#and extra time on all exams for ten years

[roseband]

im FINALLY (literally ten years too late) helping my fiance collect the documents for his brother to get his 1.5 time on tests, after their mom denied his disability services for over a fucking decade cause she realized the 700 sat scores are kinda her fault...........after a decade of not listening to any of his teachers

god I fucking detest the twat they came out of.

[nymphomatique]

gold star student

professor!logan howlett x fem!reader

⋆·˚ ༘ * one bad grade is one too many, so you ask one professor logan howlett, phd. for some extra credit after class. inspired by this art.

cw: reader lowkey has undiagnosed adhd, u want that cookie so effing bad, oral (m & f), praise, some degradation, swearing (it’s logan), shaky power dynamics so it can be considered dub-con, non specific age gap, college aged reader, logan puts stickers on your face while you blow him, face slapping, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up!!), finger sucking, spitting on the pussy, grey streak logan cause if he ain’t greying im not staying!!!, this is just me being horny idk what else to say i’m sorry yall. 18+ only.

wc: 8k

❤︎ a/n: this was…. a labour of love to say the least. i hate the ending but fuck it we ball. enjoy <3

Ever since you were a child, anything and everything that had to do with academia had been the bane of your existence. Sitting at a desk for eight odd hours in a day wasn’t only grossly unappealing to you, but a mental challenge as well. You had found it hard to grasp onto concepts and new materials as well as the other kids, unable to focus on whatever spiel of the day your teacher went on about and still found yourself struggling in higher education. From kindergarten, to elementary, to middle school, to high school, up until now in your college years, you find that not only has your attention deficit gotten worse, but so has your motivation in academia in general. 

A floater student is what you would consider yourself, showing up to class once in a blue moon, rather busying yourself with doom scrolling in your dormitory or shopping off campus at the mall, only showing up during exam time and barely passing. your prognosis would be one of the many hyperactive disorders, but you never bothered to diagnose yourself officially. In high school, your parents didn’t make a huge deal of your grades, thanking a graceful god out there that you even got your diploma to begin with. At this age however, with tens of thousands of dollars being poured into your tuition, your mother and father have seemed to coil up even tighter in terms of frustration with your nonchalant attitude towards school. 

A report card from your fall semester riddled with C’s and D’s, emboldened and italicized as if to taunt you silently, was the final straw, the cussing you received was enough for a lifetime. At your parents' discretion, before the start of the semester you consulted with your academic advisor in suggestion of a course schedule that wasn’t a twelve hour day, and professors who would accommodate you with in the case of your late assignments and missing homework. 

All classes but one would be easy- you had been told. Your world history class and its professor had been the only one where you had been saddled with a hardball teacher, rate my professor describing one Logan Howlett, teacher of Modern World History in the Context of Classic Literature, as a man with a foul mouth and harsh grading asshole— with an excellent curriculum but horrible grade weighting, as described by your fellow student body, the mandatory attendance and participation accounting for twenty percent of your grade alone pulling a groan from you as your laptop screen stares back at you, the blue light emitting from it seemingly silently taunting you with the course course outline. Get used to looking at my screen. Three hours in an auditorium, every Wednesday and Friday for twelve weeks at nine in the morning with this douchebag.

You mentally prepare yourself for the exhaustion of the upcoming semester, shutting your laptop closed with a huff of annoyance before laying in bed, mentally preparing yourself for this seemingly infamous professor Howlett.

After a rather inadequate night of sleep, a zero sugar monster energy (gotta give in for the sake of your health where you can) and a double shot latte, you feel something that briefly resembles yet still distant from awake, you find yourself struggling to get comfortable in the stiff chairs in your lecture room. You’re glad you tucked yourself away in a seat in the corner, four rows back from the front, embarrassed that your peers are silently mocking your struggle. 

It’s some odd minutes to nine on the dot, and you’re rather proud of yourself for being able to make it minutes early rather than stumbling in twenty minutes late like you’re prone to doing. Face resting on your hand, cheek squishing your right eye closed, your left eye flits around the room to the other people present, and you wonder if anyone else is stuck in your current situation: burnt out student who didn’t have a choice but to take this class at the least convenient time possible, simply for your graduation credits. Unfortunate kismet, you think, if anybody else in this room also had the privilege to have been born with the unlucky gene you possess. 

Your eyes are heavy, the seconds tickering away at the speed of minutes, and you can’t help it when the last open eye you have flutters close. You hum to yourself, relishing at the feeling of finally being able to rest some more. the quiet shuffling of your classmates feet and the soft scrapings of their chairs, clock ticking so quietly that it barely registers in your mind. The ambient noise is like a blanket to you. It’s not more than five minutes, just a micro nap— you tell yourself, counting the seconds of each minute down silently. 45, 44, 43, 42, what minute is this?, 30, 29, 28, so tired, 22, 21, time to sleep…

Your eyes shoot open when you hear the auditorium door slam shut, blinking away softly the sleep in your eyes. your heart sinks for a minute and panic sets in— did you sleep through the whole class? On the first fucking day? You look around, eyes wide, and immediately sigh in relief when you’re greeted with a full hall. Conversely, you see everyone’s attention to the front of the class with materials out, so you trail your eyes to the front of the room and that’s when you see him, finally. Not his face yet, the wide expanse of his back and tail of his coiffed head facing you all instead. Your eyes trail down his body to his feet, clad in a pair of black combat boots, you can’t help but quirk up and eyebrow, bootcut jeans that seem to be worn in well, seemingly like they’re tailored to his long, very legs, then you see his jacket, which now you catch in time to see him taking it off to reveal a black t-shirt underneath and your breath hitches a bit. You can only see his triceps flexing as he maneuvers his jacket off, but you can just tell he’s covered in rippling muscle, his arms straining against the fabric of his shirt. You can’t help but wonder what he looks like, wondering if his face is as captivating as the rest of him. Your eyes flit over to the girl sitting two seats down from you, and you can’t help but smile a little at her expression, teeth chewing her bottom lip and eyes widened slightly and blinking in slow flutters, seemingly thinking the same things about this Professor Logan Howlett as you are; He’s obscenely sexy even though I haven’t even seen his face.

When you focus your attention back to the front, your face warms immediately upon finally seeing his– Professor Howlett’s face and fuck, you feel stupid for even thinking that he wouldn’t be even a fraction of attractive. His hair, oh god his hair, styled as if he just rolled out of bed and ran his hands through it once, maybe twice even, streaked with gray at his temples, peppering down into his sideburns and disappearing in his scruffy beard. His eyes are an enrapturing shade of hazel, almost brown, almost green, you squint a little to see the mix of hues better, cursing yourself for sitting so far away. His nose, button-like yet poses so masculine at the same time. His lips look so soft and kissable, framed perfectly by his facial hair as if it’s screaming at you to kiss there, to taste each other, let your tongues touch and whisper your deepest secrets to one another-

Gravelly and deep, his voice rouses you from your rather indulgent fantasy. “Good morning. Lively bunch this semester,” he quips and a quiet wave of laughter reverberates and echoes around you. Your chest tightens at the sound of his voice and you want to smack yourself silly for it. “Gonna spare you all the pointless introductions n’ ice breaking crap, yeah? We’ll go over the syllabus and get this show on the road.”

He’s curt, forward, doesn’t bite his tongue, you deduce. Not the jackass his reviews seem to pin him as, though it’s only the first class. They didn’t seem to mention how ruggedly handsome he was as well, you think and pull your lips taut as Professor Howlett, continues to read off the syllabus. Two essays, three quizzes, and a final reading comprehension exam. Attendance is mandatory Your eyes quickly flit to the back of your skull as he reads off that point. No makeups. No late work. No excuses. 

You feel your heart hammer in your chest a little, a sense of anxiety bubbling up in you at how much this class demands. It’s nerve wracking, super fucking discouraging to say the least given your track record, but you know you have no other choice but to commit fully and pass this class, so help your parents. You suppose you can find the motivation in a hot professor and at the very least, make an effort to roll out of bed and be presentable on the days you show up to his class. You exhale softly, hearing the shuffling of books and closing laptops to rouse you from your thoughts. 

“And don’t forget, first five chapters of tulip fever for next class,” his voice booms in the auditorium, fighting with the noise of students desperate to leave and head to their next class or back to their rooms. You flit your eyes towards your professor, arms crossed and muscles bulging against his shirt, casually leaned against his desk. His eyes meet yours for a moment and your breath hitches immediately. His brow quirks at you silently and you’re sure you might disintegrate on spot. You feel your face heat up and you break away the eye contact to rush out of the lecture, both exhausted and perpetually embarrassed, not having enough energy to handle feeling both. In your haste, you miss the way Logan's lip quirks up for a split second at you, rushing out the door with Tulip Fever and streaks of grey on your mind. 

You find you can’t keep your modern history professor off the brain since leaving the lecture hall that wednesday, ever so flustered. You thought about his thick arms back at your dorm, and how they might feel wrapped around you in a warm embrace. You thought about those graying temples, and the picture it would paint with his head between your thighs. You thought about him in your humanities class as your professor droned on about morality and its many philosophical perspectives, but you tune her voice out and think of his instead, wondering what it would sound like whispering sweet nothings in your ear. The level of yearning you’ve reached is bound to get you in trouble, hell it’s gotten you in trouble already— completely neglecting to finish the first five chapters of Tulip Fever like Professor Howlett had assigned, losing yourself in the work from your other classes. Friday had snuck up on you and you smacked your forehead for being so forgetful, the beginnings of discourage and a knot forming in your stomach. I’m a failure, I suck at this, I should drop out, I’m such a fucking idiot.

The thought of letting down a man you barely know has you berating yourself even further. You need to get a grip and quickly— he’s your teacher for God's sake. You suck in a breath, finding yourself sat in the same lecture hall your vivid fantasies found themselves being born in, laptop open as you’re frantically reading the Sparknotes summary minutes before class is set to start. Today, you chose a seat in the second row, still far off to the right side. You weren’t sure you could stay coherent with his gaze on you so heavy.  You tell yourself you picked this spot for a better learning experience, closer seats meaning less of a chance you fall prey to your fantasies, but deep down beyond the denial you knew better than to convince yourself of a lie like that. You sat upfront because you wanted to see Professor Howlett better, to pinpoint the hues of his eyes you couldn’t make out yesterday from so far behind. You wanted to trail your eyes up and down his muscular frame, taking snapshots of the hair on his forearms, the freckles on his thick knuckles, the veins trailing his big hands—

“Good morning, everyone,” a gruff voice speaks and you feel a ball of energy sits itself deep in your stomach, it’s him. You've missed the deep baritone of his voice, you realize. “Hope you all read up the chapters, yeah? We’ll be discussing ‘em today, and I am the asshole who picks on students to participate.” There’s a soft wave of grumbles from some, but your panic is quiet and you hope to a God in heaven somewhere that he doesn’t pick you, god knows you barely retained any information from your flash round of Sparknotes earlier.

“Like any book, the first few chapters were mostly exposition, character and scene setting stuff. Tell me, what does Sophia’s marriage and lack of heir signify to us in these times?” Professor Howlett asks, and you immediately avert your gaze to the grooves and scratches in the table in front of you. Please don’t pick me, please don’t pick me, please please please— “Yeah, you,” your head snaps up, heart hammering in your chest when you see him nod his head at some girl, some girl with too much fucking chest out, you spit, her hand raised high and smile plastered across her smug little face. Your brows pull together and you barely contain the urge to roll your eyes at her enthusiasm. 

“Thank you, Professor,” This fucking bi- “I think that- that while Cornelius and Sophia are often representative of the way marriage was a lot of the times something more transactional, her being unable to have a kid being a main problem- shows how a lot of times a marriage with no evidence of, um, consummation, is seen as practically null and void.” Your fist tenses against the desk at her answer.

“Little long winded, but yeah, good job..?” his voice lilts off, and you smile a bit knowing he doesn’t even remember her name. “Oh, um, Amber,” she sputters out. He nods at her response and continues asking questions about the book. You feel a little bad as class progresses, your unprovoked and unwarranted jealousy towards another woman over a man who’s simply an authority figure to you both, no matter how attractive, makes you cringe. What is he doing to you? 

“Good answers, guys. Glad you all did more than skim the book,” Professor Howlett muses, turning his back to face you all as he digs through his briefcase. You take this time to admire how broad his back looks, draped in a black polo shirt today that practically has you drooling. “The rest of you I didn’t pick on today aren’t unscathed unfortunately,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. He turns around and presents the stack of papers between his large hands to you all and he smirks, “Pop quiz.” 

A myriad of groans come crashing from all over the lecture hall right down to your ears and you silently join, hands falling down against your desk. You sincerely hope these weren’t going to be graded, praying that Professor Howlett possesses some sense of apologeticness, knowing that the definite zero percent you’d get on this would completely fuck over your overall average for the rest of the semester, subsequently giving your parents ample reason to rip you a fucking brand new one. 

Row by row, he passes a stack of papers for each student to pass down and he stops in front of you, seeing as you so conveniently sat at the end of the second row. “Nervous?” he asks, brow quirked and smug fucking look on his face as you look up at him. You quirk your eyebrow right back at him, “Hardly.” A group of papers fall in front of you and he breathes out a laugh, leaving you to pass papers to the next row. You lied like shit, you were insanely nervous, knowing you hadn’t retained a lick of information from your mini crash course nor the class’ discussion prior.

“No tech, no cheating. You guys know the drill, don’t make me catch you and have to chew you out. Twenty minutes and I’m picking ‘em up.” Logan says, walking down the aisle and back to his desk, his hulking frame leaning against his desk and his arms crossed up against his chest so tight that his biceps practically bulge out of his shirt. Or maybe, he’s just that toned, that any movement, minuscule or major, would have him threatening to rip out of his clothes. You’re practically fighting yourself in your seat, tearing your eyes away from his thick arms and heavy pectorals and down to your paper. 

It’s one page, front and back, ten questions. It wouldn’t be so bad had you actually read the book, considering you can’t even remember the name of the main character in the book. You bite your lip, trying so hard to rack your brain for something that resembles a coherent answer to these questions that will give you at least a 75%, knowing it wouldn’t skew your grade average completely off. What does Maria’s role stand to symbolize in the context of 1600’s Amsterdam?. You clench your  fist so hard around your pen you’re almost amazed that it doesn’t break under the pressure. You didn’t even remember a Maria in the book.

Twenty minutes of writing later, grasping at straws for potential points that would make you feel better than getting a big fat zero on your first quiz in this class, in his class, you’re walking to his desk to place your quiz in a pile with the rest of your peers, just as he’d instructed. You kept your eyes down the entire time, feeling too embarrassed to look at him after that silly excuse for banter you had attempted earlier. Hardly. Yeah fucking right. 

After your quiz, you had been dismissed from class, and you felt the anxiety set in almost immediately. The phone call you had with your parents that weekend over your classes and grades so far only worsened, the stern and subtly implied threat of coming back home to learn at a local college looming silently above you if you didn’t keep your grades up. You had obviously avoided mentioning the pop quiz you had, choosing not to set them ablaze at the mention of the fact that you most definitely failed that pop quiz. The stress of your grades instilled a new found productivity in you, in which you took initiative to read ahead of the assigned chapters and annotate as well as take notes for your modern history class, hoping to be prepared next time he’d ask a question. Your stomach churns at the thought of his praise, Good answer. Very good, kiddo. Like that idea. you imagined he’d say to you. You bite your lip as you study your western civilization notes, maybe he’d even indulge in you, call you his good girl, his good little student, something that Amber would never have above you. 

Monday and Tuesday went by uneventfully, as you completed your labs and started on your assignments when assigned. Tuesday night however, you had been anxious almost, or maybe excited— you weren’t sure, but you did know you wanted to be prepared for this class, to prove to Professor Howlett that you could handle his class, show him that you wouldn’t let him chew you up and spit him out so easily. You took the time before bed on that Tuesday to prepare your books in your bag, organize your notes, and even pick out an outfit, neatly folding it and leaving it on your desk chair. Grades be damned, you were beyond ready to prove everyone wrong, yourself included. 

You sat in the front row again, enraptured in the world of Tulip Fever, but really you would rather focus on Professor Howlett. He was all you thought about these days, especially at night when it was only you and the dark of your dorm to entertain you before bed. You hear a giggle next to you and you snap your head to the direction of the noise. Amber. A deep rumble sounds in front of you, someone clearing their throat. You look forward again and see your professor and your face heats up. “Welcome back to earth, sweetheart,” he muses, humour painted all over his face. Your eyes widen at the pet name he’s given you and you feel like sinking into your seat. “I need you here next time, yeah? Not in that pretty little head of yours,” he says, quiet enough so only you and the front two rows can hear. Your head spins. Pretty. He called you pretty. He continues his lecture like nothing else happened, leaving you dazed at his affection. His eyes flit to you briefly and he smiles, before walking back to the front of the class. 

Little moments like these pepper themselves throughout your lectures with Profess Howlett in between the assignments and lectures and raised hands. You’d catch him looking at the juncture of your breasts sometimes as you wore low cut tops, his lilting voice calling you precious pet names, sweetheart, kiddo, sweets. They all have your face warming. Heated gazes, stolen smiles, one off banter, you were convinced you were being delusional. One particular moment after class where you had asked for details on an assignment had you reeling for days. You went up to him after class to ask your question. His face was insanely close, you could smell the mint off his breath from the gum he was chewing during the lecture, feel his words fan your face, deep rumblings and focused glares as you were only inches away from his face. His lips, oh God his lips… so close, so soft looking, so pink, you had been so caught up in him the entire time. And he had noticed, his fingers coming up to your chip to raise your gaze. He did it wordlessly, eyeing you as you eyed him. His look daring you to say something. Challenge me. I dare you. But you didn’t— you couldn’t, you had tried to focus on something else, his musky woodsy scent, his greying stubble, anything, as he continued to explain your question to you. You walked out of his class that day with jello for legs, replaying the moment in your mind. 

Next class you had seen him he had given the assignments back, adorned with little gold stars on those who had grades higher than a B minus. Your paper had come back to you with an A minu, a little gold star next to your grade. “Boosts morale,” had been Logan’s explanation when a student had asked why the gold star. You smiled. Cute. 

You had felt like you finally found your groove, despite the hiccup you had at the beginning. Your first test of the semester approached, and you weren’t nervous, in fact you showed up to class early, getting a chance to get a good spot and watch Professor Howlett walk in and begin setting up. You had waved, a meek good morning in your own words and he returned a wink back. Your insides tugged at themselves. He had waltzed over to you in your seat, starting up conversation. “Nervous?” he asks, curt and short. You smile, “Hardly,” using your own words once more. “I’m gunning on a gold star. I studied extra hard.” Professor Howlett hums, smile on his face. “I look forward to seeing your work. I enjoy reading it,” he says. He leaves you with those words as he walks back to his desk, more students beginning to pepper in the classroom as the test hour approached. You had been so sure you did excellent on your test, studying for days and days beforehand. So when you got back your test, a C Minus staring back at you with a gut wrenching empty space next to your grade right where a star would be. Tears prick your eyes as you look at the grade, feeling so disappointed in yourself. This couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

You had promptly stayed behind after class to speak to him, and it seemed like Amber had the same idea, her body close to his as she spoke lowly. She didn’t spare a glance back at you as she spoke to him, hand grazing his bicep as she walked away and past you. Your eyes rolled in your head and you walked up to Professor Howlett next. He’s in the middle of packing up his papers in his bag when you come up to him, and he glances up in acknowledgment before going back to what he’s doing. You breathe out and his brown quirks as he pauses and looks at you. “Yes?” he asks. “I… I would like to see you after class if possible to discuss my grades,” you say, fist curling and uncurling with nerves. ”Tomorrow afternoon come see me at my office,” he says, arms crossing. “Don’t be late. Don’t get your hopes up either,” he quirks. You chew your lip before sighing. “I’ll be there. On time.” 

And true to your word, you showed up promptly and on time. Your heart was hammering in your chest cavity so hard you felt like it would burst through your ribcage. Your lower lip found itself between your teeth, chewing at it tenderly. You had been staring at the mahogany colored door, finished with a shiny golden plaque, L. Howlett, PHD. carved within the surface of the precious metal. His name posed just as intimidating as he did. You’d been standing in front of his door for almost three minutes now, fingers skimming along the hem of your plaid skirt. The accompanying white tanktop and white cardigan hand made your subconscious intentions loud and clear, as some part of you, a delusional part of you, had hoped this school girl-esque get up would grant you some sort of leniency with Professor Howlett as you begged for him to give you a retake, a makeup assignment, something for God’s sake.

Any moment more of hesitancy and you would be late for your two o’clock appointment time, so you bring your knuckles up to the door to knock, twice in succession, when the door swings open in front of you. Your knuckle is almost met with Amber’s face, her shock seeing you just as evident as hers. She doesn’t let it linger however, as she casts a glance over her shoulder and muses a “Bye Professor. Thank you so much, I’ll see you in class Monday,” before looking back forward and right back at you, holding your gaze as she walks right out the door and past you, making sure her shoulder doesn’t miss yours. You scoff. Bitch. 

“Right on time. Come in,” he gestures, refusing to get up from his comfy looking office chair. As you walk around his office you take in the interior briefly. The mahogany furniture, the lingering smell of cigar smoke, evidence of his nasty habit sitting on top of an ashtray on his desk, the glass bar cart, adorned with various bottles of whiskey and gin, and a mini fridge sitting on its bottom shelf— filled with ice and garnish you assume. You eye his book cabinet, shelves stuffed with various literary titles, old and new, classic and contemporary. You find yourself impressed, but you shouldn’t be, his teaching— albeit rough, brutish sometimes even— is a testament to his passion towards books and literature. You smile a little as you sit down in the foam lined chair in front of his desk. You try not to think of who sat in it before you as you feel the residual warmth of it against your thighs. You take in Professor Logan, black t-shirt and dark blue jeans— casual, but damn if he made it look good. You eyed his arms, veiny and bulging out his shirt, before flickering your attention back to his face, framed by those greying temples you oh so loved.

“So?” He trails, redirecting his attention from his desktop to you. You swallow a little and sigh. “Um, I know that you said no… no retakes or anything, and I understand your answer if it’s a hard no,” you say, pausing to look at him to try and assess what he’s thinking, but you’re simply met with a raised brow and crossed arms as he leans back further in his chair. “But I… I was wondering if- Well, my parents, they said that If I have a grade lower than an A on my report card this semester I had to drop out and transfer locally, and I don’t want to make this a pity story but I… It’s only this class where I’m having trouble. And I know what you said but my last test really fucked my average and I-” your nervous ramblings are cut off by him raising his hand. Your lips clamp and you watch him, waiting for his impending words. He makes you sit in the silence and with your words, instead opening his desk drawer, rifling between what sounds like various loose pens and papers before taking a lighter out. Small, sliver, zippo style and engraved with meticulous swirls. He picks up the already cut cigar out the ashtray, placing it between his pink lips, and lights it— two experimental puffs of smoke floating your way and you get dizzy. 

“You don’t mind?” He asks only now, and you try not to roll your eyes and that façade of chivalry. “No,” you shake your head. “Thought so,” he smiles, smug. He puffs from the cigar once more before he places it down on the glass ashtray once again before he speaks up. “As it stands now if you tighten up for the rest of the semester you can pass my class with a B something, which don’t sound too bad to me, sweetheart.” Your gut twists with tension. A B isn’t what you need. You brows furrow and you open your mouth to speak, but he continues. “I would love to help you sweetheart, trust me I would. But that wouldn’t be fair to all the other students who come waltzing in here dressed just like you, begging for an A,” he drawls, picking up his cigar again and slotting it between his lips before he stands up and your breath hitches. “Wh- dressed like me? I didn’t-” you begin, confused at what he’s implying. Your eyes follow his moving figure, his steps taking him around his desk to the side of your chair, conveniently eye level to his groin. 

“But you did, didn’t you?” he asks softly, thumb coming to your chin to direct your gaze up to his eyes. “I don’t understand…” you murmur, skin beginning to warm at the rather inappropriate contact and position. Your chest heaves up and down beneath your cardigan and he surely notices letting out a soft chuckle. “You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can put two and two together,” he continues, thumb rubbing softly back and forth against your chin before he drops his hand from you completely. Your eyes drop in sync to his limb, your mind racing a million thoughts a second. But… isn’t this what you wanted? What you needed? What you’ve dreamed of for weeks upon weeks? “Look at me,” he says, stern. And you do. “You listen so well,” he hums and you feel the makings of a fire ignite itself inside you somewhere deep. I’m being good. Good for him. “Kills you inside that you couldn’t get that shiny little sticker, doesn’t it?” he muses, looking down at you with mirth swirling in his eyes. You feel tears spring to your eyes at his words. He sees right through you. It did hurt. All you ever wanted to be was good for him. 

“We can fix that today. Tell you what, you be a good student for me, and I’ll be a good teacher to you, yeah?” he says, taking a puff from his cigar. “Nod your head like a good student.” And you do. Up and down, slowly. Your brain is fuzzy. This surely isn’t happening, is it? It couldn’t be. He walks away and back to his desk, propping his cigar down after asking it. He pushes a pile of papers from his desk, until he finds what he’s looking for. A sticker sheet. What is he…

“C’mere,” Professor Howlett gestures with a finger, simultaneously sitting back on his chair. Your legs are trembling under you as you get up and walk towards his side of the desk. Logan pivots his desk chair to the side as you walk over to him and you find yourself standing between his legs, quiet. “Take that off,” he says, flicking his head towards your cardigan. You let it drop off your shoulder promptly, standing only in your white tank top and plaid skirt. “Kneel,” he says, and you drop immediately. Pathetic. Your hands lay in your laps as you’re sat between his legs on your knees. Your breathing is as laboured as ever. You can’t believe this is happening— something that you spent nights dreaming of. Touching him, tasting him, feeling him. He reaches over to his desk and grabs the sticker sheet of gold stars, a fresh sheet of stars neatly arranged row by row. “You know what to do, don’t you sweetheart?” he asks, palm of his hand running against your face. You nod, reaching forward to the zipper of his dark denim jeans before his palm grabs your hand. “When I ask you somethin’, I want a verbal answer. Y’understand?” he says. Your voice feels caught in your throat. He’s so intense your head is spinning. “Y-yes,” you breathe. “Yes what?” he spits back and your heart hammers. “Y-yes, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he hums. He lets go of your hands, taking a sticker off the sheet and placing a small gold star right next to your left eye. Your face heats up at the praise and you almost let out a breath, but you don’t. Your hands go back to undressing Professor Howlett, fingers deft with his button and zipper. He lifts his hips up and helps you shrug his jeans down until they’re sitting on top of his black combat boots, clad only in black briefs. The heavy tent in his pants makes your eyes go wide but you persist, thinking of your grade on the line. With a tug at his boxer band his dick pops up over the elastic, and you pull down until the full sheath of him is bobbing freely. Your eyes widen a little at the sheer size of him, wondering how he could possibly fit inside your mouth let alone your pussy. He was long, eight inches you’d guess just by looking and insanely thick. He was heavy too— the length of him unable to stand up fully, bobbing haphazardly as he twitched from arousal. You looked up at him, and his gaze was steady. Expectant. You sucked in a shallow breath before grabbing his cock, warm to the touch. Your fingers barely touched. You’re hand jerked up once before Professor Howlett was grabbing your wrist, only to spit on his dick, the string of saliva landing on the shaft. “S’better. Go on,” he encourages, and you do— jerking him a little faster now with his spit lubricant, the sound of his slick skin making your pussy feel warm, wet. You jerk him faster, spitting in the palm of your second hand before you join your other, breasts bouncing up and down as you jerk him. Little grunts leave Logan, and it makes your tummy feel warm. You were making him feel— “Good, just like that, yeah. Use your mouth now,” he moans. You felt intimidated by his size, but you persisted still. You wanted to be his good girl.

You look up at him as your mouth opens, coy like a fish, and you wrap your lips around his tip. He inhales a sharp breath and it gives you some encouragement. Be good. Your head drops lower, lower and lower until your mouth his full and his tip is tickling your uvula, and you gag around him, sputtering spit all over him. You pull off his dick to cough and he chuckles at you. “Let’s try again together, yeah?” You nod, “Yes, Sir.” You reposition yourself, back on your knees in front of him. “Open your mouth and stick your tongue out, open real wide,” he says, tapping your cheek. It felt soft slap more than a tap however. But still, you open your mouth wide, tongue hanging out. “Juuust like that, yeah…” Logan groans, slapping the warmth of his cock on your tongue. “Breath through the nose,” he says, before putting the length of him in your mouth and pulling your head down on him, fist clenched in your hair. He pulls you down deep, further than you managed to reach alone and you gag, spit everywhere, but he pays you no mind. His curses under his breath before standing up out of his seat, your head craning up as his fist pulls at your nape. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he breathes, thrusting his cock in an out of your mouth. Your throat feels rubbed raw, tears pooling in your eyes but you hold on, hands gripping his thighs. “Take it, fucking take it,” he grunts. His hand disappears before placing a sticker on your spit-covered cheek and you whimper around his cock. Logan’s brows pull together and he laughs. “That turn you on? You like being my good little student? You like sucking off your professor?” he laughs, fucking your face with a deep pace. You muffle a Yes, Sir around him as his spit soaked balls slap against your chin and he laughs. Sticker after sticker covers the expanse of your face, a juxtaposition to your debauched mascara-streaked-spit-covered face.

Your throat is raw, but you’re relishing in the attention, the praise, the intensity of it. “One more mouthful, c’mon,” he grunts, pushing your head down even further down his cock and you squeal around him. Your eyes snap shut, focusing on holding your breath as he brings his dick deep down your throat until your nose is buried in his greying pubes. “So fucking nasty,” he drawls, deep groan leaving his chest. “Take it, be good and take it,” he says breathless, before he’s spitting his cum down your throat, leaving you no choice but to swallow his bitter semen. Your eyes wretch open lowly, watch Logan’s face contort in pleasure as he finishes in your throat and you whimper, squeezing his thighs tightly. “Good student,” he coos, pulling his cock from your mouth and it’s a relief that’s long overdue. Your first unobstructed breath is a deep one, and you’re slightly dizzy from the oxygen after having it restricted for so long. You don’t think about it for long before a hand is pulling you up off the floor, and before you know it, lips are on yours, tongue finding tongue. Your eyes close by themselves and you melt into the kiss, Professor Howlett’s lips soft against yours, but kissing you so roughly. Your arms grip his biceps, desperate for something to hold onto, anything to steady yourself with. 

The kiss breaks and your mind feels hazy. Your eyes open and you see Professor Howlett staring back at you, hands roaming your body. “Pr-professor…” you moan out after a particularly hard squeeze at your ass. “Logan, baby,” he says, kissing your lips once in a peck, and again as a sloppy embrace, his tongue swirling in your mouth and you keen into him. His hands pull at the back of your thighs and you jump up in his arms, wrapping your arms around his thick neck. He walks you a few paces, still stuck in an embrace, until he puts on you down on his desk. He breaks the kiss between you two before pulling the front of your tank top down, revealing your breasts to him, nipples pert. He wastes no time kissing and licking your chest, and you throw your head back in a silent moan. He sucks on your nipples for a minute, pinching and toying with your breast until your chest is heaving and nipples are raw. “What a sight for me,” Logan hums, and you feel shy under him like this. “Lean back and spread your legs f’me,” he says low, kneeling as you do as he asks. He’s eye level with your pussy, only covered by your skirt and white panties. He lifts the plaid fabric up and groans, the little wet spot of your pussy a delectable sight. 

Logan leans forward and licks the wet gusset of your panties and you let out a shuddering moan. “P-please, Logan…” you breath, too wound up to wait. He smirks and indulges in you, pliant and needy. He hooks a finger in the crotch of your panties and pulls them to the side, hurrying his face into your wet and waiting pussy. It’s an enrapturing feeling, having him suck and lick and taste your clit and folds like this, groaning into you and he praises you for having such a sweet fuckin’ pussy, baby. He sucks your clit roughly, before pulling back to spit on your pussy, rubbing his nose against your clit before flattening his tongue against your gushing slit once again. The streaks of grey between your thighs sends blood rushing downwards to the center of your arousal and you can’t help but run your hands through his salt and pepper hair. He licks and tongues you until your legs go numb, teasing your orgasm from you time and time again until you’re nearly in tears for him, ready to cum.

 “Please Lo- Sir. Please, Sir. Wanna cum, I’ll be good. Just-” your begging is cut short as two thick fingers push themselves in you and you throw your head back at the stretch. “You’re gonna come for me in a little, sweetheart. Be good for now,” Logan coos, kissing your inner thighs. You’re heaving as he curls and scissors his fingers inside you in a way that feels so unfairly good that tears begin to streak down your face, gold stickers peeling and falling off your damp skin; scattering down on the desk and falling on your chest. “G-gonna… Oh my God, Sir,” you squeal, just about ready to… Until his fingers deftly leave you. Before you can whine about this, Logan’s thick fingers covered in your slick push into your mouth and you groan. “Hush, baby. You’re about to feel real good in a little,” Logan hums, rubbing his cock, now hard again, up and down your wet and sensitive pussy, the head of him hitching your clit so good it hurts. His fingers leave your mouth. “Beg for it.” And you do. You’re a babbling mess under him. “Inside, p-put it inside me, Professor,” you moan, and Logan's resolve snaps, thrusting into you in one fluid movement.

You see stars, no pun intended, at the stretch of him. Your stomach feels full and you shudder, laying back down against the desk. “Tightest, sweetest fucking pussy I ever felt,” Logan coos, fingers pushing back into your mouth. His unoccupied hand grabs your leg and throws it over his shoulder and he begins to thrust in and out of you, knocking the wind out of you with every push in and out. Your intermittent moans turn into a symphony of cries as his pace increases and he’s fucking into you at a brutal speed. Your hands are grasped around the wrist of his hand that’s by your mouth, sucking his fingers to soothe the burning part of the pleasure. “That’s it, fucking take it,” he grunts, pushing your leg from around his should back until your knee was touching your shoulder. The new angle made the pleasure unbearable, every movement rubbing against your g-spot. Your eyes begin to close, your body shutting down seemingly as you begin to enter a pleasure comatose, the bubbling pleasure, the fingers in your mouth, it all feels like too much. But Logan doesn’t let you stay in that place for too long, his fingers leaving your mouth to slap your cheek, pulling back down. “I need you right here, know it feels good but I want you with me,” he says breathy, thrusts still never faltering. 

Without his fingers in your mouth your moans are free to be heard, your incoherent babbles of “s’too much,” and “so deep in me, sir,” floating in the air between Logan’s heavy breaths and obscene curses. You’re breasts jump with every thrust in you, your head bouncing up and down from the sheer force of his thrusts. “T-Tell me…” you stutter out, eyes fluttering. “Tell you?” he asks, grinding his hips up and deep, and you’re sure he’s grazing your cervix. You grip his t-shirt and keel. He gets what you mean. “Good girl. My good girl. You’re the best girl. You want another star, don’t you?” he breathes out, a hand moving down to your clit as he thrusts up and out, up and out into you. You whimper, his words and ministration’s overwhelming, “Yes, Sir. M’good. So good. W-want it. Please, can I have it?” you babble. You belly feels warm, and the heat bubbles with every brush at your swollen clit and thrust in your pussy. He lets go of the hand at your knee, spreading you open to grab a sticker from the sticker sheet. “Stick your tongue out f’me,” and you do, overwhelmed with this moment. You’re being good. You’re being good. You’re almost there, keep being good. He spits in your mouth and you moan holding it there and waiting for him to tell you what to do. “Swallow it,” he huffs, thrusts faltering. He’s close, you deduce. I don’t want it to end. Please don’t let it end. You swallow and stick your tongue back out to show him and he groans.

He puts the star sticker on your tongue, and he thrusts in you harder, tweaking at your clit as he does. Your body seizes and you melt into a fit of moans and grunts, and you finally cum, Logan fucking you through it. “Yeah baby, just like that. Kneel for me,” he says, pulling out of you. You lay up off the desk and fall promptly to your knees, watching him jerk himself to orgasm above you with your tongue out, gold star on the middle of your tongue. He grunts with deep Fuck! before warm ropes of cum spray your partially sticker-covered face and tongue. Your eyes close and you hum, relishing in the warmth. Logan wipes the cum from your eyes with his thumb and sticks it in your mouth, and you suck, no questions asked. “Good fucking girl.” 

The moments following are awkward. Logan tucks himself back in his pants, and pulls his jeans up and you’re left laying on the floor, coming down from your ecstasy high. The zip of his jeans breaks the silence and you’re looking up at him, soiled with cum, spit, stickers, tears and mascara. He walks to his bar cart and grabs the cloth hanging off the handle bar, and he hands it to you. You clean yourself up, and when you’re done you find his cardigan in his hands. You fix your tank top back over your breasts and pull the crotch of your panties back into place before grabbing it from him. “Thanks,” you say quietly. “See you in class on Tuesday,” is the last thing he says to you before you leave his office. Stunned.

On Tuesday, he hands you back your test with a new grade, an eighty, and gold sticker placed on it right next to the new grade. He glances at you as you look over your test, and smirks. You read the note he left in red ink on the back of the test, heart beating a little faster once you look back up at him. Good girl. 

send me an ask!

[ruggiezz]

— EMBARASSING THINGS THEY DID IN THE PAST : twisted wonderland

[synopsis] embarassing things they did when they were younger that now haunt them whenever they are trying to sleep

[characters] deuce, cater, trey (+chenya), leona, ruggie, jack, malleus

[extra] my last 3 posts are literally so unserious, so here's another one, for the funsies (ily guys)

★﹕DEUCE SPADE

When he was in elementary school, he would chat with his friends while waiting for his mom to come pick him up and take him home. That particular day, his mom was late, and 6-year-old Deuce freaked out. He was convinced that his mom didn't love him anymore, and that's why he wouldn't pick him up—that he was going to be homeless and would have to live on the streets in a cardboard box. He even started crying, which made his friends cry. They started saying goodbye to Deuce because how were they going to see him again if his mom wouldn't bring him to school?

Anyways, his mom came to pick him up 10 minutes later.

★﹕CATER DIAMOND

Back then when he actually tried to make friends whenever he moved schools, he had a huge crush on one of his classmates. One day, he overheard his crush talking about how they "would love to be with someone who loves nature as much as them". Cater wanted to impress his crush so badly that he made a Magicam post with him posing next to random trees and captioned it with "I love nature so much omg😍".

The photo is still out there on the internet because he forgot the password for the account, and the idea of someone from NRC finding the account terrifies him.

★﹕TREY CLOVER (+CHENYA)

Another one that takes place in elementary school. Trey and Chenya were walking around the city after classes when they spotted an electricity pylon. They thought it was the Eiffel Tower (the equivalent of it in Twisted Wonderland), and they got all excited about it, so they came back with Trey's parents so they could take a picture of them next to it.

Their parents bring up the topic from time to time just to laugh at their innocence back then.

★﹕LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

When he was a little kid, he had a nightmare where he was being chased. He was tossing around the bed, mumbling while sleeping. Falena was walking around the halls when he heard noises from Leona's room, and when he saw him clearly having a nightmare, he tried to wake him up. Leona got so startled that he screamed and kicked his older brother in the face.

Sometimes he remembers when he's about to fall asleep, and suddenly his sleepiness is gone from how much he cringed.

★﹕RUGGIE BUCCHI

He needed money, so he decided to work as a party mascot. It went well the first couple of times; it paid well, until he had to work at this particular kids party. The parents told Ruggie to walk down the stairs, greet the kid, wish him a happy birthday, and then just stand there to greet the children whenever they talked to him. Keep in mind that he couldn't see well in the mascot suit. So when Ruggie tried to walk down the stairs, he tripped and fell. The suit's head fell off, and there was just silence for around ten seconds, then the kids started crying. They thought their favorite character had just died right in front of them.

The birthday boy was inconsolable. Needless to say, Ruggie didn't get paid, and his party mascot careed ended that day.

★﹕JACK HOWL

It happened when his parents weren't home. His younger siblings were playing around with paint, and they asked him if they could paint his face. Jack said yes because it was harmless and would wash off, right? Wrong, it was permanent paint.

He had an important exam the next day, so he just showed up to school with his face looking like a kid painting that parents would display on the fridge door. Jack had to go to school like that for three days.

★﹕MALLEUS DRACONIA

Malleus has known Lilia for as long as he can remember; he basically raised him. One day, he had the genius idea to copy his hair. He waited for a moment when he was left unsupervised (in Lilia's defense, Malleus faked being asleep), grabbed some scissors, and cut his own bangs. It was awful; it looked like how you would think a little kid would cut their hair. He was so proud of himself until Lilia saw it. To little Malleus dismay, Lilia laughed his ass off, and whenever his laughter would stop, he would look at Malleus and start laughing again.

He got so upset he burned Lilia's bangs off.

[chenlesfavorite]

GOT MY ION YOU, mark lee

you’ve failed yet another chemistry exam, high chances are you’re gonna have to retake the entire class next year and miss out on almost all school breaks due to studying and fixing your bad grades, and that is until your trusty friend suggests a tutor to you.

══════════════════

— pairing: tutor!mark x fem!reader

— faceclaim: y/n’s faceclaim is minnie from gidle (for picture purposes) but no actual visual descriptions/details of y/n will be given so you can imagine her however you’d like!

— genres: social media au (smau), half written, friends to lovers, fluff

— extra: y/n likes taeyong, mark likes y/n, mark is down bad for y/n

— warnings: lots of death jokes.. that’s about it

— playlist: If I Could Tell Her - Dear Evan Hansen musical | we can’t be friends (wait for your love) - Ariana Grande | So let’s go see the stars - BOYNEXTDOOR | I Don’t Want to Be Friends - Jake Scott | Lie With You - TEN | Night Changes - One Direction | Still Into You - Paramore | My Number One - Helena Paparizou | 200 - MARK

— authors note: my first fic on tumblr.. and also idk how to use tumblr, excuse me for any mistakes i may make on here 😭 ignore the times/dates on the tweets.. can’t be bothered to fix them sorry ☹️

— status: completed

— taglist: closed

divider credit to enchanthings !!

profiles 1 | profiles 2

1. uh oh

2. number

3. private

4. first tutoring session! (half smau/half written)

5. hang out plan

6. seriously? (half smau/half written)

7. inside the haunted house (fully written)

8. just a friend!

9. awkward…

10. personal hangout

11. fun times

12. truth revealed

13. team who?

14. facetime

15. a shared trip

16. cute… sometimes!

17. who is it about?

18. ice cream (half smau/half written)

19. heart hand emoji

20. new crush alert

21. results and gifts

22. plane ride

23. matching!

24. he’s admiring your beauty

25. lipgloss or lipstick? (fully written)

26. mark’s what? girl?!

27. shenanigans before meeting up

28. happy new year’s! (fully written)

29. official launch

30. the end (fully written)

— END —

══════════════════

[sunboki]

⎯ COUNTDOWN TO LOVE. (TEASER) a Chris Bahng fiction

🎁 : Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. countdown to christmas, best friends to lovers! au, pining, worry of unrequited feelings, angst, fluff, cuteness overload

WORD COUNT. estimated to be around 5k-10k words!

WARNINGS. might be swearing(??), mentions of a dick(?)

AUG'S NOTES. hello this years christmas piece~ i love having annual pieces like this one, but i’m getting such whiplash after writing so angsty for hyune last december 😭　hopefully i can deliver this fic well for everyone!!

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. It had always been natural between you and Chris. Knowing someone for almost ten years comes with that. And yet, when he confesses that he doesn’t want to keep up this cycle but pursue you one winter, you’re hesitant in thinking it will work out. Then again, you’ve never been one to deny him.

or alternatively :

Five days till Christmas, five dates to see if you feel the same.

December 20th.

“Move your arm.”

Sunday morning sunlight streams through barely cracked blinds, making your brows crinkle at the onslaught of brightness in distaste. That, along with occupying a mattress with none other than Chris Bahng.

A weekly occurrence at this rate, if not daily. And no, whatever earlier assumption about you two sharing a bed is wrong.

Totally.

Oh, he’s also pitiful to boot, evident with the loud whine heard in response as he rolls over—messy curls unruly upon just awakening. 

And.. somehow beautiful, with those big brown eyes and lips the color of burnt russet parting with a highly exaggerated yawn.

But pitiful most of all. 

“‘S warm—“ Chris groans out, inch-worming his way to wrap big arms around your form, beckoning you snuggled against his back with a content sigh.

“Too warm,” You scowl, squirming about in his grasp, disagreeable sorts of sounds leaving tight lips. Chris simply giggles.

“Say,” He begins, weighing his chin upon your shoulder, fingertips slipping beneath your shirt to feel your skin, tracing the lines of your abdomen, rising to rest on your belly. 

A surprising lover of skin-to-skin, he is.

“What if we became something more?”

When you know someone long enough, an established sense of normalcy alternative to everybody else appears, whether that’s the plentiful times you’d heard Chris squeal like a girl after walking in on him in his boxers, or the not-so pretty nights out where he’d hold back your hair while you threw up in the bathroom a bar whose name you can’t recall.

But then again, it’s always been just that.

Nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t demand anything from you, didn't judge you. Listening with an attentive ear those days you would cry on the phone, and bring you a donut before morning classes after passing an exam.

The small things.

So it makes you wonder when you started seeing him differently. And if he felt that same way too.

A slow progression of love, like a river in its path of eroding canyons over thousands of years. Familiar, comforting. Done without a second thought like muscle memory. His fingers curling against yours in busied atmospheres, the look you both give each other when a certain song comes on.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

With your face peering over his monitor, wide eyes he adores peek at him from an upside down angle. 

Cute, he thinks, tapping your nose with a chilled index.

Chris always keeps it cold in his apartment, partially because he remembers you’d told him you sleep better that way, partially because he loves to hear you complain about it in the morning.

As for the big question popped earlier today, he chooses to wait patiently per your request (after staring at him like he’d grown an extra pair of eyes then proceeding to smack his arm before realizing he was serious).

So, yes, you’re thinking.

And it scares Chris more than he’d like to admit. 

He knows the risks, the “let’s try this” somehow turning into an ugly breakup and never speaking again.

And he can’t afford that when it comes to you, because you’ve become the most important person in his life without even noticing it.

Even if his love is one sided. Unrequited. 

He’d be okay as long as he has you.

Just the thought makes him anxious, makes the clicking of his mouse arranging the tempo to become erratic in pace, head-dizzying.

“Chris?”

Until your voice finds him, and the torrential waves of his ocean go back to their slow lapsing. Calming the waters as always, trademark to you.

“New track,” He offers, eyes flickering up to you with a meek smile emphasizing the charming dimples there.

Majoring in music comes with both perks and downfalls: hours spent studying and cramming terms down his throat whilst managing personal projects, and, of course, the fleeting satisfaction after passing an exam by a stroke of luck.

But he loves every moment of it, especially having you listen to some of his favorite productions. Some he’ll strum on a guitar amidst his arranged apartment shared with Changbin and Han—roommates you’d grown quite acquainted with—in the late evening, his heart likely beating out of his chest watching your sweet face nod along.

At the moment it’s him here alone, Han having already relocated back home for the holidays, Changbin at his part time job, working lighting and electrical work at a live-house.

“Can I listen?” 

Slow to nod, he beckons you closer with a wave of his hand, carefully placing headphones overtop your ears.

And yet, as your head bobs and face wrinkles up just like he does when hearing something catchy, he can’t help the grin on his face watching you.

You’re beautiful, and he’s too fond it might just be unhealthy.

It’s too easy to fall in love with you.

He has a feeling he’ll be thinking that a lot.

December 21st.

Enough. 

If there was an early New Year’s resolution, gaining a lack of hesitation would have to be on the top of the list.

Of course, that would ensue plenty of compromising situations if you did things impulsively considering the amount of times you’d wanted to kiss him, but, for the most part, it would work in a sensible manner.

“Five dates.” 

Last night you slept over (similar to most nights), clad in one of Chris’s old t-shirts and a pair of suspiciously clean basketball shorts for the gym-addicted man in question, Changbin, to offer you.

By the stove, Chris occupies himself with cooking eggs, lips puffed in a way downright dangerous to your “no hesitation” resolution and lack of t-shirt displaying a broad, muscled back adding to the list. 

Your tongue pokes against your cheek, arms crossed over your chest.

”Five dates.. mhm.. gotcha…” Each nod from the man assures you that, no, he doesn’t “gotcha”; his attention long since drawn to what lies in a sizzling pan and the low hum of “I’m Yours” by Jason Mraz rumbling from the small radio on the corner of the kitchen island.

“Chris,” You grunt, brows lifting, resisting the urge to laugh when he glances over his shoulder with that sheepish expression, all-telling.

Or maybe that comes with the years. Unspoken gestures understood without fail.

”Sorry ‘bout that,” He murmurs, and you curse every aspect of your vision being a spectator to his trapezius rippling while dishing down two mugs from the cabinet. One that you bought him, the other purchased by Han.

The latter patterned with.. odd shaped bananas he’s sworn are not the shape of a dick.

But that’s a story for another time. 

Although, that’s the least of the oddities. Between the Danny Devito cheeto ornament(how they got their hands on it you couldn’t guess) added to their tiny Christmas tree and the rug in the bathroom with old stains no one talks about, you’ve decided to turn a blind eye for the sake of learning things you don’t want to remember. 

“What do you think if.. y’know, before we try something new,”

You pause, scorning the sly smile on his face when turning to face you, long fingers quelling the stove’s flame momentarily.

He thinks you’re the most darling thing he’s laid eyes on, and you think he’s going to laugh at you.

”We go on five dates. And after those five dates, I’ll make up my mind.”

”Is this a part of your “thinking”?”

Jerk. He’s lucky he’s handsome.

Gnawing at your bottom lip, your face pinches.

“Yes.” The words are quiet, too hushed for your liking.

Chris doesn’t make you quiet, he doesn’t make you shy. Yet, these days you find yourself falling back into a cycle of nervous, foreign feelings when speaking. As if he’s picking you apart piece for piece.

As if he hasn’t already read every page of the book named you over and over again.

But now the pages rewrite themselves, too many filled with the word “love” and “affection” and “more than friends” and—

“Can I kiss you after those dates?”

Jerk. For the second time.

”And if I say no?”

He lights a fire under your feet. Maybe it’s the heat causing blood to rush to your ears.

Chris lifts his mug. ”Indirect?”

You scoff, he giggles, squeaky in pitch just as it’s always been. Your cheeks warm.

Because in the midst of a once-normalcy, you can feel a storm brewing. It’s unclear if it’ll be a hurricane or a refreshing rain shower, and perhaps the unpredictably is supposed to be thrilling.

Or maybe it’s doomed, and the debris left after that hurricane will lay untouched, uncared for.

So it’s the feeling of his arms wrapping around you beckoning those thoughts out of reach, holding the doubt just high enough you don’t have to see.

Hear, listen, overthink. For now, all there is to fret about is Chris, and the warmth of his hug, pulling you infinitely close against heated skin.

Then does it register to you he’s always read your pages the same, and he would for as long as you’ll give him time to reread. If they change, they change together.

How foolish you forgot such a thing. As if he wasn’t your best friend first.

“Yes, you can.”

When those five dates are over, kiss me.

His nose buried into your shoulder, he murmurs a quiet “thank you”, a satisfied hum resounding from his chest, eyes crinkling up in the corners with a smile.

“Is that my shampoo?”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[maxdibert]

"Severus was mean to his students."

Ma'am, Severus was a man in his thirties with three jobs, responsible for teaching seven different year groups, grading their assignments and exams, performing his regular teaching duties, working as a spy for Dumbledore (constantly risking his safety and life to infiltrate the inner circle of the most dangerous man in history), working for the Order of the Phoenix, and keeping an eye on a group of reckless brats who spent 24/7 putting themselves in danger because they were incapable of accepting the word “no.” As a result, he constantly had to put himself at risk 24/7 to make sure they didn’t end up dead. And in the midst of all that workplace exploitation, for which he received literally zero incentives or rewards, those same kids, who had him at his wit’s end because he was already drowning in underpaid work, were the ones backtalking him, suspecting him, stalking him to see what he was "up to," or simply challenging him constantly.

I mean, it’s not that I don’t care that Severus’s treatment of his students was questionable—it’s just that I’m 28 years old, with a job, debts to pay, bills to manage, and adult responsibilities. The mere thought of having not one but two extra jobs, on top of all that, which also put my life at risk, and having to deal with the nonsense of a bunch of insufferable kids, honestly gives me major anxiety. So, I can understand why another adult, ten times more overworked than I am and with triple the responsibilities, wouldn’t have the time, patience, or energy to be nice to kids who either just added more work to his plate (Neville) or only contributed to his stress and frustration with their awful attitudes.

Severus wasn’t a poor, innocent soul or a victim, but he was a dysfunctional adult with an overwhelming workload and terrible working conditions who was completely fed up with everything. And honestly, no one can understand that better than other dysfunctional adults with too much work, low pay, and a similar level of frustration with life.

[themuseofaphrodite]

can’t turn back now ✧ OB87

summary: ollie bearman may be the most popular boy in his year, but even he has trouble with asking his crush out on a date. 

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing

word count: 1.1k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊��︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Only three more days remained until the winter formal, and Ollie Bearman still hadn’t asked his crush out. It was so embarrassing, how his throat dried up and his hands became extra clammy whenever he was around you. He’d tried at least seven times, but it was like a spell was cast every time he attempted to bring up the conversation. You were so beautiful, with cinnamon ringlets and bright green eyes, and a laugh that sounded like twinkling bells. It wasn’t just your beauty that made him dumbstruck; you were super smart and funny too. On top of that, you never hung on to him or made him feel as if he was being used for a leg up in the social pyramid of school. You were special, and he wanted you to know that.

How would he do that, though?

He didn’t want to be too sappy, because you’d told him before that grand romantic gestures repulsed you. “It’s too similar to a romcom. Cute, but it should stay on a telly screen.” That crossed out every idea he had so far: a big bouquet of flowers sent to your dorm, writing a puzzle in the school newspaper for you to solve…

“Hey, Ollie!” you called out, jarring him out of his thoughts. You jogged up to him with a big smile plastered on your face as you asked, “Are you ready for this weekend?”

Ollie blushed. “Yeah, kind of. All my friends have dates, so I’ll probably be seventh-wheeling if things don’t change soon.”

“Aw, Ol,” you mock-pouted. “Poor you, most popular boy in year twelve. And you can’t find a girl to ask out? I think I know at least ten who’d gladly accept your offer.”

The only girl I want to ask out is you, but I can’t fucking talk when I’m around you, he thought frustratedly. “Yeah, I have someone in mind. Just, um, waiting for the right moment.” He tilted his head to look down at you, a shy smile dancing on his lips. “What’s up, though, Y/N?”

“Oh, um, I was wondering if you knew whether we had an exam in literature today. Penny keeps telling me we are, but I think she’s tricking me.” Your best friend Penny loved making you panic over exams, since she knew how seriously you took them. This time, she’d roped all your other friends into her prank, so you weren’t sure if you should take her for her word or not. “Do you have any idea if she’s right? Or did she get to you too?”

Ollie shook his head. “No, I don’t think we do. Professor Gilliam would have told us for sure.” “Yeah, on that damn cursed blackboard,” you responded, nodding your head in agreement. “Fucking Penny keeps lying to me. I’m so annoyed.” “Sorry, Y/N,” Ollie said apologetically, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. He curled his hands into fists, preparing himself for what he would do next. “Anyways, I had a question of my own to ask you. Um…”

You looked up at him, subconsciously leaning forward like Ollie was about to tell you a secret. “Don’t tell me you stole Gilliam’s planner and you want my help to hide it.”

Ollie laughed, but it sounded shrill and fake to his ears. “No, definitely not. Um, it’s something else.” He worried at his lower lip, thinking how best to phrase this. “The winter formal is coming up, and I was wondering…” 

You blinked up at him, still confused. 

This is the point of no return, Ollie mused internally. Please God, don’t let me fuck this up.

“I was wondering if you would do me the honors of being my date?” he finally spat out, the words clipped and almost indecipherable.

Your face froze in shock, jaw dropping a moment later as your brain processed what Ollie had said. “You…You want me to be your date?” you stammered out.

Ollie nodded, panic starting to well up in his gut, his fight-or-flight response activating the longer you didn’t say yes. He steeled himself, willing himself not to bolt or melt into a puddle of mush on the pathway where you stood. “Yeah. If you want. If you already have a date, I understand. It’s totally OK, Y/N, if you don’t want to go with me.”

“Oh…Ol…” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, clasping your hands behind your back. “Of course I’d like to be your date. I was wondering when you’d grow the balls to ask me out.”

A surge of relief flooded through Ollie and he let out a long sigh. “Thank God. I was worried I’d have to change my name and leave the country, that’s how mortified I’d be.”

“You think I’d really say no to you?” You questioned him, crinkling your nose. “That would be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and I once cut my own bangs.”

Ollie rubbed the back of his neck, still in shock. “Your bangs are beautiful, Y/N.”

“Yeah, now that I let a professional cut them,” you shot back, giggling. “Not all of us can have perfectly styled hair all the time, Bearman.”

“I might have perfectly styled hair, but you’re fully perfect in my eyes, L/N,” Ollie retorted, his chin jutting out defiantly. “I didn’t ask out those other girls because I knew I wanted to ask you.”

You put your hands on your hips, beaming like a beautiful ray of sunshine. “Yet it took you almost a fortnight to do so. Imagine.”

“You try asking your crush out to a dance, and then you’ll see.”

“I almost had to because you were such a scaredy cat!” you chortled, nudging Ollie playfully on the shoulder. “But it worked out. Guess I’m stuck with you for a while now, hm?”

Ollie elbowed you back. “Hey, Y/N! I’m not that much of a hassle. You know you adore me.”

“Sure, Bearman. Whatever lets you sleep easy at night,” you teased lightheartedly.

“Don’t even deny it. Why else would you stick by me? For my social status? You and I both know you don’t care about that. So, it has to be my charm and good looks.”

“Someone has an ego,” you chaffed. “But you’re not wrong. It’s something about that dopey face that really drew me in.” Thank you, God, for giving me the courage to ask this girl out and the charm to be approved by her, Ollie thought to himself, suppressing a smile as he listened to you talk.

He absolutely could not wait for Saturday to arrive.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[del-thetiredwriter]

Mafia Au/Good luck while running away from mafia part4

Intro, part 0.5 , part 1 , part 2 , part 3 , part 5

Tags: @hrhqueenfox , @hasty-desert , @oceanside-pixie , @lianreine , @h3apm3ch4n151m , @cecilebutcher , @ayachansan , @roseapov , @randomlyappearingartist , @serenity-loves-red , @wonderlandcrown , @nightw-izhu , @moonlight-nightwing , @lorkai , @lucid-stories , @morokumi

Notes: little bit rushed I guess? Well I am working on three other aus at the moment so. I hope you like it.

Warning: yandere stuff, gn reader, English is not my first language…

4 years ago

“Tyranttt!” You moaned.

“I haven't eaten a bite or drank a sip of water for hours. Now you're giving me an exam! “This is not a test, it is torture!” You shouted to the cameras on the wall.

As usual, you were training with Crewel sensei all day long. And it couldn't be said that he was a very kind teacher. He was extra harsh on you, especially compared to the other people he trained.

However, he had especially gotten things out of hand. Today was one of your least favorite days. Surprise exam day. Surprise exams: as the name suggests, you would never know the content and time of the exam. Crewel would put you to the test suddenly, without you even noticing. You especially hated the hands-on ones.

You couldn't eat properly yesterday. You had been training under Crewel Sensei all day. When you returned home, you fell asleep straight away from exhaustion. When you woke up, you found yourself handcuffed in a room. While I was sleepily trying to comprehend what was happening, Crewel Sensei's voice echoed into the room from the ceiling speaker.

“My dear little puppy, guess what time? Correct answer: Surprise exam! Your mission is to get out of the handcuffs and get out of this building within two hours. Let me tell you from the beginning, do not complain, the exam was prepared according to the topics we covered. Then I wish you good luck. Your time has begun.”

-

“Two hours and 6 minutes nch nch. You need to work harder. 8 minutes to get out of the handcuffs, 43 minutes to open all the locked doors, 40 minutes to pass the obstacles... we better tighten up your training."

You just glared at Divus as he seriously analyzed the exam. You're too hungry to bother with that damn practical exam. You just focused on eating your salad.

“I mean, what was slowing you down? Should we increase the number of exams?

“Sensei, it’s just six minutes, I was tired, unprepared-“

“The aim is to prepare you for all kinds of situations.” Crewel interrupted.You grimaced. You weren't in the mood to argue with him right now.

While Crewel was talking about your mistakes, there was a knock on the door. It was Sam.

“Sam-san!” Your eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of your savior. Whenever Crewel scolded you or increased your training hours, he would save you from Crewel like a savior angel.

“Excuse me to interrupt, but Boss wants the little imp.” said Sam.

“Huh, now? Why does he want Y/n?” Crewel asked with a grimace.

"Who knows. By the way, get it while you're at it.I brought the information you requested.”

He handed Crewel a package. Meanwhile, you escaped at the first opportunity you had and went to Crowley, the head of the mafia.

-

“Looks like Crewel gave you one of his wonderful exams again, hmm?” The masked man asked, as he poured a tea for you.

"Yes sir."

Dire Crowley is the head of one of the largest organizations in the Underworld and also your protector who took you in when you were ten years old. You had always wondered how such a goofy and slightly weird guy became the head of the mafia.

Once, when you asked Crewel sensei about this, he told you these words.“If you only knew what that man did… Anyway, just be careful with him. He is…the devil himself.”

“You've been with me for a long time, Y/n, and the time has finally come.”He handed you a file.

“Congratulations, you are now an official member of the mafia and here is your first target.”

You started examining the file.

“This man was a traitor we had been looking for a long time. He poses a great danger to the organization. I want you to get rid of him.”

———

Current time

You were on something soft. You opened your eyes slowly. You felt a pain in your shoulder.

“Jamil! Y/n woke up!”

You heard a joyful familiar voice. The owner of the voice hugged you with joy. Kalim. You tried to comprehend the events in a dazed manner.

That's right, Floyd shot you last and you fainted from blood loss while running with all your strength. And apparently Scarabia had caught you.

“Oh Y/n you really had me worried. If you only knew how scared I was when I saw you like that, shot and unconscious."

You didn't reply. You just stared blankly at Kalim.

“Yes Y/n you had us all so worried.” Jamil entered the room. He had a black agenda in his hand and was wearing a suit. Now if you look carefully, Kalim was also wearing a suit. The welds of weight on his wrists jingled as he turned to survey the room. Oh you were chained.

“Is it allowed to keep such things in the hotel room?” You said.

“Oh, I'm sorry, we brought the silver ones with us because we came here in a hurry, but don't worry, we have gold ones at home.” said Kalim innocently.

You loved Kalim, his sweet and pure nature prevented you from venting your anger on him. You gritted your teeth. You looked at Jamil.

“Kalim, you better go now, you need to greet our guests for the meeting. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes." Jamil dragged the manager out by force.

“But Jamil-“

“Don't worry, nothing will happen. They are both injured and the whole hotel is full of guards.”

After Kalim left, a grin appeared on Jamil's face that you had never seen before. A familiar and yet disturbing grin.

“Congratulations, you are truly someone who lives up to the title of the boss's right-hand man. Sorry, his former right-hand man. You know Kalim was so panicked it was hard for me to calm him down. Especially when you suddenly disappeared he stopped working, coming to meetings…You owe me for this.”

You didn’t answer. You knew he was trying to provoke you.

“I wonder what would have happened if those documents had never arrived? Would the boss throw you aside? Would you be his heir after all the training you received?”

You tried to hold yourself back.

"Who knows." You replied.

A burst of laughter broke out from Jamil. He approached you.

“Oh, you are really tough. It's not easy to break you, but don't worry, we have plenty of time. The doctor will be coming soon to change your bandages, so don't be a hassle. I notified room service for you to have breakfast.”

And he left the room.

You laughed. Oh apparently Crewel Sensei was right. Training would really come in handy.

-

Once you were free of the chains, you got into the bed and waited for the doctor.Indeed, as Jamil said, the doctor came about fifteen minutes later.You quietly waited for him to approach you on your bed.

“Excuse me, Y/n-san are you awake?”

You didn't reply. Just as the doctor was bending over to lift the blanket on you, you jumped on top of them and gagged them with one of the sheets before they could scream. You undressed the poor doctor while they were struggling in chains made for you.

“I'm sorry, but you know I have to run away. And my clothes are a little off for that.”

You were careful not to attract the suspicion of the guards as you left the room dressed as a doctor. You started walking away from there with normal steps.

Indeed, as Jamil said, there was protection everywhere. As you were about to get into the elevator, you noticed the guards talking on the phone, then they all hurriedly dispersed. Apparently room service had found the poor doctor.

You changed direction. You walked calmly but quickly and pulled the fire alarm. And as you wish, chaos broke out.

While people were screaming and running in panic, you mixed in with them. And you finally reached the exit.

When you left the hotel, you hailed a taxi with the money you got from the poor doctor.

“To the amusement park,” you said to the driver.

Then you called that number with the phone you got from the doctor.

“Hey it's me Y/n. It's time to pay me back. Be at the amusement park. Don't forget to bring a vehicle and weapon with you. You better be on time, Snow White."

-

“Looks like your training has paid off, Crewel.”The masked man said in a sarcastic tone.

“It's truly incredible, but it's a shame that such a person is a traitor.” said Trein as he caressed Lucius.

“Well, talent is in their blood, after all, he was like that too when he was young.” said Vargas.

“I have work to do. With your permission,” Crewel stood up sharply.

“Oh Crewel, don't be angry-“ but before Crowley could finish his sentence, Crewel spoke angrily.

“You hate it the most when we talk about him. Didn't you declare him a traitor to take over, and completely erased Ramshackle from the mafia? And now you're sacrificing them for your executives."

Crowley smiled under his mask.

“Crewel Crewel, are you really going to play innocent? You were the one who gave them those documents. If they didn't know anything, maybe we would still be living in peace. But no problem. After this game, we will return to our peaceful life again."

[jenscx]

SAY MY NAME — yoon jiyoon x f!reader

your best friend is always there for you (even if she doesn’t admit it).

TAGS — fluff, zero angst, non-idol au, high school au, kinda tsundere!jiyoon, stuco!reader, best friends, izna members are all in a dance team, grumpy x sunshine (a little!)

WORDCOUNT — 5.1k

you like simplicity. normalcy. in a world where society is constantly changing, and you’re unable to predict what’s going to happen next, you find solace in a routine. if everything goes wrong in your life, at least you have that bit of hope it will return to normal. you follow a strict schedule; wake up, eat breakfast at exactly seven in the morning, go to school, reach home by five and go to bed by ten.

jiyoon’s well aware of this. she knows of your strange but understandable regime. your best friend fits into it seamlessly. she fetches you from your house (despite the fact she lives twenty metres away), and walks you home.

if you have student council meetings after school, she waits patiently outside, sometimes even joining the discussions. the dynamics of your friendship have changed throughout your life. it doesn’t remain as it is. jiyoon, from a brooding teenager, finally opens up and willingly interacts with your friends. you, from an extroverted middle schooler, finally learn to calm down and enjoy silence with jiyoon.

yet, the one thing that remains throughout the years without change is the chocolate milk in jiyoon’s hand.

she first bought it when you were twelve and she was thirteen. you were struggling with the new topics and lessons introduced in class and you had lost countless nights of sleep just trying to catch up. jiyoon had taken it upon herself to ensure you at least had something to fuel your energy. after hanging out at your house, the girl observed the cartons of chocolate milk stored in your cabinets. it was only sooner or later that jiyoon placed a box of chocolate milk on your desk.

(“for you,” a heavy blush painting her cheeks as she places the mystery item on your table gently.

you gasp, “jiyoonie! how’d you know i liked chocolate milk?”

jiyoon had merely shrugged, “just a guess.”)

it’s a form of affection that jiyoon rarely dishes out. you appreciate it nonetheless despite her frown in the morning and the nonchalant words she says.

she’s been your best friend for years. your rock. your saviour. if you were drowning, she would be the one who would pull your head out of water. sometimes you’re unsure if you even give back the same comfort to her, but jiyoon just brushes it off, saying she relishes the time spent together.

despite her quiet nature, jiyoon had a way with words. at your lowest, she always knew how to cheer you up. she’s like your personal cheerleader, you chuckle at the thought. somehow, jiyoon managed to be privy to all your innermost feelings without even asking you. sometimes, jiyoon would just sit next to you in solace. other times, she would bring you to go eat without a question.

yet, when you do profess your appreciation for your best friend, jiyoon just tenses up. it’s kind of funny watching her flounder around to deny the fact that she cares for you. at least, it’s a fact that you both are aware of. it’s more so that jiyoon can’t accept it.

(“unnie, i’m starting to think you like me with all the chocolate milk you buy.”

“wha— y/n! it’s just because i have extra change!”)

it’s comical, the way jiyoon’s eyes widen and she just starts gaping at you. but that’s only in front of other people. when it’s just you and her, she carries a heavy blush, flushing from her neck to her ears. it’s adorable.

“what are you looking at?” her gruff voice sounds out in your ears. you hide an amused smile at her frown.

“i have eyes for a reason, y’know. can i no longer look?”

jiyoon’s lips fall into a thin line. she’s in the midst of revising, with the year-end exams coming up, she needed all the time in the world. you were the one who suggested studying, but it seemed you were doing everything but that.

your eyes trail from her face to her upper chest, where her unbuttoned collar exposes a shiny, silvery necklace with a dainty bear charm. it reminded you of jiyoon, who was like a polar bear. despite her cold and expressionless aura, the girl was actually very warm (and she gave great hugs but jiyoon would always deny it). you remember the day you had presented the velvety box to jiyoon, professing your forever adoration and devotion to the girl, who had only huffed and scolded you for making a scene.

it rejuvenates you that jiyoon’s wearing it and the feeling totally makes up for the empty wallet you carried around that month.

“stop staring down my shirt, you perv.”

“wha— i’m not a perv!” you defend yourself passionately, “i was just looking at your necklace, it’s nice that you wear it.”

jiyoon’s pen falls down, a solemn look on her face.

“i never take it off.”

you can feel the way warmth blooms in your chest, like the first arrival of spring.

“really?” you whisper softly.

your best friend shrugs, indifferent, “i can’t reach the clasp behind. it’s hard to take off. don’t look at me like that.”

it’s really not difficult to remove. you would know. you’ve seen jiyoon take it off by herself countless times before. but the fact that she’s acting like she doesn’t have a choice, only makes her more endearing.

“what if i want it back?” you ask jokingly.

jiyoon sends you a withering glare, her eyes narrowing into slits as her hand rests right above the necklace, covering it, “it’s mine.”

“but i gave it to you. i bought it.”

“exactly, you gave it to me.”

“you like it so much that you don’t want to give it back?” you tease, “i knew you loved me.”

she only stares at you incredulously before scoffing loudly, “in your dreams.”

“you’re like a cat,” you say suddenly. jiyoon only frowns.

“both cold and brooding, but you’re just a fluffy ball of cuteness aren’t you?” you continue.

jiyoon swats your hand away from her hair.

“and this necklace… it’s like a collar?” you laugh, “does that mean you’re mine?”

“what— are you crazy?” no, the flush on her cheeks is crazy. you prod at her cheeks with your finger, admiring the way the red blooms throughout. “don’t be weird!”

you pout, “you’re making it weird.”

she only rolls her eyes.

you smile, using your bare foot to slowly caress her leg. jiyoon shoots up immediately, banging her knee into the underside of the table. a scowl rests on her face as you laugh heartily at her shocked expression.

“you’re so annoying!”

“ah… don’t be like that, unnie!” you whine, pulling at her sleeve while she shrieks for you to get away.

it’s a common sight to see you two like this— bickering and fighting. but anyone with eyes could see that behind every snarky remark, there’s an underlying tension. you’re not sure what to call it, but you feel it sometimes; like when you walk home with jiyoon and the sunlight hits her face, bringing all her features to life. maybe it was pure adoration for your best friend. you feel it too with every chocolate milk she buys. it makes you feel all warm despite the milk being cold.

it’s a little strange. but it’s jiyoon, so everything’s fine.

you don’t usually get like this. you understand that jiyoon’s older and she’s in the grade above you, but the age gap doesn’t seem to matter so much after being friends for so many years. yet, you don’t understand the feeling brewing in your stomach as you watch jiyoon talk to her friends during dance practice. you know that jiyoon’s a phenomenal singer and dancer, and her only reason for not exploring her talent in singing was because ‘theatre kids are weird’. however, you’re not sure you like how many pretty girls there are that jiyoon converses with.

and not to mention the number of guys who crowded the dance room just to look at the girls. it’s extremely weird how they’re all salivating over exposed shoulders, but you kind of understand why people would want to stare at these girls. they’re all gorgeous. still, it doesn’t give them a reason to come here and look! you huff angrily from your spot on the floor. jiyoon had forced you to come watch, because apparently they needed an outsider’s opinion.

you were probably the best option and the only one who wouldn’t pass out at a wink from the girls.

backed up against the mirror, you hold up jiyoon’s phone to record. you watch as they execute their choreography, and it’s a practised routine when they finish, and you give your own compliments.

most of the time, they’re unconstructive and it’s mainly to cheer the girls up. but you think jiyoon appreciates them nonetheless.

when they do finally finish (after rounds of gruelling practice that even you wince at), jiyoon drags you out of the practice room and pushes her bag into your hands. as she heads towards the washroom to change, you bid the rest of the girls goodbye. your best friend had promised to bring you out for ice cream after her practice, as an exchange for having you stay back. you hope she doesn’t realise that you would stay back regardless.

while jiyoon’s in the washroom, you take a good look at everyone else around. you recognise some guys from the basketball team, but the others are just a blurry haze of memory.

a particular comment catches your attention.

“—don’t you think jiyoon looks prettier than usual?” you agree, but you also disagree because jiyoon is always the prettiest.

“yeah? you think you can pull her?” this coerces a frown on your face. you glance at the guys talking. who the hell are they?

“i mean, c’mon, if i were in that practice room, i would—”

“bro,” the other guy smacks his shoulder, “i’m pretty sure you’re not her type.”

you kind of recognise him as some kid on the football team.

“i’m not just brains okay,” you would disagree, you’re sure you’ve seen his name at the bottom of the rank list, “this body is to die for too.”

you, personally, would like him to die.

honestly, thank god that at that moment, jiyoon comes out, in fresh new clothes.

“jiyoon unnie!” you yell loudly. the two guys flinch before turning around slowly to meet your eyes.

your best friend only raises an eyebrow and takes her bag back. you use the opportunity to sling your arm through hers, effectively interlocking your fingers together.

“unnie…” you drag out, “i was waiting long for you.”

no you weren’t, it’s a lie. jiyoon smiles softly, one that’s only reserved for you.

“ah really? sorry y/nnie.” it’s times like this that you’re grateful for jiyoon. behind her cold exterior is just your best friend. but if you ever brought this up to anyone else, you would be strangled. the two boys stare at you strangely, probably wondering who the hell were you.

you cling onto jiyoon tighter.

“are you paying for me?” you ask, beaming at the girl. jiyoon looks a little confused and rightfully so. you’re clingy, but not this affectionate. and the whiny tone laced into your voice isn’t normal either.

jiyoon nods hesitantly before murmuring, “are you okay?”

you eye the two boys who are still standing nearby.

“yup, just excited for our date!” you exclaim. one of them lets out a surprised gasp and the other groans, disgruntled. you tune out whatever they say next in favour of staring at jiyoon. the girl only shakes her head fondly before tugging at your arm.

maybe it was irrational for you to act this way. jiyoon was your best friend, she wasn’t your daughter or anything. you didn’t have the right to feel like this. but you were just looking out for her, right? you wanted the best for jiyoon. and the best was clearly not those kids. they were barely worthy of being in her vicinity.

“okay silly,” jiyoon flicks your forehead with her free hand. you groan, covering the reddening mark.

the two guys had scurried away by now. you smirked internally, proud that your tactic had worked. hand-in-hand, you follow jiyoon out of the school. her longer legs make it harder for you to catch up, but unbeknownst to you, her

“did you like the routine today?” jiyoon asks. you nod fervently, “it was really cool! did koko unnie choreograph it?”

jiyoon turns to you, affronted before she mumbles out, “i did…”

“ah really?! that’s amazing,” you hype her up immediately, not liking the way an upset jiyoon looks. the girl somewhat schools herself into a calmer expression, “yeah, we’re performing it for the festival.”

“what!” you yell, surprise evident. jiyoon winces at your loudness.

“you didn’t tell me that!” you started raining punches on jiyoon, who only winces and dodges your hands.

“why are you hitting me?!”

you groan loudly, allowing your head to fall against jiyoon’s shoulder in despair. “i’m on the festival committee!”

“so?”

“i can’t watch your performance! i’ll be running around everywhere,” you whine. jiyoon frowns, but she just pats your head, “it’s okay, y/n.”

no, it’s not okay! you want to retort. the routine that jiyoon worked so hard on— you wouldn’t be able to watch it fully! and everyone else would! including those two boys who clearly only liked jiyoon for her looks. you do think jiyoon’s the most gorgeous girl alive, especially the way her eyes crinkle. it’s rare, but that’s what makes it better. a rarity for most, but common for you. the mere thought of not being able to watch jiyoon’s choreography saddens you immensely.

seeing your downcasted eyes makes jiyoon procure an item from the pocket of her sweatpants. she hands it to you, wrapping your fingers around it gingerly.

you look up at her, a smile involuntarily making its way onto your face at the sight of the small packet of chocolate milk.

jiyoon smiles softly, “it’s okay if you can’t make it. i’m disappointed but i understand. don’t look so sad.”

her words of comfort only bring you more melancholy, knowing she wanted you to watch her performance. you’ve never regretted joining the student council more than right now. gently sipping on the chocolate milk, you relish in its sweetness.

“let’s go get ice cream now.”

the forlorn expression on your face slowly disappears as jiyoon drags you towards the ice cream parlour. distracted by her surprising conversation, you forget all about your sadness. she just has that effect on you; the ability to make you happy and content. even with simple words, she brightens up your day. usually, people would compare you and jiyoon to the sun and clouds. extroverted and bright, you were assumed to be the chatterbox, constantly talking jiyoon’s ears off. your best friend was like a raincloud, sometimes gloomy, sometimes indifferent, but as cheesy as it sounds, the presence of rain indicates the presence of a rainbow.

jiyoon was like a rainbow. multi-faced and blinding.

and so was her choice of ice cream. you watch, amused, as jiyoon holds a cone, wobbling with scoops of napoleon ice cream. her tongue darts out to stabilise the shaking tower. you lick your own chocolate ice cream.

“it’s good,” you mumble as jiyoon holds your hand.

“weather’s becoming hotter,” she remarks, “probably why it tastes so good.”

you nod at that.

“how’d you know the weather’s getting hotter? you learned that in geography?”

“common sense, y/n,” jiyoon deadpanned. you chuckle and dig into your dessert.

“did you hear about seoyeon getting a girlfriend? i knew she liked girls from the start!” you exclaim, mouth full of ice cream.

“yeah, look at her. she’s obviously into girls. who is she dating?”

“this girl from basketball. anyway, there’s a new girl who joined choir and everyone says she’s really pretty.”

jiyoon looks up from her ice cream, “is she pretty?”

you turn to jiyoon, pout on your face, “why would you want to know?!”

she flinches, and then grimaces awkwardly, “curiosity’s sake?”

“since when were you curious about pretty girls?” you retort. jiyoon only shrugs. it’s true though. throughout your friendship with the older girl, she hasn’t shown much interest in gossip or drama, only offering snide remarks and nods when you told her about the current rumours circulating the school. the thought of her showing interest in other girls forms an involuntary pout on your face. and okay, maybe you started it by stating that the new girl was pretty, but jiyoon has never asked for an elaboration before!

frowning at your ice cream cone, you let the silence drag on. has jiyoon shown any interest in any other girls? wasn’t she always hanging out with you? was it because she always hung out with you that she couldn’t hang out with anyone else? you wonder if she wants to spend time with other people. taking a final lick of your ice cream, you reach your doorstep. your hand falls slack in hers, and jiyoon waves goodbye.

it was a routine for her to always walk you home first, even if she had to walk back to her house again. she claimed that something might happen to you and she didn’t want to be blamed for it. you think it’s because she wants to spend extra time with you, but you don’t mind it either.

“bye, y/n, see you tomorrow.”

you nod, not bothering to hug jiyoon goodbye like usual. your best friend stares at you awkwardly before clearing her throat and turning away.

“see you tomorrow, unnie.”

the smile she sends you only heats your cheeks up.

and when you lay in bed that night, it doesn’t come as a striking realisation, only an uncertain acceptance, that you feel more affection for jiyoon than a best friend should.

it’s been two weeks since your ice cream outing (date!) with jiyoon, and you haven’t really seen her around. for someone who claims to be your best friend, she wasn’t really doing her job— other than the consistent chocolate milk that’s always on your desk. but that’s part of your routine! it’s undeniably embedded in your life and if it changes, you wouldn’t know what to do. there’s always a small note left under the packet as well, either words of encouragement for the day or jiyoon reminding you to text her later.

she doesn’t reply as quickly as before but that’s okay. you’re happy to just be able to talk to her, even if that meant through a screen.

y/nnie 🐣 [2.15pm]:

thx for the chocolate milk~~

i’m in a stuco meeting!

so boring :p

jiyoonie 🐻‍❄️ [2.16pm]:

no problem.

we’re on break right now

y/nnie 🐣 [2.16pm]:

wna go get ice cream later?

jiyoonie 🐻‍❄️ [2.17pm]:

sorry, we have practice until 5

mai’s running our practice like the military

tomorrow’s the festival

y/nnie 🐣 [2.18pm]:

aww okay

jiyoonie 🐻‍❄️ [2.19pm]:

we’re starting again

you should focus on your meeting

y/nnie 🐣 [2.20pm]:

talking 2 u is more fun :((

i miss u unnie

jiyoonie 🐻‍❄️ is typing…

before you could see jiyoon’s reply, your phone was taken out of your hands. you gasp, immediately turning back to realise the student council president, kim minji was staring at your phone.

“why are you texting during our meeting?” she asks, pointing at your phone. you can only push out your bottom lip, begging with your eyes for minji to return what’s rightfully yours.

“i’ll pay attention! just give it back,” you reply. minji shakes her head and pockets your phone with a smile, “you can get it back after this.”

furrowing your eyebrows, you’re forced to listen to the boring presentation by the treasurer about the finances for the school’s festival. truthfully speaking, you had fallen asleep midway, and only woke up as the meeting was ending.

“good job everyone,” minji claps, “let’s hope tomorrow’s festival runs smoothly.” she fishes out your phone and places it in front of you.

as everyone leaves, you get ready to stand up as well, but minji holds a firm grip on your shoulder.

“minji,” you warn. she may be your president, but you don’t mind tackling her for your phone. and you don’t even know if jiyoon responded yet.

the girl sighs, “i know you’re in love or whatever, but you should really adhere to council meeting rules. no texting, remember?”

your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. in love?

minji adds, “are you in a honeymoon period right now? dating jiyoon must be nice, huh?”

“dating?” you repeat, dumbfounded. minji stares at you weirdly.

“did i say something wrong?”

you state very slowly, “i am not dating jiyoon.”

the president blinks. and then her lips morph into a frown. a confused look on her face, equally as aghast as you are.

“uhm.”

“she’s my best friend,” you say again. minji nods dumbly. her hold on you loosens as her ears redden in embarrassment.

“you’re not dating jiyoon?” she asks once more. you nod hastily, “we’re not dating, just very good best friends.”

minji nods slowly. you take this opportunity to grab your phone, an unread message from jiyoon.

“okay. see you tomorrow.”

you leave the meeting room, heart pounding. why would minji even think that you and jiyoon were dating? did anyone else think that way? it wasn’t as if you were! you were just close friends who enjoyed each other’s company. jiyoon is a good listener who cares deeply for you. of course you would want to talk to her and be with her. just not in a romantic way. you sigh deeply, unlocking your phone.

jiyoonie 🐻‍❄️ [2.21pm]:

i miss you too.

you might have to cancel that last thought.

the festival lights are super pretty, you think. jiyoon would look even prettier standing under them. they would illuminate her bright eyes and silly smile— no! you slap your own cheeks. you can’t be thinking about your best friend now. you had a job to do! groaning at the clipboard in your hand, you head towards the food stalls, manned by the enterprise club. after conversing with some of the members, you reported back to minji, saying everyone was fine and everything was going well.

you had been ticked off that the festival was happening in the evening, causing your routine to go slightly askew, but that was okay! it was only for a day anyway.

strolling around the festival was fun. you were impressed with the tents set up and the decor around the place. thank god you weren’t part of that sector, knowing it would be a pain to remove everything again. the student council really outdid themselves with this one. you walked around, pride simmering at the way students would gasp in awe at the set-up.

“y/n!” you swerve around, beaming at the sight of the dance team, all dressed up. their outfits were made of american football jerseys and baggy jeans, some with their shirts cropped and others tied up. you took a long appreciative look at jiyoon’s outfit before grinning at the rest of the girls.

“jiyoon unnie said you wouldn’t be able to watch our performance,” jungeun sighs, “it doesn’t feel right to not have you watching us.”

the girls all nod in agreement. of course, as someone who had been through all their practices and sessions, it feels strange that a lingering presence like yours would be absent.

“i’ll ask someone to record it for me!” you exclaim, in an attempt to cheer jungeun up. despite being the same age, you felt an overwhelming urge to comfort the girl, almost like how jiyoon does for you.

“you better come find us afterwards,” saebi says.

before you could even get another word in, you heard your name being called from afar. after promising to find the girls later, you cheer them all on. as you were about to leave, a warm hand encapsulates your own, pulling you back. you instantly recognise the sensation. an electric bolt trickling into your blood, shocking your nerves and eliciting goosebumps across the field of your skin.

“jiyoon unnie, i like your outfit.”

“thanks, but we have to change back into our uniforms later.” you should take the chance to admire her properly then.

“aw, okay.”

the older girl grimaces.

“y/nnie,” jiyoon frowns. worry builds in you at her unsettled and troubled expression. “when you come to find us afterwards, stay back a little. i want to talk to you.”

you widen your eyes before gulping. jiyoon relinquishes her grip and waves goodbye, just as you form a fist to cheer her on.

what could jiyoon possibly want to talk to you about? it was scary having her talk all serious, instead of the teasing girl you’ve grown to adore. did you do something wrong? maybe jiyoon was upset about the lack of attention from you these past weeks. ugh, but her tone boggled you the most.

“hey, snap out of it,” you blink at the fingers snapping in your face. what a rude gesture! rolling your eyes at the boy who had called you over, myung jaehyun, you elbow him in the ribs. he only scoffs and pushes you back.

“aren’t you meant to be a gentleman? why are you pushing girls?” you sneer at him. the boy had called you over for the stupidest reason, stating that he was bored walking around. as a student council member, technically you had to listen to the vice-president. but c’mon, even minji would laugh.

jaehyun snickers, “are you mad ‘cause i brought you away from your girlfriend?”

you frown, thinking about jiyoon performing. you don’t even bother to deny that jiyoon’s your girlfriend. no one even takes your words seriously. there’s a crowd of students already gathering near the stage. on the schedule, it stated that the dance team would be performing soon. your shoulders turn slack at your lost opportunity to watch jiyoon dance.

“man, shut up.”

the boy quietens down at your stern tone, before offering, “i can take over you if you wanted. and you can go watch her.”

you perk up instantly, “really?”

“yeah, but you owe me lunch.”

“deal, seriously.”

jaehyun chuckles, “anything for love right? call me cupid.”

you scrunch your nose in disgust before waving him off and heading towards the already crowded audience. the stage was fairly centred with a second platform protruding from its middle. you look around, searching for any kind of a vantage point.

there’s a secluded corner near the back, but a bunch of boxes and crates are propped up there. approaching the area, it gives you a relatively clear view of the stage. you would be able to see the girls from here. excitement brewing as the music heightens, you think of all the hard work jiyoon has put in. you’ve watched her practise endlessly, critiquing every detail of her moves. it all comes down to this performance.

the house music softens, and the chatter amongst the crowd dies down. suddenly, unexpectedly and forcefully, the music blasts through the speakers as the girls walk onto stage. there’s an uproar of cheers from the audience, including yourself. you yell jiyoon’s name as if she were a deity, and you were on your deathbed.

grinning brightly, you’re awestruck by the fluidity and smoothness of their moves. your mouth, agape for the whole performance, is unable to close by itself. the girls belonged on the stage, rightfully so. and even though you had heard this song and witnessed this dance countless amounts of times, it still refreshes you like the first.

“mai, you’re so pretty!”

“ryu sarang!”

“yoon jiyoon, i love you!” you scream, using your hands as a makeshift megaphone as jiyoon approaches the centre. her head snaps up, and a wide smile overtakes her.

as the crowd continues to shout, you’re unable to take your eyes off jiyoon. there was something magnetic about her. like two sides of a magnet pulling you towards her. she was almost like the centre of gravity (she’s the centre of your world).

the song reaches its last chorus and jeemin reclaims the stage. there’s an upheaval of yells and shrieks once more. as it arrives at the end, you bring your hands to applaud loudly. the girls stand at the centre, spotlight emphasising on them and heaving breathily.

the girls soon leave the stage and the crowd is left anticipating for the next performance. you don’t, however, and instead head towards the back of the stage. the girls are already there, changed back into their uniforms.

“y/n—” saebi is the first to spot you.

“you guys did great out there!” you engulf the group of girls into an embrace, as best as you could.

“i thought you couldn’t watch?!” sarang asks.

you shrug, “someone could cover for me, so of course i had to come watch you guys.”

“i heard you yell jiyoon’s name,” jeemin smiles.

“gotta support my best friend,” you bump jiyoon’s hip and she only groans miserably. as they start to leave, you grasp onto the short sleeve of jiyoon’s shirt, “didn’t you want to talk?”

jiyoon shakes her head and whispers lowly, “not here.”

you follow her out and into an empty tent, the tables and chairs cleared of any belongings. she has the same uncomfortable expression on her face, the one that makes your heart shrivel up. you deafen out the loud music and cheers outside, choosing to focus on the girl in front of you.

“what’s up? is something wrong?” is your first immediate question.

jiyoon sighs, pink overtaking her cheeks. you resist the urge to squeal at the adorable sight.

“no, nothing’s wrong, but…”

she takes a seat. you do the same and capture her hands in yours, providing comfort.

“you can tell me anything,” you insist. jiyoon turns away, her lips pursing.

“i know, but it’s just difficult to say,” she mumbles, “you’re usually the one who speaks for both of us.”

“but it’s just us now. you can say whatever you want.”

your best friend only turns redder.

“that’s the problem,” she whispers.

you stare at her, bewildered, “what do you mean?”

“you’re my best friend,” jiyoon states, “i don’t want to mess anything up.”

your brain has an inkling of what jiyoon is trying to convey. endorphins rush through your veins as a small smile creeps its way onto your face. you can’t help the happiness blooming in your chest.

“you won’t mess anything up, i promise.”

jiyoon bites her lower lip before saying, “you’re so silly at times. you and your routine. when we first met, i thought you were crazy. but somehow, it seems like i’ve become part of your routine.”

“you have,” you agree.

“and it makes me feel happy,” jiyoon confesses, “because i like spending time with you.”

“i like spending time with you too.”

“even if i’m quiet and moody sometimes. i just get in my head, but you understand me. that’s why i’m comfortable with you. and when we got closer, i thought i was dragging you down—”

you immediately protest, “no, you weren’t.”

the older girl grumbles, “don’t interrupt me.”

shrugging, you let go of jiyoon’s hands to play with the hem of her skirt. she only swats your hands away to intertwine your fingers gently.

“and i think you should just know that because of your kindness and personality…” she trails off before gulping, “i like you.”

you’ve never seen your best friend so sheepish and bashful. so shy. she may be unapproachable at times, but she’s never been this nervous and insecure. the jiyoon you know is bold and courageous. but you feel like you like this version of her more. vulnerable and open.

“you’re so cute,” you blurt out. jiyoon furrows her eyebrows and her lips form a pout.

an idea comes to your mind. carefully untangling your hands, you reach your blazer, meticulously unpinning the plastic name tag there. then, you slowly open jiyoon’s palm, placing your name tag there.

“don’t you understand, jiyoon unnie?” you ask, teasingly at her shocked expression. she swallows, and then nods.

“what does it mean then?” you giggle.

jiyoon blushes, from her neck to her ears, “means that you like me too.”

“mhm. i thought i confessed quite loudly just now though,” referring to your yell during her performance. jiyoon chuckles before nodding, “guess you beat me to it. but can i just hear it again?”

you grin, leaning into jiyoon’s space, right next to her ear. resisting the urge to blow wind into her sensitive red ears, you instead whisper, “i like you, yoon jiyoon.”

the smile she gives you is blinding.

“i like you more, y/n.” and from her pocket, she brings out a packet of chocolate milk.

you laugh at her absurdity.

“you can’t like me more than i do.”

“i disagree.”

“well, agree to disagree, right?” you prod jiyoon’s cheek.

the girl grins slyly, “anything my girlfriend says.”

[stellar-haikyuu]

start somewhere ☆ nishinoya yuu x reader

synopsis: second-year reader sometimes feels like their physical education class is out to get them. but maybe, their classmate might help turn things around. details: mild hurt/comfort | romantic/platonic relationship | 1,678 words | gn! reader | my entry for @phantasmaebg warnings: this is based on my insecurities related to exercise and sports back in high school, so please be cautious if it’s sensitive for you!

Physical education could be fun at times, but if there was one thing you dreaded every period, it was the warm-ups.

They were necessary, sure. You’d heard all the reasons: injury prevention, elevated body temperature, mental prep—the whole spiel.

The problem was that your physical education teacher seemed to enjoy torturing your class. Or maybe it was just you.

It always started the same way: some stretching and light jogging that lulled you into a false sense of security. But then came the dreaded laps. Ten relentless minutes of running around the court.

It also sucked that for this school year, physical education happened to be your first period—the prime time of your lethargy. 

You at least had the foresight to fuel yourself with breakfast, but it still felt like an entire day had passed by the time 9:00 AM rolled around.

And now, at 8:00 AM, your class is walking to the school gym, chattering normally as if your impending doom wasn’t looming ahead.

You sigh to yourself when your teacher waves at all of you, far too cheerfully.

“Alright, you know the drill. We’ll be practicing handball again before our practical exam in two weeks. But first, our warm-up laps.” She grins before continuing. “Remember, if I reach the last person and touch their shoulder, one additional lap!”

As always, the class groans in unison. You avoid making eye contact with anyone. 

You’ve always wondered if anyone was secretly annoyed by how slow you run; it’s just a miracle that you’ve managed to avoid adding any extra laps so far. 

Everyone lines up their water bottles against the wall, proceeding to do some stretching and jogging in place. You follow suit, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your gut.

Eventually, your classmates situate themselves behind the makeshift starting line: a long strip of masking tape on the hardwood floor. You drag your feet, trying to position yourself somewhere in the middle, a little closer to the front.

The sound of the whistle blows, and everyone starts running. 

Despite the “head start” you give yourself, you’re reminded of why your attempts are always futile.

One by one, your peers start to pass you by the halfway mark. By the time you’ve completed one lap, you’re dead last. Again.

Your lungs start to burn, your breath turning ragged. The sharp and constant inhale-exhale rhythm makes your throat dry.

Internally, you scream at yourself to keep going, noticing the gap between you and the classmates in front of you starting to make itself clear.

You survive three laps before your teacher yells, “Let’s go, guys! Keep it up!” And at this point, you think she must be a sadist as she picks up the pace.

By now, your heartbeat pounds wildly in your ears, drowning out everything else. You lose count of the laps, just desperate for it to end. 

A small pain also starts to stab you in the side. How unfortunate it is to get a stitch now, of all times.

“I’m almost there!” When you look behind you, your PE teacher is just a few feet away, laughing as the other students yell in protest. “Finish the lap! Come on!”

Cursing internally, you grit your teeth and keep running.

You will not be the reason your classmates will be inconvenienced. 

You can’t, even if you feel like you’re going to drop to the ground any second now.

Though the starting line felt impossibly far, you managed to step over the tape through sheer willpower. 

Cheers erupt from the class. You’re not sure if they’re celebrating the end of the warm-up or your miraculous escape. You’re too exhausted to care.

Whatever it is, it’s over.

“Good job, everyone! You survived.” Your teacher announces. “Now, take a little break, I’ll just call the staff to help get the rest of the equipment.”

You barely register the rest of her words. At last, the agony for the week is over.

The world spins for a while as you wait for your heartbeat to slow down. All you can do is collapse onto the floor, breathing heavily.

A dry itch rises in your throat and you cough to relieve it. However, you hold yourself back from overdoing it—you’d prefer if your stomach’s contents don’t make a reappearance. 

Man, you hate this feeling.

“Hey, are you okay?”

The unfamiliar voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you. You blink, vision still a little spotty.

“Huh?” You breathe out, disoriented.

You vaguely see a hand extended toward you, and you take it. Your classmate helps you to your feet, guiding you to a nearby bench where you can sit down.

“Here.” He hands you your water bottle. You thank him before taking a long, long sip. Briefly, you wonder how he knew it was yours.

“I thought you passed out on the floor! Are you feeling dizzy or something?”

Putting your bottle down, you come face-to-face with Nishinoya Yuu.

Oh.

“Uh…” You’re a little overwhelmed by his concern, as no one usually bothers to ask. “Well, kinda, but I just need a breather. All that running is, um, a lot for me.”

You avoid his gaze. 

Nishinoya was always behind or right next to your teacher. You remember how he’d ask for permission to run ahead, only to have his suggestion turned down every time.

You were in his direct line of sight these past few weeks.

What would he think of you? 

“That’s alright.”

At his response, you freeze.

“What?”

“I said it’s alright,” he gives you a gentle smile, a contrast to his usual exuberance. “Running isn’t easy.”

You pause, unsure of what you could even say. He seems to notice your shift in mood. 

“Is something wrong?” He tilts his head. “You feelin’ anything weird?”

“No, it’s not that.”

When you take a hesitant look at Nishinoya, there’s something about his expression that seems so…welcoming.

It feels like you could tell him anything. 

“Then what is it?” His tone is laced a with genuine curiosity.

Just like that, you cave.

“I know I’m unfit,” you admit quietly, your eyes falling to the floor. “I know it’s not great for my health, and I’m trying my best. But it’s hard when… when everyone can see how far behind I am. I feel like they’re judging me.”

He doesn’t interrupt, patiently waiting for you to finish. You feel the weight of his stare as you continue.

“Maybe I’m just making excuses. Everyone else seems to be doing fine, it might just be me. And that probably sounds insulting to people like you.”

“People like me?” His voice softens as he moves a little closer to you.

“You play volleyball, right? I assumed that’s where all the bruises on your arms are from.” You gesture to them.

“Ah, yeah. You’re right.” He lightly brushes his arms, mottled with small purple and yellow marks. “But, what do you mean, insulting?”

“Well for one, you’re a school athlete,” you state. “You’re exempted from PE, yet you still-”

“Wait,” he cuts you off. “Exempted?”

“Yeah?” You turn to see him wearing a very perplexed expression.

“That’s a thing?”

A silence falls between the two of you.

Does he not…

You clear your throat. “You didn’t know?”

“I don’t actually know what exempted means?” He chuckles nervously.

You blink, momentarily stunned at the sudden turn in the conversation. “Um, it means that because you’re an athlete, you’re not required to participate in PE classes.”

“But why?” His disbelief is evident, like the idea of skipping PE is absolutely incredulous.

“Well, you already do a lot of training, don’t you?”

He nods. “Morning and late afternoon. But a short PE class doesn’t hurt, though.”

You stare at him, speechless. Wow.

“Anyway, that’s the rule I know of,” you reply. “They started it this year after the other sports teams complained.”

“Oh,” Nishinoya says blankly, trying to take it all in.

“You really had no idea?”

“Nope.” He scratches the back of his neck.

You nearly chuckle yourself at the absurdity of it all. “No wonder sensei looked so surprised when you asked to join PE. I thought she seemed hesitant when she let you in.”

“Yeah!” His eyes widen, as if he’s just pieced it together. “I thought it was weird that she kept double-checking, but I didn’t think much of it.”

There’s a brief pause before he grins at you. “Anyway, sorry, what were you saying earlier?”

It takes you a second to remember what he’s talking about. “Ah, right. Um. It’s just that I feel a little stupid making excuses when athletes like you do so much physical activity every day.”

“But you’re not an athlete?”

“Ah, yes, but-”

“Then no one expects you to train like me.” He frowns slightly. “Unless that’s what you want?”

Your breath hitches.

What do you want?

You swallow, shaking your head slowly. “No. I just…I just want to do well enough.”

“Well enough?”

“Just enough to stay active. Or maybe…enough to catch up to the rest.”

Nishinoya grows quiet for a moment, and you rush to explain.

“Sorry, I don’t really know the specifics-”

“Want me to help you out?”

You nearly give yourself whiplash as you look at him. “What? Help me?

“Yeah,” he says like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Wanna run in the morning together? Could help you with endurance. We’ll start slow, see what you can handle, and go from there.”

Your jaw drops at his offer. 

“You want to…but wait, you have training and-”

“It's fine! I’m always happy to help anyone out!” He beams. “Plus, training is always more fun with a partner. What do you say?”

Warmth blooms in your chest.

“You’d really help me?”

“Of course!” He replies earnestly.

Would it be crazy to think Nishinoya was sent by the gods?

“You sure?” You lower your voice. “I don’t want to bother you over something that seems so simple.”

“Nah.” There’s a convincing glint in his eye that gives you hope. “Besides, we all start somewhere.”

masterlist

[onyourhyuck]

Ultimate Spider-Man: Spider-Mark. | L.MK

— Prologue: “Mark are you— Spider-Man?”

— Summary: Wherein one night you were saved by Spider-Man from a bunch of men harassing you and you find out it’s your enemy all along.

— Genre: Coming Of Age. Romance. Spiderman!mark. Mentions of hero duties. Smut smut smut minors Dni. enemies/rivals to lovers trope. Big dick mark agenda. Mention of getting harassed and attacked on the street. Mark jumps out a building with y/n. Medic students. Y/n is a confident queen. Fingering female receiving. Head receiving female. Spit mention. Breast play. Unprotected sex (wrap your willies pls ty.)

— Notes: Spider Mark fic <3

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Sometimes you hate the fact that you’re craving to be better than everyone around you and you wonder how come your first thought was to crush someone’s inability to be good at something? You blame your academic validation and growing up unloved but that doesn’t give you an excuse to want to be the best student on top of everyone’s graves. However someone was making it difficult.

Mark Lee was the top grader in your classes. Currently you’re both majoring in biology courses which are both to do with medical practices the more you progress within the year — you see it very much upsets you to have Mark get one question right than you or to see him get praised by the professors very much gets under your thin skin you can’t handle it. It doesn’t help that the boy seems genuinely humble and hard working too.

Maybe you’re being petty and so what if you are? No one’s got anything in university other than becoming successful and that’s exactly what your freaking goal is. If you cannot overcome this and defeat Mark in becoming the top student then you haven’t succeeded you’ve failed no matter if you get that damn medical degree.

You are envious of people who are laid back and could relax because they find things easy on the exams or the fact that they aren’t overburden by work. You really don’t understand how you are the one working hard ten times more and somehow they end up scoring good without trying. Maybe you’re different and it’s more of an you problem. But let yourself complain.

Walking down the stairs where many university students were occupied by the buddy next to them unlike you, you’re very much full on ‘social distancing don’t speak to me’ type of person, because you dislike social interactions. You’re here to study not to become buddy friendly with other students here and get distracted from your goal. In your hands you carried your workload books for studying that you wrote your class notes in. You don’t dare waste any detail out you honestly dote down everything the professors say in hope it will give you extra markings when the exams come.

Your eyes caught glimpse on a younger boy your age with coloured-hair that irks your eyes wherever you are it was impossible to miss them, skin full of melanin that the sun reflects onto it, beauty marks on specific places that could make someone weak to the knees. Your brain took in so much information at once that you didn’t even need it to confirm who it was, you simply just knew who it were coming up the stairway catching your attention’s breathe.

The man stops on the way up when the eyes walked to your direction stopping midway. You were the complete opposite direction but still all the attention went to you as if you were attracting it away from him without doing anything too much. The friend next to him stops, they were speaking but seeing how their friend went quiet to look over at you, they stop on the tracks as well and go quiet.

Mark feels like he was about to be eaten in a lion den with the way you’re watching him with your epiphany disgust. “Oh hey y/n. You off to study the new sheet professor Ahn gave us?” You hate how his voice was friendly and polite to you even though you’re both aware of your deep surrounding rivalry and dislike each others feelings.

“Yeah unlike you clearly.” You shot downwards raising suspicion that Mark was probably slacking off entirely. “You don’t look like you’re going to be studying it for tomorrow’s test.” You scorn. Mark’s eyes travel around as he tries to figure out how to use the information to you. Mark’s hands slipped in the front pockets and that smirk widens.

“I’ve already done the work, actually.” He said matter-of-factly as he saw the burning fire in your eyes. He was always ten steps ahead of you, always, it annoys you. No, actually it fucking angers you. Mark had the audacity to put it in your face because he was glad to see you near-wanting to murder him but he knew you wouldn’t. You’re just trying not to show how much it bothers you.

Your lips fell into a thin line that could seriously harm someone if they got too close, like it was a sword laying flat offensively ready to jab the heart of Mark Lee and fully discard it. Your voice scowls out to the storing area. “Shove off Mark.” You say trying to get past him and his friend, Donghyuck but the boys were blocking your pathway until your shoulders jumped each other roughly.

You leave them on the stairway and Mark turns around following you with a serious gaze. His shoulders clicked the moment you reached your destination with it and your shoulders were bumping roughly.

Donghyuck shakes his head. “Y/n and her bitchy attitude always on your case Mark Lee.” It was unbelievable how much you’re ready and willing to ruin his friends day. Mark on the other hand shrugs sighing. “Truth hurts sometimes.” He quotes. Donghyuck laughs following Mark from behind as they continue going uphill the stairs. “Your entire fucking existences hurts Y/n. It’s kind of funny to watch.”

The boys were trailing off to the distance and you were on your own once again. The location to your next finding was the café down the road. It was out of campus bounds but it was really the only place that you could relax and stay as much as you want because the owner of the café lets you stay there for extra timings whenever you need to do your serious revision. Sometimes being inside the school building was more of a destructive distraction than a place where you could focus and learn. It’s ironic really knowing some students aren’t as serious as you, but no harm done you found your own element where you can relax and become more active in studying.

The new work sheet that Mark has spoken about with you made you rethink how quick he must’ve figured this one out. For you it took a few minutes expending to an hour. It was a difficult question that has different interpretations than what you are looking for meaning it was a no right or wrong answer — but it really made it difficult too.

Somehow you struggle forming your own opinion of it because it doesn’t matter what you think you’re more of a ‘There is one answer wrong and one is correct, pick the right one’ type of person. You’re not here to analyse you’re here to get the right one so you are ensured to be correct.

You suck on your bottom teeth, watching the paper. “This freaking riddle… I can’t stand this type of questions. They’re always beating around the bush.” You complain. You can’t bring yourself to made a hypothesis like this about, so you close the book when you huff out.

The owner of the café seeing you blow rough air underneath your face made them look over seeing you struggle to come with an answer to the work question.

“You okay there miss?” The man said with a look grasping at you where you sat on the table locating near the window. You look up at where the voice was pointing from.

The man with blonde hair and glasses on, holding with both palms a table cloth and water spray bottle. Seemingly they were cleaning up from previous customers who dine at the café before they left.

Your eyes linger on the man who was surprisingly quite handsome. He looked way older than you but he was hella charismatic enough to leave you thinking he were a musician or a model with the face he’s got. “Ah yes. Just revisiting previous work because of upcoming exams.” You explain looking back at the paper and then at the man.

Taeyong’s mouth forms a large ‘Oh?’ as he comes forward trading on the table he shows a gentle smile seeing how you must be an university student. You even had a bunch of notes on the side and your bag was on the other chair sitting on it there. It really reminds him of past him when he was a student stressed with Uni work to the point he considered dropping out — nearly.

“What are you studying if i can ask you?” Taeyong would ask pointing the daggers at the sheets. You would spare the man a short glance. “Biology and Medicine. It’s a combined effort course.” You’d explain as your mind moves to the question.

He was impressed seeing how well you were handling this subject he knows many medical students who tell people it’s so difficult it left them mentally drained out — half looking corpses even. But you? You had a bright face and a good smile. You seem like you know what you’re doing but at the same time you don’t get the pressure get to you.

“You must be smart. I heard that courses to do with medicine related require a high dropping rate.”

You smirk eyeing Taeyong up and down. “Yeah well… I try my hardest to stay on the top of the list.” The owner sensed a little arrogance but it wasn’t necessary a bad thing when it came now. You’re proud and that’s it. “What did you study then?” You ask suddenly.

Taeyong’s eyes travel around the café as he walks away to clean more tables and as he did this you watch him wipe down more of the white round tables with the cloth while he sprays the cleaning spray bottle on it.

“Me? I went to university to study a little bit of languages.” Your eyes widen as you spoke over. “Whoa languages? You must be more of a genius than i am then.”

Taeyong scoffs. “Trust me. I can barely speak the language we’re speaking in right now. I wish though. Now I’m just a simple café owner.”

It was nice knowing that Taeyong lives the life he feels comfortable and the happiest in even though it wasn’t exactly an easy path when he was younger, in university trying to learn languages and hopefully become a translator with a good paying job. But now even if he wasn’t making that much money he was happy that he got to open up this café in this first place; it was like a new beginning, a new opportunity has risen into his life trying to show him a way to live. And the man took it. It made you think about yourself and how your life is looking currently.

Even the smallest person you think of can change the course of the future.

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The road is midnight under the cloud, yet beyond is the dawn. You’re walking through the tunnel trying to make sense of the starry painting above as the sun has set a long ago. its rising is alternating between the times, it was too late and you left the café now. Taeyong has kept you company by speaking with you giving the courage who wait in faith for your upcoming exams. And so, even though you left happier and refreshed it dimmers down the minute you were alone. Walking with your hands cold and shuddering inside the pockets of your hoodie. You didn’t bring a jacket with you, it was quite warm in the day and suddenly the night made it freezing as if it were a course of the winter.

Sometimes you rather think the forecasts have it out for the weather. It’s too bipolar to even consider.

The bag slipped on your singular right shoulder resting there with its long beige straps. It was a tote bag enough to hold your university stuff as well as a laptop if you wanted to bring it along. It can hold textbooks and even some clothing if you wished to bring them in or with you anywhere. It was conscientious convenient that these bags exist without them you’d be stuck with a stuffed school bag having to drag it on your poor back. You’d imagine the back pain to be a hassle.

Nonetheless you were spacing through the tunnel and then making your way out. You’d take the route from the café to the park late at night. There was a long tunnel you have to pass through from the streets and under it you go through revealing the large park pathway. The dark green grass sticking out and the trees around you occasionally watch out of boredom.

Your hands were under your waistband area holding in one palm your phone. It has probably thirty percentage left on it. You reckon you’d stay longer in the café if only your portable charger wasn’t out of battery. It leaves you with only one choice to leave and head back to your apartment.

The park was closed away from the people, normal residents were asleep at this time and only the people working night shifts were roaming but not inside the park. You thought you were the only one, until in the far distance you saw a group huddling the path from the far. Right now it was far too away to tell what the men were doing so you didn’t think anything of it.

Your apartment was close by the university and slightly far away from the café and the park you’re strolling down through. If you had to make a guess it would only take twenty minutes by foot to make it back to your home.

‘Just what on earth was happening over there?’ You can’t help but come closer taking a look at the crowd. It was a bunch of men beating down another man.

They sent down a panic alert to your spine and you rush forward when the men turn to notice your presence approaching. Big wrong move because you’re now having fullest attention brought to you, a young woman alone in a dark part trying to get by, looking like you were trying to disturb them from teaching a young guy a lesson.

The man with a ragged tooth was the most interested in you. He showed the more intrusive thoughts of you. He found you quite charming with the way you rushed into a dangerous situation without a single thought.

“Yah! Leave that man alone. He is bleeding. You’ll kill him at that rate.” You scream but kept a promising distance still but enough for you to have a view of what they did to the poor boy.

He was coughing out blood on the floor trying to get up but whenever he brought the strength to do something the men surrounding him looking like gangsters were ready to kick his back down forcing him to be flat on the ground, defenceless and unable to move. You couldn’t stand watching something this cruel and gruesome, heck the sight of blood was too much for you to take, you hate seeing blood. It freaks you out and to see another man bleeding near-to-death really ruins you up with anxiety.

The man cackled at your reactions, you can’t help but think they might be on the psychopath side more than the humane. It wasn’t normal to be this cruel. “You can join us how about that?” The man was taking steps to you and the minute you tried to run back showing your phone. “I will call the police if you take another step forward!” You threaten them.

It didn’t work.

You weren’t sure why you thought it would work. The men in front of you look like they don’t care for consequences, so why would they care for police? Your threats were pushed aside just like you were grabbed with your wrist throwing you on the ground discarding your phone you drop it. The man crawling above you made sure your wrists were straddling both ways in his hands.

Then you look over to the man. Your brain soon realised you’re being crowded by not one man but now you were cradled by multiple men — all together they were ten men guarding you with a demonic look on their faces you can’t explain. It felt like a dark power within them that scared you.

You were gripped so hard you can’t avoid their slimy hands that touched your hair, finding it super soft and beautiful, the others tried the best to sneak their way to your clothing but you were squirming and screaming. Heck you even tried to bite them off literally!

The man laying on the floor saw you becoming their target and he ran away for it. You widen your eyes watching him run away. ‘That bastard! He ran away!’ You can’t believe it, you literally tried to save him!

The minute you thought you were doomed, the men were practically near to ready to strip you off the clothes. Your blouse was coming undone with the ribbon knot coming off revealing your collarbones and then you clench your eyes screaming. “SOMEONE HELP ME, ANYONE.”

You prayed, you really did. You’re not even a religious person anyways but you prayed for you to be safe and saved by someone. The minute you thought you died you were welcomed to see a man flying across the park, thrown with a kick and flying so many yards it was inhuman for a normal person to kick someone in the air so far with such speed and precision. Your eyes widen trembling at who this new person coming in, it felt like a new predator ready to eat you and the gangsters men who near-harassed yourself. You couldn’t tell if he was helping you or if he was ready to kill you too. The men were distracted by the new force encouraging them to fight.

Yourself you felt a shiver down your spine. No one saw the person who was assassinating them in the darkness it’s as if they were the darkness itself. You felt too exposed meanwhile you trying to track the invisible force targeting the enemies were one by one dropping like freaking flies over here.

It scared you, scared you because you might be the next fly who drops dead.

“Where is that bastard coming from?!” One man yelled out loud.

“Woohoo, here piggy!” A voice suddenly called out causing them to turn around to see a hanging man on a tree floating by a spiderweb. Your eyes itch on what you saw.

The man thrown a punch the minute he saw the red man only to get a headbutt falling unconscious with a possible broken nose.

He unlatch from the tree. The spiderweb retracting back into the hands and he begins to walk on the park pathway you were laying there onto. The last man standing was behind you grabbing you up getting out a knife to your neck which made you confused, everything was so quick happening in just a span of zero point five you can’t figure out how you’re now held against a knife to your throat. You felt your oxygen pressure levels rising and you could no longer breathe.

The figure that was outlined disappeared and you can’t help but close your eyes murmuring prayers. “Please God help me, I’m sorry for not doing enough good for this world! I swear I’ll be a changed woman if i live…”

You can’t believe yourself you’re literally praying out loud. The man clench the blade to your throat and suddenly a warm liquid drops down on it. Your eyes widen as you felt the scar incoming. Your own blood slowly dripping down the blade and the man’s wrist too on the park ground.

“Shut up, or I will slice your throat.”

You take a mental note shutting up instantly, but then a thrust of wind blows you off the ground and your eyes shut down seeing blackness till you’re feeling two muscular arms pull you up and your clothing blew on the cold air sliding on your body. You felt the chest brush on your skin and you look up opening one eye, slowly opening your second eye, shocked to see spiderman has come back to save you. You, the person who was supposed to be in another man’s arms with a knife to your throat.

The spiderman came round with a web attaching to a tree flinging back with his legs doing a round house kick knocking the man over unconscious and the knife into the air landing somewhere on the grassy land. You couldn’t help but stay mesmerised he was holding you while fighting the bad guy?

What can he not do?

Your body was in the air as Spider-Man kept his hand on your body never letting you go. He swung with one muscular hand with a spider web between the buildings. He spoke to you breaking the silence, but didn’t look you into the eye, you were the one staring at him all this freaking time panicking deep inside. “Where do you live I’ll drop you off there.” He asked you firmly but you were here pausing for a long silence.

He wasn’t sure why you were so quiet until you break out of your long thoughts making you so absent minded it was out of your character.

“I- live in…” you nearly forgot where you lived you couldn’t believe it. The Spider-Man wanted to laugh seeing you so confused and lost while trying to figure out your tongue when to speak.

“There in that apartment block.” You simply move your hands pointing to the building.

Without a reply you were brought inside the building dropping you off by your door where spiderman stood still seeing your feet latch on the ground once again. Your clothing were on your body but your blouse was undone and Spider-Man occasionally avoided looking at you and instead he found the ground rather more interesting — you wanted to ask him to look at you so you could thank him but you soon realise what the problem was.

You loudly stutter out. “O-oh shit…” you grumble turning around fixing the buttons on your blouse. He turns to you again. “You’re not hurt right?”

The question was something you weren’t even sure if you were physically hurt or mentally hurt? How do you answer a question you don’t know how to answer.

You were going to say no but your hands suddenly rub down your neck and you brought it back to your view seeing blood on your palm from where you touched your neck on. Your eyes widen and you look back at the man in front of you, covered in a disguise. You weren’t sure who you were even speaking to — in reality it’s awful discomfiting how much you feel safer with a man in a fucking suit than people who don’t wear a disguise.

“I’ll be oka—“

He grabbed your wrist so softly you felt like he was cautiously careful with you. You had no choice but to come forward and love your neck to the side so he can get a full access view of the little cut on your neck from how hard that man was bruising the knife blade to your skin. You felt his hand caress the wound with his free hand and he looks at your apartment door pulling away from your neck.

He wanted to think ‘you’re not okay, you’re far from it.’ He can’t help but think why on earth were you out there so late and don’t you realise how dangerous the world is? He prays to God you realise and take notes from this situation to not make it repeat itself like old history. You saw the man look at your apartment door and letting your wrist go, you retract it back down holding it yourself.

“Can you invite me inside your apartment so i can tend to your neck wound? I cant leave it untreated.” He was so strict and stern, you wonder if he does this to everyone he saves.

‘He probably has to do this. It’s his job, Y/n.’

You couldn’t refuse the offer because two things: one he was doing his job and he probably had no choice but to treat you, and two, you want to repay him for saving your ass somehow. You were reckless today and thanks to your kind actions all you got was nearly being killed.

So much for being selfless, that man who was beaten up left you to die. He saved himself and he didn’t save you at all.

“Sure come in.” You open the apartment door unlocking it with your keys. Both entering a dark apartment you dimly lit the lamp over so you can see roaming the apartment that wasn’t too small nor too big it was probably a good spacious space for a single student studying down the road. This apartment was the only thing you could afford thankfully your parents gave you enough money to pay for this renting it.

Luckily you sometimes work down the library doing volunteering and you happen to get paid that way too. It pays a good amount of money that you allows you to pay the upcoming month’s rent.

Not like it matters you’re almost done with university, almost there you just have to ‘defeat’ Mark Lee with your grade paper by scoring higher and bam; you’ll be satisfied with your hard longing work and you will get your results and degree.

The man coming inside your apartment saw the opportunity to look around your apartment by letting his eyes wander. It was a nice cozy apartment. The couch was leather black and you had a decently size tv on the wall attached. The windows were large letting enough sunlight if it was day but since it’s night currently the only light source was the lamp.

He saw you coming back after hearing you rummage through your kitchen getting the first aid kit out and seeing you walk over he was sitting down on the couch letting you sit next to him. You were both silent until you let your mouth open.

You had so much questions, so many answers you were looking for, but he couldn’t answer them. He wanted to let you to not take it to heart.

He wanted to but he couldn’t answer them.

“Thank you for saving me…” you say softly as you saw the man in the suit sitting in front of you looking like he knew what he was doing exactly, you couldn’t believe it he knew how to professionally apply disinfectant on a cotton pad, he knew how to handle stitches too and he knew what to use on an open bleeding wound.

It shouldn’t surprise you, but you found yourself wondering how come he moved like a medical student?

His deep voice hit you like a train. “It’s my job. You don’t have to thank me for anything.” He goes quiet for a minute when applying the burning cotton pad on your wound rubbing it in stripping motion. You flinch and he saw you bite on your bottom lip at the burning dent on your neck.

It was a stinging sensation you couldn’t fight.

He spoke again trailing at one thought he was wondering all this night ever since saving you. “Why were you out this late anyways? Don’t you know bad guys are out on about the streets at night.” He was almost scolding you but you couldn’t help it when finding it was kind of comforting to have someone care for you. Even though you’ve never met them before.

“I am a busy uni student. I have my priorities to become the best of my class.” You state firmly, somehow stunning the man bearing you to say that you’d rather do everything in your power to succeed.

Somehow he felt your perfectionism and determination inspiring.

“I can’t let Mark Lee get a higher score than me.” You mutter suddenly out thinking back to the boy in your class who just boils your blood by being perfect.

You look away but you felt your throat clench when seeing his face come closer to clean it with another clean cotton pad letting the wound sink and dry no longer becoming a dry blood mess. He was making sure your neck was clean and not just tending to your wound, meanwhile cleaning he checked the rest of your body by quickly scooping with his eyes checking for any more casualties. “I don’t know why i got involved. I did an altruistic thing to someone and look where it got me.”

You scowl out scoffing with irony in your throat. This is why you prefer not being kind to people because this ends up later on. You get hurt in return.

“So much for being altruistic my ass.” You grumble.

You heard the man chuckle deeply shaking his head. He found it quite hard to believe you got involved to protect someone but at the same time there was a humane side to you where you do care. He puts the first aid equipment back into the box and closed it for you indicating he was done.

“Well you’d rather study your brain off so late to the point you could nearly get murdered? You must be the brightest student your school has.” It was a compliment melting your heart and you felt exposed and embarrassed. You can’t believe you rented to him about Mark Lee, your obsession with your grades and now your current near to death experience.

He saw your flustered expression as you gently laugh it off under your breathe, it was the softest laugh, the laugh you can’t hear but barely your ears could hear a glimpse of it in the longing air distance between your bodies.

“I’m sure you can beat that guy Mark Lee at your exams. I believe in you.”

The first time someone said they believe in you. Your heart couldn’t take such words in at first until your brain duly processed them and proclaim them to be true. It felt like a lie but in reality it was truth spoken from the heart deep inside the saviour who risked their life and time to keep you safe and protected. You smile, unconcealed by your frown or the usual expression you wear. You smiled from your heart and not from your logical perspective self.

You grumble. “Hate to break it to you but I don’t think i can because tomorrow we have this test and i don’t have a written answer for the question we are answering tomorrow.”

You pull the sheet out from your bag that you nearly forgot back into the park thankfully, your saviour has grasped it for you. The sheet of paper was placed in front of the man and you.

You sigh out wanting to pull your freaking hair out of your head because you couldn’t find or come up with an answer to this question.

He read it aloud. “What other medications could you provide to a patient who is diagnosed with a non-ST elevation myocardial infarction?” You look at him from the side humming.

“Meaning you have to make your own hypnosis as to why you’re picking this medication and what will you do once you give him it and what furthermore will you proceed.” You sigh out. “I don’t do well with questions like this and honestly i can only think of one medicine. But you can’t use this one. It has to be other medications and methods used.”

You weren’t expecting anything from the man sitting down but the minute you saw him grabbing a pencil from the table that was lying about randomly he starts writing a diagram for you to see on the sheet and your eyes widen at what you’re seeing written down within the same time space. Your thoughts about the man being a professional medic was now coming back and you were so convinced with the way he was giving you an explanation that he was something close to your subject.

Heck maybe he was a doctor who the fuck knows?

“Here,”

He puts the pencil down now facing you again. “You can use enoxaparin for the patient’s medication with a side of dual anti platelet treatment and resistance that way they will be able to get a higher chance of recovery.”

It’s the way he explained this to you and you finally had a light bulb moment it literally felt like it. He opened your eyes to an answer and you face the man in a spiderman suit. If you’re being honest you weren’t expecting spiderman to be helping you with your exam answer for tomorrow so you could pass heck you weren’t even sure if this was real. It felt like a fever dream being saved by a superhero while you were still stressing with work and now he was helping you with your school work.

You stutter out reading the whole planned out section that you could do in your exam. “Wait… how— how did you know that you can use enoxaparin for a patient with a non-ST elevation myocardial infarction.”

But the minute you turned to look around to your side to see the man in the suit disguised becoming a whole enigma to your existence he was gone no longer next to you as if he vanished from thin air and you held your breathe.

Looking around the apartment helplessly.

Your eyes land back to the sheet paper holding eye contact with the handwriting and rub your fingers on them.

‘Just who are you, Spiderman?’

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The freshman passing to get to their classes made you wonder if you would ever miss these classes and traffics on your way to get to them, you’d have to say no. You can’t wait to graduate and leave this hell joke because freshman are truly the most annoying grade you’ve ever encountered.

On your way to the great hall where everyone in your class was seated ready to do the test ahead. You spent your whole night writing an hypnosis and memorising it so you could re write it on the real exam paper.

As you walk to your seat you bump into a boy you’ve not been looking forward to meeting, again. “Mark move out my way you’re blocking my seat.” You are complaining this early in the morning? How do you have the energy to do this.

Mark can’t help but not argue back it’s been so early in the morning he doesn’t even want to hear you and your disgraceful attitude to constantly get on his case. You push through his seat and sit down the same lane but only three seats away from him. Mark was asleep resting on the table but you were revising and re reading your notes meanwhile he was sleeping. You can’t help but think he’s being incredibly rude by not taking this as seriously as you and everyone else in this hall.

From every corner there was a medical student looking back on to their notes, so why wasn’t he? Even if you’re so tired you can’t move, you should at least try to look like you’re doing something.

You murmur under your breathe. “So much for showing off. If you wish to sleep you shouldn’t of come at all.”

‘He’s so unbearable.’ You complain.

The boy lifts his head up. You notice the fleek of his blue-ish silver alike hair was messy almost as if he didn’t even try to brush it yet he made it look super good despite being the normal bed hair.

He shots at you trotting back with the same energy and attitude as you. If you’re going to be insufferable he might as well match your horrible words too. “Mind your own business and focus on your own work.”

He grits his teeth at you. “I ain’t the one who constantly gets a point lesser than the work I’ve submitted.” He stalls. “Starting to think you’re a bitch by default.”

You stop watching him completely bite back and chew you open and then, just to chew you up again and spit you out into the bin like you’re nothing but rotten gooey mess that cannot be digested.

You didn’t reply but you can’t help but find Mark to be incredibly off the edge today and the minute the professor came in handing out the test papers the game was on. Your brains were on the A game trying to answer with much detail to the question everyone should’ve been revising yesterday. You remember that last night Spiderman has helped you and you were taking his advice with a mix of your own method process to make it your own work too. You felt confident now and unlike before, you’d actually think you might finally have a good hypothesis —better than Mark Lee’s.

The exam surprisingly went well however and you and Mark were both left in the hall finishing up the last touches. You finished before Mark only by twenty minutes until he came running his eyes behind you seeing you walk away with a proud smug.

Your paths disconnected. You walked away but unlike then you realised you forgot your own phone and airpods on the desk.

“Shit!”

You ran back going up the stairs in hurry and then forcing your way back into the hall you open the door wifely. The professor was out of bounds for a little bit only leaving Mark walking out of the lane but you bump into him suddenly knocking his stuff out of the arms and he looks at you.

He was staring you down in disbelief finding this incredibly annoying. He founds you super annoying today and he doesn’t know why or what. He can’t put his fingers on why you keep getting in his way.

You look away glaring. “Ugh watch where you’re going Lee.” You grumble going down on your knees lifting his stuff up. Hey at least you’re helping him.

Mark sighs grabbing his back and pen off the floor meanwhile you grab his piece of exam sheet he’s written loads on. But your eyes caught onto something similar and your brain suddenly flickers like you’ve connected a dot to another dot.

enoxaparin and Dual anti pallet?

You couldn’t believe it but the same handwriting and the same words you’ve heard from last night it really struck you until a harsh arm reaches out grabbing it out of your fingers glaring at you.

Mark looks at your dazed expression grumbling. “Hope you’re not cheating by being nosey Hm?” He side tracks pushing past you putting his exam paper on the pile with the rest of them and then going back up the stairs leaving through the door .

You held your gaze at him grabbing your phone and airpods running after the boy suddenly, suddenly you’re looking for an answer for your conspiracy theory.

‘There’s no way he’s spiderman, there’s no way!’

You caught him outside walking out the campus and down the road you’ve seen Mark stop turning around to see you shouting his name on top of your lungs. You catch your breathe, he saw the bright red colour on your cheeks from simply running after him all the way from the campus Uni to the freaking city roads. Mark raised an eyebrow judging why you’re following him when in reality — you wanted answers you seek so badly.

You want to wish you’re wrong. Your enemy cannot be your saviour that you are thankful for.

It makes this whole situation stupid on yourself. If you’re the one being fooled, god you don’t know what you’d do.

“Mark are you— Spider-Man?”

You ask him panting out heavily catching your legs before straightening upwards your body. The way your gaze fell apart the minute Mark raised his eyes up in surprise at your assumption.

Mark didn’t know why he couldn’t say no to you.

He wasn’t even sure why you’re catching onto him and if you are he wants to know how.

Somehow, you knew from his gaze. His gaze alone gave you an answer.

Mark grabs your wrist suddenly pulling you away. “What makes you say that, Y/n?” He was seriously asking you now and you were terrified wondering what he’s about to do.

He grabbed your wrist leading you up to a rooftop on a building that wasn’t even locked. The lock in the door was broken letting anyone walk up there for a long view of Seoul city and you’ve never felt more terrified of heights until now.

The boy from your class, your enemy and rival, the one you despise pushed you to the railings of the building staring into your eyes. His eyes were filled with tension and fear wondering what you’ll do if you find out his truth. His secret he’s kept from even his family.

Heck you weren’t sure what you’d do yourself if it was true.

“Wait why are we here?” You blabber out suddenly. Why the rooftop?

Mark ignored your requested question and simple puts the bag down and his shoes off. Your eyes widen as you saw Mark now trailing over the freaking railing of the rooftop standing on the edge and your mouth drops down thousand pieces before you knew it you shouted for him to stop.

“Wait- Mark holy fuck what are you doing!!” You slowly approach him and Mark turns to you making you stop with a single look at you.

He paused looking down at the heights above. It was fifteen stories high, maybe even more fox knows what. You couldn’t believe what Mark was doing and you felt like you were pressured into doing something to save your freaking enemy.

He spoke so seriously and sternly. “You asked me if I’m spiderman,” he looks at you again. “What do you think is the correct answer, Y/n?”

You weren’t sure.

If anything you were going based on your instinct and the handwriting you saw last night. It looked identical to the one Mark wrote on the exam paper today. It just made you think maybe it was him.

But now that Mark was standing on the railings looking like he was about to jump any minute you weren’t fucking sure. You’re contemplating. Second guessing your answer.

Conflicting information accounts your reality.

“Answer.” He demands shouting at you.

Seeing you flinch like you’re freezing and terrified to death he could see you shout back just as much at him.

“Yes! Okay! I think you’re fucking spider-man who saved me last night.”

And that is when your heart sank like it was drowning in between the seven seas completely squished between the contracting waves and the black hole draining you to a drift mark between your only breath of hope. As your heart broke down you could feel yourself dropping down after Mark. You crawled down the railings and jumped down right after the boy trying to grab his hand. He was dropping fast from each floor story —

15…

14…

13…

By the time you knew it you’re linking past two digits into singular and Mark opens his eyes widening seeing you drop down to grab him. ‘You’re so stupid…’ he couldn’t help but find your way down with him recklessly looking on you. For someone who’s so smart you have a way of becoming irrational.

You thought you were going to die until Mark grabbed you suddenly by your hands interlocking them. As he held your hand so tightly you felt your entire world swoosh open like an upside tennis ball on an open court. A huge spiderweb as connected you back to the rooftop that you jumped out off in the first lane.

Mark carried you over the railings as you were shaking gasping out for breath because he took it away.

You nearly doubted him being spiderman, because the only reason you jumped down was to save him knowing he was spiderman.

You fell to your knees holding your chest. Mark follows your outline silhouette of your hourglass and you glare looking at him.

“I’m not sure if you’re fucking dumb or if you enjoy being in dangerous situations.”

He seethes between his teeth harshly.

“Me dumb?” You repeated. You wanted to laugh for a minute at his audacity. You’re not the one who jumped down a flight of fifteen stories because you wanted to prove something to someone.

He was suddenly hit by hit hand against his chest. “You fucking— psycho!”

“Okay I deserve that.” He states understanding why you’re exactly cursing him.

Mark saw you curse him in long strings of words and shouts he couldn’t tell which one it was — words or freaking lyrics to a Kanye west song?

“What the fuck was your motive for this.”

“I didn’t know if i could trust you with my identity.” He sores out and you face him with your gaping mouth.

“So you think jumping down fifteen stories and me jumping after you will make you trust me? What’s fucking wrong with you— Y’know what you need to be put into a psych ward.” You blast. “There’s a thing called communication, Mark Lee!”

“Right…”

Mark looks at you finally calming down as you reclaimed your oxygen inside your deprived body it felt like the whole adrenaline was hunting you down. The boy came to an conclusion that you were one of a kind — no one would jump for their enemy or even an academic rival you wish to destroy. But you did it.

He wants to know how you caught him too, but he could take a guess.

“Question Y/n—“

“Hm?” You hum out softly turning around and the boy stops speaking as your calm and relaxed eyes rest on him.

You weren’t looking at him like you want to hate him in fact you were just looking at him without a singular emotion except perhaps, a hint of gladness maybe?

You could feel Mark’s breath returning. “How’d you find out I’m… spiderman.”

You’d smirk. “Your handwriting.”

He sighs out. “Dammit. I knew that would be a problem.” You laugh a little knowing he must feel slightly caught but lucky for him you aren’t going to expose him.

He did save you, you owe him that much.

“Hey Mark?”

Mark looks up at you finally catching a whiff of your hair scent when the air blows behind your head and your back. He couldn’t smell anything else but a hint of your watermelon and strawberry shampoo. It made him somehow feel better about it, knowing it was such a pleasant smell.

You smile at him. “Wanna come to my apartment and start anew?” You couldn’t help but think maybe you and Mark could become friends.

He saved you, even though you treated him like badly because of wanting to be better than him.

He could photosnap a picture of your smile like this if he was honest. He would. “Sure Y/n.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s crazy how much the dynamic between you wanting to ram Mark Lee’s face into a wall every morning whenever you’re on the way to your class to now actually cooking with Mark Lee in your apartment kitchen casually making ramen together.

You weren’t sure how you got here.

But let’s not question it, you thought.

Mark casually chops spring onion into thin slices as you drain the ramen out the water and then slowly put them into two bowls: one for you and one for mark.

Mark sees you opening the sauce packets and pour the sauce over the noodles in the bowls. He brings out the chopsticks and walks to the fridge humming.

“Now let’s see what drinks you have in the fridge.” He’d look inside the fridge and he sees the options looking very sad and bleak.

He looks at you from the side. “Really? No juice except for water?”

You thinly smile. “If you’re going to complain how about you buy yourself juice down the store.”’

He rolls his eyes as you blatantly throw a sarcastic threat that wasn’t very, sarcastic at the same time. He grabs the cold iced water out the fridge slamming the door and walking over pouring it into one cup. He passed you it and you look up.

“For me?” You let out taking it. “Thanks. You’re not so bad as i thought.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He laughs.

You shrug smirking grabbing the bowl to take it inside the living room. The boy follows you from behind with his very own plate of the noodles in and you put the tv on letting it play in the background.

As you guys ate in peace occasionally you guys spoke asking each other questions about the most random things.

It started off asking about the weirdest thing that happened to you.

You both answered each other, guess it was fate?

“I really envied you Mark.” You boost as you dig your chopsticks into the ramen eating. Mark couldn’t really understand how you can envy him, but he always had a feeling you were out to destroy him for whatever reason.

You guess he now knows how you truly felt. You were filled with jealousy and hate because he in your eyes was probably the most perfect person out. The ideal student. The ideal son. The ideal husband for a woman. You kinda grew a sour taste in your mouth ever since meeting him but you feel now perhaps it could be a sweeter one where you don’t have to actively hate each other.

Mark sat there watching you eat but he really doesn’t know how you could be there envying him when you are there sitting looking effortlessly pretty on the face overall eating ramen, at home while you’re equally smart too.

“Do you need help with that?”

He would ask pointing to the hair that keeps falling down into your food everytime you lower your face to take a bite from the chopsticks. You were caught by surprise when Mark’s hands moves closer rolling up your long hair around his fists like a ponytail and lets you take a clean bite on the ramen. You chew happily smiling and Mark felt a sort of happiest seeing you eat with a wide smile.

You look back at him seeing how he stayed still holding your hair in his hands, rolling it up so nicely. You never told him to do that, but he did it anyways.

You guess it must be the side effect of being a worldwide super hero. You have to help others without asking.

Your eyes take a moment to appreciate Mark up close. It’s a rare moment given, so you didn’t waste time taking all the small details about his handsome face.

Yes, he is handsome. You have to give him that.

Mark saw the way your eyes fell on his lips and then back to his eyes going in a circle trying to see where you can look. It’s like you can’t keep a straight eye contact with him at the same time, you don’t have to look at his lips to be obvious.

It wasn’t long till his deep timber voice brought you back to reality where your bodies closeness was still there awaiting for sign movement. “Earth to Y/n?” He softly chuckles seeing you break apart.

You look up at him. “You zoned out on me Y/n.” He beams lightly watching you put the chopsticks down. You clear your throat.

“Sorry.” You reply with a smile, your attention goes back onto Mark no matter what. He’s a magnet for your eyes.

“Must be my handsome face distracting you.” It was a joking quote but little did he know it was exactly why you’re zoning out. Because of his handsome face and you weren’t sure how to reply until you’d roll your eyes over scoffing out as if that could ever happen.

You hum. “So you’re crazy and delusional.” You quote back and Mark smirks turning to you giving you a little nudge.

“All the best people are, honey.” He throws.

You sometimes wonder how did he get such quick comebacks for everything you’ve got to say it’s like he’s a complete generator ready and made to defeat you at every word on the end.

He has to have the last word.

“Honey?” You said back surprised to know he used such a given nickname.

He looks at you smiling as he ate more of the ramen. You felt your cheeks grew slightly pink.

‘Honey.’ You repeated.

Your attentions were soon moved to another conversation you two ended up bringing in and it was about your class. Of course the thing you’re both seriously insane about and you could tell this would be a whole war between you two.

But somehow this was different at the same time it wasn’t too. You both were disagreeing and debating argument but now you are talking with it like normal people. You’re not avoiding him.

Mark enjoys seeing you debate with him.

He loves a good challenge and a different point of view too.

“Right so you’re telling me you’d rather be in surgery than a cataract operation?” Mark couldn’t believe you’d rather chose the most stressful option of the day, he was leering at you shaking his head.

An operation leaves you more free loaded work to do meanwhile surgery can go wrong many ways because it has more people involved.

You strain out. “Of course. Surgery is more important than an operation.”

“So you’d take one for the team no matter what the outcome is?”

You shrug. “I either come out as a hero or come out as a failure.” You smirk out. “But we both know I only take wins so, I will never come out as a failure.”

You’re too much of a perfectionist to come out as a failure surgeon in a surgery.

“You’re too confident for your own good.” He stated with a laughter and you smirk watching Mark. “Of course i am. What is there about me that’s not good?”

For a minute Mark was told to look at you trying to figure out a flaw but he could not. He trails down capturing every little figure detail on your face which made his heart skip a beat and he wore it on his sleeve when he answers you truthfully, staring at your lips beginning to list out your features like he was drunk on them.

“You have perfect kissable lips, beautiful eyes…” he stops himself halfway through, he wanted to compliment your hands, saying how easy they fit into his when that night he held you.

“I have kissable lips?” You blurt out.

Mark awkwardly pauses looking away. God he shouldn’t of said that.

“No- I mean- yes— wait god no. What am I saying.”

You move closer and he flinches at your sudden movement pulling the man closer your mouth closes the gap and he can feel your lips slowly kissing him enough to give Mark the confidence for his arms to slowly wrap them underneath your body lifting you falling. He falls back on the couch with you on top kissing him with so much powerful he had no idea you were feeling this way, he felt your emotions, every bit and one of them. The kiss spoke a million words that you wanted to say with your voice but couldn’t. Mark’s hands caress down your back roaming under your shirt feeling your warmth body than they slip down groping your ass.

You press harder into the kiss you share with the man underneath you when he grabbed it giving it a tight squeeze on your round and perfect shape ass. He could die from how perfect your body is, a hourglass that could leave him dead on the train tracks. He loves every inch of you it’s to die for.

His voice strains past the red lips achingly adding. “God you’re fucking perfect, Y/n.” You loved hearing him moan from just a single kiss.

You’d wonder what noises he’d made once he’s inside you, you were craving to know.

You were stressing on his lap freely trying to undress yourself as soon as possible however you were struggling with the buttons and Mark couldn’t help but smile watching your fingers slip away. He slowly moves on the shirt unbuttoning you sensually while eyeing you up and down.

You felt your face grow red when you saw how he was watching you so intensely you weren’t even aware. Mark captured a kiss on your lips. “You looked like you needed help.”

You smirk on the short lived kiss. He slid off your shirt revealing your shoulders and your cleavage between your bra on. He swore he loves every part of you, even your chest looks out of this world. Every little detail about you turns him on.

It was magical in a way what you do to him.

Mark lays you down putting one hand between your spine undoing your bra uncoupling it with just one hand and you felt it go loose as he stripped the rest of you spreading his mouth down your chest now. Kicking between your nipple folds and kissing your breasts so tenderly, fondling them. You were arching your back grinding your stomachs together as you were rolling out your soft moans.

The next thing you knew it his mouth was around your pelvis slipping out your panties to the side and pressing the thin tip of his tongue on your folds through the panties you couldn’t help but watch yourself fold down, apart, sideways — every position freaking possible you were in. Mark loved seeing you break down for only his mouth wait until he fucks you for real.

He made sure his mouth left you wet and warm, he also made sure you would come and give him a taste of yourself because he’s not going to fuck you until you do exactly that.

You moan into your hand when you felt his teeth gently brush on your sensitive clit and your body clutch onto the couch flatly as Mark pinned a hand on your stomach hitching inside with each ragged finger inside your hole or when overstimulating you with his tongue you took the largest breathe inside. Everytime you did so his hand on your stomach felt it and he loved seeing and feeling your body tense up from all the ways he’s eating you out, like he was practically starved for you, made for you to do this to you. You loved the fact that his nose rests flat on you sometimes because he loves to see you above as he eats you out underneath.

He loves seeing your head fling back or your eyes roll back. He loves seeing your hair become a brush out mess and your neck veins popping out from how much you’re withdrawing your moans or you’re stuttering out your noises like they were broken recording tapes you would listen back on to.

Mark felt your wet leaning pussy throb and his eyes lit up seeing you moan higher. He knew you were close now and you’re running away from it.

He however, was not letting you go run.

You moan loudly. “Fuck-fuck I’m going to come.”

Mark muffles against your leaking hole pushing his tongue further deep now enough to stretch between your folds in a circular motion you shake your thighs uncontrollably. “Don’t run away from it now honey.” Mark wanted to taste you finally.

Without you knowing what’s to come next Mark’s fingers roughly entering you hitting the g spot loosely stretching your walls out in places you’ve never known could be done before and then his tongue was stuck on your clit going on and on like a running wheel on a car. Non stop driving you to your maximum speeds and mileage you couldn’t handle so much at once, especially his fingers, they felt too good to be true. He knew how to work with them, it’s like he will never catch you slipping. He had, spidery senses where he could just make you come on his fingers with just one movement.

Snap…

It’s all he needed to see when he saw you spew on his fingers right there and then wetting them with your pussy juices. He brought them out momentarily licking them clean and you watch him before he retract them back inside you seeing you moan out loud when he did so.

“Fuck, Mark….” You blabber.

You’re already so out of it and Mark can’t help but think how you’ll look and sound when his cock is in the picture with you.

He dug inside your pussy with his fingers humming down loving to see your juices come in and out. “You’re so… sweet tasting.” He trails loving you on his taste buds more than he anticipated.

“Can’t wait to feel you come undone on my cock.” And that’s when you felt your world splitting into two as he said this getting out the erected cock in front of you. You let your mouth spit on his tip massaging it with your saliva and Mark groaning out as he positions his tip to your aligning entrance, you felt the anticipation kill you till you feel a large wound coming in and pulling you widely apart.

You’re underneath Mark gazing into his eyes as you held on the side to his arms for support. You began to clench your eyes tight to adjust to him fully, who the heck knew he was going to be this big?

You didn’t see it coming until now you’re feeling it coming.

You were mourning for your grave the minute your done with him you’ll going to be the first person to have troubles walking after getting fucked out by your saviour Spiderman. You weren’t expecting it for him to be good in bed now too — you arch your back slowly when Mark starts thrusting as he feels you taking the shape of his cock. Your body was following him so well he feel like you were the perfect match for a rhythm player.

Mark could feel everything about you as much as you feel everything about him. His cock pumping you up until you will be ready to come undone chasing your high, or should in this case be highs. Mark was making sure you come out of here with so much drain energy that you will get lost counting the times you came in the scene. You knew he was making you feel the ultimate pleasure he can produce and you, you were shocked he could go on so much.

He loves seeing your stomach take an image of his manhood deep working inside. He loved the sight more than he should’ve because next he’s ramming in you to see a rougher sight of his cock hitting your stomach.

You were there arching constantly wondering how did he find the most sensitive places for your body, even yourself you never knew this could make you become a moaning mess under him.

He loves see your face scrunch up whenever you moan his name. He loves to hear your voice and to feel your words reach his heart.

Next thing you know, you’re the one becoming a blabbering fool who’s going on about how good he feels and how amazing he’s fucking you out till you lost your mind. Mark wants to tell you he knows, because he can feel every inch of you clenching his cock wanting to milk him dry within you nonstop. You want this to become a limitless.

Limitless moment with him.

Mark groans clutching your pelvis down. “I’m going to…!”

He couldn’t finish his sentence faster than his body. You hold your breath as you felt him snap finally inside you feeling a pair of warm fluid inside your body and you achingly put a hand on his shoulder as he was breathing heavily against your neck.

You could sense his heartbeat and your own too, Mark loves the sound of yours matching his. It made this moment somehow more memorable and special.

You tiredly close your eyes sighing out.

“So, Spiderman how do you feel about a date?”

Mark couldn’t believe his ears until he lifts his fave away from your neck staring into your eyes.

He might be becoming a fool for you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu! Please reblog this fic and follow me for more it helps a girl out. <3

[roosterforme]

The Grateful Dad | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: When you lose Bradley's favorite possession while you're away for a work conference, he starts to panic when you get home. 

Warnings: Fluff, swears, mentions of sex and pregnancy

Length: 1400 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is an optional one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time!

Check my profile for my masterlist

You just had a hunch. Something was telling you that the timing had worked out perfectly this month. It could have been that night that Bradley made you a romantic dinner for your birthday, complete with s'mores made over the stove burner. Or maybe it was the evening when he'd come into your office while you were grading exams and spread you out on your desk. It could have even happened that Sunday afternoon when he tried on his new dress whites for you. 

But regardless, you weren't too surprised when your period didn't start the day it should have. You weren't shocked that it didn't come the following day either. You were in fact very excited when you had to find a store that was open late on the random Tuesday night when you were in Philadelphia for an academic conference. 

You took a stack of pregnancy tests back to your hotel room and looked at them sitting in a row on the desk while you called your husband. You would take the tests in the morning as the instructions told you.

"Hey, Sugar."

His voice sounded extra raspy through the phone, and it made you smile at the Clear Blue Easy box in front of you. 

"Hi, Beer Boy. How was work?"

"It was fine. I miss you. What time does your flight land on Friday night?"

"Kind of late. Not until ten."

Bradley groaned. "I can't wait to pick you up. I can't even enjoy the Hard Deck without you. Everyone just asks where you are the whole time, and the beers don't taste as good."

You smiled. Hopefully after you took a pregnancy test in the morning, you could tell him he'd have to keep drinking without you for a while. "I'll be home before you know it."

"You gonna send me a selfie?" he asked, and you could practically hear him smirking. You quickly snapped a photo of you all dressed for bed in his old tie dyed Grateful Dead shirt, and when you texted it, he moaned into the phone. 

"You look so good in that. You look better out of it."

You laughed and said, "Maybe I'll send you another one in the morning while I take a shower."

"Oh, fuck. Please do. And then get your ass home to me."

The selfies you took in the shower the next morning and sent to him were a big hit with Bradley. And you had to admit that your smile had never looked brighter or happier than they did in those photos. Maybe with the exception of when you and Bradley reconnected at your ten year class reunion. 

So you threw away all of the pregnancy tests and got dressed for your conference. And on the way there, you found exactly what you were looking for on Amazon and ordered it with a giddy laugh. 

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

Bradley was waiting around, contemplating keeping his uniform on after work on Friday. He knew you would like that, but he still had hours until it was time to pick you up from the airport. So he changed into jeans and a backwards cap instead and decided to clean the house. 

"Good, god," he murmured, simply closing the door to your messy office instead of even attempting to do anything constructive in there. First of all, you'd get pissed if he moved anything. And second, the food wrappers and dirty mugs were your problem to deal with, not his. "She's as bad as Nat."

You were kind of a slob, but he loved you and he was delighted when it was time to collect you from the airport. His week had been empty without you. At times it felt like he was still living in that ten year period when he didn't have you with him; nothing was wrong, exactly, but nothing was right either.

"Sugar!" he called out when he saw you at the airport. And holy shit, did you always look this beautiful? Had he been taking you for granted recently? He really hoped not, because you were fucking stunning even in leggings and a sweatshirt as you approached him with a gorgeous smile on your face. 

"I missed you, Beer Boy." Your hands were on his neck as you kissed his lips and his mustache, and Bradley pulled you tight against his body. "You look cute in your hat."

He was going to take you home and fuck you hard into the mattress. 

However, upon arrival, disaster struck. Bradley watched you open your suitcase on the bedroom floor and gasp as you dug around. "I think I lost your shirt."

Bradley's heart sank. "My Grateful Dead shirt?"

"Yeah."

"Sugar! What the fuck, baby?" he whined in desperation. He loved that stupid thing. He loved that you always wore it. He loved that you kept it with you for ten solid years between college and when you and he reunited. "Seriously?"

When you just winced, Bradley took out his phone. "Which hotel did you stay at again? I'll call them. Maybe one of the housekeepers found it." He had pulled up google to search for the phone number, but he saw you smiling out of the corner of his eye. 

"Don't worry about it too much. I got you a replacement."

He thought his eyes were going to bug out. "A replacement? No, that shirt was vintage. Where did you possibly find a replacement?"

"Amazon!" you said brightly, and he groaned and dropped his phone. "Come over here and look at it!"

There was no way you couldn't tell that Bradley was pissed off as you stood and held up a hideous orange, brown and teal tie dyed monstrosity in front of him. 

"Oh, no. No no no," he moaned as he read the front of it. "It's all wrong! It's like that 'No Regerts' tattoo meme. And don't even get me started on the colors."

You turned it around the other way so you could look at it, and you calmly told him, "It looks good to me."

Bradley was sweating now. His priceless shirt was gone, and his wife had lost her damn mind. "Sugar. It says Grateful Dad. Not Dead. It's a typo."

You examined it again and shook your head. "No typos," you told him, smiling while he wanted to scream. And then you held it up one more time.

"Wait," he whispered. "Oh." 

It couldn't be. Could it? But the two of you hadn't been using protection for quite a few months. The idea of letting it happen naturally, if it happened at all, had appealed to both of you. Bradley's heart was pounding in his ears as your smile grew. 

"Sugar?" He pulled the shirt from your hands and tossed it onto the bed, taking both of your cheeks gently in his hands as he gaped at you. "Are you pregnant?" His voice was soft, so scared that he might be wrong about this.

But you nodded and said, "Yes!"

He hauled you up into his arms and shouted, "Hell yeah!"

"You're going to be a dad! To a little Bradshaw Bean!" you told him as he spread you out on the bed and very gently laid on top of you, making sure he didn't put pressure on your belly.

"I'm going to be the Grateful Dad! I'm so happy!" He could feel tears prickling at his eyes as he kissed your face before easing himself down your body and gently pulling up your sweatshirt to kiss your belly. After nuzzling around your belly button, he pushed your shirt up further and paused. 

"You are such a brat!" he scolded with a grin when he realized you had been wearing his authentic, vintage Grateful Dead tee under your sweatshirt the entire time. "Just for that, we're naming the baby Jerry Garcia Bradshaw."

Your hysterical laughter as he kissed and tickled you had him smiling for the rest of the night. And when you fell asleep on him, all wrapped up in his shirt after he made love to you, he ordered a newborn sized tie dye onesie. 

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

This one goes out to @sometimesanalice for the perfect title, and @je-suis-prest-rachel for the shirt idea! Thanks for loving Beer Boy and Sugar! And thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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The Grateful Dad Part 2

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@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

[otomes-world]

Six impossible things before breakfast

Little twist with sentient twst au, yes, I didn't expect this either. Masterlist with more works here

We've probably all heard the joke about "How many light bulbs does it take to (insert whatever)." Who would have thought that you would use a slightly modified version of it: how many more coincidences must happen to realize the truth.

Although can anyone really blame you for not wanting to admit that you are a bunch of colored pixels created purely for entertainment purposes? No, it even sounds nice. After all, your purpose was to create extras, a stage on which the main characters performed and shone. Those who had faces.

Did you always have yours? Could you always see it in the mirror in the morning?

Did figurative shivers run down your spine every time a faceless classmate addressed you? One of ten, hundreds, exactly the same. Have the main bunch had the same problem? That's the question you'd been asking yourself lately. Did they shrug off empty, replaceable shells, or at least for a second consider them their equals?

Perhaps the question should have been asked differently. Was this in the order of things for them, because the thought of the incorrectness of worldly norms did not flash through their heads. Or it was something simple and very banal - they did not realize that they were part of the game.

Were you special? The thought was flattering, but it was stupid to start turning up your nose. Maybe the supreme programmer, like the smart guys from Ignihyde, could consider you a virus, a bug, an annoying nuisance, which can be gotten rid of in a couple of seconds. Click and that's it, your file would be deleted.

The idea that death could be more than just literal took you by surprise.

It all started with a strange feeling of déjà vu, with a strange cyclical nature of what was happening. How the seasons did not change according to the laws of nature or, on the contrary, lasted longer than expected. Sometimes you wondered what month was going on, at least by counting. Or how you couldn’t say with certainty what year of study you were in. When was your graduation? Would it ever come?

How many times did the main characters celebrate their birthday? How many times had you celebrated it? Did you celebrate it from the start?

Lessons

Breaks

Exams

Holidays

Lessons

Was there an end to this merging stream of eternal students? Was the dormitory assignment ceremony that important? How many real “first-year students” were admitted each year? Why couldn't your educational journey end? Time adjusted and obeyed an invisible force; it existed only when it was convenient for someone.

Catching the attention of the local spotlight and getting on stage was the best way to get labeled as a "bug" and ask to be removed. However, the main threat was only the erasure of memory.

The next discovery was doubt about one’s own “specialness.” When consciousness had nothing to do, it began to cling to different details, trying to look for differences in a series of events repeated in the film.

When you knew what to look for, small mistakes that were not noticeable at first glance stand out more than usual. A slight shadow of boredom on the faces of the main ones. Lack of interest in the educational process and exams. As if only one “exam” was important in a bunch of exactly the same events. When the first years of Heartslabyul signed a contract with Ashengrotto.

With new information in mind, it became easier to identify important “events” and track time based on them. By how many times they were repeated in the endless flow of time. Taking notes and somehow recording data was more dangerous than you thought, all that was left was to come up with methods known to you alone. For example, in a dorm room on the bedside table there was a cluster of glasses, each containing specific color of pencils.

Did your roommates start to think you were weird and obsessed with order and cleanliness? Their right. You didn't care what they thought, besides, they would forget about it with the coming of a new day.

In order not to completely go crazy, you began to peer into the “faces” of other students, trying to spot at least a feature that distinguishes one from another. Either this world was too lazy, creating copy after copy in every dorm, or there was no point in trying. If you somehow came to terms with the feeling of the meaninglessness of what was happening, then the appearance of one student in several places at the same time still caused rejection.

Disgusting

If this world was someone’s experiment, then why were events cyclical? If this was a cage, then where was the exit. If this was a prison, then who was being held in it?

You made a mistake in observing a person without magic from another world. Trying to figure out whether Yuu's "world" was truly different or just as much a part of predestination as everything around. Was “Yuu” really the main one or just an extra? You could have sworn they didn't have a face. At least such clear features as all the main ones. Just as there was no character, how in each of the repeating events they could behave differently.

It was a breath of fresh air in the routine of never-ending study. The watching of the only part capable of changing in the world, subject to the same rules.

That's why, when one of the main ones suddenly approached you, you thought you were dreaming. Whether it was possible to fall asleep in the simulation was another question. Usually you went to bed, closed eyes, only to open them the next second to the sound of the alarm clock.

"Can I help you with something?" You smiled politely, but was it worth it? Could the main bunch distinguish between persons different from their privileged group.

Hunt. Was that his name? You weren't completely sure. He was part of something forbidden, something to be avoided at all costs. Part of the three “don’ts”: don’t look for information;don’t mention; don’t give yourself unnecessary temptations. Returning to the present moment, he just looked into your eyes with his constant smile, as if trying to find confirmation of something.

Like a true NPC, you continued to stand, frozen in one position and waiting for his answer. Until awareness came as abruptly as his appearance in principle. He looked straight into your eyes. Could he see your face the same way you saw it in the mirror? How long ago? Could the rest of the main ones see you too?

A billion questions were spinning in head at the same time as you tried to come up with a suitable excuse and reason to leave. The changes turned out to be too unexpected and frightening. Perhaps with the advent of a new “day” everything would return to normal.

“Is there a knight in the world who is not ready to devote all his deeds to one and only one, if this opens the veil of secrets at least a little? Will it allow him to find out what thoughts are spinning in head?”

It's a pity he was not a knight. Even though each word was pronounced with a special intonation, you only thought about how much water there was in his speech. Unfortunately, saying this out loud was an unaffordable luxury.

"..Is that so?"

“You are right, an étoile (star), I may be not one of their noble number, but even so I am not able to deny their order.” You let him continue, mentally counting down the minutes until the bell rang for lesson. “I may not have a sword in sheath, but It won`t change a way I live! Your smile can make my whole heart melt. There isn't lie in way I felt”

“I’m not good at poetry, but the rhyme is lame, Sir Hunt,” if it’s there.

“You’re right, writing poems is just one of my hobbies, to which I devote my few free leisure hours,” he continued, as if your words didn’t hurt him at all. “I hasten to assure you that there was no malicious intent in my actions. This modest hunter only wanted to greet a new connoisseur of everything beautiful and interesting."

No matter how much you hate beating around the bush, doubts creeping in from randomly thrown words. Sometimes the phrases spoken directly were the most frightening. However, not wanting to part with your role as an extra - which was burdensome, but at the same time giving a semblance of freedom - you continued to pretend to be an NPC.

"Should I congratulate you?.. Congratulations!" Any member of the film club would envy your feigned sincerity. A bell in three, two, "I don’t dare detain you any longer.”

The unsaid `like you would me` hung in the air. You had to hold out for the few remaining hours until the end. Fortunately, the main one did let you go, but smile, saying that its owner knew everything in the world, left an unpleasant aftertaste. One that your intuition suggested would accompany you for the next days.

It's going to be a very long a few hours.

[omgrachwrites]

The Night We Met (Chapter Three)

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Potter!Reader

Summary: Over the summer you connected with the boy who is quite literally your twin’s mortal enemy. Things start to fall apart in the darkness of the autumn.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, angst, everyone lives au, takes place in 6th year

A/N: Soooo, this is up a lot later than intended so I have made it a lil longer to thank you guys for your patience. Alsoooo thank you so much for all your support on this series, it truly means the world to me! Hope you guys enjoy this part and please let me know if you would like to be tagged. I love you all very much! xxx

Chapter Three

The Great Hall was especially rowdy one blustery Thursday morning as you went to meet your friends for breakfast, opting to sleep in for an extra ten minutes. The cause of the noise was coming from the first years panicking about their timetables and the older students who were practising their spells for class. Hermione grinned at you when she noticed you, her curly hair in a braid down her back.

“You look especially lovely this morning, Y/N,” she smiled as you sat down.

You flushed at her words, “why, thank you. My mum would say it’s the fresh air, does wonders for the complexion she says.”

Ron, who had been listening to the conversation looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “and, what would you say?” he asked.

You shrugged, “I would say it’s a happy accident.”

Ron snorted into his breakfast at your reply while Hermione shook her head fondly as she poured some milk into your tea, “you are completely ridiculous.”

You laughed, taking the milk from her and pouring it into your bowl of cereal as you looked up at your twin who looked as though he was trying not to fall asleep in his cornflakes.

“What’s up with Harry?” you asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “probably too busy poring over that stupid potions book all night instead of sleeping.”

It was in the first potions lesson of the year that Harry had found the mysterious book that had transformed him into a potions expert. Hermione regarded the book as a form of cheating and you weren’t inclined to agree with her until he won the tiny bottle of liquid luck. The former owner of the book called themselves the Half-Blood Prince, and none of you had any clue who it was. Though, you were sure that you had heard the name somewhere but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Harry seemed to wake up halfway through breakfast, “what have we got first?” he asked, concealing a yawn behind his hand.

“It’s Thursday so it’s Defence Against the Dark Arts,” you replied and Harry’s face fell.

Defence Against the Dark Arts used to be Harry’s favourite lesson but now with Snape teaching the class it was quickly becoming his idea of hell, “great,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice, “I wonder what fun we’ll have today,” you rolled your eyes, he was so dramatic.

“Just don’t piss him off,” Ron laughed but that was almost impossible because Harry’s mere presence seemed to piss Snape off.

Finally, the bell went and you all traipsed to your lesson, it was pitch black in the classroom, as usual. Snape preferred to teach with all the blinds down on the windows, once again fuelling the rumour that he was a vampire.

“Everyone get in and sit down,” he hissed, there was no time or room for any pleasantries in Snape’s lessons.

When everyone had found their seats in silence Snape started the lesson and you quickly learned it wasn’t exactly a cheery topic that he would be teaching today, “we’ll be covering the cruciatus curse today. You will be required to explain each unforgivable curse in detail along with their characteristics for your NEWT exams next year.”

Your NEWT exams was the focus of all professors this year it seemed. You fidgeted nervously as you tried not to look at the very graphic photograph of a wizard being tortured that was hung on the wall. You missed Remus. Everyone had tried to convince Remus to come back to Hogwarts but he didn’t seem to be interested.

“Now,” Snape continued in a dangerously quiet voice, “what are the characteristics of the cruciatus curse and what is it used for?”

The room was silent, even Hermione didn’t raise her hand although you knew that she knew the answer. She was staring very hard at the blackboard, hardly blinking. A soft voice made everyone jump and you were surprised at who it was that spoke.

“The curse is used to inflict excruciating pain on the victim, though it leaves no physical mark and you have to mean it for the curse to work. It’s like your nerve endings are on fire,” Mattheo stared at his piece of parchment as he spoke before he finally looked up and cleared his throat, “or, that’s what I’ve read anyway.”

Snape nodded at him before turning to write it up on the blackboard, “5 points to Slytherin, Riddle.”

You looked at Mattheo, horror rising in your chest. What he had said didn’t seem to come from someone who had merely read about the curse. Snape lectured for about twenty more minutes before he made you all start an essay on the cruciatus curse in silence. It made for a very depressing lesson.

As soon as the bell rang, signalling the next lesson, Mattheo practically flew from the room without waiting for his friends, and you followed behind him. The hallway was practically empty due to how quick you both left the classroom and you called his name. You had expected him to keep walking but he didn’t. He turned to look at you.

“How did you know all that stuff about the cruciatus curse?”

He laughed humourlessly as he walked closer to you with an anguished look on his handsome face, “how do you think I know it?” the look on his face wasn’t the look of someone who had cast it, but someone who had been on the receiving end of it.

You forced back the gasp that threatened to spill from your mouth, you knew that he wouldn’t exactly appreciate that form of sympathy, “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, “why the hell do you even care? We agreed to carry on like we don’t know each other.”

“I know that’s what we agreed but Theo, I can’t pretend like I don’t know you. It’s not like I can turn my feelings for you off just like that. Can you?”

Mattheo swallowed as he looked at the floor before he looked back at your face, “it was never that deep for me, Y/N.”

His words hurt you, they were so cold and calculating but before you could muster a reply, you felt someone wrap an arm around your shoulders, “is he bothering you, Y/N?” Harry asked.

Mattheo never took his eyes from yours as he raised an eyebrow. You tore your eyes away from his as you looked at your brother, “no, he’s not. C’mon, Harry, let’s get to potions.”

Harry glared at Theo as he shoved past him, hissing beneath his breath, “stay the fuck away from my sister, Riddle.”

As you joined Ron and Hermione outside the dungeons, Ron narrowed his eyes, “and where were you two?”

“Nowhere, doesn’t matter,” you said quickly before Harry could say anything.

As far as you were concerned your dad was the only one who knew about you and Mattheo, and you weren’t going to start broadcasting it now. Thankfully, Slughorn came out and greeted the class, letting them inside before Harry could contradict your words.

When you walked into the dungeons, you were immediately hit with the smell of fancy French cologne. You knew it was coming from the steaming cauldron on Slughorn’s desk. For the past couple of lessons, you had been learning the theory of Amortentia – the world’s strongest love potion – you didn’t pay too much attention to the scent of the cologne.

Your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Mattheo, you really wished you could just get over him. Maybe you should start dating, though unfortunately you knew that most of the male population at Hogwarts were complete idiots.

Slughorn grinned at everyone as he ushered them all inside, “welcome, welcome. Please take your seats,” it was a vast difference from Snape.

Slughorn started the lesson about five minutes late as he waited for everyone to make it down to the dungeons from their previous lessons. When everyone had taken their seats, Slughorn clapped his pudgy hands together, “right, as you all know for the past couple of days we have been learning about Amortentia. Some of you may have realised that this,” he tapped the cauldron with his wand, “is full of Amortentia. Now, who would like to tell the class what they smell?”

When nobody volunteered, Slughorn looked at you with a smile on his face, “how about you, Miss Potter?”

A couple of your classmates snickered while Mattheo looked at you, the expression on his face was very guarded. You bit your lip as you looked back at Slughorn, shaking your head, “I’d rather not if that’s okay, Professor.”

“Of course, I know it’s no small thing that I ask,” he said kindly and your body flooded with relief. Slughorn turned his attention to Mattheo, “how about you, Mr Riddle?”

To your surprise, Mattheo nodded, “yes, Sir,” he walked to the front of the classroom and took a deep breath as he drank in the scent of the steaming potion. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he did so, “I don’t smell anything, Sir.”

Slughorn looked hugely disappointed, “nothing at all?”

“No, Sir.”

Although Slughorn looked disappointed he didn’t look surprised, “very well, please take your seat, Mr Riddle.”

Mattheo found his seat and he looked up, his eyes meeting yours. There was nothing in his eyes, they were stone cold and the realisation hit you like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t lying, he really couldn’t smell anything. But what did that mean? The lesson passed in a blur and you didn’t exactly listen as your mind was elsewhere, you did feel bad but you knew that you could easily catch up with the notes at a later date.

At dinner that evening the thought was still bothering you so you decided to ask Hermione, “why couldn’t Riddle smell anything in the Amortentia?”

Hermione looked at you in surprise, “have you not heard the rumour?”

“What rumour?”

“There’s a rumour that Voldemort was conceived because of a love potion,” Harry replied, butting into the conversation.

“So?” you asked wondering what his point was.

“People who are conceived because of love potions are incapable of feeling love, and if it runs through Voldemort’s veins then it runs in Riddle’s too,” Hermione explained.

You looked up at the handsome boy who was laughing with his friends on the other side of The Great Hall. You didn’t know who his mother was but you knew that he wasn’t conceived from love, presumably Voldemort was desperate from an heir.

“So, he can’t love either,” you said to yourself.

It was like some sort of Greek tragedy, having feelings for someone who was incapable of returning them.

“Why are you so bothered?” Ron asked.

“I’m not,” you lied, missing the way Hermione looked at you with suspicion.

A couple of days later, Hermione cornered you in the changing rooms when you had showered after Quidditch practice. She was slightly breathless and her cheeks were pink, it looked as though she had practically ran to get to you.

“What are you doing here?”

She shook her head, “I was racking my brain, trying to figure out why you were so bothered that Riddle couldn’t smell anything in potions. Then it came to me, he’s the boy you met over the summer isn’t he? Please don’t lie to me.”

You sighed, “yes,” you whispered, waiting for the judgemental look or the burst of outrage but she simply took your hand and waited for you to continue, “we got to know each other over the summer and I thought he was a dick at first, but when I really got to know him, I realised he’s different than the front he puts up at school.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered, looking hurt.

“I didn’t want you judging me.”

“Y/N! I wouldn’t have judged you, I would have been there for you through it all, through the break-up. In fact, I will be there for you, it’s clear that you still have feelings for him.”

“Why would you do that for me?” Theo’s dad was the cruellest wizard that had ever lived, he’d been especially cruel to people like Hermione. She should hate you, but she didn’t.

“Because you’re my best friend, silly girl,” she laughed as she pulled you into a hug.

You hugged her back tightly, “please don’t tell anyone, especially not Harry.”

Hermione laughed into your hair, “I don’t want you to get murdered, of course I won’t tell Harry,” you smiled at her response, relieved that at least someone knew your secret.

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

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[sanccharine]

the way everyday goes | ty

christmas au

pairing: tzuyu x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 7k

warning: again so sweet it'll rot your teeth ;-;

summary: your bank account may be crying, but that doesn't matter when you spend money on the people you love most

a/n: this year (last years rip) christmas fic, would anyone believe me if i said everything was ready to be posted ?? i just got lazy, i'm sorry HAFGDHSKFH thanks to @eternallyghosting my human spelling and grammar check but ngl tho, i wrote this fic very weirdly, so expect some things to not add up, but yeah !! happy new year !!

When Tzuyu opened the door to her studio, she seemed the furthest thing from happy to see you. Though that was often the expression she wore when dealing with the likes of you. 

You, on the other hand, wore a wide grin, shaking a large bag of chips in one hand and a bottle of iced coffee in the other. 

She was dressed in her usual garb. The one she wore when she locked herself in her room for an ungodly amount of days. An extra large sweatshirt that fell to her thighs with matching sweatpants in black colour. The only indicator of her tension is the frayed hem of one corner, no doubt picked at the seam while she reads all of her essays and articles and textbooks.

Tzuyu was unamused, but you were used to that. No harm done. Scoffing at her deadpan look, you shoved your way into her small house. When she didn’t step to the side, your back clipped the door frame, while all she did was watch you with her owlish eyes. 

“Good morning,” you said, throwing another grin at her over your shoulder as you made your way straight to her study desk. Tzuyu had barely moved, holding the door open and just watching you run around her home as if it were your own. “Come on, why do you look like that? Catch!”

And you threw the chips packet at her. 

Your smile only widened as Tzuyu watched the packet fly across the distance between you and let it fall to her feet. She looked at the packet and then at you and then back at the packet. With a sigh, she closed the door behind her. 

You expected as much from her and shrugged. “Have fun with your crumbs,” you said, observing her study desk. 

“Oh, I will,” she mumbled and bent down to pick up the fallen treat.

Exams are over. Results were coming out soon for the semester. And best of all, your holidays have started. The campus is closed for a whole week until New Year’s, truly there was nothing to frown at. Yet, there you stood scrutinising Tzuyu’s desk. 

Her laptop is open on some unit site, codes and words that meant nothing to you. Her notebooks were strewn open with loose sheets, all highlighted and annotated with multicoloured pens. Sticky notes infiltrated every part of your vision. It overwhelmed you. Though, you supposed a student like Tzuyu could only function as such. 

“What—What is all…” you gestured loosely at her table, “this?”

Tzuyu, still at her place in front of the door, tilted her head to the left as she opened the chips packet. Her blank stare was just a touch away from a glare as she decided not to grace you with a response. 

You were used to her tricks. Same as she was to your taunts. 

“You know the semester is over right, like, you can rest now,” you say, but Tzuyu scoffed.

She made her way towards you and headed to the cupboard behind. But not before offering you some of her chips, you tipped the crumbs into your mouth.

“I have to prepare for postgrad,” she said, “you know that.”

“Oh, what postgrad?” you asked, feigning cluelessness but Tzuyu just sent a scathing glare over her shoulder. “Do you mean the postgrad that starts in September of next year?”

“Second week of October,” she said, as she pushed hangers out of the way as if they’d personally offended her. 

“Oh, even worse,” you sighed dramatically, throwing your arm over your forehead though she didn’t turn having seen this routine so many times. “That’s what? Only like a year’s worth of time—”

“It’s only ten months.”

“Oh sorry, only ten months, that’s truly so little time,” you said, purposely standing in her way when she turned to lay out her pick on the bed. Tzuyu liked to visualize her clothes. 

“That time will pass in a flash—get! Get out of my way!” she shoved you to the side and walked to her bed before continuing. “Before you know it, the semester will start and you’ll be wondering how you’re already behind on assignments.”

That was such a fatalistic belief that only a student like Tzuyu can hold. Even when she, herself, has disproved such thinking. 

“Yeah, but you did promise to take a break for a while,” you said, a bit of seriousness slipping in but you caught yourself. Shrugging exaggeratedly for effect and took a moment to consider. After a pause, you clapped your hands together. “Like how we said we’d go out and celebrate today! Remember that?” 

“Can’t say I do. Is that why you’re up so early today?” she said as she moved back and forth pulling out pieces to complete her outfit. Tzuyu then returned to her cupboard, shuffling something around in there. You’d say that she was trying to figure out how to complete her look, but knowing her, she’d probably planned her outfit for the day. 

You looked at your wrist, there was no watch. “Yeah, getting up before twelve was a real struggle,” you said and you moved right by her as she finally picked out a manuka winter coat. She ignored the way you clung to her side, though you didn’t miss the small smile she wore. Donning a smile of your own, you continued. “But you know those are the sacrifices I make for our relationship.” 

“Oh, is that right?” Tzuyu asked, following along with your playacting. 

“Oh yeah, I’ve been waiting all week for this day. All month even, you could say. Just for this, this very special, oh-so-jolly day. All only to get some time to spend with you, my—” You had just opened your arms to cage Tzuyu from moving around but she’d stopped you with a hand to chest. 

“It’s not that serious,” her words were clipped but she was smiling. “Calm down, now.”

“Now, why would I do that?” you asked, arms still outstretched, you jutted your chin at them, waiting for your hug. 

Tzuyu rolled her eyes but still relented. 

She giggled when your arms closed around like how a claw machine would around a toy. And similarly—

“Don’t—” her words ended in a squeal as you lifted her up and spun her around, a little wobbly on your feet just to mess with her. 

You dragged her down to her bed, crumpling her perfectly set up clothes on the way, and burst into giggles. All the while Tzuyu grumbled her distaste at being lifted up while struggling to get away from your hold. 

“Stop laughing!” she shrieked, pushing herself away as giggles escaped her lips as well. “Seriously, seriously! I’ll go get ready, let me go now!” 

You just hummed and rolled away as she hurriedly got off the bed. She straightened herself up before tugging at her clothes from beneath you. All you did was watch her, a cold sensation climbed up your arms. 

“You’re unbelievable,” she was flushed when she said it, but grinning ear to ear as she made her way to her bathroom.

By the time the pair of you had reached the bus station, you had finished both the packet of chips and your bottle of iced coffee. Swiping her card quickly, Tzuyu made her way to the back of the bus and picked a two-seater. This early in the morning and this far out of the city, there was barely anyone on the bus. She shuffled herself next to the window just as you took a seat next to her. 

The bus had already moved from the station when Tzuyu pulled out her phone and earphones from her pockets. Without even looking at you, she handed you the left earphone after putting the right one on. When you accepted, she pressed play and leaned back with her eyes closed. 

You watched her for a second, a reprieve from when she wasn’t studying you back. You heard a chime somewhere in your vicinity, but you didn’t turn away, your stop wasn’t up until a while.

Tzuyu often looked perfect. 

Of course, that was simple to say because she was beautiful. There was no doubt about it. 

But it wasn’t so surface-level. It bled into how she carried herself and practically built her facade. 

She’d said it herself. 

“Repetition leads to routine, and practice leads to perfection. It’s monotonous but it brings order. They set a standard,” she paused. “And that’s something I can’t afford to give up.” 

Granted, when she had uttered those words you’d found her in the same awful set of lockdown-sweats. A manic look in her eyes and her hair was frizzy from having a hand run through it so many times. She’d stayed up all night writing her draft of an essay that was worth nearly fifty percent of her grade. She’d barely eaten, surviving on instant black coffee and cereal bars. 

In those types of moments, she reminded herself of those words. She repeated them when her motivation dipped beyond recognition and staring at her screen made her eyes dry up. She had a sticky note of the same words written in a hasty scrawl in her line of sight, just above where her laptop sat, so it was always on her mind. She’d apologise because she was not one to bite her tongue, but she’d tell you the same words. And sometimes it motivated you, seeing her excel, you wanted that for yourself too. But most of the time, the weight of working so hard crushed you straight into the ground. 

It was worrying but she never really let herself stay down. And maybe, that’s where you came in. 

When she’d tired herself out, you’d bought her dinner to make sure she had a proper meal before she slept for a whole day. You provided the snacks when you both holed yourselves in the library. You dragged her out by planning days such as this. You were her reprieve. 

And by that time, you’d figured her out. 

You saw her past the perfection she so delicately manufactured. Past the painted nails. Past the crisply ironed dress shirts. Past the curious gaze. 

It wasn’t as if she completely removed her imperfections. If you knew where to look, you could find it. The fraying insides of her cuffs from picking at the threads. The flimsy collar barely holding its shape after being pulled at for so long. The flyaway strands that came undone when she played with her hair. They were always there, always humanizing her. You just needed to look at her long enough to know they existed. 

When you saw the muscle in her cheek twitch, you were brought back to the sensation of the moving bus, rumbling beneath you. She knew you were watching, but decided against confronting you about it. The thought brought a smile of your own as you picked up your phone to check when you needed to stop the bus. 

That was your duty. Your role in this relationship. One you took with pride. 

Tzuyu was comfortable enough to let herself take a step back and allow you to drag her wherever you’d planned, no questions asked. The entire day was scheduled on your phone, even allowing for late buses and trains. You’ve travelled enough on public transportation to account for this sort of thing. 

So that's how the trip to the central business district went. From bus to subway, from station to station, and one line to another—Tzuyu stuck by you. 

Her earphones, still connecting you. Your hand, always holding hers. 

You knew this city like the back of your hand. That happens when you spend nearly four years travelling back and forth, finding part-time jobs, going out, and attending events. 

Yet you were still noticing new things from time to time. 

As soon as your train stopped in the main district, you headed straight for the restaurants to load up on snacks. You still had time to kill before you needed to go where you needed to be. So you let Tzuyu drag you around, gawking at books she wants to read, playing around with fabrics of sweatshirts she already owned, but most importantly, you bought her almost everything she asked for when it came to food. 

Though she did threaten to leave when you first proclaimed loudly at the counter. “Don’t worry, anything for my pretty princess.” 

That was how you ended up holding two special collectable bubble tea cups, a take-away bag filled with free samples, and an inviting half-eaten honey cake which the pair of you left for later since it was too sweet. 

From time to time, you pestered Tzuyu to take photos of you. Although she whined about it, once the camera was up, she was striking a pose. Her, always so prim and proper, and you, always with your arm above her or around her or holding her. Always gazing at her.

“Tell me you didn’t,” though you weren’t facing her, you could imagine her gawking. 

“Well, I kinda did,” you shrugged, before throwing the clerk a smile as he went in to grab your shoes. 

“How much was this—”

“I told you, money is not a problem! Anything for my sweet little schnookums—oi! That actually really hurt!” you leaned on the counter, a groan escaping you as you held the bicep that was harassed. “Unbelievable, unbelievable!”

Tzuyu just stuck her tongue out before grabbing her own shoes and heading in. 

“Real mature,” you grumbled with a smile as you grabbed your pair of shoes and followed after her. 

You’d dumped all your belongings except your phone into a locker and took a seat by Tzuyu to put on the ice skating shoes. For some reason, the fit was never perfect. Sometimes it felt like it was biting into your toes, or placing pressure on your ankle, but then it felt too loose when you tried to stand. While you were doing and undoing the laces, you missed the way Tzuyu just watched you with a smile.

With a groan, you tried again, hoping to get it down this time. “Honestly,” you looked up for a second at the rink. “I didn’t expect it to be this packed.” 

“Oh, you’re telling me you didn’t expect one of the biggest ice rinks… in the city… to be busy… on Christmas Eve?” Tzuyu asked, her voice dripping with more derision with every statement. 

“Okay but is it really Christmas Eve if it is, like, eleven in the morning?” you asked with a sigh as you finally finished tying your shoes. 

“The whole day is the Eve,” she sent you a look as she stood, not wobbling at all on her blades. “And it’s almost two.”

“Is it?!” you asked, pulling out your phone. She was right!

Not according to schedule, but you expected as much. You could work with this. 

“That’s fine,” you said and pocketed your phone before trying to get up. Tzuyu’s hand was already in your vision, and without hesitation, you took it. “Thanks.”

When you were stable, she let go. 

“Okay, you can do it,” and with that, she took two steps and was on the rink already merging with the moving crowd that circled the border. 

“Chou Tzuyu, are you serious?” you screamed, even getting some looks, but you weren’t bothered. 

Even with the crowd, and the blaring Christmas tunes, you could hear her laugh once you spotted her. Tzuyu had her head thrown back, eyes crinkled close, and her right hand gripping the railing so she didn't double over and eat ice shavings. If she wasn’t having so much fun, you’d have been mad at her for laughing at your expense. 

Tzuyu moved along but slowed down a bit so that you could catch up. It’s not as if you’ve never skated before, you have. After all, you were the one to book this outing. You just hoped you would be a little bit more graceful. Of course, after a few rounds, the lack of practice and confidence will disappear, but for the moment, you longingly stared at the children gleefully making circles in the middle of the rink with their penguins. 

“Oh, come on, let go of the railing,” Tzuyu taunted, skating smoothly by your side, while you were hunched over the railing, basically walking on ice. “Come on!”

“Yeah, I don’t have a death wish,” a child giggled as she passed around you with a penguin aid. You’re sticking next to the railing too, kid!

“Why did you book this if you’re not even going to skate properly?” Tzuyu had the gall to pout. 

“Because it’s in theme! Winter, holidays, snow, Christmas—!” you let out an ugly squeal as the blades slipped from underneath you. For a moment, you flailed. You imagined you looked like those cartoon characters just as they teetered off a cliff, hands winding around like a propeller to stop themselves from plummeting. Thankfully, the railing was your shining knight in armour and your wayward legs had stopped fighting you.  

Tzuyu had stopped skating. But once you looked back at her, both elbows over the railing while huffing and puffing, she just broke out laughing. Maybe you’d admire how free she looked when she laughed like that if you weren’t glaring at her. While she did that, you pulled yourself into a standing position. 

“I’m fine,” you huffed out as you were standing and facing the rink again. “Thanks for worrying, by the way.” 

Still chuckling, Tzuyu came closer to the railing. And then she did something insane. 

Pushing herself with one foot, she spun around and came to a stop in front of you. 

When did she have the time to learn all of that?

“No need to show off.” Tzuyu rolled her eyes as she extended her arms. 

“And no need to be killjoy,” she retaliated before jutting her chin at her hands. “Come on, take it.” 

You made quite the show of how much you did not want this, though it was hard to suppress your smile. She shared the expression when you took her help. With a nod, she pushed off and moved backwards, pulling you with her. 

When she tugged you close, you let out another yelp, and she had to press her lips thin to not burst out laughing again. She moved slowly, helping you find your footing on the ice while you navigated her away from bumping into people. Maybe if you weren’t so busy with maintaining your balance, you may have taken your chance to press a kiss on her nose, only to watch her scrunch her eyes shut and blush to her ears. 

Once you’d done a round like that, Tzuyu decided to be brave and pushed herself back to your side. Although she was still holding one of your hands, leaning down, she picked up pace and so you followed her. Before you knew it, you were skating again. Like you used to, the few times you visit. Right by her side, competitions and bets came up, but at the end of the rounds, you were just finding ways to hold Tzuyu’s hand again. 

When you realized that the rink’s Christmas playlist had looped, you decided it was time for a break. For you, at least. Stopping at a corner near the entrance to the rink, you leaned on the railing as you watched Tzuyu make easy rounds around the rink, even daring to skate between people. Like any other person, you picked out your phone and started filming her fly across the rink. 

There was one particular move where she skated backwards and manoeuvred into a slow spin that made her laugh when she executed it perfectly. However, she’d almost run over a child who barely reached her knee in the process. Instantly, she was on her knees on the ice, even though the kid kept shaking her head to convey that she was fine. That was how you had another video of Tzuyu, skating hand in hand with a little girl as she taught her how to do a little circle. 

You were on the seats with your shoes already in your hands when Tzuyu plopped herself down next to you. 

“Happy?” you asked, tilting your head to watch her. 

The grand clock chimed to mark the start of a new hour. 

She nodded, eyes scrunched close again as she grinned. “Very.”

By the time you’d collected your things and finished up the rest of your leftover snacks, it was already time for dinner. You made your reservation just in time. When you entered the restaurant, the first thing the maitre d’ did was judge you. Well, you couldn’t be sure of what was going through his head, though you're sure he wasn’t supposed to stare at you for so long. 

Granted, you and Tzuyu had sprinted the last few steps because it started snowing hard, and were huffing and puffing like some steam engine. 

“Welcome,” his voice pitched high before he corrected himself and tried again. Instead of bursting out laughing, you and Tzuyu just shared an amused look before following him. 

He guided you through the main lounge of the restaurant and to the private rooms you’d booked. Most places had flashing lights, a horrifying mixture of green and red covering every surface to get in the spirit. However, you loved how this restaurant had decorated the places. The whole place was dimmed, so only the fairy lights by the curling and candles on the tables twinkled. Each table had its own bouquet with flowers you couldn’t name, some adorned with miniature ornaments and some with paper-crafted reindeers and bells. Dinner plates, champagne glasses, and table mats had little accents of red and green, nothing too daring. 

You supposed such simple elegance was expected of a high-end restaurant, but that also meant their clientele was of a different calibre too. Most of those at the tables were couples in expensive clothes and greying hair. Some seemed younger, but even they held an air of authority that you doubted you held as you trudged your way through the place. 

Not that it mattered though. The waiter introduced the pair of you to your room and informed you how you could ring for help before closing the door behind him. With just you and Tzuyu in the room, you made yourselves comfortable. 

Tzuyu pulled up the menu while you shrugged off your coat and hung it over your chair. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” she asked before turning the menu and showing off the price of the dishes. 

“Well, seeing as my name was on their list and they haven’t kicked us out. I think, yes,” you replied and picked up a menu for yourself. “Order anything. Whatever you want.”

You said a bit more genuinely than the last few times you did. 

“Are you sure?” Tzuyu asked, still scrutinizing the prices. 

“Of course,” you nodded, scanning for a dish that was worth the price. “My treat, remember.”

Tzuyu’s (and your own, really) inhibitions about the price had disappeared once you had your first bite. The food was absolutely divine. The pair of you had ordered two different dishes and then swapped halfway through, and then ordered one more dish and a dessert to end it with. 

Tzuyu was scraping the bottom of her bowl when you asked her. “What do you think about marriage?”

The scraping stopped. 

You’d have laughed at the little smudge of chocolate by her lip if her eyes weren’t so wide. 

“Like, you mean, us?” she asked slowly. 

A small chuckle escaped you as you moved the ice cream around in your own bowl. “No, like, in general.” 

“Is this about Sana?”

That was the name of the second person in Tzuyu’s ginormous friend group who had gotten married over the summer. You never really knew the woman personally, or any of her friends really, but you’d heard enough about them and visited two weddings to know what they were like. And especially how much they mattered to Tzuyu. 

“Sure, I guess,” you shrugged and Tzuyu returned to her dessert, although much slower this time around. “I don’t know, it just feels so daunting, you know?”

Tzuyu waited in silence. 

With a sigh, you continued. “They’re so young and they got married,” you admitted. 

It wasn’t just Tzuyu’s friends. You’ve heard stories within your own lectures, of people discussing marriage plans and getting engaged and dream weddings. And if not that, they were settling down, in relationships that seemed to promise security more than momentary pleasure. You’re not one to give that sort of thing too much thought, but you’d be a liar if you said you’ve never thought about it. 

Tzuyu studied her bowl, apparently, there was still quite a bit of dessert left. “They know what they want…” 

That was a simple enough answer. 

Did you know what you want?

Your hand stopped spinning your spoon around as you studied Tzuyu. 

Bells. That’s what you heard when you looked at her. Not like the deafening sirens you set as your morning alarm or the jingles you’ve been hearing all day. A soft melody filled with dulcet notes, building as your heart rate increased. It must be a sound you’ve heard before if your mind can come up with it… right? But you just couldn’t place the sound, it didn’t sound like any song you’d heard and if it was, you wouldn't recognize it. 

You heard it every time you glanced at her, it arose in the strangest of moments. The pair of you had just pulled an all-nighter, the sky was losing darkness and turning into a dreamy blue, and when you turned to Tzuyu, you found her face pressed onto her textbook. She was out cold, the right side of her face completely smashed and her mouth hanging open as she slept. You had to clasp a hand over your mouth from laughing at yourself and waking her up. 

And then you heard it when she first made instant noodles her way for you and added a concerning amount of cheeses. Then, it was when she suggested visiting a new cafe in the city and you’d agreed without question. Or when she’d bought you a random trinket from a street vendor solely because it had reminded her of you. So many trivial moments, filled with a soundtrack of your own making for your very own love story. 

Because it was one. There were no two ways about it. 

People often say falling in love is magical, perhaps that holds some truth to it. The fluttering in your stomach that you couldn’t differentiate from nervousness, the beating of your heart hammering away as if it were to burst, the shiver that runs up your neck, that same sense of suffocation you feel when you’re out of breath. How gooseflesh rises on your skin, but you feel so warm inside. And when you look at her, it's a sensation of relief that you feel. The tinge of positivity when she looks back at you, a twinkle in her eyes to let you know you weren’t the only one feeling this way. 

You wanted to ask her and you have asked her.

Were you supposed to do something right now? In the moment? What would happen if we didn’t address it? How could we plan anything? How many times could we tell each other that it’s not fear? That we’re not scared? You’re not scared? But you are, you really are. It was overwhelming. 

Are we falling behind?

She’d always denied it. 

And she was right, of course. 

But it didn’t always feel like it. 

There were only a handful of people you considered true friends from your university. Not because they’d done anything to you or whatever, some people just click and stick with you forever and some don’t. It was simple. It was normal. And the former was true of Tzuyu. 

It was so true, sometimes it brought tears to your eyes when you thought about it in the middle of the night. It really is so overwhelming just how much you felt for her. Perhaps this was love, or it was something else, you’ve never felt at this intensity before. You really couldn’t name it. And that might sound strange but it was true, nothing could really encompass what you felt, or heard even, when you looked at her. 

“What are you looking at?” Tzuyu’s voice broke you from your reverie. 

Your mouth made the shape to enunciate the word. 

“And don’t say, you,” Tzuyu groaned as she pushed her bowl away, she’d finished her treat. 

She knew your tricks all too well. You’ll need to change it up. 

“Don’t freak, but there’s a bug on your—”

“What?” Tzuyu freaked out. “Where? Where is it? Tell me!”

Freezing up, all she could do was glare when you just chuckled. “I was wondering if I should just slap you to hit it,” Tzuyu’s eyes widened and you couldn’t help your laughter. “Or just leave you at its mercy and run, I didn’t want its attention on me–”

“Just get it off!” 

“–but you know, sudden movements and things. I can’t die, I have too much to live for—” she shrieked your name, pleading as her hands gripped the table. “Okay, okay, come here.”

Gesturing for her to move forward, you leaned over the table to wipe away the smudge of ice cream by the corner of her lips. The smudge was long gone, so she should have guessed so was the 'bug' but you just held her chin. You, watching her. And her, watching you. 

Having lingered long enough, you pulled your hand back with a smile. 

“Thanks,” she mumbled after clearing her throat. 

You just nodded before showing her your bowl of melted ice cream. “Do you want to finish this off too?”

“Yes, please,” she said, “but I also have something for you.”

You tilted your head in confusion, every single plate on her side of the table had been wiped clean. What did she have to give you? 

You were just about to voice those words when she pulled out a small package from underneath the table. A gasp had barely left your lips when she spoke.

“It’s not a ring.”

“I’m heartbroken.”

“I’m sure you are,” Tzuyu placed the package next to your bowl and took the ice cream. “Open it.”

Following orders, you opened the package and you started second-guessing her claim of this not being a marriage proposal. Of course, you knew it wouldn’t be, you’d talked about as much. But you guessed somewhere you’d like to hear such news. 

You sent her a glance when you felt the velvet inning of the box, though she just shook her head. 

What was in there, when you opened the box, was a necklace. 

A loud snort escaped you that you had to clasp a hand over your mouth. 

When you looked up, Tzuyu was shovelling ice cream into her mouth but still grinning. She was doing anything to avoid looking at you. 

The necklace barely matched its packaging. The first thing that caught your attention was an amulet, it was discolored and its design eroded, by wear that you could barely make out what it used to be. But you knew. And you remembered.

Four years ago, during some university-wide event, the amulet had caught your attention on some stall. But at the same time you’d reached for it, so had Tzuyu. The bells. That’s where you could track them back to. Some busking artist that had been performing at the time, providing a melody that you’d come to associate with Tzuyu herself and the love you have for her. 

Tzuyu had been very adamant about having the amulet, and you, well you couldn’t care less. So you’d said the opposite and asked her to buy you the very expensive, very sugary, glazed doughnuts from the foodtruck down the line. And she’s just said yes. 

And then you talked. You exchanged your numbers. And the rest well, was history. 

Tzuyu never came around to wearing the amulet, and one night she admitted that she only bought it for its aesthetics, but could never find a moment to properly wear it. And if she did, she found herself wrapping it around her wrist so she could play with it when class was boring. The same night you admitted you just used the necklace to get yourself free doughnuts. From then on, she made it very obvious to wear it whenever you were around.

And now, it has returned to you. Having lost all of its aesthetic appeal. 

“Oh this, this is priceless,” you said, giggling and tugging it from the box, already putting it on. “Thank you.” 

“I thought you’d like it,” she said, finishing the last of your ice cream. “Now, where’s my present?” 

You know she was asking to be cheeky, but you still entertained her. “Oh, like the whole day I planned and spent with my hard-earned money wasn’t a present?”

The train ride back was longer than you’d expected, but it gave Tzuyu some time to nap. Once again, you were connected by your hands and her earphones, as she lay her head on your shoulder. 

Seeing as how late it was, buses would take longer to make their last rounds. Which is why you left Tzuyu at the bus stop, so you could quickly rush to the general store behind it and get some more snacks. Hot chocolate seemed like the right choice at a time like this, the perfect ending to the day. The scene would be magical, being seated together at a bus stop, illuminated by a warm lamppost, surrounded by flecks of snow as you sipped on hot chocolate. But also, you were craving more ice cream. Dealing with a cold will be your future you’s problem. 

So you grabbed two cones and a hand warmer and swiped your card. 

The streets seemed empty, even though it wasn’t even that late. Well… by a student’s standard, it wasn’t that late, seeing as it was nearing eleven in the evening, perhaps it was late. 

“I got our snacks,” you said, holding up a cone in each hand. Tzuyu just chuckled as she took one from your hand. She struggled for a moment to peel off the wrapping with her gloved hands, but when she did, she bit a large chunk of the ice cream, and you just gawked in awe. 

The bus had arrived by the time you finished the cones. Just as your stop arrived, Tzuyu’s music stopped. Someone was calling her. 

“What time is it?” she asked, pulling out her phone, you missed the caller’s name. 

“Like, almost midnight,” you said, getting up and guiding her out as she answered the call. 

“They’re an hour early—”

“Tzuyu-ah!” Sana’s voice shrieked into your earphones, you had to pull it out. You thanked the bus driver and wished him a good night, ignoring the way he squinted at you. 

“Do you still want to go—” Tzuyu just threw a thumbs up as she matched Sana’s voice in greeting. 

Letting her catch up with her friend, you guided her to the park you often visited, usually near midnight like tonight, and always at the children’s playground to the small swing set. 

When you helped Tzuyu into her seat, so engrossed in the call, she started taking the seat as soon as the swing hit the back of her legs, she'd have landed flat on her back had you not helped her into the seat. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” you looked up to see Sana’s son wave at you. 

“Oh, oh, hey, kid,” Tzuyu sent you a look over her shoulder as you made sure she was not going to slip off the seat. “It’s good to see you again! How’re you doing, kid?” 

“I’m good, how are you?” he asked, and you parrotted the same answer, a little breathy from slouching over. 

“Sit down, will you?” Tzuyu pretended to groan, pushing your face away from her shoulder. 

The seat was made for children, so it was very very low to the ground and tiny. You had to balance yourself on your things to not flip over the seat, a moment's distraction and you could be swinging from your knees. Holding on to the chains, you pushed yourself close to Tzuyu so your face was on camera again. 

“No, seriously, how are you?” you asked again to get past the surface-level answers. “What have you been up to?”

With a wide grin, he started speaking about a recipe he had just mastered and while he did more of Tzuyu’s friends joined. Most of which you were familiar with now, having met them at two weddings and conversed with some over calls. Though you were most glad to see Sana’s son again. You’d only met him face to face once. It was at Sana's wedding during the summer. Both you and Tzuyu had been taken with him when you first met him last Christmas. Tzuyu had taken you back home with her last year, and you finally got to meet her beloved dogs, and so had Sana’s son. He’d remembered to even ask about Tzuyu’s dogs during the wedding, you spent the better part of the event showing him the videos you had. 

Ever since you’d gotten him a gift, he’d grown quite fond of you both. Now usually, it was tradition to get gifts mostly for those to be wed, but you and Tzuyu had instead decided to gift their son. You’d heard how much he loved the Percy Jackson books much like you had, so you decided to buy him the Kane Chronicles. thankfully he hadn’t read or gotten them yet. Besides, seeing as both you and Tzuyu were neck deep in student debt and as broke as they come, you weren’t really in a place to buy the newlyweds a washing machine. 

Tzuyu waved to others, while you kept him talking. “Have you read the Kane Chronicles yet?” 

The boy had an affinity to reread the same book over and over again, even if he wasn’t completed with a series. At the wedding, he’d been attached at the hip to the Son of Neptune, which was understandable. But also, the next two books are easily the best of the series. 

“I did start them!” he said, eagerly leaning away from the camera before bringing the second book in with him. “I really like it,” he said, flipping through some pages and turning the book to show it. You didn’t have the heart to tell him it was too blurry to see anything but a blank white page. “But it’s not as fun as you said it would be, I still like Percy Jackson better than this series.” 

Oh.

Now, you’re at a stage in your life where you didn’t go around picking fights with children, though you will say it was a difficult urge to ignore. But something about appreciating children having different opinions from you or whatever. 

“Um, yeah, no, I—”

“Please, don’t pick a fight with a child,” Tzuyu said with a groan and the call erupted with a cacophony of laughter. You’d missed when everyone had joined. You had been hogging the call. 

“I wasn’t going to! The kid had the right to his own opinions,” you said, looking scandalized but then mumbled under your breath. “Even if it’s wrong.”

Tzuyu shoved you with a smile and you let the swing take its original spot. With a smile of your own, you let Tzuyu catch up with her friends, only waving and greeting people when she turned the phone to face you. After some wishes of Merry Christmas and farewells, the phone call had been cut. With every passing year, it was harder to meet, even during holidays when everyone was supposed to be free. In-person meetings seemed like a faraway dream, and planning a call seemed just as hectic, but somehow Tzuyu’s friends found a way. But you know Tzuyu ached to meet her friends again, some time where it wasn't a life-changing event that brought them together or where disaster didn’t strike. Just to be with them for a moment. 

You hadn’t even realized you were pushing yourself towards her, let alone kissing her on the cheek. Only when your swing recoiled back to her place and Tzuyu let out a small noise in question, did you realize what you’d done. 

“What was that for?” Tzuyu asked, her hand caressing the place where you’d kissed her. 

“I don’t know actually,” you said wistfully. “Just because.” 

Tzuyu hummed in acknowledgement as blush coloured her cheeks. You thought maybe she’d chastise you, even as a joke. But then, she did something shocking. 

Her hand pulled on your swing chain and pulled you close. 

It wasn’t the smoothest kiss. Your noses bumped into each other and the angle was wrong, but none of it really mattered because soon both your hands went to hold her as close as possible. She giggled into the kiss, no doubt, shyness creeping in as she comprehended what she’d just done. 

If it were up to you, maybe you would’ve stayed there until sunrise. 

Unfortunately, your leg, which was strained to hold you in place, slipped just as Tzuyu gently pushed you away. While you swung sideways, Tzuyu hid her face in her hands. 

A giggle from her earned from you. And before you knew it, the pair of you were laughing, hunched over and swinging lightly. 

Many things are changing, but your days will be all the same. Especially with Tzuyu by your side. And she wasn’t leaving your side any time soon.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: people really need to read kane chronicles, its literally perfect but yeah, hope you enjoyed this ! again happy new year !!

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

Silly Little Love Song

So, I decided to start with the Margarette Macron x Reader because they deserve more attention in the fandom and I absolutely love how this character is portrayed. The title of the fic comes from the song by Wings (I sang it in my head trying to figure out what the actual name of the song was), and if anyone has future suggestions, feel free to let me know! Extra note - Y/D/N stands for "Your Dorm Name" to make things more inclusive!

Summary: The reader has always admired Margarette's piano playing from a distance but does not want to admit this to them. However, Margarette picks up on the reader's glances and tries to get them to open up. Will a love song that reveals the reader's hidden musical talent finally bring the two together?

Warnings: None, if I miss any please let me know!

Y/N's quill traveled smoothly across the page as they finished the last sentence of their notes for potions class. The professor completed the lecture ten minutes ago, but Y/N was in no hurry. They did not have any classes the following period, and potions was the subject that they struggled with the most, so detailed notes were a must if they were going to pass.

"You really shouldn't worry about taking notes, dear Y/N. Haven't you aced the past two exams?"

Y/N looked up and met the soft gaze of the Prefect of Orca dorm, Margarette Macron, their eyes the color of forget me not flowers that Y/N could get lost in if given the chance. Y/N shook their head and closed their notebook. "Oh, hello Margarette, I wish your statement was true, but my grades are more horrendous than some of the freshmen in this year's entrance exam..."

Margarette chuckled at the comment, and Y/N wondered how it was possible for even their voice to sound like the most beautiful serenade. Still, Margarette was a powerful magic user that was in line to be the next Divine Visionary, so how could they possibly be interested in a mediocre magic user from Y/D/N. Margarette leaned on the table and tilted their head, their industrial piercings reflecting the torch light from the room.

"Such a shame that people from Y/D/N put so much pressure on themselves, especially someone as-"

"Hey, Margarette!! Can you show us some of your magic again?!" A cluster of eager freshmen dashed up towards the table like children sprinting to a glass candy display. Each of them had bass clefs or eighth note marks that matched that of musical magic users, so it made sense why they would want to see the famous piano display that Margarette would sometimes show off. Margarette crossed to the front of the room that was free of any tables, and with a wave of their wand, their piano materialized in front of them. As they sat down on the bench, Margarette's fingers gracefully moved over the ivory keys, causing awes and oohs to fall from the dazzled freshmen, and Y/N found themselves equally entranced by the music notes that swiveled and turned among purple ribbons. Margarette, while at one with their music, took every chance they could to glance over at Y/N. Any time they looked, however, Y/N seemed to be preoccupied with their shoes or an imaginary stain on their cloak. The moment Margarette would not be paying attention, Y/N would remain fully focused on their playing or let their focus wander to take in Margarette's makeup that looked perfect in this lighting. Just stop it, Y/N muttered to themselves internally, They would never take a second look at you if some pretty magic user walked through the door right now.

As Margarette finished the last lines of their signature melody, their head shot up in hopes of finally catching Y/N watching their performance, but all they saw was Y/N leaving the room with their head facing the floor. The freshmen crowded Margarette and praised their magical abilities, but their compliments were not enough to prevent a frown of disappointment to appear on the Prefect's face. Once the freshmen left the room, some more quickly than others at the realization that they would be late for their next class, Margarette let out a sigh. Oh Y/N, why do you flee when the spotlight always shines brighter on you in my eyes...

................................................................................................

Y/N's temples throbbed as they tried to study the potions formulas in their dorm room, but none of the numbers or ingredients were adding up. If anything, they created a murky abyss in Y/N's mind that made no sign of clearing any time soon. Y/N rubbed their eyes as they shoved their chair back with a squeak, the annoying sound miniscule compared to the running thoughts that zoomed in their head.

There was only one thing that could help them at this point.

Y/N traveled down the stone hallway, their feet clicking on the slate colored walkway as the remaining tangerine rays of the sun began to dip below the protective walls of the school. They knew that it was risky to leave their dorm this close to dark since students were not allowed to roam the halls, but Y/N needed to find a way to alleviate their stress and doubt. Finally, they reached the music room, a place where magic users who did not specialize in magical spells imbued with lyrical notes could practice. Y/N could feel a weight lift from their shoulders at the sight of the piano in the middle of the room, the familiarity like a comforting hug from a close friend. They sat down on the mahogany bench and drew in a gradual inhale, their fingers positioned on the keys and waiting in anticipation.

The tune that Y/N began to play was a simple one, but it was a melody that they had learned from their childhood. Each note felt like home, and Y/N could feel themselves swaying with the beat of the song. They were so lost in the moment that they did not hear Margarette enter the room.

It was an encounter that happened merely by chance.

Margarette had just finished the first patrol round of the night, and as they began to return back to their dorm room, they heard the sounds of a piano from down the hall. The tune was simple, but the emotion that came from the music caused goosebumps to cover Margarette's arms and curiosity to sparkle in their eyes. Upon entering the room, Margarette half expected to see one of the freshmen from earlier, but seeing Y/N playing the piano with the grace of a dancer made Margarette's heart swell with pride and a surprised gasp to leave their purple tinted lips. "My, my, you never told me you played piano, Y/N."

Y/N jolted at the sound of Margarette's voice, the shock causing them to tip backwards and the bench below them to slide and topple to the floor. Instead of colliding with the jagged and ancient stones below, Y/N felt a pair of arms wrapped securely around them. The same eyes Y/N could feel themselves almost drowning in earlier were now inches from them, only this time, Y/N could not look away. Margarette assisted Y/N back to a standing position before placing the bench back upright. The prefect dusted off the bench and took a seat, patting the space beside them. "While I enjoyed the heavenly melody you were playing, may I show you a new song? It's one that I hoped to play for you one day."

Y/N could feel a blush heating up their cheeks, but to be so close to the person who inspired them so often was an offer they could not refuse. Y/N sat down next to Margarette, their scent a mixture of lavender and musk, which to Y/N's surprise made them feel relaxed and not nervous. Margarette hesitantly reached for Y/N's hand's, but they stopped themselves. "Is it alright for me to show you how to play the song?"

Y/N nodded as they rested their hands in Margarette's palms, their fingers gently intertwining as Margarette placed them on the piano keys. Margarette took things slow and allowed Y/N to sense which keys to press when and what notes would follow next in line, and unlike the usual purple ribbons that surrounded Margarette's music, the musical notes were surrounded by a pinkish hue. Once the tune was complete, Margarette let go of Y/N's hands and their chest rumbled with laughter. "You are a natural, Y/N! You should play more often and share this beauty with the world!" Margarette looked away then as a thought crossed their mind. They rubbed the back of their neck as their pale cheeks appeared more red than normal. "Then again, I would gladly cherish your beauty on my own."

Was Margarette really confessing their feelings right now? Y/N's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but after seeing the brief glimpse of fear enter Margarette's eyes at the potential of being rejected, Y/N knew how to respond. Y/N leaned up and kissed Margarette on the cheek, but they retreated soon after with their arms wrapping tightly around themselves. Despite the cold temperature of the room, Y/N 's embarrassment made it feel like they had been hit by one of Dot's spells. "As long as I can admire your beauty and learn more songs by your side as well, then we have a deal..."

Margarette felt as if someone had just told them that they were the next Divine Visionary, and yet this overwhelming adoration was far greater than such an announcement. Margarette cupped Y/N's chin, their fingers light as they leaned closer. Margarette pressed their lips against Y/N's in a feather light kiss, parting away with a grin wider than before. "I would accept that deal any day, my darling."

Tags: @ansbobcar, @rainee-da, @mayurin17, @thebasicbword, @mashleverse, @xram7x