding to the warmth of the moment.

You both settled in, and as you opened your notebook to jot down ideas, you felt a thrill of inspiration rush through you. “Okay, let’s brainstorm!” you said, eager to dive into your project with Chan by your side.

His presence made everything feel easier, and as you exchanged ideas, laughter, and stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the start of something wonderful—something that wasn’t just an accident.

Ever since that day, meeting Chan had become the most exciting part of your routine. Each moment spent with him made your heart race, and the days felt brighter.

“Thank you so much! My project received a nice grade,” you said, your eyes sparkling with gratitude.

“You deserve it,” Chan replied, his smile warm and encouraging. “Your hard work really paid off.”

Feeling a rush of happiness, you mustered the courage to ask, “Are you free today? I want to treat you to something nice to say thanks.”

Chan tilted his head, considering. “I have something to do, but who would let a free meal pass by?” He chuckled, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Perfect! Let’s go to that new restaurant that just opened downtown. I’ve heard they have amazing food,” you suggested, unable to contain your excitement.

“Lead the way!” he said, his enthusiasm matching yours.

As you made your way to the restaurant, the atmosphere buzzed with energy. The sun was shining brightly, and the warm breeze wrapped around you, making everything feel perfect.

Once you arrived, the tantalizing aroma of delicious dishes greeted you at the door. You both stepped inside, and after being seated at a cozy table, you glanced over the menu.

“Everything looks so good! I don’t even know where to start,” you said, biting your lip in indecision.

“Let’s order a bunch of things to share. It’s more fun that way!” Chan suggested, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

You both decided on a variety of dishes, and as you waited for the food, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You talked about everything—your favorite movies, music, and even your childhood dreams.

“I wanted to be an astronaut for the longest time,” Chan admitted with a laugh. “But then I realized I get dizzy just from spinning around in circles. So much for that dream!”

You laughed, picturing him in a space suit, and then replied, “At least you’re realistic! I wanted to be an artist, but then I discovered I’m more of a ‘creative disaster’ than anything else.”

“Hey, you’re an amazing artist! Look at that project of yours,” he said, gesturing to your notebook resting on the table. “It shows how creative you really are.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his compliment. “Thanks, Chan. That means a lot coming from you.”

Just then, the server arrived with a feast of colorful dishes, and the two of you dove in, sharing bites and savoring each flavor. Laughter filled the air as you both shared stories and friendly banter, each moment deepening your connection.

“This is the best meal I’ve had in ages,” you said between bites, a satisfied grin on your face.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it! I have to admit, I was a little worried you wouldn’t want to hang out with me again after our first ‘accidental’ meeting,” Chan said, a teasing tone in his voice.

“Are you kidding? Those accidents turned out to be the best thing that’s happened to me!” you replied, your heart racing at the thought of how lucky you felt.

As you continued to eat, you realized that these moments with Chan were becoming something you looked forward to every day. The laughter, the food, and the warmth of his presence made you feel alive. And you couldn’t help but wonder where this unexpected journey with him might lead.

One day, as you were walking down the hallway, your heart raced at the thought of bumping into Chan again—not literally bumping, of course. You kept glancing around the corners, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, and your smile widened when you finally spotted him at the end of the hall.

He was really handsome, and the way he brushed his hair back only added to his charm. Without thinking, you picked up your pace, practically running to him.

“Hi!” you exclaimed, trying to catch your breath.

“Hey there!” Chan replied, his face lighting up at your enthusiasm.

“What are you up to?” you asked, trying to sound casual even though you were bursting with excitement at seeing him again.

“I’m working on a project for my photography class,” he explained, adjusting the camera strap slung over his shoulder. “Just trying to find some inspiration.”

“Do you need help?” you offered, eager to spend more time with him.

“Yeah, that would be awesome! Thank you!” he said, visibly relieved.

You both decided to head to the nearest park, where Chan could take pictures of the vibrant scenery. As you arrived, the sun peeked through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The air was fresh and filled with the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves.

You watched as he captured shots of the flowers blooming, the trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and the ducks swimming lazily in the pond. Every now and then, you noticed his brows furrowing in concentration as he reviewed the images.

“Are you happy with those?” you asked, stepping closer to him.

“Not quite,” he admitted, letting out a sigh. “It just feels like something is missing.”

“Maybe try capturing something more candid,” you suggested, trying to help. “Like when someone is laughing or playing in the park. Those moments can tell a story.”

Chan looked at you with a spark of inspiration in his eyes. “That’s a great idea! Let’s wait for some people to come by and see what happens.”

As you both waited, you continued to chat and joke around, enjoying each other’s company. Finally, a group of children ran past, laughing and chasing each other. Chan’s camera clicked rapidly as he captured their joyful energy.

“See? That’s the kind of moment I was talking about!” you said, beaming at him.

“I see it now! Thank you for your help!” Chan said, his eyes shining with excitement. “You really have a good eye for this.”

You felt a warm rush of pride at his compliment, and as you watched him work, you couldn’t help but admire how passionate he was about photography.

After taking several more pictures, Chan turned to you, a grin spreading across his face. “Let’s get a picture of us together! It’ll be a fun memory.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” you said, feeling a mix of excitement and shyness.

“Come on! It’ll be great. Plus, I need to document our collaboration,” he insisted, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You relented, and he set the timer on his camera before rushing back to stand beside you. As the camera clicked, you both laughed, and you felt a warmth in your heart that made you forget your nerves.

“Perfect!” Chan said, reviewing the picture. “We look awesome together.”

You felt your cheeks flush at the compliment, and for a moment, everything around you faded away, leaving just the two of you and the budding connection that was blossoming. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this day was just another beautiful accident that led you closer to Chan.

It was midterms day, and the library buzzed with the nervous energy of students cramming for their exams. You sat at a table piled high with notes, textbooks, and a half-empty coffee cup, trying to absorb as much information as possible.

Suddenly, you felt a presence beside you. You looked up to see Chan sliding into the chair next to yours, his backpack slung over one shoulder. “Hey, ready for this?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Not even close,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around all this material.”

“Need a study buddy?” he offered, pulling out his own notes. “I could use a break from memorizing everything too. We can help each other out!”

“Sure, that sounds great!” you replied, relieved to have his company.

As the two of you delved into your notes, discussing concepts and quizzing each other, the atmosphere shifted from one of stress to camaraderie. With every question Chan asked, your confidence grew, and soon you found yourself explaining things more clearly.

“Wow, you really know your stuff!” Chan remarked, his expression genuinely impressed.

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at the compliment. “Thanks! I guess all the late nights are finally paying off,” you said, trying to play it cool.

After a couple of hours of intense studying, you both took a break, stretching and grabbing a quick snack from the café. As you were chatting and laughing, a group of your friends passed by and stopped to gawk at the scene.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” one of your friends asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you two… studying together?”

“Yeah, just helping each other out,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your heart raced at their teasing tone.

Your friend nudged you playfully. “Helping each other out? Is that all?” They smirked knowingly.

“Uh, he’s just a friend,” you stammered, suddenly unsure of how to explain your connection to Chan. The truth was, he felt like more than just a friend, but you didn’t know how to articulate that.

“Sure, a friend,” your friend teased, winking at you. “It looks like there’s something more going on!”

Chan chuckled, clearly amused by the situation, and you felt a rush of embarrassment at the attention. “We really are just studying,” he assured them, his tone light and playful.

“Okay, okay,” your friend said, holding up their hands in mock surrender. “We’ll let you two get back to it. But don’t forget to let us know when you finally admit it!”

As they walked away, you couldn’t help but glance at Chan, who was still smiling at the exchange. “Sorry about that,” you said, feeling a mix of embarrassment and nervousness. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like… well, you know.”

Chan shook his head, still grinning. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, it is nice to spend time with you. We make a good team.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. “Yeah, we really do,” you agreed, a soft smile creeping onto your face.

As you settled back into your study session, the moment hung in the air between you—a promise of something more than just friendship, waiting to be explored.

The midterms had drained you completely. The lack of sleep and the stress from weeks of studying had finally taken their toll. You promised yourself that after the last exam, you would treat yourself to a good night’s sleep and a juicy steak—something to celebrate the end of your academic agony.

When the final exam wrapped up, a rush of exhilaration surged through you. You couldn’t help but throw your papers into the air, your laughter mingling with that of your friends. It was a celebration—freedom at last!

“Who’s ready to party?” one of your friends shouted, and the group erupted into cheers.

“I’m calling Chan!” you exclaimed, feeling a burst of happiness. You pulled out your phone, dialing his number, but after a few rings, it went to voicemail. You frowned, thinking he must be busy with his own post-exam plans. Shrugging it off, you put your phone away and joined your friends, who were already dancing to the music blasting from the speakers.

That night, you found yourself at the nearest bar, the energy around you vibrant and electric. You ordered a drink, savoring the coolness as it slid down your throat, and soon the dance floor called to you. You let loose, dancing and laughing, feeling all the stress melt away with each beat of the music.

After a few drinks, you felt invincible. You spun around, arms wide open, embracing the joy of the moment. That was when you noticed him.

Not too far away, standing at the bar with a drink in hand, was Chan. He looked relaxed in a casual outfit, chatting and laughing with a couple of friends. Your heart skipped a beat. It was the first time you’d seen him for first day of midterms, and somehow, he looked even more handsome in the dim light of the bar.

You felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. Should you approach him? The thought made your stomach flutter. But as you watched him, you noticed he hadn’t seen you yet.

Deciding to make your move, you grabbed your drink and wove your way through the crowd, the music thumping in your ears. When you finally reached him, he turned, and his eyes lit up with surprise.

“Hey! Fancy seeing you here!” Chan exclaimed, his smile wide and genuine.

“Hey! I just finished my exams, so I thought I’d celebrate,” you said, trying to keep your tone light despite the fluttering in your chest. “What about you?”

“Same here! I needed a break after all that studying,” he replied, leaning slightly closer, making it easier to hear each other over the music. “Looks like you’re having a good time.”

“I am! I thought I’d treat myself, you know?” You took a sip of your drink, feeling a bit more confident. “How about you? Are you enjoying your night?”

“Definitely! It’s nice to unwind,” he said, glancing around the bar. “You should come join us. We’re about to play some pool.”

You felt a surge of excitement at the invitation. “Sounds fun! Let’s go!”

As you walked toward the pool table together, the noise of the bar faded away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble. Your heart raced at the thought of spending time with him, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this night might be the beginning of something special.

Chan led you to the pool table, where a group of his friends was gathered. The atmosphere was lively, laughter and playful banter filling the air.

“This is Han,” he said, pointing to a tall guy with a warm smile. “He’s the best pool player here—don’t let him fool you with that innocent face.”

Han grinned, nudging Chan playfully. “Yeah, right. You’re just scared I’ll beat you again!”

“And this,” Chan continued, gesturing to a guy who was sprawled over the table, “is Seungmin. Don’t mind him; he’s just being dramatic.”

Seungmin lifted his head slightly, a smirk on his face. “Hey! I’m just conserving my energy for my inevitable victory,” he quipped before flopping back down, causing everyone to chuckle.

“..over there is Yuni,” Chan said, nodding toward a girl with vibrant hair and an infectious smile who was chatting animatedly with another friend. However, as she caught sight of you standing next to Chan, her expression shifted slightly. There was something in her gaze, a hint of judgment that made you feel self-conscious, as if she was silently questioning why you were with him.

You smiled at the lively introductions, trying to shake off the unease. “It’s great to meet you all! Chan’s been telling me a bit about you,” you said, glancing at Chan, who was trying to look innocent.

“Only good things, right?” Chan interjected with a playful grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Of course!” you laughed, enjoying the banter, but you couldn’t shake off Yuni’s penetrating look.

“So, what’s the plan?” Han asked, leaning against the table. “Are we playing a round of pool, or is it too easy for you guys?”

Chan glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “How about a little wager? Loser buys the next round of drinks.”

“Deal!” you replied, excitement bubbling up inside you, determined to prove yourself. “But I’m going to win.”

Seungmin raised his head just enough to give you a mock salute. “Good luck with that!”

As Chan set up the game, you could feel Yuni’s eyes on you, scrutinizing your every move. It made you slightly anxious, but you tried to focus on the game instead. The atmosphere felt more relaxed among Chan's friends, and it made you feel like you were part of something special. Chan’s presence was comforting, and you found yourself stealing glances at him, your heart racing every time your eyes met.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got!” Chan challenged, holding the cue stick with a confident grin. You couldn’t help but smile back, ready to take on the challenge, even if Yuni’s judgment lingered at the back of your mind.

The game began, and you focused intently on the table. Chan broke first, sending the balls scattering across the green felt. His movements were fluid and confident, and you admired the way he handled the cue stick.

“Nice shot!” Han cheered, clapping him on the back as the solid balls spread across the table. Chan beamed, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Your turn,” Chan said, stepping aside and motioning for you to take your shot. You felt a rush of excitement mixed with nerves as you approached the table, trying to shake off Yuni's scrutinizing gaze.

You lined up your shot, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. “Here goes nothing,” you mumbled to yourself. With a swift motion, you struck the cue ball, watching it collide with the colored balls. You sunk a solid, and a rush of exhilaration washed over you.

“Wow, not bad!” Chan said, genuine admiration in his voice.

“You’re going to have to do better than that!” you replied playfully, trying to channel the confidence you felt.

As the game continued, laughter and friendly banter filled the air. You found yourself lost in the moment, enjoying the thrill of competition and the company of Chan and his friends. You occasionally caught Yuni’s gaze again, but this time, you shrugged it off.

You and Chan worked well together, each of you strategizing and laughing through the ups and downs of the game. “I think we make a pretty good team,” Chan said, grinning at you after you executed a tricky shot.

“Team? I thought we were opponents!” you teased back, leaning on the table with a playful smile.

“Fine, but I’m going to crush you next round,” he shot back, feigning a fierce glare.

The game was intense, with each of you sinking balls and trying to outsmart the other. After a particularly close shot where you barely missed sinking the eight ball, you groaned dramatically, drawing laughter from the group.

“Come on, you can do better than that!” Seungmin teased, lifting his head for a moment to join in the laughter.

“Hey, I’m still getting used to the pressure of having such talented players around me!” you shot back, winking at him.

Eventually, the game came down to the last ball, and the tension in the air was palpable. You took a moment to breathe, steadying your hands as you lined up your shot.

“Just focus,” Chan whispered, stepping close enough that you could feel his warmth. “You got this.”

You nodded, feeling a rush of determination. As you took your shot, the cue ball sailed smoothly into the eight ball, sending it into the pocket with a satisfying clack. Cheers erupted from your friends, and you jumped up in excitement, unable to contain your joy.

“Did I just win?” you exclaimed, wide-eyed with disbelief.

“Looks like it!” Han said, clapping you on the back. “Great job!”

Yuni, however, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, still watching you closely. You tried not to let her expression dampen your mood. “So, who’s buying the next round?” you asked, turning your attention back to the group, hoping to shift the atmosphere.

“Loser buys,” Chan declared, pretending to pout. “But I guess that means I owe you one!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you treat me later,” you said with a teasing grin.

As the group moved toward the karaoke area, you felt an electric energy between you and Chan. With each passing moment, you were more grateful for the accidental encounters that had brought you to this point. Who knew a series of mishaps would lead to a night full of laughter, friendship, and possibly something more?

And even if Yuni still looked at you like a puzzle she needed to solve, you were too busy enjoying the moment to let it bother you. After all, you were finally having fun, and it felt good.

As the night deepened, the lively chatter and laughter of the group created a warm atmosphere. You found a cozy seat at the edge of the karaoke stage, sipping on your drink and watching Chan as he jokingly sang off-key. Everything felt perfect until you noticed Yuni making her way toward you, her expression a mix of confidence and something more sinister.

Her confident stride and sharp smile cutting through the laughter and music. She leaned closer, her voice low and dripping with a condescending sweetness. “Hey there, just wanted to have a little chat.”

“Sure,” you said cautiously, bracing yourself for whatever she had to say.

“Listen,” she said, crossing her arms, “Chan is mine. You need to back off. He’s not interested in you.” Her tone had that classic mean girl edge, and your heart raced as you absorbed her words.

“No,” you replied firmly, trying to match her intensity. “I like Chan, and I think he likes me too. I’m not going to just walk away because you say so.”

Her laughter was sharp, almost mocking. “Oh, really? You think he’s into you? That’s adorable.” She leaned in, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Let me show you some proof.”

Before you could respond, Yuni stood up, her heels clicking against the floor as she strode confidently towards Chan. You felt your heart drop, your gut twisting in anticipation and dread. The entire bar seemed to fade into the background as you watched her approach him.

She whispered something in his ear, and for a moment, Chan turned to look at you, confusion crossing his features. Then, without any hesitation, Yuni leaned in and kissed him. The moment felt like a punch to the gut, and time seemed to freeze as you watched Chan’s reaction.

He didn’t push her away.

That was your sign. Your breath caught in your throat, a mixture of disbelief and disappointment washing over you. You stood up abruptly, the weight of the moment crashing down on you. You couldn’t bear to watch anymore.

Ignoring the sounds of laughter and music, you turned and made your way toward the exit, the laughter of your friends fading behind you. Each step felt heavier as the reality settled in. You thought you had something special with Chan, but seeing him with Yuni shattered that illusion in an instant.

You stepped out into the cool night air, taking a deep breath to calm the storm brewing inside you. You needed to collect your thoughts. This wasn’t the end, you reminded yourself. It was a moment, not a conclusion. You wouldn’t let Yuni or this situation define how you felt about Chan or yourself.

As you walked away from the bar, your resolve strengthened. You would figure this out—whatever it took.

You stumbled out of the bar, the cool night air hitting your flushed cheeks like a splash of reality. Once outside, you leaned against the cool brick wall, the laughter and music fading into the background as the tears you’d been holding back spilled over.

You cried silently, each sob echoing the turmoil inside you. You knew it; deep down, you had always known. All those moments—each little accident that had brought you to Chan—had turned out to be just that: accidents. The awkward encounters, the clumsy run-ins, the way you had been drawn together—it was all a series of mishaps that had somehow made you believe there was something more.

Meeting Chan had felt like fate at first, like a spark that ignited something inside you. But now, standing alone in the dark, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it had all been a fluke, a twist of the universe that had no real purpose.

“An accident is an accident,” you murmured through your tears, repeating the words like a mantra. Every encounter had been a result of your own clumsiness, your carelessness leading you into a whirlwind of emotions you weren’t prepared to handle.

You thought about how carefree you had felt with him, the way he made you laugh and the comfort of his presence. But now, that joy felt tainted, overshadowed by the image of him kissing Yuni, the girl who had made it clear she wanted him. It felt like a cruel joke, and you were the punchline.

As the tears flowed, you took deep breaths, trying to calm the storm inside. It was time to let go of the fantasy you had built around Chan, to accept that maybe what you felt wasn’t meant to be.

Wiping your eyes, you stood up straighter, determined not to let this moment define you. It hurt, but you wouldn’t let it break you. “You deserve better,” you whispered to yourself.

With one last deep breath, you turned away from the bar and started to walk. It was time to reclaim your night, even if it meant facing the reality of the situation head-on. No more accidents; you needed to be more careful, not just with your surroundings but with your heart.

As you walked home, you made a promise to yourself. You would move on, even if it took time. You would find a way to let go of the ‘what-ifs’ and embrace whatever came next, accidents or not.

Days turned into a blur, and despite Chan's constant messages lighting up your phone, you chose to ignore them. Why would he contact you after what happened? You found yourself lost in thought as you folded clothes, the fabric slipping through your fingers. A sudden craving for coffee hit you, breaking through your distracted haze.

With a determined sigh, you made your way to the coffee shop. As you approached, doubt crept in. What if you ran into Chan? You paused, took a deep breath, and reassured yourself, If it’s meant to happen, then let it be.

Stepping inside, you felt a wave of relief wash over you when you didn’t see him. You took your sweet time, savoring the aroma of freshly brewed coffee as you glanced at the menu, letting the moment distract you.

Just as you were about to leave, you caught sight of him standing at the entrance. He looked surprised to see you, his eyes widening slightly.

“Can we talk?” he asked, stepping closer.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding, your curiosity outweighing your apprehension. You found a small table in the corner, and he sat down across from you, his demeanor shifting to one of earnestness.

He glanced down, his brow furrowed in thought. “What do you want to drink? I can get you something.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m okay; I already have some.”

His gaze softened as he leaned in slightly, studying your face. “Why have you been ignoring my messages?”

You let out a soft sigh, your heart racing at the vulnerability in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was busy.”

He nodded, his expression filled with understanding. “But why did you leave the party without saying goodbye? I was looking for you.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just had to go home. That’s all.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Yuni… she tells me everything.”

You fell silent, unsure of how to respond.

“The truth is, after that party, I’m ignoring Yuni. I’m never talking to her again.”

“Why would you do that?” you asked, concern creeping into your tone. The thought of him standing up to her made your heart flutter.

“Because she hurt you,” he said, his voice steady yet filled with emotion.

You felt a pang in your chest. I’m not hurt because of her… I’m hurt because I was careless, you thought to yourself, grappling with your conflicting emotions.

“Look, I was drunk,” he continued, his eyes filled with regret. “I only realized she kissed me after I pushed her away... and then I saw you running.”

You could see the weight of his words pressing down on him. “You don’t need to explain,” you murmured, trying to keep your composure.

“I need to explain,” he insisted, leaning forward, his intensity palpable. “I don’t want you away from me.”

“Chan…” you called softly, feeling your heart race.

“You know,” he began, his voice dropping to a whisper, “after that accident of meeting you… my life changed.”

His confession hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You felt your breath hitch, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his words. Your heart pounded in your chest as you processed what he was saying. Could it be true?

Chan’s words lingered in the air, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. You could feel the weight of the moment, the vulnerability in his voice pulling at your heart.

"Meeting you..." he hesitated, his gaze falling to the table for a second before lifting back to you. "It felt like one of those accidents that just... changed everything. And at first, I thought it was just that—a coincidence, a bump in the hallway. But then... it wasn’t."

You stayed silent, your pulse quickening as he continued.

"I wasn’t expecting it. To feel this way. But… I think I’ve been falling for you. Accidentally in love, if you want to call it that."

His confession took your breath away, the rawness of it catching you off guard. You tried to respond, but the words got stuck in your throat. He smiled softly at your reaction, the kind of smile that carried relief but also nervousness, as if he wasn’t sure what you’d say next.

"I know everything between us started with these random moments," Chan continued, his voice low and sincere. "But those ‘accidents’ became the best part of my day. Seeing you in the hallway, at the coffee shop… it’s like you became my favorite surprise."

You swallowed hard, the emotions swirling in your chest almost too much to bear. "Chan... I..." you started, unsure of how to put your feelings into words. The truth was, you’d felt it too—that strange sense of anticipation every time you thought you might see him, the way your heart raced whenever your paths crossed.

His hand gently reached across the table, brushing against yours, and you felt warmth spread through you. "I don’t want to lose you," he said softly. "I don’t care about the circumstances. I just want to be with you, whether it's an accident or fate."

Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t just an accident anymore. Maybe it never was. The two of you were brought together by chance, but now, it felt like something deeper.

You took a deep breath and met his gaze. "Maybe accidents aren’t so bad after all," you said with a shy smile.

His eyes lit up at your words, and a smile slowly formed on his face. "Yeah?" he asked, his tone hopeful.

"Yeah," you nodded, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. "I think I’ve been falling for you too, Chan."

He let out a soft laugh, a sound filled with both relief and joy. "I’m so glad you said that," he murmured, his hand closing around yours. "Because I really don’t want to go through another day pretending I don’t feel this way."

You squeezed his hand, a smile tugging at your lips. Maybe the best things really do happen by accident.

Chan’s hand, warm and steady, held yours like an anchor, and for the first time in days, the weight on your chest seemed to lift. What started as random, fleeting moments had turned into something real, something neither of you could deny any longer.

"Maybe," you said softly, meeting his eyes, "we were supposed to find each other like this—through all these accidents."

He smiled at that, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "Then I guess I'm grateful for every one of them," he said, his voice tender. "Because they brought me to you."

The tension that had been hanging over you for so long melted away, replaced with a quiet sense of happiness. What you thought were accidents, moments of carelessness, were really the universe pushing you toward each other, piece by piece.

You realized that sometimes, the best things in life don’t come with planning or expectations. Sometimes, they come when you're not looking—an accidental meeting that turns into something much more. And now, sitting across from Chan, his hand in yours, you knew that this wasn’t just an accident anymore. It was the start of something real.

And just like that, the uncertainty faded away. You had no idea what the future held, but you didn’t need to know. Right here, right now, was enough.

Because in the end, maybe the best kind of love really is the one you stumble into, accidentally.

an: a heart, reblog, and comment is very much appreciated. thankyou

252 notes · View notes

sturn-saturn · 3 months ago

Text

white tee

pairing: fem!reader x chris

you really had to stay in. with midterms right around the corner, you had no business even leaving your room because of the amount of studying you had to do.

your best friend calls you amidst your study session and begs you to just go out for this one night. her favorite frat house is throwing a party and she insists you come.

“cmon, you’ll have fun i’m sure of it. and who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone.” she says wiggling her eyebrows with hopes she can convince you to come along.

“dude you know i can’t afford to any parties right now, especially with midterms.”

“please. i’ll help you study tomorrow i swear. just come along.”

you throw your head in your hands and sigh, “you know what, fine. i’ll meet you at your dorm in an hour.”

one thing you learned around frat parties is it can get extremely crowded, people knocking into each other, drinks spilling, sweat covered bodies, but truly, you didn’t mind it. but tonight just wasn’t the night for it.

you decide to get a drink to let loose, Lord knows you need it.

while taking a sip, someone knocks into you and there goes your drink, spilled all over your white tee making it see through.

“great.” you mumble to yourself.

“fuck. i’m so sorry. are you alright?”

“yeah, no, all good. my shirts just all wet now.” you chuckled mostly to yourself.

you look up to see a guy a little taller than you, beautiful blue eyes, sharp nose, and a perfect smile.

a random guy walks by you, eyeing your chest making you feel extremely uncomfortable due to the drink spilling on your top.

the guy in front of you noticed and tears his zip up off his body and throws it over you covering your top half.

“cmon let’s get you cleaned up,” he says into my ear. “i’m chris by the way.”

“y/n. it’s nice to meet you chris.”

“pleasures all mine.” he smiles.

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janaelalfysloml · 10 days ago

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open arms - jana el alfy x reader

warnings : angst a lil , idk what else , not rly proofread

summary : you missed one of janas games due to your plans.

a/n : this is short but ive been wanting to write so yeah

——————————————————————————

today was game day for jana & her team. “do you know if you’re going to be able to come tonight? ill get you really good tickets!” jana asked you as she rolled over to your side of the bed. “well, i dont really know. i have a midterm tonight at 6pm, so ill see if i can make it. no guarantees though.” you told her as you finger-coiled the last strand of hair.

it was already 7:32 when you finished your midterm for one of your classes. janas game ended at 8pm, but you were exhausted. you were wondering if you should go, or go home and rest. eventually you went home and texted jana that you wouldn’t be able to make it, knowing she wouldn’t see it but just sending it incase she was wondering where you were.

you were in the kitchen when jana had walked into the apartment. “hey how was the game?” you asked her with a soft smile on your face. “it was alright. i noticed you didn’t come, again.” jana said, not trying to make eye contact with you. “im really tired jana im sorry. the exam took everything out of me.” you replied, trying to break the tension between you too. jana didn’t respond, instead she placed her things down and walked to the room and shut the door behind her.

“why are you mad? i would’ve went if I didn’t have this test.” you said as you opened the door to the room, and stood in the doorway. “im just frustrated because you’ve missed my last 3 games in a row. and i understand that you were busy today, but— i dont even know.” she said, she didn’t want to finish the sentence because she didn’t even know why she was mad. you were busy today, but the last two games you weren’t. instead you ditched her games for some plans you made months in advance, in your defense.

you sat and processed what she just said. you sat on the bed as you spoke back to her. “im sorry jana i really am but i had plans that you knew about for months in advance! when I made the plans I didn’t know your schedule.” you told her, trying to fix the situation. “ it’s fine, trust me babe.” jana replied in a comforting tone. she know you probably thought she was mad at you or something but she wasn’t at all. “im sorry again, do u wanna just watch our movies?” you replied back to jana. you and her had a little playlist of movies that you guys watched together, and now they’re your guys favorite movies.

you guys ended up just watching some of each others favorite movies & cuddling with each other. “i love you, so much.” you told jana as you yawned, obviously tired, but wanting to stay up just to absorb this moment with her.

——————————————————————————

a/n: hey uh idk im bored and wanted to write so yeah!!

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #wnba #paige bueckers x reader #spotify #uconn huskies #jana el alfy #jana el alfy x reader #Spotify

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love-jelly · 1 year ago

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THE VALIDATION.

sypnosis: precious, sweet choso would never ever deny you in any way, always opting to let you do whatever you wanted for your own entertainment and satisfaction, even if it includes giving you his heart and body.

contents: tutor!choso, sub!choso, dom!reader, pet names (choso: cutie, baby, bubs, darling, pretty prince, good boy | reader: mommy), dirty talk, hair pulling (m!receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public sex (does this even count idk), choso is desperate for some puthy (YOUR puthy), overstimulation (m!receiving), praise kink

word count: 1.4k+

a/n: based on this idea by @hotlinemurder ! tysm to maki for blessing my tl with this idea and i hope i did it justice !! hope u enjoy !! minors dni. ageless / blank / minor blogs will be blocked if seen interacting!

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

choso tutors you every wednesday and friday afternoon from twelve pm to two pm every other week in the university library. a timeline you both come up with to nicely accommodate both of your schedules- him with his studies and you with your parties and whatnot. not to say you don’t focus on school, you do, life’s just easier when you can ignore all the pending assignments that are due at 11:59pm and all the teachers that seemingly have it out for you.

but choso is sweet, unnecessarily so even when you try to quietly yawn at his rambling that seems to bounce off the walls of the study room you two rented. even when you start doodling in your notebook, when you’re supposed to be writing down what he’s trying to teach you. life is just more fun when you let go, something you’re sure choso doesn’t know how to do when you don’t show him how to.

choso is a straight-a student and tutor, teaching you topics better than any of your professors on the surface. but when you have him in the palm of your hand, with actions that are only a little suggestive? you’ll surely have him fucking you better than any of them too.

a few taps from the tip of a black pen on your notebook shakes you from your thoughts, choso gazing at you with concern evident in his eyes and a cute frown.

“you do know midterms are two weeks away, right?” the concerned lilt in his tone is cute but not cute enough for you to really care, knowing you would rather be doing anything else than studying calculus four.

you look up and smile apologetically, “sorry, cutie, but partial differentiation of functions is not on my mind right now.”

he blushes softly at the pet name but holds his ground, “but you didn’t come to any lecture last week. these questions are gonna be on the exam, you have to know them.”

you stand up, going behind him to undo the two buns he keeps atop his head, “‘s alright, i have you, don’t i?” the locks of hair unravel like a pretty present as you massage the mop around, evening the spread of his pretty brown hair.

“that’s why i’m trying to teach you right now but you won’t even listen,” he softly whines in slight protest, distracted by the feeling of your fingers combing through his hair.

“i have a better idea- don’t you wanna have fun?” you twist yourself onto his lap, thighs fitting atop his as you straddle him. you twist your hand into a fist to garner a hold of his hair, pulling it back to lift his head to expose his pretty wide eyes.

“b-but-” he stammers, moving his head to the side to avoid your eye contact, not sure what excuse to use. you roughly pull his hair again to force him to face you again, a mewl falling from his lips.

you cut him off with a soft voice, “you want me to stop?” you press chaste kisses to his jaw and throat, leaving an especially hard one on his adam’s apple, a soft sigh slipping out from his mouth.

he groans, unable to find an answer in his now-muddled brain. “please-”

precious, sweet choso would never ever deny you in any way, always opting to let you do whatever you wanted for your own entertainment and satisfaction, even if it includes giving you his heart and body.

“please what, baby?” you smile lightly, knowing he would always give into pleasure, give into you.

“please make me cum,” his usual honeyed, deep voice is exchanged for a separate breathy, higher tone that’s reserved for your ears and your ears alone.

“all you had to say, bubs,” you lightly grind your core to his hardening, twitching cock, that seemingly was begging for some sort of stimulation that could help relieve the hot bubble that was forming in his lower belly.

something between a whine and a groan erupts from choso’s lips as you go in for another kiss, you swallowing up his sounds by connecting your lips.

“we’re in the library, darling. remember to be quiet, ‘kay?” you remind him with a sweet smile as if you weren’t the reason for his loud volume.

he whimpers, “s-sorry, mommy, please-” he chokes out, “c-can i put it in?”

you reach down and pull his cock out of his pants and give it a few jerks. “do you deserve it?”

choso scrunches his face in pleasure, eyes shut and lips wet with both his and your saliva. he manages to open his eyes a bit and breathe out, “yes- yes i do- please?” his brown orbs plead with you for stimulation- for pleasure- for mercy.

“put it in then, show me how desperate you are for me,” his fingers are fumbling around, pushing your skirt up and realizing you’re wearing his favorite lacy violet panties underneath, he groans quietly to himself admiring the wet spot on it for a second. set back on his prior mission, he pushes his cock into your panties, creating a large wet spot as he humps the scratchy material to find pleasure.

“my pretty prince, right? look at you, you just wanna get off, huh? i’ll let you use my pussy- so you better use it well.”

“thank- you, mommy,” he mewls softly before aligning himself with your hole. he quickly shoves it in- catching you off guard, forcing a hiss and moan from your lips that he quickly shuts up with a kiss that you dominate early on.

his hands have you in a vice-like grip that’s sure to leave bruises, holding you a few inches above his own body as his hips uncontrollably rut up into you, balls slapping on your buttcheeks.

“f-fuck- what would your parents say about this, huh? their p-precious little boy so desperate to cum inside of a woman?” you bite his earlobe, moaning directly into it, only serving to make choso’s dick impossibly harder.

“do-don’t-”

“don’t what, bubs? don’t tell your parents? but with how much you c-cum inside me, won’t we have to tell them when we have a b-baby?” you chortle in his ear, his face tinted red from embarrassment but still rutting up into you, desperately searching for release that feels so close with the way you’re clenching around him, still wanting to cum inside you as if it was his lifes goal.

“c-can’t- please- please let me cum inside.” he nearly sobs, his orgasm feeling like it’s approaching.

“don’t stop, don’t stop. you’re doing so so good for me, bubs. keep going- just a bit more, you’re almost there, baby,” you whisper into his ear, keenly aware of the effect your words have on him.

“please, please, please- let me-”

“you wanna cum? you wanna cum in me? give your parents a grandbaby? you want that huh- you want your parents to know what a dirty whore you are for wet pussy- my wet pussy? come, come inside me.” your filthy words spill out of your mouth and into his flushed ear like whispers of an eternal bliss in hell.

a chain of “yes”s leave his lips in needy murmurs as he nears his climax. his thrusts into you become shorter and sloppier as you hug him closer, quieting your own moans by putting forth effort in marking up his neck.

a long, languid moan is ripped out from choso’s chest with his hips still rutting into you, albeit slower now, steadily fucking his cum into you, although his cock is still semi-hard. “let me- let me make you cum, please?”

you breathily laugh, “keep fucking me, baby, i’m almost there.”

choso continues his actions through strained movements, overstimulating himself, still roughly but quietly moaning through his own pain and pleasure. pulling you closer and staring at your pretty face filled with pleasure, he seems to be mesmerized by every feature on your face that contorts to prove that you were finding as much bliss in this as he is.

“fuck, i’m close, baby. gonna make me cum? make me cum,” choso quickens his pace, grunting in exertion. with a hand slapped over your mouth to hold back your shriek, you cum, spasming around his cock. fucking you through your orgasm, choso whines. he was so focused on making you cum that he didn’t realize he was nearing his second orgasm and with one last thrust into you, he spills a second load into you.

“good boy, choso. you did so well,” your validation makes him feel tingles all around his stomach, butterflies awakening in his stomach.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

if you enjoyed this, please reblog and/or consider following me!

a/n: honestly i hate this n i felt like it was WAY too fast paced. BUT i promised a fic so here's one amidst my busy schedule :') life stop fucking me in the ass when :/ thank you for reading !!!

#smut #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #choso kamo #kamo choso smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #choso smut #baby choso #i need him #part of the reason why i took so long finishing this was that i kept imagining it too hard in my mind and going insane....#constructive criticism welcome!#thank you for reading!

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nadvs · 7 months ago

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can i request for the swte universe in their college days, reader seems like a perfectionist to me so what if she failed on an exam or she didn't get there in time and she failed her class and she got really upset, feeling terrible about herself, very disappointed and rafe tries to uplift her mood, trying to get her out of her dorm room?🤍🤍🤍

omg yessss i always love your prompts 🥹

based on this fic

» au masterlist

she had a bad feeling about the midterm. sometimes she could tell when she was being too hard on herself, when she was catastrophizing, but she knew she wasn’t exaggerating when she told rafe that her mind went blank during the test and that she’s sure she failed.

now, as she sits in her dorm checking her grade on her laptop the night after, she gets the confirmation.

she texts her boyfriend, just like she did when they were best friends and told each other everything. i was right.

her phone starts buzzing with a phone call.

“you okay?” he says when she picks up. he remembers that her grade was supposed to be posted tonight.

“no,” she says with a defeated laugh.

rafe is with the guys, watching a game at the house. he stands up off the couch, holding his phone to his ear. one of his housemates points to the screen, eyebrow raised, clearly confused why rafe would leave when there’s a minute left in an intense game.

but he ignores him, rounding the corner to pace into the hallway. he leans back against a wall, arm crossed over his chest.

“how bad is it?” he asks.

“so bad that i’m working on an email to my prof to ask if i can retake it or do anything for extra credit,” she says. “i didn’t even pass.”

he can hear the panic in her voice. rafe chews on his thumbnail as he stares down at the floor.

“it’s not over,” he says. he realizes he sounds just like he does when he’s trying to motivate his teammates between periods during a rough game. he rethinks his approach. this isn’t a game. this is his girl. and she’s freaked out about her future.

“baby, it happens,” he says. “everyone fails at some point.”

“this is so bad,” she mumbles. “i’m so stupid.”

he grimaces. they’re basically the same person. he knows how much pressure she puts on herself. sometimes, he’s almost certain that she thinks she has to be perfect to be worth something, just like he does.

“where are you?” he asks.

“home.” her inhale is shaky. “i shouldn’t have stayed up late studying so much. i thought it’d be better to learn what i could, but running on barely any sleep must’ve messed me up.”

“send the email,” he says. “and be ready in half an hour, okay?”

she’s quiet for a moment.

“why?”

“because i know you’re gonna sit in your room all night, beating yourself up, thinking about what you should’ve done and there’s no point to any of it,” he says. “just be ready, alright?”

moments like these, she’s glad her boyfriend is so bossy and decisive. her head is such a mess right now, somehow feeling both chaotic and blank at the same time.

rafe texts when he arrives. when she settles in his passenger seat, he can see that she’s been crying. he shuts off his music and gently pulls her in, his palm at the back of her neck, so that she’ll nuzzle into his chest.

it’s his go-to move when she’s upset. it always works. after crying against him for a moment, her breaths start to even out.

he kisses her forehead, his hand running up and down her back. he hates this feeling, when she’s so stressed out and he’s utterly powerless.

“you’re not stupid,” he mumbles against her hair.

“i am. i’m so disappointed in myself,” she says, her voice brittle. “how could i fuck up this bad?”

he frowns. he knows her well enough by now. sometimes she needs tough love. sometimes it’s the only thing that’ll pull her out of her haze.

“it happened,” he says. he pulls back just enough so she can look up at him. “can you change that it happened?”

“no.”

“is calling yourself stupid going to fix it?”

“no.”

“that’s my girl you’re talking to,” he says, his blue eyes sweeping over her face in worry. “my girl isn’t stupid.”

her lips twist in sorrow, but she nods, eyelids fluttering. she spirals sometimes. she can tell she’s doing it right now.

rafe’s hand rests on her damp cheek, rubbing his thumb over her skin.

“you anxious?” he asks.

“very,” she replies.

so, he decides to see if his most effective way of cooling down when he’s wired will help her.

he pulls into a lot by an outdoor court he always sees on his drive to her campus and takes the basketball out of his trunk when he parks.

“this is kind of unfair,” she says lightheartedly when she gets out of his car into the cool night air. “no chance i’m winning a one-on-one against you.”

“we’re just shooting hoops,” he says, putting an arm around her as he holds the ball to his chest.

the court is empty and quiet and dimly lit. they stand below one of the nets, bouncing the ball back and forth between each other.

“what if i fail the course?” she says.

“you won’t.”

“but if i do?”

“if you do, you’ll survive,” rafe replies. “you think some class can take you down?”

she breathes a chuckle. when she gets the ball back, she holds it, standing across from him, staring. all they ever are with each other is honest. it’s how it’s always been.

“i’m scared,” she admits. “i’m scared this will throw off my timing and i won’t graduate when i want to.”

“baby, there’s no way that’s happening,” he says confidently. “one bad grade won’t do that.”

“you seem so sure,” she states. she bounces the ball back to him.

“here. if i make this, it means you’ll fail the course.”

he takes the ball in both hands, holds it over his head, and throws it so it hits the rim hard, making the whole backboard shake as the ball goes flying down the court.

“i think that was rigged,” she says, the ache in her chest loosening as she laughs.

“we’ll never know,” rafe half-shouts as he runs to pick up the ball. he bounces it back to her.

she dribbles it a few times, squaring up with the net, and launches the ball in the air. it falls in the net.

“nice,” he breathes. “don’t let my coach see you. he’ll replace me.”

she turns to look at him, mirroring his smile.

“you’re laying it on a little thick, cameron,” she teases. she’s touched that he’s being so sweet just to cheer her up.

“just telling it like it is,” he says. he passes the ball to her again. “let’s see how you do with some defense.”

he steps between her and the net, a hard wall against her. his hands find her hips as she tries to line up with the net, his big frame moving with her.

“i’m pretty sure that’s a technical foul,” she says. “you can’t touch me like that.”

“nah, that’s not a rule.”

“you can’t just decide that,” she laughs.

“such a tight-ass,” he scoffs with a smirk, taking his hands off her hips and cradling her face. “how about this? this allowed?”

she giggles, holding the ball in one hand and hooking the other around his neck to pull him closer. their lips touch tenderly, both of them expelling a quiet sigh of contentment under the kiss.

she pulls back. he’s too busy staring at her in awe to block her from making another shot.

“your defense sucks,” she teases. rafe puts his hand to his chest in mock outrage.

“now you’re trash-talking?” he says. she watches him pick up the ball. he makes it look so effortless, the net swishing as the ball whizzes through it.

she’s seen him on the court so many times before, but she never tires of the sight, always so struck by how skilled he is.

they play for another twenty minutes, talking and taking turns shooting hoops, until she finally feels too tired to keep going. and she realizes she hasn’t thought about her failed midterm the entire time.

“thank you,” she says as they settle in his car. “i feel better. sweaty, but better.”

“it always works. just gotta burn your energy on something else so you can’t use it stressing out.”

“smart,” she says. “i’ll keep that in mind when i take your spot on the team.”

“i’m not so sure about that anymore,” he says. “you take fucking forever to throw. you’d run out the shot clock every time.”

she laughs, thinking about how many times in the last twenty minutes she kept the ball in her hands while she got lost in conversation with him.

she playfully shoves him, but he takes her hand and pulls her in, meeting her in a slow kiss.

“listen, i don’t want to hear the word stupid come out of your mouth again,” he mumbles. “not when you’re talking about yourself. i’m serious.”

she looks down at her lap, exhaling slowly. she knows he’s right. there’s no reason for her to bully herself so mercilessly.

“okay.”

“and please, baby,” he says solemnly, his tone deep as if he’s about to say something serious, “throw the ball faster next time.”

“i hate you,” she laughs, shoving him again. he smirks at her, putting the car in drive.

rafe has felt proud of himself a few times in his life, mostly with his athletic achievements, but he thinks that hearing her laugh, knowing he’s the one who made her feel better, is the proudest he’s ever felt.

#ask #swteblurb

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stylesonfilms · 2 months ago

Text

ink & innocence - 13

word count: 7.3k

hi! this was inspired by one of the comments left in my inbox so thank u for the suggestion! i've read the other ones and have noted them down as well. happy reading!

"Harryyy, come on!" Aspen's playful whine echoed through the quiet library, earning a raised brow from an older patron seated nearby. Aspen winced apologetically before turning back to Harry, who stood a few feet away, his expression as unimpressed as ever, though the slight curve at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

"No," he puffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he bent down into the book cart. With one hand, he pulled out another hardcover while his other steadied the wobbling stack she had precariously piled earlier. He reached over, extending the book toward her without breaking stride. "Here, unless you wanna use me as a ladder again."

Aspen's cheeks flushed. The last time they'd done this, she had struggled with the top shelves and made him crouch down so she could awkwardly step onto his thigh. He hadn't let her live it down since.

It had become their little routine. Aspen was buried neck-deep in midterms and work shifts, balancing her time between lectures, the library, and stolen moments of quiet with Harry. On the nights where their schedules aligned, Harry had made it a habit of swinging by the library before closing time. At first, Aspen had protested his help, insisting she could finish on her own, but Harry, as persistent as he was, always wore her down. Now, she couldn't help but smile every time she saw him stroll through the doors with that easy confidence, ready to argue until she let him pitch in.

Today was no different. Aspen had barely clocked in after her lecture when Harry texted her: Be there at 4. A simple message, but it left her cheeks warm for the rest of her shift. By the time he arrived, they'd fallen into their usual rhythm. Aspen would work, and Harry would pretend to grumble about helping but inevitably do it anyway—though only after extracting a promise of a few kisses in his car afterward.

"Come on, if you make an Instagram account, we could all follow you, spy on your so-called private life," Aspen teased, glancing over her shoulder with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She wiggled her eyebrows dramatically, biting back a giggle when Harry rolled his eyes.

"You already do that," he shot back, sliding another book into her waiting hands. "And I only really talk to you guys anyway. What's Instagram gonna do that my contacts and iMessage can't?"

Aspen jutted out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, cradling the book to her chest. "But then you could post all those artsy photos you take! Come on, Harry, you're practically an undercover photographer."

That earned her a full-on laugh, low and rich, as Harry leaned his hip against the cart. She wasn't wrong. One thing Aspen had quickly learned about him was his knack for capturing beauty in the mundane. Whether it was the glow of a sunset behind the mountains, the way fog curled lazily through downtown's alleys, or the candid snaps he'd take when she wasn't looking, his camera roll was a treasure trove of little moments. She knew he had an actual camera at home, too—one he swore was on its third memory card. But the thought of him sharing even a glimpse of those moments on Instagram made her grin grow wider.

Harry sighed dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck like he was truly at a crossroads. "Alright, alright," he relented, earning an excited squeal from Aspen. "I'll make one so you can do all your little tagging stuff, but I'm not promising to post a single thing."

Aspen narrowed her eyes, as if weighing the seriousness of his promise, before finally giving in. "Deal." Her grin was infectious, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle. She'd been pestering him for days, and deep down, he didn't really mind. The idea of her tagging him in pictures, forcing him into her corner of the social media world, wasn't so bad. Maybe he'd even scroll through it occasionally when he was bored or needed a distraction between clients.

Sliding the last book onto the shelf, Aspen turned back to him, her hands on her hips. "You know," she started with a sly smile, "this means you officially owe me now."

Harry raised a brow, smirking. "Oh yeah? And what exactly do I owe you?"

"A coffee," she declared confidently. "Because I've been running on fumes all day, and if I don't get caffeine soon, you're going to have a grumpy librarian on your hands."

Harry chuckled, stepping closer and letting his hand brush lightly against hers. "Alright, love. Let's get you your coffee. But only if I get one of those kisses in return."

Aspen's cheeks turned a deep shade of pink, her bashful smile tugging at his heart as she nodded. "Deal."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Harry carried his jacket hooked on his finger over his shoulder, the fabric swaying slightly with each step, while his other arm rested securely around Aspen’s shoulders. The warmth of his touch seeped through her sweater, grounding her as they exited the softly lit library into the crisp evening air. The muffled hum of passing cars filled the quiet space between them as they strolled toward his car, their pace unhurried, comfortable.

"Zayn told me earlier he’d be out with Isobel," Harry began, his voice low and inviting as he reached to open the passenger door for her. He leaned casually against the door frame, his jacket still dangling from his finger, as Aspen climbed in. "So I was wonderin’," he continued, his green eyes catching hers in the dim glow of the streetlamp, "if you’d like t’stay for dinner? It’s not too late. I could whip us somethin’ up."

Aspen paused, her hands fumbling slightly with her seatbelt as she glanced up at him. The way he stood there, effortlessly charming with a soft smile playing on his lips, made her heart flutter. "Yeah! I’d like to, H. Thank you," she replied, her own smile small but genuine.

Harry’s smile widened just a fraction before he leaned down, pressing a warm kiss to her forehead. The gesture left her momentarily breathless, her eyes fluttering shut instinctively at the tenderness. He shut the door gently behind her and rounded the car, sliding into the driver’s seat with an ease that came from countless nights like this. As the engine purred to life and warm air began to flood the cabin, Aspen’s stomach let out a low growl, breaking the comfortable silence.

Harry let out a puff of air, a laugh that was both teasing and fond. "Hungry, are we?" he teased, glancing at her sideways with a smirk. Aspen’s cheeks turned pink as she ducked her head in embarrassment, but her lips curved into a sheepish grin.

"Maybe a little," she admitted, the confession barely audible over the soft hum of the heater.

By the time they arrived at his apartment, Harry had already shrugged off his jacket and was heading for the kitchen. "Make yourself comfortable," he called over his shoulder as Aspen toed off her shoes and hung her tote bag neatly on the coat rack by the door. Before disappearing into the living room, she felt the soft press of his lips on her forehead again, a fleeting touch that left her cheeks warm.

Harry rummaged through his fridge, the faint clink of jars and the rustle of packaging filling the kitchen as he searched. "Baby?" His voice broke the quiet after a couple of minutes, pulling Aspen from her thoughts as she peeked her head around the corner.

"Yeah?" she asked softly, stepping into the kitchen. The cold tile against her pink, frilly sock-covered feet made her shiver, but the sight of Harry, slightly hunched with his head in the fridge, was enough to distract her. He turned toward her with a package of chicken in hand, his smile easy and affectionate.

"Are you okay with chicken? Gonna do somethin’ easy with it—maybe some broccoli and potatoes?" he asked, holding up the ingredients as if to get her approval.

Aspen nodded quickly, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t see her silent affirmation. Realizing her mistake, she squeaked out a soft, "Yes... yes! That sounds good, thank you."

Harry chuckled quietly to himself, charmed by her shy but earnest response. She pulled one of the chairs out from the island and perched on it, her feet resting on the footrest as she settled in to watch him. Aspen wanted to keep him company, to be near him while he worked his magic in the kitchen, but she stayed quiet, her gaze soft as she observed him move.

Harry worked with a practiced ease, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he began chopping broccoli and seasoning the chicken. The faint clatter of utensils and the rhythmic chop of the knife filled the air, punctuated by the occasional clink of a glass or a soft hum from Harry as he focused. Aspen found herself mesmerized by the simple yet deliberate way he moved, every gesture seeming natural and unhurried.

"You’re really good at this," she said softly, her voice barely carrying over the faint sizzle as he turned on the stovetop.

Harry glanced up, his green eyes twinkling with amusement. "At cookin’? Or at convincin’ you to stay for dinner?"

Aspen giggled, her hands fidgeting slightly in her lap. "Both, maybe," she admitted, her cheeks tinting pink.

"Well, lucky for you," he said, flashing her a grin as he set the pan on the stove, "I happen to enjoy doin’ both."

Dinner had gone by in a blur of easy conversation, soft laughter, and the comfortable rhythm that Harry and Aspen had found themselves settling into. Aspen was shy, yes, but around Harry, there was a growing ease—a sense that she could let her guard down without judgment. They spoke about their day, her recounting a particularly funny mishap during her shift at the library, and him sharing a story about a client who insisted on getting a tattoo of their cat dressed as a pirate. It left Aspen giggling behind her hand, her laughter light and airy, a sound Harry was quickly growing addicted to.

As the plates were cleared and the last bites of dinner had been taken, Harry stood and began gathering the dishes, shooting her a teasing look when she moved to help. "Sit tight, love," he said, shaking his head. "I’ll take care of this. You’ve had a long day."

Aspen hesitated, her hands half-reaching for a plate, but she relented under the warmth of his gaze. “Okay,” she murmured softly, her voice small but sweet.

Harry rinsed the plates before stacking them neatly in the sink. He turned to her, wiping his hands on a dish towel, and his expression softened. "Y’want somethin’ more comfortable to wear? Don’t have to if you’re fine as is, but if y’want, I can grab you a shirt or somethin’."

Aspen blinked at him, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face before she nodded. "That would be nice... if you don’t mind."

Harry’s grin was immediate and reassuring. "‘Course not. Be right back."

He returned moments later with a well-worn black t-shirt, the fabric soft from years of wear. He handed it to her, their fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. “Bathroom’s just down the hall on the left,” he said, jerking his chin in the direction. Aspen nodded, clutching the shirt to her chest as she padded down the hallway.

Inside the bathroom, Aspen closed the door behind her and let out a quiet breath. The room was clean, with simple touches that felt inherently like Harry—spare but thoughtful. A small plant sat in the corner near the window, and the counter was neat, save for a watch and a bottle of cologne. She couldn’t resist running her fingers lightly over the label of the bottle, smiling to herself at how even the scent of it made her think of him.

She slipped out of her sweater, folding it neatly on the counter, and pulled Harry’s shirt over her head. The fabric was oversized, hanging loosely over her frame, and the faint scent of him clung to it—something warm and comforting. She decided to keep her leggings on, smoothing them down before taking one last glance at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks warmed as she imagined Harry seeing her like this, wearing his clothes.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, the faint sound of running water guided her back to the kitchen. Harry was standing at the sink, his sleeves rolled up, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he scrubbed at a pan. The sight of him made her pause for a moment, her lips curving into a soft smile before she shuffled into the room.

Harry glanced up as she entered, and for a second, he froze. The shirt was far too big for her, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs, the neckline slightly loose on her petite frame. She looked small, cozy, and unmistakably his. The thought hit him with a surprising intensity. His shirt. On her. It felt... right. Like a quiet claim, subtle but undeniable.

"Y’look good," he said after a beat, his voice low and sincere as he dried his hands on the towel. He crossed the room toward her, his green eyes soft as they took her in.

Aspen’s cheeks flushed pink, and she toyed with the hem of the shirt, glancing down shyly. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s lips quirked up in a fond smile. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly over her arm. "You make it look better than I ever did," he added, his tone playful but laced with an underlying tenderness.

Aspen peeked up at him, her lips twitching into a small, bashful smile. “You’re just saying that.”

"Not a chance," Harry replied, shaking his head as he gazed at her. In that moment, with her standing in his kitchen, wearing his shirt and looking like the very embodiment of comfort, Harry couldn’t help but think that this—her, here—was something he could get used to. Something he wanted to get used to.

With the dishes done and the clock showing just past eight, Harry leaned against the counter, drying the last plate. He looked over at Aspen, who was seated on one of the kitchen stools, idly running her fingers along the hem of his shirt. She looked completely at home, and the sight filled Harry with a quiet warmth he didn’t quite know how to put into words.

"Not too late yet," Harry said, tossing the dish towel over his shoulder. "How d’you feel about a movie? Could use a bit of a break after today, yeah?"

Aspen’s eyes lit up, and she nodded. “That sounds nice. I—I wouldn’t mind cuddling up with you again,” she admitted, her voice shy but steady enough to make Harry’s chest swell with affection.

He grinned, the dimples in his cheeks deepening. "Alright then. Y’pick somethin’, and I’ll get the living room sorted. Just gimme a sec to change out of these," he said, gesturing to his skinny jeans and button-up shirt.

Aspen’s cheeks warmed at the thought of him getting more comfortable. "Okay," she replied softly, sliding off the stool and padding into the living room. She browsed through his small stack of DVDs on the shelf, her fingers brushing over the spines as she considered what to watch.

Meanwhile, Harry disappeared into his room, tugging off his work clothes and swapping them for a pair of gray sweats and a plain white tee. He left his hair a little mussed, the loose curls falling naturally around his face, and kept only one of his rings on—a silver one he wore on his index finger. As he glanced at himself in the mirror, he wondered if Aspen would notice the change.

When he returned to the living room, Aspen was kneeling in front of the TV, the remote in her hand and a movie paused on the screen. "This okay?" she asked, turning to him with an uncertain smile.

"Perfect," Harry replied as he crossed the room. But instead of sitting down next to her, he grinned mischievously, lunging toward her with playful energy.

Aspen let out a surprised squeak as Harry tackled her onto the couch, gently but with enough force to leave her laughing breathlessly. "Harry!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed as he settled them both into a comfortable position after teasing her a bit. He tucked her firmly into his side, pulling a throw blanket over the both of them with one hand.

"There," he said with a satisfied grin, his arm draped around her shoulders as she snuggled into his side. Her small hand rested on his abdomen, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath her fingers.

Aspen sighed contentedly, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Being close to Harry like this was quickly becoming one of her favorite things, and she couldn’t help but smile at how natural it felt.

Harry, meanwhile, was busy memorizing every detail of the moment. The way Aspen fit against him like she was meant to be there. The feel of her hand resting on his stomach, moving ever so slightly in rhythm with his breathing. He started tracing light patterns along her arm with his fingers, the repetitive motion soothing for both of them.

"Y’comfy, love?" Harry asked, his voice low and warm.

Aspen nodded against his chest, her face half-hidden by the fabric of his shirt. "Mmhm. Very," she murmured, her shyness laced with contentment.

Harry glanced down at her, his green eyes softening as he watched her settle further into his side. She looked perfect—completely at ease, her cheeks still slightly pink, her fingers brushing lightly over his stomach as if she couldn’t help but touch him.

The movie started, but Harry found it hard to focus on the screen. His thoughts kept drifting back to Aspen. How cute she looked in his oversized shirt, her leggings still clinging to her legs. How much she looked like she belonged there, with him, wrapped up in their own little bubble of warmth and comfort.

"Y’know," Harry said softly after a while, his fingers pausing their movements on her arm, "I could get used to this."

Aspen peeked up at him, her shy smile returning as her heart fluttered at his words. "Me too," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Harry’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied grin. "I should have y'around more often, then, hm?" Aspen nodded, settling more into his side when he gave her arm a reassured squeeze. When Harry caught her beautiful brown eyes flicker down to his lips, he took that as his sign to tilt his head and close the space. She sighed contently, which made Harry grin into their kiss. Slowly, he was learning her little clues and asks without having to actually ask for them. Harry didn't mind. He vowed to himself to understand her always.

As Harry settled onto the couch and his eyes wandered back to the TV, Aspen couldn’t help but notice the subtle differences in him. His curls were slightly messier than usual, like he’d run his fingers through them carelessly after changing. Her eyes flicked to his hand resting on the edge of the blanket, and she noticed he was wearing only one ring, a simple silver one on his index finger. It was such a small detail, but it made her stomach flutter. Even with all the tattoos winding across his arms, his lip piercing catching the light, and the remnants of chipped black polish on his nails, he looked so much like the Harry he showed only to her—soft, unguarded, and entirely hers. It made her heart ache in the best way, knowing she got to see him like this, in these intimate, quiet moments.

The movie had long since settled into a soft lull, its dialogue blending into the warm hum of the apartment. Aspen and Harry had started the evening curled up together, but as time passed, their slow breathing matched the quiet rhythm of the soundtrack, and without realizing it, they both drifted into sleep. Harry’s arm remained wrapped around Aspen, her cheek resting on his shoulder, and the blanket had slipped slightly, pooling at their legs.

Hours passed until Harry stirred, his body instinctively turning toward his side in search of comfort. In his half-conscious state, his hand moved as if reaching for Aspen, but when his fingers met only the cool fabric of the couch, his eyes fluttered open. Disoriented at first, he blinked into the dim glow of the room. Where had she gone? The clock on the wall read just past midnight. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, the blanket falling away as he stretched and glanced toward the hallway.

A faint light spilled from the kitchen, and Harry padded toward it, the hardwood floor cool beneath his bare feet. Leaning against the doorframe, he found her standing in front of the open freezer, her petite frame silhouetted by the soft white glow. She was peering into its depths with a furrowed brow, her hands rubbing her arms lightly as the cool air spilled out around her. She hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on whatever she was searching for.

“Aspen?” His voice was soft, still laced with sleep, and her head whipped around so fast that a lock of hair fell into her eyes. Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she slammed the freezer door shut, stepping back awkwardly.

“Oh! I… I didn’t mean to wake you,” Aspen stammered, her voice barely audible. Her hands fidgeted in front of her, fingers twisting together nervously as she searched for the right words. “I was just, um… I got thirsty—well, no, not thirsty, but… hungry? Kind of?” She trailed off, her cheeks already flushing as she realized how jumbled her explanation sounded. Her gaze dropped to her socked feet, avoiding Harry’s eyes.

Harry leaned casually against the kitchen doorway, a soft, sleepy smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t teasing, just patient and understanding. “You’re fine, love,” he said gently, his voice still raspy from sleep. “What were you looking for?”

“I… uh…” Aspen hesitated, her hands nervously tugging at the hem of his oversized shirt she wore, the soft fabric bunching under her fingers. Her heart thudded as she felt her cheeks burn hotter. She wanted to tell him, but the thought of admitting she was craving something so specific—so indulgent—made her stomach twist with embarrassment.

Harry noticed her hesitation, his brow furrowing slightly. Taking a step forward, he tilted his head, meeting her gaze even though she tried to avoid it. “Aspen,” he said softly, his voice coaxing. “It’s okay. Whatever you want, just tell me.”

“I—” Her voice wavered, and she swallowed nervously, still unable to meet his eyes. “It’s silly. Don’t worry about it.”

Harry smiled warmly, taking another step toward her. “Silly or not, you’re standing in the middle of my kitchen at midnight. So whatever it is, it must be worth finding, yeah?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he thought for a moment. “Let’s see… were you looking for snacks? Chips? Crackers?” He tilted his head playfully. “Maybe leftover pizza?”

Aspen shook her head, a soft laugh escaping despite her nerves. “No… none of those.”

Harry grinned, encouraged by the sound of her laugh. “Alright, what about something sweet, then? Chocolate? Cookies?” He paused, pretending to consider. “Ice cream?”

At that, her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, and her fingers twisted even tighter in the fabric of his shirt. She nodded shyly, glancing up at him for only a split second before looking away again. “Ice cream,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s heart melted at how utterly bashful she was. He stepped closer, his hand brushing gently against her arm to reassure her. “Ice cream, huh?” he repeated with a soft chuckle. “That’s not silly at all, Aspen. I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to raid my freezer.”

Her head snapped up, wide-eyed. “I wasn’t raiding!” she protested, her voice rising slightly in defense before softening again. “I mean… I was just looking.”

Harry chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright—just looking,” he teased, opening the freezer himself and glancing back at her. “So, what flavor are we after?”

Aspen hesitated, nervously toying with her hair now. “I, um… I think you had mint chocolate chip the other day?” she said hesitantly, her voice wavering.

Harry caught the way her blush deepened, and his smile softened further. “Mint chocolate chip,” he echoed thoughtfully, his tone light and reassuring. “Good choice, love. Let’s see if we’ve got any left.”

He turned back to the freezer, but his mind lingered on her. The way she looked so small and shy in his kitchen, wearing his shirt, made his chest ache in the best way. She was adorable, and he loved how vulnerable and comfortable she was around him—even when she was nervous.

Harry leaned into the freezer, moving a few frozen bags and containers around until he spotted a familiar green carton pushed to the very back. “Got it,” he announced, pulling it out with a triumphant smile.

Aspen’s face lit up, and she let out a small, delighted laugh. “You’re good at this.”

“I try,” Harry teased, grabbing two spoons from the drawer before motioning toward the floor. “C’mon. Let’s eat before it melts.”

They settled on the cool tile, their backs against the cabinets, and Harry opened the lid with a satisfying pop. He offered her the first spoonful, watching as her eyes lit up at the first taste. “Still your favorite?” he asked, taking a bite for himself.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, nodding enthusiastically. The sweetness melted on her tongue, and she sighed contentedly. Harry still had sleep in his eyes, but being able to be awake with her was worth any amount of sleep.

The kitchen was quiet except for the soft clink of spoons against the carton. Harry glanced at Aspen between bites, his gaze lingering on how the overhead light highlighted the soft curve of her cheeks and the way her eyes crinkled slightly when she smiled. She looked completely at ease now, the embarrassment from earlier forgotten, and he felt a wave of warmth settle over him.

“You know,” he said after a while, his voice low and thoughtful, “this feels kind 'f perfect. Jus' you and me, stealing ice cream in the middle of the night.”

Aspen glanced at him, her shy smile growing. “Yeah,” she agreed softly. “It really does.”

As they continued to share the ice cream, the quiet intimacy of the moment lingered, filling the kitchen with a warmth that had nothing to do with the light overhead. Harry twirled his spoon in the carton absently, a small smile playing on his lips. “Alright,” he began, breaking the silence, “I’ve got a question for you.”

Aspen looked at him curiously, her spoon poised mid-air. “What kind of question?”

“Nothing too serious,” Harry assured her, leaning back against the cabinet. “Just… what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t had the chance to yet?”

“Nothing too serious,” Harry assured her, leaning back against the cabinet. He stretched his legs out in front of him, his bare feet crossing lazily. Her legs were shorter than his, a small quirk that turned the corner of his lips up when he noticed it from how they sat. Despite his casual posture, his green eyes were alert, focused entirely on Aspen. “Jus… what’s something you’ve always wanted t'do but haven’t had the chance t'yet?”

Aspen froze for a moment, the question hanging in the air. Her fingers traced the edge of the ice cream lid nervously, her mind racing with possibilities. There were so many things she had dreamed of, so many ideas she’d quietly nurtured but never spoken aloud. “I don’t know,” she murmured finally, her voice soft. “There’s a lot I’d like to do someday.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into an encouraging smile. He knew that hesitation of hers, that instinct to downplay her desires, but he wanted to hear more. “Like what? Give me one thing,” he coaxed gently, his voice low and warm.

Aspen’s breath caught. The way Harry looked at her—calm, patient, and interested—made her feel safe, like her answer really mattered. She dropped her gaze to her lap, gathering her courage as her heart thudded in her chest. “I’ve always wanted to travel,” she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just… pack a bag and go somewhere completely new. Maybe Italy, or Japan.”

Harry noticed the shift in her tone as she continued, her shyness giving way to quiet enthusiasm. “I want to see the art, the history,” she went on, her words picking up pace. “Experience things that feel bigger than me.”

He couldn’t look away. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about her dreams, the subtle curve of her lips as her confidence grew—it was like seeing a different side of her unfold, piece by piece. His chest ached in the best way, a deep warmth blooming inside him. “That sounds amazing,” he said softly, his voice full of sincerity. “You’d love it. You’ve got tha' curiosity about you—like you’d soak it all in, every detail.”

Aspen felt her cheeks flush, her gaze dipping once more. His words struck something deep within her, something fragile and precious. She wasn’t used to being seen like this, to someone noticing and valuing the quiet parts of her that she often kept hidden. “What about you?” she asked quickly, desperate to shift the focus away from herself. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of the shirt she was wearing—Harry’s shirt—and she peeked up at him, her shyness mixing with genuine curiosity. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

Harry chuckled, a low sound that made Aspen’s heart flutter. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees as he gave her a playful look. “You’re gonna laugh.”

“I won’t,” she promised, her eyes wide and earnest. She meant it; she couldn’t imagine laughing at him, not when he was sharing a piece of himself like this.

“Alright,” Harry said, his voice taking on a mock conspiratorial tone. “I’ve always wanted t'learn how to surf. Properly, I mean. Not just flopping 'round on a board.”

Aspen blinked in surprise before a soft laugh escaped her lips. It wasn’t mocking—it was light and delighted, filled with a warmth that spread between them. “That’s not silly at all,” she said quickly, her smile growing. “I can actually picture you on a beach.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Yeah? With all the tattoos n' everything?”

She nodded, her cheeks dimpling. “It suits you. The freedom of it… the connection to nature. It feels like you.”

Harry felt his breath hitch at her words, but it was subtle and went without notice. She said it so simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but it hit him deeply. He wasn’t used to being seen in that way, his desires and identity so easily understood. “You’re pretty good at this, you know?” he said quietly, his voice tinged with awe. “Seeing people for who they are.”

Aspen’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, and she ducked her head shyly. “I just… like paying attention.”

He smiled softly, his heart swelling at her words. He realized that was one of the things he admired most about her—how much she noticed, how much she cared, even if she didn’t always say it aloud.

The moment hung between them, tender and unspoken, as their hearts opened just a little more. And in the quiet warmth of the kitchen, with an empty carton of ice cream forgotten beside them, Harry felt something settle deep within him—a certainty that this, whatever this was, was worth every moment.

Aspen shifted slightly, tucking her legs closer to her body as she glanced at Harry. The weight of their conversation hung in the air, but it wasn’t heavy—it was comforting, like a warm blanket wrapping them in something safe and intimate. Her voice was soft when she spoke again, careful not to disrupt the gentle mood they’d settled into.

“What’s something that calms you down? Like... instantly?” she asked, her curiosity genuine. Her wide eyes studied him, searching his face for an answer.

Harry tilted his head back against the cabinet, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. His closed eyes peered open to look at her with a sheepish smirk. “You’re gonna think ’m cheesy.”

Aspen raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin slipping onto her face. “What is it?”

He finally murmured, “Talking to you.” Harry let out a small puff of air, though he wasn't lying. She was his grounding piece. She took his mess and made sense of it.

Aspen let out a playful whine, nudging his shoulder with hers as her cheeks flared pink. “Harry! Be serious!” she giggled, her laugh bubbling up and breaking the quiet.

“I am serious!” he defended, grinning now, though the teasing glint in her eyes made him laugh softly. “Alright, alright. Lemme think.”

She waited patiently, her gaze steady on him. Her heart thudded gently in her chest as she watched him search for an answer, the way his brow furrowed slightly and his lips pressed together in thought. Finally, he spoke.

“Tattooing,” he said simply at first, but there was a weight in his tone that made Aspen sit up a little straighter. His fingers absentmindedly toyed with the hem of his shirt as he continued, his voice quieter now, more reflective. “Whether it’s actually tattooing someone or just sketching a new design... it’s like everything else disappears for a while. There’s jus' me n' the lines I’m creating. It’s... grounding.”

Aspen tilted her head, her interest piqued. She could tell there was more he wasn’t saying, so she stayed quiet, giving him the space to keep going.

“It’s not jus' about the art,” Harry admitted, his green eyes flickering to hers before looking away again, as if what he was about to say felt too vulnerable to meet her gaze. “It’s... therapeutic, in a way. When I’m tattooing someone, there’s this trust, y'know? They’re letting me leave something permanent on them, something that means something to them. And when I’m sketching, i’s like... I can take whatever’s in my head—whatever’s making me feel restless or stuck—and put it on paper. Turn it into something that makes sense.”

Aspen’s heart ached at the sincerity in his words, the way he spoke with such quiet passion. She hadn’t expected such a heartfelt answer, but it made sense. Tattooing wasn’t just a job to him; it was a part of who he was.

“It’s kind of like...” Harry paused, searching for the right words. “When I’m holding the machine, or even just a pencil, it’s like I have control over something. Like no matter how messy life gets, I can create something beautiful from it. It’s calming in a way nothing else is.”

Aspen’s lips parted slightly, her breath catching at his honesty. She’d always admired Harry’s talent, but hearing him talk about it like this—so deeply, so openly—gave her a new perspective. “That’s... really beautiful,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. “I never thought about it like that before.”

Harry looked at her then, his gaze steady and full of something unspoken. “It’s the same feeling I get when I’m with you,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Like everything else fades, and it’s just us. Simple.”

Aspen felt her cheeks heat again, her heart thudding against her ribs. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t—his eyes held her in place, and she didn’t want to break the moment.

“Thank you for telling me that,” she said finally, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. She reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing against his hand before curling around it. “It means a lot.”

Harry smiled softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime, baby,” he murmured, his voice like a promise. And in the quiet stillness of the kitchen, with only the faint hum of the fridge in the background, they stayed like that—two people learning each other, piece by piece, with every shared word and touch.

Harry's thumb brushed against the back of Aspen’s hand as he held it, the simple contact sparking warmth that spread through both of them. He glanced down at their joined hands, a soft smile tugging at his lips before he looked back up at her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her wide eyes flickered nervously between their hands and his face. She was shy, as always, but there was a comfort in her expression now—a softness that told him she felt safe.

The kitchen was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator, but neither of them noticed. Harry’s gaze lingered on her, taking in the delicate curve of her cheek, the way her lashes fluttered as she peeked up at him. His chest tightened with an unfamiliar ache—not of pain, but of something deeper. Something he couldn’t quite put into words. He felt it every time she looked at him like that, like he was someone who mattered, someone who could make her feel special.

Aspen’s heart raced as she felt the weight of his gaze. It was gentle, but it held an intensity that made her stomach flutter. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention—wasn’t used to someone looking at her like she was something worth cherishing. Yet, with Harry, it felt... right. Natural, even. Her fingers fidgeted slightly against his, but she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to.

Harry leaned in slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull back, to stop him if she wanted. But she didn’t move. Her breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly, but there was no fear—only a quiet, nervous anticipation. His hand gently released hers, moving to cup her cheek instead. His thumb brushed along her skin, soft and deliberate, as if he were memorizing the feel of her.

“You’re somethin’ else, Aspen,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, like a promise wrapped in affection.

Aspen’s lips parted slightly, her breath trembling as her thoughts spun. She didn’t know what to say—wasn’t sure she could form words even if she wanted to. All she could do was feel—the warmth of his hand against her cheek, the way his green eyes held hers like she was the only thing that mattered.

Harry dipped his head, closing the small distance between them. His lips brushed hers gently, barely more than a whisper of a kiss. It was soft, tentative, as though he was asking for permission rather than taking. Aspen’s heart thudded against her ribs, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause.

When he pulled back slightly, their noses still brushing, Harry searched her face, his thumb still stroking her cheek. “Okay?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Aspen nodded, her cheeks burning as her lips curved into a shy smile. “Yeah,” she breathed, her voice almost as quiet as his.

Encouraged by her response, Harry leaned in again, pressing another kiss to her lips. This one lingered a little longer, though it was just as gentle. His heart swelled at the way she leaned into him, her fingers lightly brushing against his knee for balance. She was hesitant, but she wasn’t holding back. Not with him.

Aspen felt her nerves melting away, replaced by a warmth that seemed to start in her chest and spread to every part of her. Kissing Harry felt... safe. Like she didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or being too much. He made her feel like she was enough—just as she was.

When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed as he soaked in the moment. “You’re somethin’ else,” he repeated, his voice filled with awe.

Aspen let out a quiet laugh, her fingers curling against his knee. “You’ve said that already,” she teased softly, her shyness giving way to a growing comfort in his presence.

“Yeah,” Harry murmured, opening his eyes to look at her. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

She smiled, her heart fluttering at his words. And as they sat there, still tangled in the intimacy of the moment, Aspen realized that maybe, just maybe, she was starting to believe him.

"Something good, I hope.," Aspen quipped, her doe eyes looking up into his.

"Oh, you have no idea."

Aspen only felt the heat crawl up her neck and blush her face. Harry thumbed over her reddening cheek, a cute trait he learned to adore about her. After a few moments of just being in each other's silence, her lips released a tiny yawn which made Harry's lips crack a small smile. "C'mon," he tossed the spoons in the sink above him, pushing himself to stand up before he held out a hand. "Satisfied now, baby? Or is there somethin' else you would like? My kitchen is all yours."

Aspen shook her head shyly, taking his big hand to prop herself back to her two feet. "No, no. I'm all set now. Thank you so much, Harry." The mans heart softened at her words. "Alright, then le's get you back t'bed."

His voice dripped in sleep, low and hanging on to the two brain cells that were currently keeping him awake now. "I'll get you tucked into bed and I'll take the couch." Harry picked up the empty carton, tossing it onto the pile of trash in his bin. Before Aspen could say another word or even think of one to say, his arms slid around the back of her thighs and under her arms to sweep her off her feet.

"Harry!," Aspen exlaimed in surprise, kicking her feet as she giggled. Harry kissed her shoulder and carried her bridal style down the hall to his bedroom, where he carefully set her down under the sheets. He pulled them back over Aspen, who was slightly sitting up against his headboard. "Do y'want me to stay until you fall asleep? I'll take the couch tonight so—."

Aspen shaking her head cut his sentence off. He tilted his head and furrowed his brows at her shy expression and wandering eyes, taking note of her fidgeting fingers. "You...," she started, come on Aspen—she sucked in a breath— "You can stay. Only if you want, but please." The girls words were rushed by still remained shy and squeakish. His lips tugged back into a smile, which he found himself doing more lately because of her compared to the last few years of his life.

"Are you letting me know I can stay?" Harry knew her offer was more of her asking, but he didn't want to shine that light onto her. The man gently brushed her hair behind her ear. Anything to make her feel comfortable, he would do. When she nodded again, he hummed contently. "I would love t'stay with you, Asp. Thank you f'letting me."

Normally, Harry would be down to his briefs if he had been by himself. But to not scare Aspen off, he climbed into bed after removing just his ring on his index finger. He let it clatter into the little tray and he settled under the covers next to him. He didn't mind that she picked his side of the bed, his mind quickly allowing it to become just hers.

Aspen had always had issues falling asleep or staying asleep in a bed or a place that wasn't her own. The first and only time she had a sleepover was when she was eleven, and she had called her sister to pick her up at two in the morning because she just couldn't sleep. But it was different in Harrys bed. She molded into the divot in the bed that was previously there, which she pieced together was Harry's original side of the bed. Aspen felt safe, felt comfortable surrounded by his scent and the soft duvet.

"Is it okay if I hold you?" Even though they cuddled here and there (every time one of them was over), he still thought it would be respectful to ask in case she needed her space. That idea quickly left his mind when she shuffled closer and curled back into his side like she had earlier in the night. His arms instinctively wrapped around her small frame and his nose buried into the top of her head, followed by a small lasting kiss.

"I've got you, baby. Get some sleep."

And with that, Aspen found Harry in her dreams once more.

#harry styles #fanfic #one direction #zayn malik #niall horan #fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction #wattpad #louis tomlinson #harry styles fanfiction #smut #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing

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bingwriterxo · 2 years ago

Text

the shakespeare exhibit - part 8

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which you and tara both have things to talk about

warnings: mentions of stabbing, talks of substance abuse and verbal abuse

word count: 2700+

previous part | next part

Finals season was in full swing at Blackmore University, sending its students into poor sleep schedules and even worse diets as they attempted to cram a semester’s worth of information into their brains.

You and Tara, unfortunately, were no exception. For the past week, the two of you had holed yourselves up in either the library or one of your apartments, your noses stuck in your books and your hands fumbling around for an energy drink whenever you needed a pick-me-up.

The only time you had taken a break was to celebrate Tara’s 20th birthday, but even then it was hardly a celebration. You had gathered all of her friends at her apartment, had a small party consisting of drinks and movies, and then went right back to studying, Tara in tow.

Safe to say, the stress levels were at an all-time-high, especially for Tara, who was experiencing her first round of finals in university. You had offered her a few studying tips, since you had already gone through the struggles of freshman-year exams the year prior, before immersing yourself in your own revision.

You were in the midst of reviewing for your Romantic Literature course--the last final that you had for the semester--when your mother called you, leading you to slip out of Tara’s bedroom and into the hallway to speak to her.

Tara sat at her desk, grumbling as she tried to study for her Introduction to Literature course. This is just as stupid as it was when I was studying for the midterm, she thought, eyes scanning her notes about Emily Dickinson. Maybe it’s even more stupid now.

Your voice broke her concentration as you walked back into her room, and she twisted her chair around to face you. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll ask her, alright?” You rolled your eyes and pointed at your phone, mouthing, she talks so much. Tara giggled softly, extending her arms for you to stand between, and you sighed as you slid into place, her fingers rubbing over your hips. “Okay. Yup. Yeah, okay. Yeah. Right. Okay, bye, mom.”

“What was that all about?” Tara asked when you hung up, throwing your phone onto her desk. “Did Eddie pull another prank on the Dylan Thomas statue again?”

You chuckled, thinking about the photo that your brother had sent you the week before—he had put a wig, makeup, and a shaving-cream beard on the statue of your grandfather’s late friend. “No, no. The statue garden has gone untouched this week.”

She shook her head, a grin on her face. “I still can’t believe you guys have a statue garden,” she said. But of course her family does. Because why wouldn’t they?

“Well, my dad’s always been big into statues. Like, when he was younger, he--” You cut yourself off. “That’s not important. Anyway, my mom invited us to spend Christmas at the house.” Tara’s eyes lit up, a type of joy that she didn’t know existed rushing through her. Us? she thought. I’ve been invited to family Christmas? “Do you want to go--”

“Yes!” she exclaimed immediately, nodding her head fervently. “Please, yes.” Shit, I’ll need to buy presents. What the hell do you get for kids who could buy anything they’ve ever wanted?

You giggled at her enthusiasm and tilted your head. “Are you sure you and Sam aren’t going back to California for the holidays?” you asked.

Back to California? Back to…Woodsboro? She furrowed her eyebrows, biting her bottom lip. “Why would we go to Cali?”

You squirmed a little where you stood. What’s she so nervous about? she wondered. “I just thought you might want to see your mom?” Your voice pitched on the last word, and Tara tensed, her arms falling to her sides. You frowned and reached out, but she pulled back, swallowing.

“No, there’s--we’re not--no,” she stammered out, her voice short. She shook her head. “I’ll be here.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Tara wanted the conversation to be over, but your lips were pursed like you still had something you wanted to say. “What?” she asked.

You shook your head. “Nothing!”

She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes at you. “No, you look like you have something to say. What?”

“I just…you’ve never spoken about her. Maybe we could--”

That’s because there’s nothing to say.” She’s good for nothing, she thought. “I don’t like to talk about her.” I’d rather read Shakespeare, which is really saying something.

“But--”

“No.” Her voice was stern, clear-cut, and she watched as you deflated a little, your eyes flitting around the room. She sighed, running a hand down her face. “I’m not doing this right now, okay? I’m not talking about her.”

“Tar…” The nickname came out as a coo, soft and careful and meant to be comforting, but it ignited a strange irritation beneath Tara’s skin, and something in her snapped.

“Listen, we can’t all have a perfect-fucking-family, okay?” she shouted, and you flinched, taking a step back, your eyes widening at her sudden outburst. “Just because you have parents who are there and who care doesn’t mean everyone does! I mean, Jesus, my mom didn’t even come to see me last year after--” After Amber stabbed me half-to-death, she finished in her head.

The air was tense, quiet. You stood in front of her, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, and Tara cursed herself when she noticed that your hands were trembling slightly.

“Baby…” She reached out for you, but her fingers met open air as you shook your head and crossed the room to grab your things from her bed.

“It’s fine. I--I shouldn’t have pushed,” you rushed out, your voice shaking. You threw your notebook and laptop into your backpack hastily before hurrying to the door. Tara stood, desperate to do something to stop you from leaving, but she didn’t get the chance as you said, “I’m sorry.” Of course she’d apologize when I snapped at her. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

The door shutting behind you pulled all the air from Tara’s lungs, and she fell back into her chair, holding her face in her hands.

“God fucking damnit,” she groaned. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

* * *

Hours later--during which Tara had sat in her bed and moped--there was a knock on her bedroom door. For a brief second, she thought it was you. But there would be no reason for her to come back after I got mad at her, she reminded herself, and any hope she had disappeared when Sam walked into the room, a frown on her face.

“I thought Y/N was staying for dinner so you two could study through it,” Sam said, bringing Tara’s attention right back to the fact that you had left. She stepped into the room, her arms crossed over her chest, and asked, “What happened? You’re all”--she gestured at Tara--“sad.”

Tara huffed, glaring at her sister. “Nothing,” she grumbled.

Sam scoffed. “Oh, please. You and Y/N have been attached at the hip since the start of finals.” She shook her head. “Scratch that--since you two began dating. So, what happened, Tara?”

Stupid Sam, being a good older sister. Tara sighed and relented. “She asked about mom.”

“Oh.” Sam frowned. “And what did you say?”

“I--” Was a bad girlfriend and got mad at her for no reason, Tara thought, shame seeping into her veins. “I snapped at her. I didn’t mean to. It’s just…mom’s a tough topic, and it’s even harder because Y/N’s family-life is so perfect.” She clenched her jaw and glanced away, ignoring the spark of jealous lighting in her chest. “She’s got two parents who are there, and they have money, and she’s just…” Perfect.

Sam tilted her head, walking over and sitting beside Tara. “You know, it wasn’t easy for me to tell Danny about mom, either. He’s in the same boat as Y/N--well, not the super rich family part, but his parents are together and there.” She shrugged. “It’s hard not to envy that, but she’s your girlfriend, so you’ll need to talk to her about mom at some point. She deserves to know.”

Tara nodded, hanging her head. “I know. I feel horrible for getting upset with her.” She gestured lamely at her phone. “I tried texting and calling her, but…” She pointed across the room, where your phone still sat on her desk. “Obviously that didn’t work.”

Sam hummed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Tara. Maybe she just needed a minute.” She rested her hand on Tara’s shoulder. “Plus, she’ll need her phone.”

“What if she comes back and breaks up with me?” Tara asked, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. What if she never speaks to me again? she thought. What if this is it? What if--

“Every couple has arguments, Tara.” Sam smiled softly at her. “She’s not going to break up with you over this. That girl’s head over heels for you, even more than you are for her. It’s gonna be okay, okay?”

Tara bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, okay,” she said, not missing the sorrow in her own voice. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Sam stood, her hands on her hips and her head tilted. “Now, should we get Chinese food or pizza?”

* * *

Sam was right: you did just need a minute.

It was as Tara was getting ready for bed that she heard a knock on the front door. Sam’ll deal with it, she decided as she climbed beneath her sheets, ready to lay in the darkness and wallow for a while. Just as she was reaching over to turn off her bedside lamp, a certain name caught her attention.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!” Sam said loudly from the living room, and Tara knew she had raised her voice so that she would know who was at the door. She sat up immediately. Y/N is here? What? There was some mumbling before Sam’s voice came again. “Yeah, she’s in her room. Go ahead.”

Moments later, there were soft knocks against her bedroom door, and Tara scrambled out of her bed, rushing across the room to open the door for you. There you stood, your lips pulled in a downturned smile and your eyes wide with worry.

“Hey, pretty girl,” you muttered. You were still wearing the same clothes from the day, and your backpack was still hanging off your shoulders. Did she not go home? she wondered, furrowing her eyebrows. You pulled your arm out from behind you, revealing a small bouquet of flowers. “Got you these.”

Tara blinked. She bought me flowers?! “I--Thanks?” She took them from your outstretched hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?” you tried to joke, but your voice was strained, like you were trying to be careful, and Tara felt guilt prick at her knowing that she was the cause. “Could I come in?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Always,” she rushed out, moving to her bed to sit. She placed the flowers on her bedside table and watched as you sat in front of her, fingers playing with her blanket. “So, what’s up?” ‘What’s up?’ Really? That’s the best I can do?

You sighed, a shaky breath falling from your lips. “I want to apologize,” you said. “I didn’t mean to push you into talking about your mom earlier. I know she’s a touchy subject.”

Tara frowned. “Why are you apologizing? I’m sorry for shouting at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You shook your head, glancing up and finally making eye-contact with her. “No, it’s okay. You didn’t want to talk about her. And, that’s okay.” You shrugged and offered her a comforting smile. “You don’t have to tell me about her…ever, if you don’t want to.”

“I should, though. I mean, we should talk about her.”

“Tara, you really don’t have to--”

“No, I--I want to.” Want’s a strong word, she thought. But I should.

“Okay,” you said, nodding and giving her your full attention. “You have the floor.”

She sighed heavily. “Well, my dad left when I was 8. My mom started working more so that she could afford Sam and I, but it turned more into an obsession for her, I think. Next thing I knew, she was never there. Sam left home when I was 13, and it was just me.” She shrugged, glancing down and fiddling with her fingers. “Then, Sam came back after I was attacked, and my mom wouldn’t talk to her, so we made the choice to cut her off. I haven’t spoken to her since we moved.”

Tara clicked her tongue, looking back up at you. To her surprise, your face wasn’t full of the pity she was used to seeing after telling people about her past; you were watching her carefully, looking close to tears.

“So, that’s that,” she said awkwardly.

You inhaled sharply, blinking your glassy eyes away. “You didn’t deserve any of that, Tar, and I’m sorry that you had to deal with it.” You reached out, your hand cupping her cheek, and she leaned into your touch. “I’m so happy that you’ve found your family.”

Her heart fluttered at your words, her mind flashing to Sam and Mindy and Chad. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I am, too. I really love those guys.” And I’ve found you, too, she thought. You make it all complete.

You grinned, and she practically melted into her mattress. “Good. They’re good--all of them.”

She giggled. “C’mere.” She wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you to lay down with her, your face nuzzled into her neck. She laughed at the feeling of your nose against her skin, and said, “I love you. Like, a lot.”

Your arms wrapped around her waist, and you squeezed lightly. “I love you, like, a lot, too.” You sighed into her. “And I’m sorry for leaving like that earlier. I just…I don’t do well with raised voices.”

Huh? Suddenly, she was on high alert. Why not? What happened? “Any particular reason?”

You twisted in her hold so that you could lay beside her, your gaze trained on the ceiling. She scooted down so that her head was level with yours and looked at you, tracing your side profile with her eyes. So pretty, she thought. Wait, stay on topic, Tara.

You clenched your jaw. “We’ve never talked about it, but, um, my dad…” You closed your eyes. “When I was younger, my dad had a big drinking problem.” Her eyebrows furrowed. Her dad? That man? Really? “He was never physical,” you said, shaking your head lightly. “But he had a temper when he was drunk, and everything I did was always wrong.”

“Oh, Y/N,” she sighed, intertwining her fingers with yours. Your grip was tight, like she would float away if you didn’t hold on.

“He’d yell a lot, at me, at my mom.” Oh, baby. Your thumb rubbed over the skin of her hand. “But he’s good now. He got better after the boys were born--got sober. He hasn’t had a drink since.” You turned your head, looking back at her.

“He’s not, like, obsessed with apples, or anything,” you said. What does that have to do with the conversation? she wondered. “But, he eats them a lot when we have parties. That was his thing--eat an apple when he wanted a drink. It stuck, so we keep the fridge stocked, and any time someone sees him even look in the direction of alcohol, we get him an apple.” You smiled. “He eats them begrudgingly, but he’ll never have an apple out of his own volition now.”

Tara chuckled softly. “I’m happy he’s better now, but I’m sorry you dealt with that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

You shrugged, leaning closer so that your forehead rested against her cheek. “It’s okay now. I’m alright,” you promised. “Just…never buy that man an apple, alright?” you joked, easing the tension in the air.

“Deal,” she agreed, nudging your head up. She leaned in, kissed you, and said, “I guess no family’s perfect after all, huh?” when she pulled away.

“I guess not.” You grinned, leaning up on your elbow to hover over her. “But, maybe ours could be the first.”

Her heart practically stopped, and she couldn’t help the smile that took over her face. Ours? she thought. She felt like she wanted to burst from the amount of joy that came with that thought. Yeah. Ours.

“Okay.” She pushed herself up and kissed you again. “Ours will be the first.”

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna x reader #museum tara #scream 5 #scream 6

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diamond-rozie · 1 year ago

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*standing menacingly at the door* i made u something

anyways lol. i had a lot of school work and was really busy freaking out and stress studying for a singular test that was 4 questions and would be over in like an hour and then i proceeded to cry about it in my car for various reasons.

but yk what that means!

time for our irregular and unscheduled update of

Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program

this episode featuring a fan favorite: Duke Thomas (aka The Signal - but thats kind of irrelevant for this)

you were supposed to read that like it was from a '90s sitcom and the off screen crowd cheers rly loudly.

some house keeping updates: this scene happens in the beginning of the school year (going by the american system should be september) danny meets damian (and upsurges tim on the same day) around midterm which is around october and then the stuff with jason and damian's drawing happens around december. i kinda accidentally burned the irl timeline for anything dc first scene so now im just gonna do whatever i want.

anyways with out further ado:

table of contents

scene 04: after school activities for normal kids

Duke stood around the corner of the classroom awkwardly, wondering if he had made the right call. Sure the bats and the birds had a plethora of hands on deck any time, but most of them specialized as night time heros. Not to say that they were incompetent or anything, they were some of the most skilled and innovative people Duke had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Sure if anything happened, they could handle it, at least until Duke could slip away and show up as the Signal- Alfred and Bruce had assured him so much. But Duke couldn’t slip the guilt of busying away more of his time to after school activities when he could be patrolling or studying instead,

But Duke had wanted to do something outside of those things, which was specifically why he had made the difficult decision to join a few clubs and after school activities. He could use a break from being surrounded by people who worked the vigilante life-style just to remember how to be a normal civilian. Let himself take a break from constantly be consumed by one case or another, one disaster or another, not being able to do enough no matter how much he tried or how much time he spent patrolling.

Duke needed to feel grounded, like his feet were on the ground and he could press the brakes and smell the fragrance of life. Even if the fragrance was a forgotten pile of dog s-

“Alright,” The instructor for their culinary club started with a weird German accent that sounded really fake. “I am Herman. You can call me Chef or Chef Herman or just Chef. I will not bore you all with the boring introductions, and let's head right into the cooking, yes. On this paper here I made the partners for all of you to cook with for the rest of the year. If you have problem with it then quit.”

This Herman guy seemed like quite the character, and was definitely not helping any of Duke’s previous anxieties. Many of Duke’s clubmates seem to think so too, sending their friends various looks. But no one spoke out, and instead shuffled to the front to look at the singular sheet of paper that would assign them their partners. Duke finally made it to the front and saw that he was paired with a Daniel Fenton at Station 7.

Crossing his fingers that Daniel had at least only a half-rotten personality, Duke made his way over to station 7. The station was already prepped with an assortment of ingredients and cooking equipment. Duke had already set his stuff down claiming the seat closer to the exit (in case) when a lanky kid comes over, “Uh, your Duke Thomas?” He asks hesitantly looking back at the front counter the partner assignment sheet was.

It took Duke an awkward second longer to realize that this kid was probably his partner. “Oh yeah I am.” He laughed apologetically, “You must be Daniel.”

“Danny’s fine.” The boy smiled, absentmindedly brushing his messy black hair out of his face, his glacier blue looking at the equipment. Duke couldn’t help but feel like there was something off about Danny. Not in Gotham’s usual psycho-maniac-out-to-terrorizer-the-city-and-kill-innocent-people kind of off, more in a he’s not in sync with the rest of the world off. While Chef Herman explained the general structure of various types of kitchen and kitchen hierarchy that Duke was already familiar with, Duke tried to get a read on him.

Weird did not mean threat, after all many of the Justice League- heck even the local Wayne/Batclan were pretty weird- and they (usually) didn’t mean any harm. It wouldn’t be fair of Duke to jump the horse like that.

Deciding he should try to be friendly with him, Duke leaned over, “Is it just me or is Chef Herman’s accent totally fake?” he whispered.

“Oh, Ancients,” Anciets? “I thought I was just going insane.” Danny sighed in relief with a small chuckle. There was a moment of silence between the two of them where no one said anything for longer than socially acceptable and Duke debated using his powers to see if he could find a clue or something. That seemed kinda invasive, though.

When the Chef had started instructions on making today's recipe, Chocolate Chip Cookies, Danny helped Duke measure out the ingredients. “So,” Danny tried again, “What are you in for?”

“What am I…” Duke repeated confused,

Danny chuckled awkwardly, “Like why you joined the club.”

Duke seriously needed to get his head in the present; this was getting embarrassing. “Oh.” He nodded in understanding, “I’ve always liked cooking,” Duke shrugged, “When I was little my parents and I would always cook together, and it was always one of my favorite things to do. And I’ve kinda always liked it, but I fell off of it for a while with school and stuff,” emphasis on the stuff “I thought joining a club could help me get back into it and get away from… everything.” That was a little more candid than Duke had planned on being with someone he had met quite literally a few minutes ago, but it felt good to have that out of his chest. The pleasant memories of his parents swimming in his mind. Mixing the dry ingredients, “Sorry that was kind of a lot.” Duke laughed genuinely this time.

“Dude, no it’s actually so cool that you like to cook.” Danny said admiration was easy on his face, and Duke couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed.

“What about you, then?”

“Ugh,” He groaned jokingly, “You can’t seriously be asking for my lame ass reason after you pulled out the flashbacks.” Danny whined, letting the oven preheat like Chef told them to.

“C’mon, it’s only fair.” Duke played along, already ahead of the other groups.

Danny sighed, “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Okay, it can’t be that bad.” Duke could already feel the smile cracking on his face.

“It is.” Danny drawlled, “So I live in the dorms right, and I got to pull some strings and room with one of my friends from back home this year. And well, let’s just say my family has a bit of a reputation for causing problems, and the kitchen definitely wasn’t an exception. One time my dad tried to make some soup for my mom because she got sick.” Duke nodded approvingly, that was a sweet gesture, “It was all fun and games until the bomb squad had to show up and long story short we had to move.”

“You’re joking.” Duke gaped at the bizarre story, but at Danny’s solemn expression, Duke couldn’t help but be appalled, “A bomb squad over soup.”

“My parents were never really heavy on lab safety,” Danny added, as if that explained everything, “But I burn one pot of water and maybe make a few extra-crispy eggs, and suddenly its all ‘Danny you’re not allowed in the kitchen unless you start taking actual classes’ and ‘Danny that's a biohazard’.”

“You burned a pot of water.” Duke echoed, Danny nodded innocently, “Water doesn’t burn.”

“Well, maybe you’re just not trying hard enough.” Danny sneered, trying to crack an egg on the corner of the bowl only for all the shell to fall in the bowl and the yolk on the counter.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true.” Duke said, taking the bowl from him and expertly cracking an egg single handedly. Danny looked on in awe. “You said you live in the dorms?” Duke asked easily.

“Oh yeah, all of the non-local scholarship kids have to.”

Before Duke could respond, a girl from the station in front of them whips her head around, “You said you’re here on a scholarship?” She asked almost oppressively.

Danny just as taken aback as Duke felt, “Uh, yeah.”

“Me, too. Have you heard anything about the Mentorship Program here? Apparently we all have to join.” The girl’s partner was looking between Duke and Danny confused, but returned to their cooking uninterested.

“Oh, yeah. They make us all join.” Danny nodded.

“I heard from some of the older kids, that no one actually gets picked for that. It’s just like a weird formality thing.” The girl spoke animatedly, “What department are you in?”

“Applied physics and engineering design.” The oven beeps that it was ready but no one moved.

The girl seemed to deflate that answer, “Oh, I’m doing culinary science.” And with that solid conclusionary statement, she turned around and got back to her work station.

Danny blinked, processing what just happened and slowly turning to look at Duke for proof that just happened. But the second the both of them met each other’s eyes, they burst into a fit of silent laughter.

Bent vunuralably over the table, trying to catch their breath, they were accosted by Chef Hermon. “The two of you are having a comedy club, not a cooking club.” Chef crossed his arms at the edge of the table. Duke was pretty sure he was trying to sold them, but the fake accent was making it hard to tell.

Danny cleared his throat and striated up, “Sorry, Sir.” He apologized quickly.

“Chef.” Hermon peered at them, his hat looking comically large and lopsided on his head now that Duke was getting a closer look.

“Sorry, Chef.” Duke amended, trying to keep his cool.

“Yes, finish cooking your cookies.” He nodded satisfied, leaving their station.

“Okay so,” Duke tried to recount what the last thing they did was, but one look at Danny trying desperately to hold in his laugh had ruined all of Duke’s efforts as well. Barely managing to get their cookies in the oven, over Chef’s fake german accent and floppy oversized chef’s hat.

“So scholarship for applied physics and engineering design, huh.” Duke recounted from earlier, impressed.

“Yeah…” Danny trailed off embarrassed, “It sounds kinda snotty.”

“Dude. That’s literally one of the hardest departments to get into, and the scholarship is no sneeze either. There’s no doubt you worked your butt off to get that.” Duke assured Danny as they sat in their stools waiting for the cookies to finish.

“Thanks,” Danny smiled sheepishly. They sat in a much more comfortable silence now before Danny spoke again, “What grade are you in by the way?”

“I’m in 10th. General studies for now, but I was thinking of doing medicine. You?”

“I could totally see you as a hot-shot doctor.” Danny nodded approvingly, “11th. Technically, I’m your upperclassman then.”

“Technically?” Duke asked.

“I mean, how old are you?”

“15.” Duke supplied confused.

“Me too. I skipped a grade in elementary school, so we’re actually the same age.” Danny explained, sheepishly.

“Dude, you're actually way smart.” Duke gaped in awe.

“Hey medicine isn’t a day walk either.” Danny nudged his arm playfully, “I’m glad the mentorship thing is just for show, though. Now that we’re upperclassmen, y’know. I would not want my hands full with some random rich kid.”

Duke laughed, “Yeah, that definitely sounds like a lot of work.”

Easily unfolding the conversation into various topics and interests Duke found that he didn’t mind that the cookies were burnt. Or that Danny was definitely weird. But in a good way. Duke was glad they met and would get to hang out and cook with their weird not-German Chef every week. And if Danny and Duke exchanged numbers and planned to hangout outside of club activities, then well who was going to stop them.

#a little fluff to make our day better #duke and danny #the world definitely needs more of them #they start off a little shaky but their bffs at the end #danny heard the chef's weird accent and thought it was bc of time travel shenanigans and decided it was just best not to comment on that #duke will def be rubbing his friendship with danny in the other bat's faces once he gets indoctrinated #jack blew up his house over chicken noodle soup and no one lets him live it down #Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program #dpxdc #dp x dc au #batpham #danny phantom #duke thomas #signal #phantom

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virginsexgod69 · 10 months ago

Text

❝Jealous ❞

pairing Professor! Daryl Dixon x F! Student! Reader with a sprinkle of Professor Rick

summary After getting drunk with your friends, you wake up at Professor Dixon's place where you explore something new. Rick lets you despite the jealousy brewing inside him.

cw smut, voyeurism, unprotected p in v, jealousy but also cuckolding lowkey, teacher - student relations, power imbalance, age gap, creampie, blow jobs, mentions of underage drinking (Reader is 20, legal drinking age is 21), outdoor sex

2.7k words

series masterlist

"Ready yet?" Rosita asked.

"Gimme a sec," you replied. You were sat on the floor of your dorm room, doing your makeup in front of the floor-length mirror.

"I'm ready," Maggie said as she grabbed her purse.

Your two best friends, Maggie and Rosita, wanted to go to a bar to celebrate finishing mid terms. You were apprehensive at first, considering you weren't twenty-one quite yet, but they promised you'd still have a good time.

"Alright, let's go!"

Maggie came back to the table carrying everyone's drinks- a cosmopolitan for Rosita and a scotch and soda for her. The drink she slid in front of you was pink with cherries in it.

"Ooh, what's this?" you asked curiously.

"Shirley Temple," Maggie said, struggling to hold back a laugh. Rosita bursted into a contagious fit of giggles, Maggie joining in, but you stared at them with a flat face.

"What? S'not my fault you're not twenty-one yet," she told you once the two of them calmed down.

"Ha. Ha," you said sarcastically before taking a sip of the non-alcoholic beverage. It was delicious, which made you madder. You drank with them all the time outside of bars, but now of all times Maggie wanted to abide by the law?

"Thank god mid terms are over. We can finally rest," Maggie said, leaning back into her seat.

"Is it just me, or was Professor Grimes' midterm unnecessarily hard?" Rosita asked.

"I thought it was fine."

"Speak of the devil," Maggie said and you all turned to look where she was looking. Over at the counter stood Professor Grimes and Professor Dixon, looking delicious in casual clothing. You shrunk in your seat, willing Rick to not see you. You weren't doing anything wrong, but you didn't want him seeing you at a bar to shatter the good girl image you worked so hard to maintain. Thankfully, when the men got their beers, they sat elsewhere without noticing you. You let out a breath of relief you didn't even know you were holding.

"I'ma get me a real drink," you tell your friends as you stand up from the table.

"Told you she'd want a big girl drink," Rosita joked. Maggie laughed but you just rolled your eyes. You sauntered over to the bar and ordered yourself a long island iced tea. Miraculously, your fake ID fooled the bartender, that or she just didn't care. You made sure to keep an eye on Rick’s table, making sure neither of the men saw you.

“See, the fake ID did work!” You boasted upon returning to the table with your drink.

“I’m surprised Eugene even made that for you,” Rosita commented.

“I may have twisted the truth on why I needed it.” The three of you burst into a fit of laughter before going back to chatting about anything and everything.

“I’m gonna order us a round of shots,” Rosita said after a while.

After multiple rounds of shots- you lost count- the three of you were rather tipsy. Maggie and Rosita had to hold you up as you were too tipsy to walk straight. Neither of you were in a state to drive, so you had called a ride.

“Look, it’s Professor Grimes!” You said a little too loudly, obviously pointing at him. Your friends shushed you, covering your mouth with a hand, not wanting the attention of their professor. But it was too late, him and Professor Dixon were on their way over.

“Everything alright, ladies?” He asked. He looked so good in that black t-shirt and jeans and so did Professor Dixon. The cotton fabric could barely restrain his strong arms as they were crossed over his chest.

“Rick!” You squealed, wiggling yourself free from your friends’ arms and stumbling into his. He caught you and held a strong arm around your waist so you wouldn’t fall. The two women stared at the interaction strangely, but didn’t say anything.

“C’mon, we gotta get back to the dorms,” Maggie said, holding her hand out toward you.

“Nooo, wanna go with Rick,” you slurred, burying your face in his chest. Rick sighed.

“I got her, I’ll make sure she gets to her dorm safe,” he promised. The women gave some pushback, but between Rick’s insistence and your whining, they finally agreed to let you go with him. When they finally got picked up by the ride you called, Rick picked you up bridal style and carried you to his car with Daryl in tow.

"You fuckin' yer student?" Daryl asked before taking a drag of his cigarette. He and Rick were sat on his porch, having some beer and smoking together. You were inside, asleep on the couch in one of Daryl's t-shirts. You had fallen asleep in the car ride back to the dorms and neither man thought it’d look right to carry your sleeping form back to your room, so instead they took. You back to Daryl’s place. They couldn’t bring you back to Rick’s considering his wife and kid were there.

"Yeah. S'more than that, though. She's more than just a good fuck," he explained.

"Have her in one of my classes. She's such a tease." Although Rick laughed, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He didn't like the idea of you going around flirting with his colleagues like you do him.

"Yeah? How so?"

"Always wearin' those goddamn low cut tops and leanin' on my desk, or wearin' them tiny skirts with no panties on," he explained. Those little things you did were how you got Rick's attention in the first place. He wondered if he was the only one, or if you did this with all of your professors. The thought left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Never gave into it?" Rick asked, shocked. This time Daryl laughed.

"Ain' riskin' my job over no damn pussy!"

“Hey!” You chimed in, offended. The men’s head snapped toward you, just now realizing you were awake.

“You’re finally awake,” Rick commented. He, surprisingly, didn’t seem too happy to see you. Daryl’s face remained expressionless as he watched the two of you.

“Where am I? What’s going on?” You asked, now way more sober than before.

“You fell asleep in the car, so we took you to Daryl’s house. Got you changed into one of his spare shirts and let you sleep on his couch,” Rick explained cooly. You looked at Daryl and he just glanced up at you with a cigarette in his mouth. You were shocked he’d do something so nice for you, considering he didn’t even look your way, despite your advances.

“Ain't you gonna thank him?”

“Th-thank you, Dar- Professor Dixon,” you said, flustered. “Welcome,” he replied with a nod of his head.

“Take a seat,” Rick ordered, patting his lap. You hesitantly sat on his lap, not really wanting to under the curious gaze of Daryl. With one hand, he roughly grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him.

“You wanna tell me what you were doin’ at that bar, drunk?”

“Uhh…drinking?” His grip tightened, squeezing your cheeks causing your lips to puff out.

“Underage drinking?”

“M-my birthday’s in a few months, Rick, it’s no big-“

“If I were still a cop, I’d’ve thrown your ass in jail.” His tone was dark, almost scary even. Your eyes watered, tears threatening to spill over. You’ve never seen him like this before.

“Rick, why’re you bein’ so m-mean?” You whimpered. Rick understood the hypocrisy of his actions. Punishing you for having eyes for his colleague when he was a married man, using you as an escape from his commitment. It was wrong, but he couldn’t help the anger, the jealousy, he felt knowing he wasn’t the only one.

“Why don’ you ask Professor Dixon?” He turned your head to face him. Shame washed over you. You didn’t want him seeing you like this, a tearful pathetic mess sitting on the lap of your superior after clinging to him like a drunk mess earlier.

“Wha’s goin’ on? I’m c-confused?” You asked, finally letting your tears fall.

Daryl noticed the change in his best friend’s demeanor as soon as he told him about your behavior in his class. Now knowing that you were Rick’s, he’d never betray him like that. No matter how tempted he was by your innocent doe eyes always paying attention to him when he taught, or the way you teased him with the little outfits you wore, or how you’d frequent his office hours, pretending to need help just so you could have one on one time with him.

“Jus’ told him ‘bout your…interestin’ behavior in my class,” he innocently explained before finishing off his beer. He know how much trouble that’d get you in, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interesting in how it’d play out.

You turned to face Rick, ready to deny Daryl’s claims and defend yourself, but the stern look he gave you caused the words to die on your tongue. He lifted you off his lap and pushed you toward the other man, causing you to stumble and clumsily fall in into his lap. He caught you, but kept you at a distance, afraid to touch you, because if he did, he doubted he’d be able to stop.

“If you wan’ him so bad, go on ahead and have him. That’s okay with you, right Daryl?” Rick grabbed another beer from the cooler and uncapped it with his teeth. You looked between the two of them, not even knowing what to think. Daryl, too, was looking at Rick apprehensively.

“Rick, wha’s goin’ on?” Daryl asked.

“Well she clearly wants you and I saw that way you’ve been lookin’ at her all night. So go on and have at each other,” he explained nonchalantly. You and Daryl exchanged a confused glance. Of course you wanted this to happen, obviously not in this way. Daryl did too. Having you in his lap in one of his shirts made his pants fit uncomfortably. You wanted to make a move, you really did, but what should've been a beautiful moment was awkward. Neither you nor Daryl knew if this was a test of some sorts to test either person's loyalty to Rick, or if he was really allowing this.

"It's okay, sweetheart, show Professor Dixon how grateful you are for him helpin' you out." He seemed less angry and held sincerity in his eyes. You relaxed a little, having Rick give you commands was comforting. You slid off Daryl's lap and kneeled in between his legs, looking up at him through your lashes. You undid he belt and unzipped his pants, pulling them down a little after he lifted his hips to let you do so. You glanced over at Rick as you pulled Daryl's hard cock from his boxers. Rick just watched with a blank face and beer bottle in hand. Daryl's warm hand cupped you cheek, earning your full attention.

"Don' look at Rick, look at me," he commanded softly. Butterflies erupted in your tummy seeing this side of the usually reserved professor.

"Yes, sir." You licked him from base to tip along the vein on the underside of his cock a few times before taking him all the way into your mouth. He wasn't as girthy as Rick, but he exceeded him in length, making it hard to take all of him in your throat, but that didn't stop you from trying. You gagged when his tip hit the back of your throat, making your eyes water.

"S'alright, girl, keep goin'," he coaxed. Warmth erupted throughout your body and you became hellbent on pleasuring the gorgeous man before you. You bobbed your head up and down on his dick, earning soft grunts from him here and there, but that wasn't enough, you wanted to have him panting and moaning. You held onto his strong thighs as you took him all the way, this time not gagging. Breathing through your nose, you increased your pace, earning some moans. His hand found the back of your head and held it down as he thrusted up into you, fucking your throat, your nose buried in his brown curls. His moans were music to your ears and made your pussy clench on nothing. You ground your clit against your heel, getting yourself off a bit as Daryl brought himself closer to his climax with your throat.

"Cum down her throat, she likes that," Rick chimed in. Daryl's pace increased until he finally flooded your mouth with his release. You swallowed every drop after he pulled out. With his thumb, he put the cum that spilled out of your mouth back in. You gladly accepted, sucking his thumb for good measure.

"Good girl," he praised. Your cheeks warmed at his praise. You wanted to hear more. You wanted to hear him praise you as he was buried deep in your cunt, pounding into you ready to fill you with his seed.

"Need you," you begged, staring up at him with pleading eyes. He glanced at his friend as if to ask for permission, but all he did was shrug dismissively, like he didn't even care. He didn't want to push the other man's boundaries, but he felt he owed it to himself for all the times he's pushed you away for fear of losing his job. And he felt himself getting hard again. He stood and pulled you up with him before turning you around.

"Bend over," he ordered and you did, holding onto the porch's railing. He lifted his t-shirt you wore, revealing the little red thong you had on. He was beating himself up internally for turning you down for so long. He was tempted to just shove his face between your thighs and lick the arousal coating them and taste every bit of you. He yanked the thong down, letting it fall to your ankles. He stroked himself a few timed before lining his cock up with your sopping pussy. You were so wet, he slid inside with ease. His mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back. You squeezed him perfectly, your warm, plush walls welcoming him home. His hands gripped your hips almost to the point of leaving a bruise, but it all felt too good. He pulled all the way out before slamming back in earning wanton moan from you. He continued thrusting into you, his composure slipping with each thrust. His hands slid up the shirt feeling your body until he got to your breasts. He groped them as he fucked you.

"You're fucking me so good, Daryl," you moaned as your felt the coil in your tummy tightening, a signal of your impending orgasm. Your legs shook as you gripped the railing even tighter.

" 'M close," he grunted, his thrusts losing rhythm as he came close to his second orgasm. Your entire body was on fire, Daryl's hands on you felt new and exciting, every touch of his made your spine tingle. Every ending of your nerves was on fire as you came around his cock, squeezing him for everything he had left.

"This pussy was made fer ma cock," he grunted. He came undone, painting your walls white with his seed. He continued to fuck you through both his and your orgasm. He pulled his now soft cock out of you, watching his cum slowly leak out of your swollen pussy and drip down your thighs. Daryl put himself back together before sitting back down and helping himself to another beer. After catching your breath, you turned to look at Rick, but be was already looking at you. You expected him to be upset that you were physically unable to resist fucking his colleague, his best friend, but instead his pupils were dilated and there was a prominent bulge in his pants. Watching his best friend fuck you definitely did something to him.

"You get that outta your system?" he asked. He was still a little snappy, but you were grateful he wasn't as angry as before.

"Yes, sir," you replied meekly.

"Good. That should hold you over while I'm punishin' you."

i have not once set foot in a bar, hopefully that wasnt obvious in my writing lmao. perhaps you noticed this wasn't proofread :p

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