#but at least its finished...now i gotta catch up on all the other assignments im late and behind on Augh

[littlehouseoftrinkets]

Lesson learned: Do not do super detailed linework crosshatching for an assignment unless you want to Suffer ™️

[comphersjost]

Secrets ➸ Nolan Patrick (Part 2)

its finally here!!!!! thank you all for your patience, i might make a part 3, possibly smut? im really not sure yet

words: 2k+

summary: TK finds out about you and Nolan.

warnings: none really, angst, a teensy bit of smut, mostly just touching n groping skfksjdkfs, tk is really angry

find part 1 here

and find my masterlist here

(also the gif below?? two brooos chillin in a locker room 0 feet apart cause theyre in love)

Nolan and you hadn't really talked since the night on TK’s couch, about a week and a half ago. Your lips were pressed against each other in a slow, lethargic kiss until you'd fallen asleep together, your head on his chest. Nolan had woken up as the sun rose and picked you up to take you to the guest room, falling back asleep on the couch until TK woke up and they left for practice.

So no, you hadn't talked. But what you had done plenty of, was kissing. A lot of kissing. Anytime TK retired to his room late at night, or when he was taking a pregame nap. Any hesitation Nolan had had that night was gone now, and so was any semblance of caution. He would tug you into any empty closet at the rink for a heavy makeout session before he was lightly tapping your ass and heading back to practice. Or TK’s couch. Or his car.

There was also a lot of hickies. Nothing above the collar, marks and bruises littered your torso, your collarbones, and your breasts. The same went for Nolan, hickies sucked all over his abs and his chest, some down lower on his hips. But you haven't quite gotten there yet. You haven't touched each other like that yet.

It's about a week after the night at TK’s when you're at the rink again, here to drop something off for your brother, when Nolan walks quickly towards you down the hall and pulls you into a closet.

“Nola-” you don't get to finish before he's kissing you, hands wrapping around your waist and pushing you back against the door. You moan softly into his mouth, reaching up to wind your fingers in his hair. It’s still wet from his shower, and you're suddenly overrun with panic. You pull away.

“Nol, I have to- oh,” you start to say something when Nolan’s lips move to your neck. He hums softly as you tug at his curls. “Nolan, I have to meet Travis, I- we can't-”

���Hmmm,” Nolan pulls back to bump his nose with yours, foreheads resting together. “It’s okay, pretty girl, TK’s doing an interview right now, we have at least 20 minutes.” He reconnects your lips when you don't argue with him again, his hands slipping underneath the oversized Flyers t-shirt you were wearing. He hums again. “This mine?” he mumbles against your lips.

“Maybe?” you respond questioningly, “Took it from TK’s room.”

You can feel him grin against you, “I like thinking ‘bout you wearing my clothes.” You whimper at his words, and it grows to a moan when he grinds his hips against you. On hand stays on your skin, heat radiating through you, and the other hand slides down to play with the button of your jeans. “Is this okay?” Nolan pulls back to look you in the face.

“Yes,” you breathe, “Nolan, yes.” His smile is blinding when he leans back in, popping open the button of your jeans and pulling down the zipper. He wastes no time sliding his hand into your pants. He's about to touch you when your phone starts to buzz.

“I gotta get that, Nol,” you say breathlessly, “Could be TK.”

“Answer it,” he murmurs against your neck, peppering kisses along the sensitive skin. So you do.

“Hello?”

“Hey dumbass!” Travis’s cheery voice comes through the phone. “Media’s done early and I’m finishing up getting my shit together, want me to head out to meet you?”

You almost choke, Nolan’s fingers sliding into you not at all helping your reaction to TK. “Uh, I-, no, no, I’m already on my way, just stay where you are,” you manage. Nolan curls his fingers inside you when Travis agrees, telling you he’ll be in the dressing room.

“You sure you're okay?” The concern in his voice almost makes you feel guilty. But the notion is lost when Nolan delivers a sharp thrust inside you. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream. “You okay?”

“Yes!” you snap, “Yes, I’m okay, just stay in the dressing room, I’ll be there soon.” You hang up the phone after that, letting your head fall against Nolan’s chest.

“Gotta go?” Nolan mumbles against your hair, nuzzling the top of your head.

“Mmmm,” is the only thing you’re able to let out while your walls clench around his fingers. You let out a low whine when he drags them out of you. “No, no.”

Nolan leans in to kiss you again, pulling the zipper of your jeans back up and fastening the button. He sucks your arousal off his fingers and it’s the hottest thing you've ever seen.“We have to go baby, gotta meet Teeks.” You nuzzle his neck, placing a soft kiss against his pulse. “We’ll continue this, honey, I promise. Gotta figure out what to do about TK too, hm?”

This time, his words do make you feel guilty. “We should tell him,” you start, slowly, carefully, to see Nolan’s reaction. “We should talk first, I don't - I - I like this, I do, but I don't even know what this is, and I need to know before I talk to Travis, and-”

“Y/N,” he interrupts, “I-” Before he can begin your phone rings again.

“Travis,” you mumble, declining the call but not meeting his eyes, “I have to go.”

“Hey,” Nolan catches your arm when you reach for the door. He leans in for another kiss. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll figure us out, what we are and what we’re doing and then we can talk to TK, okay?”

You smile up at him, he looks at you all soft and emotional and it’s almost too much for you to handle. “Yeah, okay.” You kiss him again, and part of you wants to say Fuck TK and stay here with Nolan for hours. But you can't.

You yank open the door of the utility closet and freeze. Your eyes lock with Carter fucking Hart’s, and you see a surprised look on his face. His expression turns to understanding when he looks over your shoulder to see Nolan standing behind you, a hand resting on your back.

“Carter-” you start.

“I won't say anything,” he says quickly. “But you better tell him soon, he’ll figure out where all those marks are from eventually, Nol.” You turn to look up at Nolan and see his cheeks reddening. Fuck. How could you forget that the boys would see the hickies in the dressing room? Even if they chirped him about it, TK wasn't stupid, if he even saw one mark on you he'd put it together.

“I-”

“I’ll take care of him,” Nolan murmurs in your ear, “Go to TK, he's waiting.” He presses a kiss to your temple before nudging you down the hall. It didn't hurt to kiss you in front of Carter anymore did it? After all, he knows now. It takes everything in you not to look back, avoiding Carter’s gaze as you hurry away towards the dressing room.

You avoid Travis’s prodding questions and concern and tell him that you're just tired, and maybe you're getting sick. He apologizes at that, saying he shouldn't have made you come.

“Trav, I said I'm fine!” you snap, “I’m tired, and have a headache, and there's a lot on my plate now, and you’re not helping! I'm going home.”

-

It was 3 weeks later and you and Nolan still hadn't gotten around to figuring out how you were going to tell TK. You had decided that you did like each other, a lot, and you'd rather spend time sneaking off to spend time together than figure out how to tell Travis that his sister and his best friend caught feelings for each other. Nolan had also finally gotten you in his bed. And it was so good. He was so good. So naturally, it happened again and again and again.

It’s after the boys have a day off that everything goes to shit. The boys were in the dressing room getting ready for practice when Nolan slips his shirt over his head, forgetting the marks and bruises that littered his skin. There's hickies along his neck and chest and scratches down his back and biceps. The chirping starts immediately, catcalls and whistles. It isn't until TK lifts his head to look, eyes tired and confused, that he says, “When did you even get those?” Nolan freezes when Travis continues. “You spent the whole day yesterday at home with me and-” his eyes widen “me and Y/N…..”

“TK…I can explain,” Nolan pleads, but Travis only puts a hand up in Nolan’s face to stop him. The whole dressing room is silent now, the team holding their breath to see what TK would do.

“You-” Travis stops, takes a deep breath, and “You're fucking my sister.”

“What, no, no,” Nolan begs him to listen. “It's more than that I swear.”

“Shut the fuck up Nolan,” TK snaps. “You fucked my sister. You've been fucking my sister. In my house. For weeks.”

“Woah, hey, TK,” Carter steps in before Travis inevitably launches himself at Nolan. “He cares about her, for real, Teeks.”

“Oh of course you knew, huh?” TK turns and gestures angrily to the rest of the men, yelling now. “Did you all know?! HUH?! All of you knew that he was sleeping with my sister and no one told me?!”

“We didn't know,” Claude says softly, “We could see how in love with your sister Nolan is but we didn't know that they...that they were-”

“That they were fucking. Right.” Everyone in the room can see when a certain calmness come over TK. He’s shut down, numb, so that he doesn't feel angry. So he doesn't feel betrayed and hurt, so he shut down.

He’s cold that day, doesn't speak to Nolan or Carter or anyone else on the team, retreating into himself and ignoring anyone that tried to talk to him about anything.

-

You're sitting on your bed later that day when TK comes home. Technically it's the guest bed, but it's yours for the time being. You've been making sure to wear long sleeves and turtle necks and hoodies around your brother, but this time you’re wearing a tanktop, so caught up in the assignment due the next day that you don't hear Travis enter the apartment until he's at your door and speaking.

“Hey.”

“TK!” you scramble for your hoodie, “Hi, hey, I didn't realize you were home I-”

“I know, Y/N,” his voice is slow and soft and so calm that it makes you pause. “I know about…” he squeezes his eyes shut, voice sound strained “I know about you and Nolan.”

“Oh, fuck, Teeks I swear, I wanted to tell you we both did, we didn't know how and I-”

“I know.” Your brother seems defeated, and your heart breaks. “I think I've known for years, to be honest. You're the inevitable couple, huh? I need to apologize to Nolan, I flipped out at him for fucking my sister in front of everyone and I-”

“It was me,” it was your turn to interrupt, and you looked down at your hands, almost ashamed. “I kissed him first, the first night that I- the first night I stayed here neither of us could sleep and I kissed him on the couch. And then after that everything just kind of...happened, I guess. I kissed him, I chose not to talk about it, I chose to not tell anyone, I initiated everything first time we slep-”

“I don't wanna know!” Travis exclaimed, fake-gagging, but there was amusement in his eyes. “Just please tell me you didn't have sex on my couch.”

“Of course not, Trav, were not that disrespectful,” you giggled. He sighed, smiled slipping away.

“I should call him,” he muttered, about to leave before the buzz of your phone caused him to pause.

“No need,” you grin, “Nol is on his way.”

“I love you, Y/N,” Travis says seriously, “I do, really, and I’m happy that you and Nolan finally figured everything out with each other. I just didn't think it would be so soon, and I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“Oh, Trav, it’s okay, I love you too,” you grin wickedly at him before sending a pillow straight into his face. “Now go get the door, dickbag.”

[southernbell91]

Some Secrets are Better left Dead Chapter 2

I groaned as I rolled over, reaching for my phone, the Golden Girls theme song playing for the 3rd time this morning, Wade was anything if not persistent. “What!?” I croaked into the phone, my dry throat painfully obvious.

“Is that any way to talk to someone who has an order of Donuts and Coffee on it’s way to your front door as we speak?” My Best friend Wade asked feigning annoyance. “Now get your ass out of bed before the grub hub guy eats your Birthday breakfast.”

“Birthday?” I mumbled, glancing at my phone checking the date, sure enough March 9th. “Oh shit” I whispered seeing the excess amount of notifications on my phone. “Seriously, it’s the same day every fucking year, after 24 of them you would think you would have this figured out. Remind me, how are you the smart one again?” he asked sarcastically.

“Shut up” I grumbled, climbing out of bed after hearing a light knock at the door.”and Thanks for Breakfast Wade,I gotta run I’ll talk to you later”

“Anytime Ace, at least one of us remembered. Oh and Happy Birthday”. After taking the food, and thanking the driver I plopped down on the couch to catch up on the morning news.

I was mindlessly scrolling through my social media, listening to the News when the newscaster caught my attention.

“Tony Stark steps down as head of Stark Industries, former assistant Pepper Potts named CEO” She says.

  Now, why in the hell would Billionaire Tony Stark pass running his company over to a glorified secretary? I rewound the clip while chugging my coffee watching for any hints of anything strange, well stranger than the segment itself. The Video showed Tony at some Gala, cheesing it up for the camera as usual, a fiery redhead on his arm. Stark was a notorious playboy, aside from his assistant he seemed to have a different woman on his arm for every event he attended. The clip also showed Starks massive tower in the heart of New York City, it was his newest project and had only gotten completed a few years ago when he moved his company here from California, after having changed his focus from Military grade weapons to energy, there were rumors already that stark was working on a new facility somewhere but no one had managed to lock down a location, yet. After watching the clip 3 more times I decided I had my new project, I was going to get to the bottom of Starks strange behavior. What could it be Illness? Midlife Crisis? Maybe even blackmail? Whatever it is im going to get to the bottom of it.

 I jumped from the couch and started working on getting ready to head to the office, putting my shoulder length chestnut brown hair into a high ponytail tossed on a vintage Tee and some jeans and slid on my blue converse, my signature work look, then I was out the door. 

       25 minutes later I strolled into my office at the Midtown Journal, a woman on a Mission. I knew I wouldn’t have long to prep for our weekly assignment meeting,  so I sat down and started digging. I started with known associates, business and other. Pepper his assistant was an obvious one, along with his Driver slash Security Happy Hogan but other than the basics there wasn’t a whole lot there, at least not on the surface. I looked into Tony’s former business partner Obadiah Staine but came up empty, his departure from the company had been very sudden 3 years ago, right around the time of the switch from Weapons to Energy and he hadn’t really been heard from publicly since, definitely something to look into. A few more quick social searches showed that Stark had suddenly been seen hanging out with notorious Scientist Dr.Bruce Banner, that was strange. Banner had vanished off the face of the planet a few years ago after an experiment gone wrong and had only resurfaced in the last 6 months or so.   I started scrolling through a collection of pictures of Tony from the last year and was surprised to see that redhead again at least a dozen times, who was she and why was she important enough to be seen with Tony “I don’t wear the same thing twice” Stark? Definitely something to look into. Glancing at the clock I quickly saved everything I could into a file aptly named “Mr Money Bags” and jotted down some notes to mention to my editor and headed towards the conference room for our weekly Meeting. Being one of the only investigative Journalists on the team had its perks, it afforded me more time to dig into my article, I wasn’t a slave to a deadline like everyone else working on weekly prints, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have to still sit through these boring meetings while everyone presented their assignments for the week.     An hour into the meeting, 35 minutes of which was spent listening to the Sports columnist and entertainment editor argue over who should cover some game that involved the husband of some Pop singer or something, it was finally my turn to present. I straightened up in my seat practically twitching with nerves over this prospective article. Uncovering the truth about Tony Stark could not only put our Little newspaper on the map, but throw myself and our staff to the next level, but I wasn’t blind to the fact that Tony was also one of the wealthiest men in the world and that fact alone made him dangerous.     Dean, along with his brother Sam, was the Editor in Chief of the paper and the one who gave me my big break, Sam was more like friendly competition given he was the other Investigative journalist on staff. I glanced from Dean to Sam and back to Dean before speaking.     “It was announced on the news this morning that Tony Stark is stepping down as CEO of Stark Enterprises, now before you go giving me that look hear me out.” I Said, noticing Deans expression shifted, as if he was prepared to argue. The Financial editor glared at me, probably mad I scooped his story. “Stark is stepping down and handing over his fortune 500 company to his assistant Pepper Potts. That strike anyone else here as strange?” I asked glancing around the room. A few heads nodded others looked confused themselves, Deans expression was unreadable as he let me continue. “Something is going on there, of all the people to pass it to why her and why now? I wanna do some digging and see if I can’t find the bigger story behind this sudden change. I want to unearth everything I can about Tony Stark and blow this story out of the water.”  I finished, watching Dean for any type of reaction. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sam move slightly before he finally spoke. “You realize this could be nothing right? Also, digging into a man as powerful as Stark could be dangerous, why don’t you let”   “No!” I cut him off quickly, “I can handle it Sam, i'm not passing this story off to you, besides don’t you have some Slumlord to shake down or something?” I added rolling my eyes, irritated he would suggest I just hand off an assignment like this.

“Look im just saying Layla, you already have a laundry list of Enemies and I would hate for” “And Im sure starks list is bigger Sam” I cut him off again, glaring daggers at the shaggy haired brunette.

“Alright alright” Dean cut in, finally speaking. “You get 14 Days, come up with something Substantial in 2 weeks or I pass this story off to Sam. And It should go without saying but let me remind you to be careful”

I nodded, happy I won this confrontation, another 25 minutes later assignments had been passed out and we left the meeting everyone going our separate ways, I rushed straight to my office ready to jump into this.   Moments after I sat behind my desk I heard a light tap, looking up dean was standing in my doorway arms crossed leaning against the frame.   “ I know you’re determined to turn this into a story, I just wanted to remind you to stay safe. Sometimes the story isn’t worth risking everything.” “As Henry Anatole Grunwald Said “Journalism can never be silent: That is its greatest virtue and its greatest fault. It must speak, and speak immediately, while the echoes of wonder, the claims of triumph and the signs of horror are still in the air.” You may think im crazy Dean, but I feel it there’s a story here and Im gonna prove it.” He must have seen the determination on my face because after a heavy sigh he conceded “Ok, let me know if you need anything. I’ll do whatever I can to help you find the story. And if you need backup don’t hesitate to take Sam, I know he annoys you but he’s nearly as good a journalist as you, just don’t tell him I said that.” He added. I chuckled at his confession and nodded, “Thanks, I’ll let you know if something comes up.” He gave my a quick nod and tapped the door frame a few times before backing out the room, I fired my computer back up and sighed.   I’ve got work to do. 

Masterlist

Tags:  @lancetuckershairgel  @stuck-y-together   @buckmesideways22         @eurynome827    @book-dragon-13    @marvelous-meggi  @spacemansam @cametobuyplums  @loricameback    @collinsstanharbour       @marvelgirl7 @jewelofwinter @jobean12-blog​ @sebastiansloserclub​

[boywizardscanbecute]

Confidence is Key

Hey guys! Sorry it’s so late, but as you all know by now I invest a lot of time and content into my stories. Here’s the Draco x reader Yule ball fic requested! This story had less drama and felt a lot more laid back. Reading it back, I think it’s a really fun one. Enjoy! And as always feel free to drop ideas and prompts in my inbox! Sweet Dreams loves <3 

request from @gred-and-forge-weaslley: Can you do a Draco x reader imagine during fourth year, maybe something with the yule ball? 

Word count: SHIT YOU NOT ITS EXACTLY 6666 AND NOW IM SCARED AHHHH 

Summary: It’s fourth year, the yule ball is coming up, and you’re anxious no one will ask you. Based on a Hufflepuff, sorry guys :) Note: in this version, the Quidditch season was not canceled for the triwizard tournament because in the words of Oliver Wood, “YOU CANT CANCEL QUIDDITCH” PS- I made this character exude confidence in the hopes that every person that reads this realize that you have great things to offer and should be confident in yourself.

    “Shit shit shit I’m late again,” you rush out of the common room, broom in hand, sprinting down to practice. Rounding the corner to the front of the castle you smack into a blond haired boy, both of you knocked back on the ground. “Oh shit I am so sorry,” you apologize. Looking up you see it’s Draco Malfoy. “Pathetic Puff. Watch where you’re going next time l/n,” he spits at you. Ignoring him, you hop back to your feet and run out of the castle, headed for the pitch, the November wind whipping against your cheeks. 

    “You’re late,” Cedric tells you, with a slight frown on his face. “I know I’m so sorry,” you say breathlessly. He just sighs and says, “Get on your broom. We’re doing passing drills with the Quaffle right now.” You nod and push off hard from the ground, stopping next to your other teammates. Putting your all into practice, you manage to score three times on Fleet, the keeper on your team. “Alright guys, good work. Now go shower!” Cedric calls out to all of you. You land gently and stride back up towards the castle, groaning at the Slytherins who now approach for their own practice slot. “Just ignore them,” Cedric walks beside you. “That’s nearly impossible,” you shoot back. “Well try at least,” Cedric nearly pleads. But the conflict was unavoidable.

    Walking straight up to you Draco teases, “Did you manage to run into more people on your broom l/n?” You attempt to push past him, but he repeatedly blocks your path. “Bet you flew into all of your teammates didn’t you?” Huffing, you growl, “Let me by Malfoy.” Cedric realizes you’re not behind him and looks back from the steps of the castle. “Uh oh this isn’t good,” he mutters under his breath. “Gonna run into me too?” Draco laughs. He made your blood boil at that moment, you weren’t usually his choice of prey. Draco sneers, looking down at you. “Please get out of my way,” you give him one last chance. When he doesn’t move, you check him hard in the shoulder, knocking him backwards and off balance. “I gave you a chance,” you grit your teeth and move towards the castle. Behind you, Draco watches you with surprise and intrigue. Approaching Cedric you shrug, “He was asking for it.” He groans in reply, “Y/n. I can’t have you getting banned from another match. You’re the best chaser we’ve got. Please control your temper.” You frown, “Alright Ced I’ll try.” Satisfied with your answer, he heads to the library and you head to the common room.

    The next morning you wake up, muscles extremely sore from going so hard at practice last night. Running late, you throw on your robes and tie your hair up in a thick ponytail and hustle into your routine.Throughout the day your friends from other houses ask you about the upcoming match against Slytherin. Neville runs up to you, “Ready for the match Saturday y/n?” “Always,” you reply with a stern look on your face. He laughs, “You’re probably the toughest Hufflepuff I know.” Replying you ask, “Now why does everyone keep saying that?” Neville thinks about it for a minute as the two of you continue towards Herbology. After a pause he says, “Well because you are really tough. Sometimes I’m surprised you’re not in Gryffindor. You face every problem, every bully head on, not fearing the consequences. You never back down from a fight. And you’re probably the most competitive Quidditch player I know besides Oliver Wood.” You grow quiet as you walk in stride next to him. “Are these good things?” you whisper. Neville realizes how you must have taken it and hastily reassures you, “They are great things! They’re really attractive qualities. You’d be surprised about how many conversations I hear of guys mooning over you.” You snort with laughter, “That’s a lie Neville and you know it.” He shrugs, “Suit yourself, but I swear I’m telling the truth.” You playfully roll your eyes and enter the greenhouse, Neville entering behind you.

    Maybe Neville was right. You work with your friends Justin and Hannah and can overhear a conversation at the next station. Blaise Zabinini whispers, “Have you seen her play Quidditch? Believe me I try to hate all Puff’s but she’s phenomenal.” Adrien Pucey agrees, adding, “I almost wish she was in Slytherin so she could play for us.” Draco rolls his eyes at his friends hissing, “Aren’t you dooey eyed boys going to finish this assignment?” Blaise argues, “Come on Draco. Even you can’t deny how good she looks playing Quidditch. Or just in general.” Draco shrugs, “What does that matter?” Blaise sniggers saying, “Well, if you answer the question I’ll stop bothering you and leave you alone.” This was all too attractive of an offer so Draco confesses, “Yes, she’s the most talented Quidditch player I know, and she happens to be the most attractive fourth year. Now can I please go back to my work?” Blaise nods, adding under his breath, “She’s the only person whose ever left Draco speechless too.” He was referring to you shoving him after practice last night.

    Suddenly your face flushes beet red and you can’t concentrate on your work. “Y/n are you okay?” Justin asks concerned. You shake out of your daze, “What? Oh yeah I’m fine.” You finish the work mindlessly, your mind traveling back to the conversation you overheard. When the lesson is over you walk out of the greenhouse, catching up to Neville. He raises his eyebrows at you in question. “You were right,” you admit. He laughs, “What did you hear?” Groaning you answer, “Some Slytherin boys talking about how I play Quidditch. Which doesn’t make sense to me at all. I don’t have a feminine build like other girls our age. I’m bulky, granted that’s from playing Quidditch, but I am! I don’t have dainty hips but I don’t have curves. I’m built like a 15 year old male athlete. How can that be attractive?” Neville listens to you ramble and comments, “It’s your confidence. You’re always extremely confident. Plus the way you’re skilled at Quidditch really is amazing. I even heard Viktor Krum complimenting how you play the other day.” You gasp, “No you didn’t! Neville Longbottom you better be teasing or I swear to god!” He chuckles, raising his hands in defeat he says, “Honest! I really heard him say that!” That silences you. Nearing the great hall you whisper to Neville, “That doesn’t change the fucked up way my body is built.” Neville turns to you and says, “Y/n, you are my best friend. I wouldn’t lie to you, nor could I lie to you because you know me too well. And I’m telling you you are attractive.” Grinning in appreciation you say, “Thanks Neville. See you at the match tomorrow!” He waves and heads over to eat lunch with the other Gryffindors.

    Later that night you wander back to Hufflepuff common room from the library, a stack of books piled high in your arms. For the second time that week you run into someone. Your books scattered all over the marble floor. “I’m sorry,” you start to say but find yourself looking into the clear gray eyes of Draco Malfoy. Snorting, you correct yourself, “Actually I’m not.” Draco watches you with intriguing curiosity. Sighing, you begin to pick up your books. Silently, Draco bends down and helps you collect them. “Thanks, I guess,” you reluctantly tell him. He nods. Before you turn to leave he jokes, “You gave me quite the shove the other day.” Sensing the tone you tease back, “You had it coming.” He laughs, “I suppose I did.” This was a whole new side of Draco Malfoy. Or was it? You’d never interacted with him enough in the past to know for sure. But he was being friendly so you continue the conversation, “Ready for the match tomorrow?” He grins wickedly, “Always ready. The question is are you?” You blush under his intense gaze managing to say, “You have seen me play haven’t you?” He temporarily drops the teasing saying, “Yeah. You’re almost as good as Viktor Krum.” The blush creeps from your neck onto your cheeks, making you self conscious. “Well thanks Malfoy. You’re not too bad yourself,” you compliment. He shrugs off the compliment instead continuing to give you another. “I wish you could play for us. We could really use you,” he says. You laugh, “In your dreams. You’ll just have to cope without me.” He laughs. A silence passes over you, the books weighing down in your hands. So you announce, “Well I better be off. Gotta get lots of rest before we crush you tomorrow. Night Malfoy.” You flash a grin in his direction before leaving. “Night y/n,” he replies.

    The next morning you wake up extremely early, getting ready for the match. You had a pre-match ritual that you went through every single time. First you braid your hair back into a high ponytail and place a black ribbon around it. Pulling on your yellow Quidditch robes, you rummage around for your lucky socks. “Aha!” you exclaim, finding them in the back of your dresser. They had a pattern of Nifflers on them, which happened to be your favorite magical creature. “Good luck today! You’ll do great!” Hannah Abbott calls after you as you leave the common room, broom in tow.

    It was as if overnight, your newfound confidence that you were apparently unaware of, grew fantastically. You made a mental note to thank Neville. You felt Draco’s eyes on you as you sat down in the Great Hall. Shamelessly, you fuel up for the game, eating toast, eggs, sausage, and 2 glasses of orange juice. Satisfied, you exit the great hall and head for the pitch.

    As a part of your pre-game ritual you sat in the middle of the field, legs crossed and eyes closed, ignoring the light dusting of snow that left your backside damp. You focus your energy on the match, concentrating on relaxing your muscles so you’re free to move really quickly and flexibly. “I figured I’d find you hear,” a voice breaks your focus. Peeking one eye open, you look up and see Cedric watching you. “What do you want Ced? I didn’t beat up Malfoy, you don’t have to worry.” He laughs and sits next to you. He exudes nerves and you reluctantly inquired, turning to face him. “Alright Ced. Spill it,” you say. He sighs, “I asked Cho to the Yule ball.” You tilt your chin up, “And?” He groans, “And she said yes and I guess we’re a thing now and I don’t know, she’s coming to the match today so now I’m nervous.” Your laugh comes out as a bark, your chest shaking with amusement. “Cedric Diggory I have nervous seen you nervous before for a Quidditch match.” He responds, “I know, I know! That’s why I’m worried. We need this win to stay in play for the cup. I don’t want to fuck this up.” Growing serious you tell him, “Ced, your opposing seeker is Draco. He’s talented, but he’s easily distracted. The win’s in the bag.” Cedric laughs, “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re cocky?” Shaking your head you say, “Cocky maybe. But also right. Trust me. Forget Draco, forget Cho, just focus on the game. Alright?” He nods. Standing, he pats you on the back and says, “Changing rooms in 5.” “Alright,” you reply.

    Sighing, you refocus your energy on the match. Barely a minute later another figure approaches. “For the love of god could I just get some time to concentrate!” you complain, blinking your eyes open. Draco stood above you, smirking at your ritual. “Just came to wish you luck,” he holds back a laugh. Standing, you wipe your hands on your knees and say, “I don’t need it. But thanks anyways.” He chuckles, “See you in the air,” and walks to the other side of the stadium where the Slytherin team waits. You walk to the dressing room and enter, barely listening to Cedric’s usual motivational speech. “Ready?” Fleet elbows you, pulling your focus back in. “More than ever,” you grin wickedly. As Cedric passes you he asks, “Keep the temper in check yeah?” You reply, “I’ll try my hardest.” You follow your teammates out on the field and line up, waiting for Madam Hooch’s signal.

    The whistle blows and the Quaffle’s up in the air. Shooting towards it, you kick  it soccer style, over your shoulder to your fellow chaser Peter. Without a look back you fly to the other end of the pitch, waiting in position. The Quaffle transfers handlers so quickly that Marcus Flint, the Slytherin keeper, doesn’t see it land in your hands. Pawing it with one hand, you toss it through the left hoop easily. Cheers erupted from the crowd. Slytherin gets possession and you back track, ready to intercept. Fleet had no problem with you hanging by the goal posts. And as the Quaffle flies towards the center hoop, he bounces it off of the tail of his broom, directing it towards you. Snatching it, you race in the other direction, charging the hoops instead of passing. The adrenaline rushing through you, you whip the ball over Marcus’s head through the center hoop. Cedric swoops past shouting, “That’s great, keep it up, but use your passes!” He was right. Returning your focus to the Quaffle you watch it land in Peter’s arm as he makes his way across the field. A Slytherin chaser slams into him, forcing him to drop the Quaffle. “Oh Foul! That’s a foul!” you shout angrily. But Madam Hooch didn’t see it. Peter regains his balance and shoots you a reassuring grin. Diving towards the ground you scoop up the Quaffle and reposition yourself, looking for an opening. Your other chaser, Heidi, was open near the base of the right hoop. You chucked the ball to her, watching with bated breath to see if she catches it. You don’t get a chance to see though, because half a second later a huge green mass slams into you, knocking you from your broom. Luckily you weren’t that far from the ground, but the wind was still knocked out of you as hit the grass, your broom landing softly next to you. Sitting up on your elbows, you could swear steam poured from your ears. The whistle blows, calling a stop to the game. First Madam Hooch approaches Goyle. “Goyle, that’s illegal contact, forcefully violent! Second offense, you’re benched from this match!” Goyle screams in outrage and she silences him with her wand. Then she turns to you. You hastily stood up, feeling your face. The blood was coming from your nose, as it received the brunt of Goyle’s elbow. Your arms and legs were only slightly scuffed up from hitting the ground. Coughing, you pull your mouth guard out and taste blood. You turn your head a spit some blood into the grass. Hooch lets you wipe your mouth before saying, “Well l/n what’ll be? You have a sub if you need.” She waits. You look at Cedric and read his face clearly. He wanted you to stay in, and you couldn’t blame him. The only sub chaser you had was Ernie MacMillan and he wasn’t great. Spitting again you tell her, “I’m staying in.” She smirks, “I figured as much. You’ll have to see Madam Pomfrey after the match, but you should be fine.” Nodding, you shove your mouthguard back in and mount your broom. When the whistle blows, you kick off with newfound determination.

    Your resilience wasn’t lost on anyone, and with the Slytherin’s being down a beater you went on to score three more times. It was 70-50 and you paused for a moment, scanning the field for any sign of the snitch. The blood dried on your face, a line of it dripping from your nose. Wiping it on your sleeve you watch a gold glint hovering at the edge of the stands. Cedric who was determinedly focused saw it as well. So did Draco. It was a close race as they both reached for the snitch. The snitch traveled lower to the ground, now hovering only 2 feet from the grass. Cedric smartly tucked his feet up, but Draco didn’t, losing his balance. Cedric was victorious and held the snitch up in his fist. Cheering, you joined your team as you all dog piled on top of your seeker. Feeling eyes on you, you looked up to see Draco smiling at you.

    As you walked back to the castle with your teammates Cedric said, “Thanks for staying in the match. You’re a real warrior.” You laugh and ask, “How bad is it?” Cedric tries not to chuckle and responds, “You’ve got a dried trail of blood going from your nose all the way down your chin and neck. You’ve also got blood on your sleeve.” “Course I do,” you joke sarcastically. When you near the kitchens Cedric says, “Go get fixed up. The party will still be here when you get back.” “Alright,” you sigh and march up to the hospital wing.

    When you enter Madam Pomfrey frowns, “Good god girl what did you get into this time?” She was annoyed at seeing you so many times. You bite back a laugh, “It was the Quidditch match. We were playing Slytherin what can you expect?” She nods knowingly. “Sit there,” she commands, pointing to a stool outside of her office. “Lumos,” she mutters, peering into your nostrils. “Ruptured blood vessel, nothing too serious. In fact it’s pretty common amongst Quidditch players so I’m sure you’ll experience it again,” she comments. Pointing her wand at the afflicted spot she says, “Tergeo.” You feel the slit in your nose close up. “Now go clean yourself up,” she laughs at the state of you. “Yes Madam Pomfrey,” you hop up and exit.

    Outside there’s someone waiting for you. Draco walks up beside you and asks, “All fixed up?” “Yeah,” you laugh in his direction. He takes your hand and stops you walking. “What’s up?” you huff. He sighs, “Goyle’s a gigantic mass with no brain. I’m sorry he did that.” Your jaw drops in surprise. “Why are you sorry? It wasn’t your fault?” you question. Running a hand through his hair he states, “I didn’t want to see you get hurt.” “Oh,” you say lamely. You both stand there, shuffling your feet awkwardly. “You know I admire your tenacity. You’re so determined,” Draco comments. “Thank you,” you reply. For the first time in your life, you look Draco Malfoy in the eyes. They were extremely peculiar, you’d never seen a pair of gray eyes before. Draco studies your own e/c ones. Reaching up he hesitates, but wipes a flake of dry blood from beneath your nose. You close your eyes at his touch. Laughing nervously you ask, “So are we like friends now?” He shrugs, “I guess.” Smiling you say, “Works for me.” He stands there once again silent until you announce, “Look Draco I’ve got a party waiting for me back in the common room. I’ll see you later.” He smiles, “See you later y/n.” And he strolls away, hands in his pockets.

    The celebration of the match was glorious and you got absolutely wasted off of firewhiskey. As a result you woke up the next morning with a headache. When you emerge into the common room, you’re met with a questioning look from Cedric. “What?” you laugh at his expression. He shakes his head, “Nothing, I just thought my eyes deceived me last night. Are you friends with Draco Malfoy now?” You shrug innocently, “I guess so. Is that a problem?” He chooses his words carefully before saying, “You pick your own friends. But you should now I haven’t heard anything positive mentioned about him. Ever. And you’re gonna get judged by some other people.” You laugh, “Cedric I really don’t give a fuck what people think about me so that’s not a problem.” He laughs and leaves you with a, “Well alright then.”

    He was right. Over the next two weeks you got the biggest death glares and all the slytherin girls shot daggers at you. But like you told Cedric, you really couldn’t care less. Besides your time with Draco mainly consisted of studying and homework, with the usual teasing mixed in. Waiting for Draco in the library, you smile as Neville approaches you. “Alright there y/n?” he smiles. “I’m great Neville thanks for asking. Just ready for break,” you admit. He intercedes, “But aren’t you at least excited for the yule ball?” Instantly you groan, “No. No one’s asked me yet and it’s two weeks away. That means no one wants to go with me. Or they’re scared of me. Or both.” Neville chirps, “Cheer up y/n. I’m sure someone will ask you soon.” You shake your head, “I don’t think so. Especially now that I’ve started hanging out with Draco.” Neville considers the thought and asks, “Why are you hanging out with him?” You sigh, “I don’t know, he was nice to me. Besides that he just gets my personality. None of my other friends like to be competitive or get teased. What’s the fun in that?” Neville snorts, “Well you are unique in that. Not everyone appreciates your dry sense of humour.” You nod, a knowing look on your face. “Who are you going with?” you continue. Neville beams, “Ginny. Just as friends but I’m really looking forward to it.” Draco entered the library and walked over. “That’s great Neville, I’ll see you,” you squeeze his hand. He gets up and says, “See you.”

    “What was that about?” Draco immediately questions. You tease, “Why are you so worried Malfoy?” He ignores your teasing comment and waits for you to answer. “Relax we were just catching up. He was telling me about how he’s going to the Yule Ball with Ginny.” “Oh,” Draco noticeably relaxes. You rub the back of your neck awkwardly and ask, “So who are you going with?” Draco’s teasing demeanor returns as he says, “Jealous are we?” “No,” you blurt a little too quickly. Ignoring this he looks away and admits, “I haven’t asked anyone yet.” “Oh,” you try and hide your surprise. Poking at his pet peeves you laugh, “I was sure Pansy Parkinson would be begging you to go by now?” He immediately grows frustrated and groans, “She has. Asked that is. 5 times. She’s a relentless shrew.” You snort with laughter and can’t stop laughing. “That’s the perfect description of her,” you wheeze. Madam Pince comes over and snaps, “Malfoy! L/n! Quiet please!” You gulp and nod. After she walks away Draco declares, I’m not gonna get any work done tonight.” “Me neither,” you agree. Building up the courage Draco asks, “So which of our dooey eyed classmates asked you?” The use of his words brought you back to the day you overheard him saying you were the most attractive girl in fourth year. Laughing cynically you say, “Absolutely no one has asked me.Not a soul.” Draco snorts with laughter and you think it’s a beautiful sound. “I find that hard to believe,” he says truthfully. You look at him across the table, trying to decide if he was joking or not. Finally you shrug, “I suspect they’re just scared of me after watching that Quidditch match.” Draco considers the thought. So comfortable with your new companion you let slip, “I think they’re all scared of me.” Immediately, your hand shoots up to your mouth and you blush with embarrassment. Draco sympathizes with you. “I am not scared of you y/n,” he states plainly. You smile gratefully at him, “And thank god for that. You’re the greatest friend I never knew I needed.” He only pauses briefly at your revelation before admitting, “Likewise. You’re my best friend.” The thought made you grin like a goof. It got really late and you and Draco decided to go your separate ways and off to bed. You felt like a weight had been lifted for you, admitting even just an inkling of the worries you experienced to Draco. Below you in the dungeons Draco hatched a plan. A plan that was seriously outgoing for him, but matched your confidence perfectly.  

    Your next match was against Ravenclaw, the competition fierce. On Saturday morning you saunter down to the Great Hall to eat breakfast before the match. Draco is also there, which is surprisingly early for him. Grinning, you walk up to him. “Coming to the match today?” you ask him. He looks at you like you’re stupid. He rolls his eyes, “No. I’m not going to come and support my best friend.” You nudge him in the shoulders at his joke. After a pause you ask, “But seriously, you’ll be there?” He stares at you seriously and answers, “I wouldn’t miss it.” “Thanks,” you hug him, which felt surprisingly normal. Retreating back to your table for breakfast you add, “Meet me on the field for my pre-match ritual.” Smirking, he nods.

    You shovel down your breakfast quickly and strut out to the field. There was a thick layer of snow but nevertheless you sat in the grass, crossing your legs and closing your eyes. Draco soon walks up to you. “Got all the blood stains out of your uniform I see,” he comments. “Took three spells but yes I did,” you reply. Setting down his book bag, he sits across from you. “Why do you have your bag?” you ask him. He shrugs, “Dunno. Habit I guess. Not important, you’ve got to focus now.” You smile at how well he already knew you. Taking a deep breath you hold out the palms of your hands. Draco sits there and watches you. After a beat you open one eye and say, “Draco idiot, take my hands.” “Oh,” he replies, hastily placing his hands on top of your own. Beginning with deep breaths you instruct, “Concentrate on the match. Or me. Basically concentrate on how well you want me to do, or what you want the outcome of today to be. Then channel that energy into my hands.” He groans, “This is stupid y/n.” You scold him, “If you think it’s stupid then leave. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn’t, but it helps me unwind before the match.” His hands don’t leave yours and he sighs loudly, taking a deep breath and following your instructions. You hoped he was thinking about you winning. But he wasn’t. Inside Draco’s mind he thought, “Okay, I'm thinking about y/n. She’s such a great friend and I want her to win today. I always want what’s best for her. Most importantly, when I ask her to the Yule Ball, I want her to be excited. I want her to say yes.”

    After another five minutes of this, you stand up, pulling Draco up with you. As soon as your palms leave his, the spark there fizzles out. Walking with you over to the changing room Draco says, “Good luck y/n. I’ll be in the stands watching. Look for me!” You grin, “Thanks Drac. I will. See you afterwards.” He shuffles into the stands, his hand on his bookbag.

    Ravenclaw didn’t play dirty, like Slytherin did, but they were extremely good. You were instructed by Cedric to score as quickly, and as frequently as possible. Because when the snitch was spotted, he told the team he would go for it, otherwise the game would last at least three hours. It was hard to score, Ravenclaw focusing on defense. Glancing at the scoreboard it was 30-30 and you’d been playing for an hour. Cedric floats near you as you briefly slow down. You groan in exhaustion, “Cedric Diggory you better catch that snitch.” He doesn’t answer, his eyes continually scanning the field for the shiny gold snitch.

    Another hour later and you were losing speed fast. The score only went up to 50-50 and you badly needed a break, the December air biting at your bones. From the corner of your eye, you’re thrilled to see the golden snitch. Cedric dives for it. So does Cho. You groaned at the thought of Cedric letting Cho win due to the nature of their relationship. Lucky for you, he doesn’t. In the last second, he snatches the snitch from the air, Cho’s hand closing around Cedric’s as she reached for it a second too late. The crowd was shocked and cheered loudly. You looked around for Draco, who would no doubt be cheering you on. Your eyes find his platinum blonde head, holding a large banner in his hands, but you couldn’t read it from where you were. Pushing your broom foreword, you swoop down to him, pausing in front of the banner. It read in yellow letters, “Will the best Quidditch player be my date to the Yule Ball?” Your breath catches in your throat. Everyone in the crowd stared at the banner. Draco smiled nervously from behind it and says, “How ‘bout y/n?” Grinning stupidly you yanked out your mouthpiece and shout over the rest of the crowd’s murmurings, “Yes! I’d love to go with you!” Draco beamed and put down his banner. “Meet me outside the pitch,” you tell him, whipping your broom around.

    Crashing down hard against the ground, your knees buckle briefly as you weave through your teammates, eager to get to Draco. Cedric stops you, “That gesture was quite un-malfoy like. What gives?” He still blocked your path. Pushing against his shoulder you reply, “When I find out I’ll tell you.” “Alright alright,” he gives in chuckling and let’s you aside. You burst through the gate, searching for Draco. He stands against a tree about 20 feet away, arms crossed, smirking in your direction. Grinning, you run up to him. Dropping your broom, he envelopes you in a hug, his arms holding you close. You felt you could stay that way forever, but your curiosity got the better of you. Picking your head up off of his chest you look up at him and ask cheekily, “What gives Malfoy?” There was no humour on his face as he shrugs, “Dunno. Maybe I just like you?” You study him intensely, rising up on your tiptoes to get a closer look at his face. He meets your gaze with an equally strong look of his own. Sighing you poke his chest and ask, “You sure you just didn’t feel bad for me for not having a date?” He shakes his head, “I’m sure.” Raising an eyebrow you pester, “No games? No tricks?” This time he laughs wholeheartedly, “No games or tricks. I just like you. Why is that so hard for you to believe?” Sighing you gaze at the ground, “I don’t know. I mean I knew you thought I was attractive but I didn’t think you actually liked me for real.” He boldly takes your hands and whispers, “How could I not like you? You’re amazing to be around.” You bite down on your lip hard, deciding what to do next. Returning his boldness, you stand on your tiptoes and kissed him before you can chicken out. Draco leans back for a brief moment in surprise before his instincts kick in. He casually places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer as his lips stay on yours. Your arms wrap around his neck as you stay on your tiptoes to continue kissing him. The last crowds string out of the pitch and shout loudly, “OOOOOOOOOOOOH!” Embarrassed, you bring your feet back down to the grass, lowering yourself from the kiss. Looking up at your best friend, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes dance wildly as he looks at you. “You’re a pretty good kisser Malfoy,” you tease him. And suddenly it felt like things were normal again, as if nothing had changed.He smirks, “Well you’re not so bad yourself.” You grin proudly. The sky got dark and Draco commented, “We should probably head back to the castle.” You nod, picking up your broomstick. Draco offers you his hand. Wordlessly you take it, and stroll with him back to the castle.

    Your attitude towards the Yule Ball instantly flipped from dread to excitement after Draco had asked you. The days felt the same, and yet totally different. You still spend all of your time with him, but this time there was kisses and close contact mixed in. As soon as he asked you, you went the very next day to Hogsmeade to get your dress. Feeling uncomfortable in your tall, bulky, athletic frame, it was hard for you to decide on a dress. Eventually you found the perfect one. With a high neckline and capped sleeves, the bodice sparkled with emerald beads. An A-line skirt flowed out from the bodice, the material the same emerald green but in satin. The back of the dress dipped low, down below where a bra line would be. But your favorite part was the pockets. You bought it immediately.

    Sooner than you would have wanted, the Ball was here. Usually confident, you’d never been more nervous for anything in your life. You got ready alone, the shock of your and Draco’s new relationship still sending shockwaves through the house of Hufflepuff. Admittedly you had some trouble. Being an athlete you almost never wore makeup. But somehow you managed to perform the eyelash extension charm and add a light pink blush to your cheeks. You swiped on one layer of a light pearl eye shadow that brought out the whites of your eyes. Finishing the look, you put on a deep red lipstick. Hannah Abbott was gracious enough to do your hair, you were hopeless at it. “Thank you so much,” you tell her as she sweeps your curled h/c locks into an elegant side bun. “It’s no problem,” she chirps, “I know everyone else has been giving you a rough time but in the end you should just do what makes you happy.” You smile at her insightfulness. “That’s great advice,” you tell her. She smiles at you in the mirror. A few minutes later she’s done and you stare in awe at the way she had managed to sweep your hair so elegantly to the side of your head. You place plain diamond studs in your ears and hunt for your shoes. Smiling, you pull out your white converse and slip them on. “Dear god what are you doing?” Heidi laughs at your shoe selection. You shoot back, “My dress is so long no one will see them anyways. You know me, I am not the girly type.” “Oh yes I know,” she laughs. The two girls make there way to the great hall and you follow shortly after.

    The ball had already started and Draco stood against a pillar, looking around anxiously. Peeking around the corner, you gasp at how handsome he looks in his tux. His silver bowtie matched his eyes perfectly and you were sure it was charmed. Leaning against the wall you suck in a breath. “Pull it together l/n,” you scold yourself. Letting out a slew of noises, you compose yourself and emerge from the corridor, making your way towards Draco.

    Draco’s eyes fall on you and he lets out a long, low whistle. Blushing, you walk quickly towards him. Drinking you in with his eyes he says, “You look absolutely ravishing y/n.” Pushing him playfully you say, “Draco Malfoy quit making me blush!” His voice comes out low, “It’s not my fault you look extremely attractive when you blush.” Giving him one last playful swat, you kiss him gently. He leaned into the kiss, but you tease him, pulling back. He gives you a pouty look. “I believe you asked me to a ball?” you raise your eyebrows at him. He sighs, “I did. But you’re mine later darling.” “We’ll see,” you smirk, pulling him into the Great Hall.

    The ball was spectacular, icicles hanging from the magical ceiling. You breathe in the energy of the night, and excitement fills your chest. Leading you to the dancefloor Draco says, “Dance with me?” “Happy to,” you reply, taking his offered hand. Boy did Draco Malfoy sure know how to waltz. With one hand on your hip, the other intertwined with one of your own hands, he lead you through all the steps gently. “You’re so light on your feet,” you tell him. He shrugs, “I’ve had years of practice from all the ministry events my parents dragged me to. Maybe I’ll bring you to the next one. Anything to see you in this dress again.” Gazing into his eyes you ask, “You really like it? I chose green because.. Well. you.” He beams widely, “I love it darling. It’s so flattering on you, though the back is a bit low,” he grins, wiggling his fingers on your bare skin for emphasis. It makes you shiver. Draco laughs mischievously at this. There’s a brief break in the music and you fiddle with his bow tie. “I like how it matches your eyes perfectly,” you tell him. “Thank you,” he replies.

    The music slows into a tender ballad and Draco removes his hands from yours, placing them around your waist. You lace your own fingers together behind his neck and try to stand flat. “Could you lean your head down a little bit?” you ask him, “You’re awfully tall you know.” He laughs and dips his head a bit, letting you rest flat on your feet. Your dress swishes around as Draco twirls you and he catches sight of your shoes. “Interesting choice,” he bemuses. You crack a smile, “I couldn’t help myself. You’re lucky you got the dress. I’m not very feminine Draco.” His mouth narrows as he states, “I know you’re not. That’s what I like about you.” He states this as a plain fact. “Thank you,” you take the compliment. “So what do you like about me?” Draco implores you. Deciding to abandon your teasing tone you tell him, “Everything. I like everything about you Draco.” He bites back a gasp and you smirk satisfied at catching him off guard. His head dips lower as he places his lips on yours. You smile into his lips, your fingers lightly playing with his hair. His bare hands warmed up the bare part of the small of your back that showed. And as he continued to kiss you, you felt the rest of the world fade away. Still swaying gently to the music, you let the passion build in your chest. Draco only pulls away when he runs out of breathe. He wears a look of satisfaction when he notices how swollen your lips are. “I could kiss you everyday and it still wouldn’t be enough,” he confesses, his hands leaving your waist to hold your own hands. You shake your head and place his hands back on your waist, his fingers yet again splaying across your bare back. He smiles at your boldness. “You’re confidence is extremely sexy,” he tells you. Looking into his beautiful gray eyes you reply, “Draco, shut up and kiss me.” And he happily does so.

[amaralanegra]

Into the Abyss (and back into you)

ao3 link

Chapter 1:  First Day

Pairings: A LOT

Warnings: none atm

Summary: After being rescued, child soldier survivor Bucky Barnes tries his hardest to have a normal, ordinary high school life despite the terrors that still haunt him. One day, he receives an email that he thought would never come -- the private investigator he had hired found his mother. He has to make a plan and act quick if he doesn't want to lose her again. Sam Wilson, aspiring therapist, loves his family and his friends. After his best friend Bucky cuts off communication from their friend group, his sister goes missing. A hashtag, a social media movement, a nationwide search. But there's no trace of her. After finishing high school, Bucky contacts him once more, telling him that he knows where to find his sister. With the help of his friends, they all travel throughout the United States to find Sam's sister and Bucky's mother. And perhaps love in the way, too.

A/N: DONT FORGET TO LIKE COMMENT AND SUBSCRIBE

Steve♢ is online

Erik ( ಠ ಠ) is online

Bucky ( ˘-___-) is online

Sammy is online

 Steve ♢: first day of school o(*^▽^*)o

Steve ♢: you guys excited?

Erik ( ಠ ಠ): of course

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i cant wait to finally step into that hellhole we call school

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): and die.

Bucky ( ˘-__-): ^

Sammy: facts

Steve ♢: you guys…

Steve ♢: we only have this year together!

Steve ♢: we gotta enjoy it!

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): oh ill enjoy it alright

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): im always happy whenever i get home from school u know

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): its a good change from the crippling depression i feel whenever i step into those shitty gates of hell

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): did i also mention i get diabetes type fuck-school whenever i enter school

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): its life-threatening steve

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i could die

Sammy: tick tock then bitch

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): shut up sam

Steve ♢: come ooooon

Steve ♢: you'll be ok! You have me, Sam and Bucky!

Steve ♢: i honestly think this year will be great! Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): yeah

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i hope so too

Sammy: Alright Steve we'll see you at school

Sammy: I’m about to start driving now

Steve ♢: ok, see you guys! Bucky ( ˘-___-): Oh hey btw

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Don't forget to eat

Bucky ( ˘-___-): You always skip breakfast...

Bucky ( ˘-___-): At least drink orange juice

Bucky ( ˘-___-): That should help a bit

Steve ♢: yep!

Steve ♢: i won’t forget (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Good!

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): gay

Bucky ( ˘-___-): I meant that in the most heterosexual way possible

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): when do you ever

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): remember that time you pulled down Steve’s pants while we were at the pool high af

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): because i do

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): and his ass...

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): it haunts me

Steve ♢: i tend to have that effect on people.

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i haven’t been able to sleep since then Steve

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): you monster

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Erik hurry up we’re already waiting outside

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): dont you fucking try to change the subject

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): remember that time you pole danced and strip teased when you were drunk out of your mind

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): because i do

Steve ♢: but that happened last month

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): and yet it feels like an eternity

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Why can’t you guys forget the embarrassing shit I do for like once in your lives.

Sammy: cuz it was fucking hilarious thats why LMFAO I think I still have those polaroid pics somewhere

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): n cuz that’s what friends do

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): and apparently for you friendship is also traumatizing me with steves bare ass and your slutty pole dancing

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i’ve had night terrors ever since

Steve ♢: lol

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Erik. hurry up. before I go in there. and beat you. in the face and ass.

Bucky ( ˘-___-): We’re already late. Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): aw

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): come on you know that my hair takes long

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): shit i should be a model for l'oreal

Sammy: we’re leaving

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): okokokok im going out

Steve ♢: lol be careful

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): we will try

Bucky ( ˘-___-): See you Steve!

Steve ♢: byeee

 Steve ♢ is offline

Bucky ( ˘-___-) is offline

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ) is offline

Sammy is offline

 “About time,” Bucky says as he reclines in his seat and pulls down his beanie with a huff, almost fully covering his eyebrows. Sam looks at the backseat through the rearview mirror as Erik lazily opens the door and sits on the middle of the backseat with a groan, his black hoodie still pulled up and hiding half his face.

“Sorry.” Erik says, sounding annoyed and not sorry at all. Both boys can hear the loud trap music coming from one bud of his gold earphones while the other hangs low down his neck. He leans back and closes his eyes, already looking drained of energy before the day even starts. “There was a problem.”

Sam starts his car while keeping both of his hands on the steering wheel, “What happened?” he asks.

“Is Valentina okay?” Bucky also asks, peeking at him over his shoulder.

Erik rolls his eyes at him. “The goddamn cat is fine.” He sighs and sinks further into his seat. “Nah. Do y'all remember my cousin?” Erik taps Bucky’s shoulder to make him fully turn around, as though he wants him to see the pain in his eyes as he speaks. “The one in Wakanda? Annoying, quiet, and thinks he’s better than everybody else?”

Bucky wrinkles his nose in confusion and looks to the side as he tries to remember, but comes up empty. He shrugs.

“Ah,” Sam says, nodding. “Yes, I remember you fondly telling us about him.”

“Well,” Erik says, putting extra emphasis on the word by rolling his eyes once again. “He moved here. Has been at my house all summer. And I have to share my room with him.”

Bucky nods in silent understanding and Sam keeps driving in silence, expecting Erik to continue talking about how his life is full of struggles. But instead Erik sits there with his arms crossed, his eyebrows knitted together and his lips forming a pout like a child. Bucky would call him cute, but starting his morning with a black eye isn’t on his to-do list.

“And um,” Bucky starts, uncertainty in his voice. “That's it?”

“That is it.” Erik scoffs, sliding further into his seat. “I don't want to share my room with him. Shit, I don't want to share it with anyone! Both him and my little cousin, Shuri, are here. They are filthy fucking rich, I don’t get why they gotta live with us.”

Bucky frowns and nods, trying to understand his unique situation. Sam instead feels the need to nervously scratch the back of his neck, but he doesn't want to let go of the steering wheel thanks to his road anxiety preventing him from even looking away. They know that Erik’s mom has been in a… feud of sorts with Erik’s paternal uncle. Erik wasn’t too specific of course, but they remember it made him upset enough to cry. And while they know he’s a soft guy under all the tough facade he puts on – he can’t say he doesn’t cry when watching the pet adoption commercials (“they are all alone, and sad, and the music doesn’t help, you assholes! Stop laughing!”) or that he doesn’t sing his heart out to the opening of his favorite anime – they also know that Erik loves his father, and he loves his mother, but one of them is gone and he has been too overprotective over the only one left. Erik’s hatred for his uncle has not stopped growing since that fight with his mom.

Remembering this, both boys feel an ache in their chest for their friend, wanting nothing more but to make him smile again.

Bucky is not much of a touchy person, so when he stretches to place his hand on Erik’s knee and shakes it in silent comfort, it doesn’t go overlooked. Erik smiles at him, and when he looks to the side of Bucky he sees Sam looking at him intensely.

“What?” He spats out on impulse under the sharp scrutiny.

Sam blinks once, twice, and finally he speaks. “You’re a better person than that old man is, you know.” He slowly says in that therapeutic, soothing voice of his, causing Erik to pause. “You’re a better person than your cousin, who didn’t stand up for you or your dad. You're kind, and you care so much. You— you're not afraid to fight for what's right. You’re way better than them, Erik, don’t you forget that, okay?”

Looking at him with wide eyes, Erik then slowly smiles, thankful for his best friend’s words. It might not fix it all, but it helps, even if just a little bit. He will be caught dead before he ever admits that, though, so instead he says ‘that’s kinda gay’ and laughs when Sam tells him to get the hell out of his car.

“We're here anyways!” He yells out, laughter still present in his voice.

Sam frantically locks his car and rushes to catch up with Erik and Bucky as both argue excitedly about an anime episode that streamed the night before. “Can one of y’all speak English, please?” He pushes them apart to be in the middle of them. “Or Patwah? Me kno ou to speak dat at least.”

Erik playfully elbows him and answers him with that smugness his teachers hate. “Amabini anokudlala oko umdlalo, uyazi,” he answers back, which makes Sam smile brightly and whisper ‘alright, okay, alright’ while elbowing him back.

Bucky, though, smiles and just watches their friendly bickering, finally feeling at home. He missed this feeling. He missed them both so much.

Somehow, they're already in front of their lockers, all three of them stopping together in order starting from Bucky to Sam to Erik. In fact, that’s how they met in middle school. They happened to have been assigned lockers right next to each other when school first started; Erik arrived first and mistook his locker for Sam’s, and when Sam got there Erik wouldn’t let him get close to it. They almost got into a fistfight until they both saw Bucky trying to open the locker they were both fighting for.

Of course, after all three of them were sent to the principal's office, they’ve been best friends ever since.

Erik starts to fumble with his lock, reciting the combination under his breath like he always does with important things he has to remember, until he hears Bucky whisper to Sam to turn around and look.

“Okoye! Koko!” The voice of some girl catches their attention. They turn their eyes to the row of lockers in front of them to see Okoye ‘Koko’ Milaje turn to her girlfriend just in time to catch her as she throws herself at her. Her girlfriend, Nakia, excitedly throws her arms around her middle, burying her face in her girlfriend’s chest. She says something that only Okoye can hear because she laughs brightly, leans down, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

Sam smiles at Bucky, who smiles back at him and says “girls” as though that explains everything and turns to focus on opening his locker. From the corner of his eye he quickly realizes that only two people stop to stare at the couple, and only one looks like they’re disgusted… though they don’t do anything about it, instead opting to turn away from them. Good, Sam thinks. He doesn't have the time for that bullshit so early in the morning. He turns to mention it to Erik, and his friend’s expression is not the annoyed one he expected for witnessing the kiss since he says to hate ‘corny romantic bullshit’ (which is a lie, because he once caught him intensely watching a telenovela in the middle of history class) but instead his expression is just one of...pain.

Sam frowns, confused. Pain...?

“So that’s why he’s here…” Erik whispers, looking away from them.

Bucky peeks over his shoulder and turns to Erik while Sam orderly puts his belongings inside his locker, who is still looking at Erik from the corner of his eye. “Who?” Bucky asks.

“Huh?” Erik stops harshly throwing his books inside his locker to look at him askew. He comes back to himself soon enough though, and he quickly closes his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. “No, nothing. I was just talking to myself.”

Both Bucky and Sam look at each other, and suddenly, they feel the need to ask him about it again because the troubled look on their friend’s face bothers them, but the ring of the school bell interrupts before either of them can say anything.

“Well, gotta go.” Erik sighs irritably, slamming his locker door closed. “See y’all later – ah, wait. Both of you have art first period, right? With, uh, Ms. Minako?” He asks.

Sam nods. “Yeah, why?”

“Okay, so, my cousin.” Erik says, adding an eyeroll for extra measure. “He’s coming to our school.” Sam and Bucky both raise their eyebrows in surprise, and Erik nods. “Yeah, he’s gonna come to school here, sadly. For some fucking reason. Anyways, he’s probably going to be late since his dumb ass didn’t wake up on time ‘cuz he was busy moping around and I wasn't going to wait for him. He’s in the same class as y’all, I believe, so if y'all could, you know, show him around… or whatever… I’d be… uh,” he coughs into his fist. “I, uh, I’d appreciate it. Seriously.” His voice turns quieter and softer as he finishes, eyes cast away. He leans from one side to another on his heels like he always does when he’s impatient or nervous.

Bucky raises an eyebrow and decides to tease him. “Hold up,” he quickly leans over him, causing Erik to step back. “You’re asking us for a favor?”

“And does that mean you actually care about your cousin?” Sam asks, wrapping his arm around Erik’s shoulder to join in on teasing him too.

Of course, it’s a trick question. Both Bucky and Sam already know that Erik cares a lot about his family (except for his uncle) and that includes his so called ‘frigid ass cousin’, despite… current events. Erik is simply not an openly affectionate person and he would never admit that he’s not the ‘cold-hearted ass bitch’ he claims to be. He would rather dump all of his anime-inspired clothing than admit to having any sort of normal human feelings whatsoever.

“Fuck off!” He yells, pushing Sam off him as Sam laughs at his little tantrum, and Erik is suddenly thankful that his brown skin masks the heat rising to his cheeks. “Just – will you do it or not?!”

“Sure,” Bucky smiles. “He’s uh, quiet—”

“Full of himself—” Sam adds.

“Aaaand he’s annoying. Not hard to spot.” Erik scoffs.

Sam laughs and waves him goodbye. “Okay, you should go before you’re late.”

The smaller teen nods and turns around to head to his class, the sound of his boot heels echoing in the empty halls. While they walk towards their art class, Sam wonders what kind of person Erik’s cousin is and if he's as much of a jerk as Erik makes him out to be. Is he just as grumpy as Erik? Just as smart? Does he also say what’s on his mind without a filter? Does he smile? Is he just as direct? Does he care as deeply, but doesn’t show it? Is he just as soft when he wants to be?

… And is he straight?

“Good morning, Sam! Hello, James!” Ms. Minako welcomes them as they enter her room. “You guys are late.” She’s sitting on the same table as the rest of the students there, with a bunch of different colorful objects laid on it.

“Good morning, ma’am.” Sam greets her, Bucky greeting her too with a wave of his own as they make their way to the farthest seats at the other end of the table. Sam sets his backpack to his right with a pleased hum, while his best friend sits to his left and he takes comfort in the fact that nobody will sit by his right side. There’s plenty of other empty seats around so maybe he’ll have some peace of mind this year (last year he had the misfortune of being seated next to Tony fucking Stark). Besides, it’s not like anyone would decide to sit next to Bucky either, because last year the girl that did so ended up being his designated art partner… and let’s just say… not that many people can handle Bucky’s emotional outbursts. So, it’s a win-win that he gets to be with his best friend. Bucky can be a little weird, he won’t lie. But he knows his friend, he knows who he is, he knows his life and he knows what really happened during those years (news media be damned), so he's more than happy to deal with this so called 'trouble kid’ of the school. They don't know him like he does.

Ms. Minako checks them off the attendance list with a smile and counts the class again. It seems there’s students missing, judging from her confused face and her nervous pencil tapping. “Well, I guess most of you are here. Only two students are absent—”

As if on cue there’s a knock on the door, suddenly halting all talk.

“Oh! Must be the new student!” Ms. Minako declares cheerfully. Sam twists anxiously in his seat, leaning over to see who it is. Is it him…? “Open the door for him, please.”

One of the students next to her stands up and opens the door, returning to her seat quietly. From his spot, Sam can see him stride in.

The first thing he notices is his hair, his short fro perfectly shaped and adorning his face like a crown. His clothes look like they are from a quality brand -- elegant, but simple. Sam’s eyes go back up to his face and he finds warm brown eyes staring right back at him. He jumps slightly in his seat and feels his face warm up at getting caught staring, but Erik’s cousin doesn’t seem to mind because he smiles instead, winking at Sam with a tilt of his head.

Sam swiftly turns his eyes to his lap, repeating in his mind ‘STARE AT THE TABLE STARE AT THE TABLE STARE AT THE TABLE’ as he fidgets with a strand of his shirt. This definitely wasn’t on his to-do list either.

He winked at me?!

“Yo,” Bucky whispers to him. “Was it just me or did he wink at me?”

Sam blinks. “I thought he winked at me,” he whispers back.

“... Maybe at both of us? Probably you, though. I’m a mess.” He sighs, laying his head down on the table.

Sam snickers, playfully dragging Bucky’s long wavy hair to cover his face. “You wouldn’t look a mess if you used a damn brush, you lightskin 2-b Rapunzel.”

Bucky flips him off.

From across their seats he hears a couple of girls commenting on the new student’s appearance, one in particular making colorful comments in Spanish to her twin. Sam can recognize her voice without looking. Her name’s Chal, and her sister’s name is Ime. They all hang out together occasionally since their mom is good friends with his mom. They usually play video games when good ones come out and sometimes decide to have some impromptu language classes – the twins teach him Spanish, and Sam tries to teach them Patois, and they more or less manage to learn a couple of words since they use most of their learning time laughing hysterically at each other’s accents instead.

“El diablo,” Chal whispers to Ime. “Papasito… que guapo, no?”

Handsome. Sam hates that he understood that. Seems like those Spanish classes they gave him paid off.

Ime laughs and nods, saying something else to her sister’s ear. Chal giggles in response, patting Ime’s puffy hair bun until her sister pushes her hands away with a smile. Suddenly, Sam wishes he had a close relationship like that with his own sister, but he shakes the thought off as soon as the teacher speaks. Let’s not start the day with a gloomy thought.

“Hi!” Ms. Minako says. “You’re T.… challa... Uda… koh…?”

“T’Challa Udaku.” T'Challa smiles. “It’s okay.  Just T’Challa is fine.”

“T’Challa?” Ms. Minako tries again, with a concentrated face.

T'Challa smiles again, and nods. “That’s right.”

Chal elbows her sister, whispering loud enough for Sam to hear. “Suena Africano, no? O quizás del caribe?”

“Africano, me parece.” Ime whispers back.

“Nah, es caribeño.” Chal shakes her head.

“Africano.”

“Caribeño, coño.”

“You have a slight accent.” Ms. Minako asks T'Challa, interested. “Where are you from?”

“I am from Wakanda.” He answers.

A tiny ‘fuck!’ is heard from Chal, but only Ime and Sam seem to notice. He tries not to laugh as Ime elbows her sister in the stomach. These girls.

“New to the country or the town?”

“Both.” T'Challa laughs. “It’s a lovely town.”

If only you knew, Sam thinks, you wouldn’t be saying that. But he shakes the thought off, again, trying not to be negative… again. It’s hard to not to be a pessimist. But enough is enough. He wants to be a therapist when he grows up, goddamn it, so he needs to get it together.

“Well, T'Challa, welcome to the country! Come on, choose a seat. Let’s start the class!” Ms. Minako gestures towards all the empty seats as she checks him off the attendance sheet. T'Challa turns over where a group of loud white boys are seated together, but his eyes pass right over them. He looks at the seat next to Ime and Chal (the latter batting her eyelashes dramatically, making T'Challa smile) and considers it, until he looks over at the end of the table where Sam is.

There’s one empty seat right next to his.

He looks decided then, walking past everyone and stopping right next to Sam with a click of his heels. Not quite believing what’s happening, Sam can only stare at his own hands and ask to whichever god is listening to make T'Challa sit somewhere else. Next to Bucky, even. He’ll do anything. Hell, he’ll stop eating his gran’s mac and cheese! But please, god, don’t let him sit next to him. T'Challa’s too… too…

“Is this seat taken?” T'Challa’s soft voice comes from his right, and Sam makes the mistake of turning his head towards him.

… Too pretty.

T'Challa’s eyes shine like the sun, his hand resting on the table. Sam’s breath hitches as dark brown eyes lock on his. His face is a little too close for his comfort, so Sam scoots back. T’Challa tilts his head to one side in confusion, waiting for him to answer but Sam can only focus on those lovely brown eyes of his, not even caring that the silence is getting a little bit too awkward, but he just doesn’t know what to say because T'Challa’s way too close and—

Bucky elbows him in the ribs, bringing him back to earth.

“Are you feeling alright?” T'Challa’s face turns to one of worry, somehow inching even closer to Sam. “You look—”

“I’m okay!” He blurts out, laughing nervously. He looks at Bucky from the corner of his eye and sees the bastard stifling a smile. Fucker.

T'Challa’s eyes widen in surprise, waiting for him to continue. “I’m—um, the seat isn’t taken, so…” Sam's eyes slide down to the empty chair while fake coughing and pressing his lips into a thin line, trying to play it cool. Oh my god this is too embarrassing why am I acting like this.

“Alright, thank you.” T'Challa’s face lights up and Sam can’t help but smile as well, despite how nervous he feels. T'Challa drops his bag to his side and sits down gracefully on the chair with a smile. “Nice to meet you,” he says with a radiant smile, while offering his hand to him like a proper gentleman.

Sam’s brain has the decency to remember to dry his anxiously-damp hand on his jeans before he shakes T’Challa’s with an equally anxious smile. It’s kind of odd, it almost feels like they’re finishing a business meeting. Why yes, sir, I’m glad we’ve come to the mutual agreement that I’m awkward as hell, let’s shake on it. But it could be a Wakandan thing, who knows. T'Challa has a strong grip on his hand as soon as they touch, and he shakes Sam’s hand with confidence, taking Sam by surprise as the strong shake dips him forward. He has no time to be embarrassed because T'Challa smiles at him and the guy giggles as though stumbling into someone else’s personal space is charming. He lets go of Sam and instead rests his face on his hand, two fingers up to support the crown of his head.  

“What’s your name?” T'Challa asks, eyes filled with curiosity.

And it’s at this moment when there’s another knock on the door, catching everyone’s attention.

“Oh!” The teacher exclaims. “Must be the other missing student.” This time it’s her who stands up to open the door, blocking the view of Sam’s eyes to see who it is.

“You’re a bit late, mister.” She reprimands the student. “But it’s the first day, so I’ll let it slide this time, alright?”

“I appreciate it.” Says a deep, and… quite attractive masculine voice.

Ms. Minako stands to the side and shows him the way. “Come on in!”

As soon as the student enters the room he can see exactly who it is. M’Baku walks into the classroom with that confidence Sam is so jealous of, looking as handsome as ever. His dark brown skin glows despite the unflattering light of the classroom, as though M’Baku is the exception to little things like physics. His clothes, of course, always carry a Wakandan theme, showing off the beautiful African patterns and combination of colors.

Sam looks over to the twins and finds Chal fanning herself while looking at M’Baku, who suddenly has a distasteful look on his face when his eyes fall on the only acceptable empty seats in the room. The one next to Bucky, and the one next to the twins. His eyes soon fall on T’Challa, and he falters. He recovers quickly though and walks around the table to sit down right across from him – next to Bucky’s seat.

Sam’s eyes go back to T’Challa, who seems to be… frozen in place while looking at M’Baku. He gets it though. One time, he got to seat behind him in math class and every time the teacher called M’Baku’s name to mark him present, he would stand up and give Sam a great first row view of that—

“So, uh,” Bucky’s voice brings him back to earth. He turns his head towards him and sees him talking to M’Baku, who can’t look less interested. “Guess we’re art partners now, huh?”

M’Baku finally looks at him with a neutral look on his face and says, “I am lactose intolerant.”

Bucky freezes.

Sam completely loses it. He can’t help but laugh out loud, making a spectacle even though he tries his damn best to keep it in. Naturally, he attracts some of his classmates’ eyes, but he just can’t stop. He’s trying so hard, but Jesus. The look on Bucky’s face, he keeps remembering it and can’t help but laugh again.

“Mhm, keep on laughing, man. Just let it all out, you dick.” Bucky tell him as he claps Sam on the back, which only makes it worse.

Ms. Minako finally looks over at him, looking confused and quite annoyed at the noise. “Excuse me, Sam? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, Sam, are you alright?” Bucky repeats, faking the worrying tone in his voice as he scoots closer to Sam to look him right in the eye.

“Y-Yes, miss, I’m— I’m fine,” Sam tries to tell her while desperately trying to ignore Bucky’s stupid face. “Thank you. Sorry about—” and he laughs again.

“Do you need to go to the nurse, Sam?” she asks, sounding annoyed.

“Yeah, Sam, do you need to go to the nurse?” Bucky repeats again with that dumb look on his face and it makes it harder for Sam to stop laughing.

“No! N-No, I’m alright. I’m so sorry, miss, please uh, please carry on.” He coughs and bites his lip, mustering all his energy into having a poker face. It doesn’t work, it just makes him look weird with his bulging eyes, tight lips and puffy cheeks… but the teacher is satisfied enough with it to let it go.

“So, uh,” Sam turns to Bucky, a smile threatening to slip past his lips but still desperately trying to look neutral. “Wanna change seats?”

Bucky licks his lips, also trying not to smile, and nods. “Yeah, that’s— yeah, let’s change seats, man.”

Once they’re at their new seats, Bucky turns to T’Challa. “Soooo, guess we’re—”

“I’m also lactose intolerant.” He tells him with a mastered poker face.

Sam lays his head down and covers his head with his arms to tone down his loud laughter, shaking and softly smacking the table with his first a couple times. Bucky can’t hold it in either, leaning forward on the table and shaking his head as he laughs with Sam. M’Baku joins in with a loud and deep ‘HAH!’ and nothing else. T’Challa smiles ever so slightly, and the sight almost makes Bucky stop, feeling charmed by his smile and the soft crinkles at the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t quite get a look at him at first, but now he understands why Sam froze when T’Challa talked to him.

Sam coughs, and looks towards T’Challa, trying to frown in order to cancel out the dumb smile on his face. “Hey man, um, do you— uh, do you… wanna change seats?” He fake coughs into his fist, and Bucky feel his lips twitch. “Or, uh, or something?” Sam bites his lip again, praying to any god that is listening to make him stop laughing.

“I don’t see why not.” T’Challa calmly answers, picking up his stuff and changing his seat with Sam.

Once they’re finally seated, Sam speaks. “Don’t worry, Buck, I got you man. I, uh, you know, I take them lactaid tablets—”

Bucky whizzes out a small laugh, and nods. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” Sam nods as well, patting him on the back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. So, you ain’t gotta worry about that.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Bucky says, smiling at him. “I know I can always count on you.”

“Nuh-uh, uh!” Sam shakes his finger on his face. “Only as long as I got my lactaid tablets,” he adds, and after a second of dead silence they both laugh loud and hard, Sam leaning on Bucky and Bucky flinching for half a second but relaxing quickly enough against Sam’s warmth.

Sam looks up at him from his shoulder. “Stop making me laugh, man, fuck. My face hurts.”

Bucky shrugs, Sam’s head moving with it. “That’s karma, asshole.”

Sam shakes his head, and closes his eyes, smiling softly. “I hate you.”

Bucky snorts. “And I hate you too, sweetheart.” Sam smacks him for that, whispering ‘gross!’ to which Bucky replies ‘but you like it!’ to which the teacher replies ‘both of you boys better shut up unless you want to be sent to the principal’s office’.

Half way through the class, their phones both vibrate at the same time, and they instantly look at each other. After making sure the teacher isn’t looking at them, they look down to check who texted them from under the table.

 Steve♢ is online

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ) is online

Bucky ( ˘-___-) is online

Sammy is online

 Steve ♢: hey hey hey

Steve ♢: Erik told me about his cousin!

Steve ♢: is he cool?

Sammy: …….maybe

Steve ♢: ヽ(　･∀･)ﾉ i’ll get his number then!

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): steve

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): steve im begging you here

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): please dont fuck my cousin

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): p l e a s e

Steve ♢: you know, i wasn’t thinking about that

Steve ♢: but now that you mention it…

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): steve

Sammy: oh btw Erik your middle school crush is in our class

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): my middle school what now

Bucky ( ˘-___-): M’Baku. or did you forget about him already?

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): fuck off bucks

Steve ♢: wait what

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Erik had like… the biggest crush on him back in middle school

Sammy: it was kinda cute tbh he would like… talk to him about this anime he really liked. which he got m’baku to watch somehow someway

Bucky ( ˘-___-): And there was this couple in the show. Real romantic shit you know? Erik would say how M’Baku is so much like the romantic interest of the hero

Sammy: and also how Erik was so much like the hero himself

Bucky ( ˘-___-): M’Baku never got the hint though. But it was cute to watch. A bit pathetic, sure, but cute!

Sammy: and of course a funny story to tell every person he dates lmao

Steve ♢: aww Erik you sweet thing you!

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): this

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): is the worst day of my life

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): ever

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Hey do you remember that stupid song?

Sammy: which one Sammy: “M’baku and Erik sitting under a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G watching A-N-I-M-E”

Sammy: is it that one

Bucky ( ˘-___-): yeah! cute isn't he?

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): IM BLOCKING YOU

Steve ♢: lol erik that’s so cute

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): IM BLOCKING BOTH OF YOU

Steve ♢: cute cute cute

Sammy: cute lol

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ) is offline

Steve ♢: omg

Sammy: HE ACTUALLY LEFT LMFAOOOO

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ) is online

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i forgot to say something :)

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): FUCK YOU ALL

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Damn that’s hot

Steve ♢: i didn't know Erik was this adorable

Sammy: he aight i guess

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ) is offline

 This year is going to be fun.

[not4eating]

Unfiltered and unedited. Rabid thought produced while thinking about an essay prompt.

should be something of interest to you and something that speaks to your values, ideas, and relationship with your larger social world.

Possible topics for writing project 3

What makes it debatable? What are various directions you could take this topic? Which one are you planning on choosing and why?

God damn, I don’t know. What are the things that are important to me? Fucking fuck this shit. I can’t think about this kind of stuff right now. I’m already stressed enough. My work life balance is so fucking off. As it stands I don’t like any of the stuff that I’m learning about. I’m stressed all the time. I’m working harder than I ever have and I have the worst grades that I have ever received. Wtf. I got a b in my last humanities class and I didn’t even do half of the assigned material. That balance  is incredibly skewed. Like what’s wrong with college. What the fuck is wrong with it. How does something like that happen. Where a student can put in literally no effort one semester and receive straight a’s and then the next semester they try even harder and then can barely pass their class. That actually reminds me. I need to cite socrates for my most recent assignment in Humanities 01. Her class is the one that I’m complaining about here. It’s too difficult. I feel like I’m cracking because of it. I mean. I can lie in that class. If I lied I would probably get a better grade. None of these teachers actually read what you write. They don’t actually care. So if I wanted to I could just bullshit everything. As a matter of fact I think all of school is bullshit. I also think that we should be paid to go to school so we don’t have to fucking work full time just to support ourselves while we have another full time career. Like, at least pay people up until their associates. Ive been going to school for seven years. That’s an insane amount of time to have suffered through academia. I wouldn’t mind if it was only academia that I had to deal with, but the fact of the matter is that academia is the part of my life that I actually enjoy. In order to support myself through college I have to work a job that is mentally draining and I have to do it for fifty hours a week and even then I barely make enough to survive. So what is the solution? Free housing for full time students and a free cafeteria for full time students that serves decent meals that you request the day before. If you don’t request a meal then they don’t make a meal for you. If you want to work while you go to school then you can. But all students must maintain at least a c average in order to remain in the program. If a student falls below a c average one semester then they are put on mandatory academic counseling in order to maintain their access to free housing and food. What happens to students when they lose their access? That’s a good question. Im not sure right now. Punishing them would be counter intuitive. The goal is to create an environment where everyone feels welcome and motivated to succeed.

My whole point is that I don’t have enough time. I can’t find enough time to do all of the things that I need to do. I feel unproductive. But at the same time I need to sleep. I have only been getting about four hours of sleep a night on average. I finish work. I make dinner and clean up and then I get to work on my homework. My whole body shakes all of the time. I get light headed, sometimes I lose hours of my day to nothing. My mind literally blacks out. Would my day be better if slept? Do I still have those multi hour long unproductive spells? Yes I do, want when I sleep. I just lose focus every now and then. Have I tried Adderall? I absolutely have. It helps for certain things. However, at the end of the day, its far less effective than everyone says it is. I’ve worked my way up from 5mg to 40 mg and even then its like “yo, this stuff doesn’t really do what it says its supposed to. Even at sixty mg instant its about as effective as a cup of coffee. The only thing that seems to be able to get me out of my head long enough to be productive is alcohol, which is so bad. I spent all of last semester drunk. I got incredible grades. I had more than enough time on my hands to spend with my spouse, which I can’t say for this semester. The only issue with this is that I was fucking drunk all the time. I gained 40 pounds and spent my work day on the verge of vomiting. I got in a car accident because I was so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open. I am literally killing myself. I am literally killing myself. I am literally killing myself. The structured lifestyle is torture. Day in and day out, the same thing over and over again. I’m worried that when I start estimating its going to be the same thing. Ill be fine for a few months, and then at the eight month mark ill hate my job. I need to be free. I need to be able to write and talk and interact with he people of their world. I need to write, and I need to write about what I want. Is this form of writing any different than writing by hand, I don’t think so? Maybe? Ts fine and all writing on a keyboard. It’s been at least a decade since people have been writing this way almost exclusively. They question is have novels gotta better or have they gotten worse. I can only say that I am almost incapable of reading anything modern. Especially works that may or may not become literary classics. I also can’t read as fast as some people. I wonder how they read all of the books that they read. I think that after I get my bachelors I’m going to focus all of my free time reading new literature. A novel a day would be a good goal. Why should a three hundred page book be difficult to read in a few hours? I recently read a 200page book in a day and had a great time of it. I even took copies nots with is unusual for me. I was ony able to do that because it was a part of the curriculum. If it wasn’t a part of that I wouldn’t have read it and I wouldn’t have been able to even have the time to read it

What really gets me is the academic research paper. Why do we have to do research on random ass Tomic and write papers about it. They always say that you can write about whatever you want to talk about, but when I write about something truly world changing like I did about big data all the back in fucking 2007 when nobody even cared how the teacher tell me that it was in irrelevant topic that was too broad. I mean its not a broad topic alt all. Data collection and the issue that occurs when it is collected. Ie the stealing and unregulated sharing of data is complete bullshit. Nobody cared then, it was n issue that fucking mattered then and it fucking matters now. Big data is so important. What you search, what you read, what you are interested in is your own person. It is who you are. That is what makes it so incredibly valuable. When we live on the internet we think in the internet. Everyone that uses the internet shares there deepest thoughts to google and reddit. Even those that don’t are texting it or keeping it in their notes apps. Its like if someone had access to your diary, your personal conversations, and your alarm clocks, because even alarm clocks are digital now. They have access to this information, and they use it against you. They even know what you watch, and how much you pay attention to what you’re watching because they know when you’re on your phone scrolling through facebook. And this sounds crazy. It would have been crazy 50 years ago. But today it is not crazy. People are watching you all the time. They pay attention to the conversations that you have in front of smart speakers, they watch you on security cameral. They check your GPS data at all times. They read your emails, they look at your nots, they check your interests and disinterests. They know that you slow down when you see s=certain things and they know that you speed up after certain things. It sounds stupid. It sounds ridiculous, but all you have to do is look at the power at your fingertips as you read this very article. Look no further than your damn phone. You fool. If you think anything is private, just know that everything you do is being watched and recorded. Not by people of course. But by computers. Computers who are profiling you. Learning how to manipulate you specifically. What keywords turn you on. What keywords piss you off. All they have to do is out the right thing in front of you and you will either buy what you’re seeing or at the very least recognize it. That’s where this whole thing gets so fucked up. Advertisers, politicians, random Russians, random Chinese people, random anyone with enough resources to make you do a thing. All they have to do is know what catches your attention and then right before or after that they show you the thing that they want you to see because even if you’re only looking at the dog, nike is at the top of the page and even though you're not fucking looking at that shit, you like running, and you like dogs so all they have to do is put that shit in front of you enough times and suddenly the nike swoosh is one of your favorite things in the world. You have familiarized yourself with it. It is now safe says your lizard brain and suddenly it's only of a few dozen things that you like to see. I can guarantee you that if I showed you something that you didn’t understand. Just a random mark. You wouldn’t look twice at it. You might even associate it with something cheap in comparison to nike. This is regardless of the actual range in quality. You would still buy a thing form nike that was produced for half the price but sold to you for double the price than you would the other thing. No matter how smart or how critical you are there are basic human instincts and those instincts can’t be denied.

Can you even fucking change this thing. Is it established in childhood. I have a cat who is skittish as hell. I love cats, I would never hurt one but still she loves me but is afraid as hell of Perone else. I raised her, I adopted her when she was only thee months old and yet she behaves the way that she doe. Was this behavior bred into her or is she skittish because she had observed me being uneasy in front of strangers and therefore learned this behavior. I don’t fucking know man, but its the exact way that internet marketing, marketing in general really. Its how it works. You are more likely to eat at a McDonalds than you are a regional fast food chain when you’re driving through a town. Your more likely to stay at a marmot than you are a Hilton if you were raised in a town that had a marmot and didn’t have a Hilton. You’re more familiar to marmot because its what you’ve seen. Its what you know. It was the nicest hotel in your town  that has other hotels across the world. Even if you associate it with a shitty crowd, you know that its still a good enough place to sleep for a not unreasonable sum of money. Human instinct. If you know a place is safe you know you can sleep there without being completely uncomfortable. Its the same thing with internet marketing. If it doesn’t apply to you think about cable. Think about the groceries you buy from a person behind a counter. Think about the places you use your bank cars which goes through a computer and knows where you are and what you’re buying. You’re shits not private. It never will be as long as the internet exists and continues to improve. The rise of the machines isn’t brought about by a machine that kills you directly. rough about by a computer that divides us against perfectly fine people until we eventually kill each other via nuclear winter. The more we allow the world to be determined by the people that write algorithms that feed us content and places to go the more likely we are to fall prey to an algorithm built with malicious intent. This is because most people don’t know how to read code and the ones that do most of them can’t read or write code at the level of the one percent of the one percent that decide what happens on the internet. Or rather, that the algorithms that they people write that curate the web for them.

Compton could literally be anywhere. La is the creative capital of creative work because the degrees of separation between you and your friend base and the people who decide what’s produces are like two or three at tops. Compton isn’t special. Eve lived in the area. It’s not the hood, everywhere is the hood, Sacramento is the hood. People that live in fucking Ladera heights can claim that they live in the hood. People from Sacramento are just as cultured as anyone from la. people from Folsom are just as relevant as the millions of people from la. hip hop beats are just chill study beats. These people sit in traffic all day every day. That’s all I have to say about that. La is great, but so is Sacramento. So is every other city in the us. Most towns are just as special people just need the encouragement to create. One in 20 is a genius. When you get 20 people together even for a moment you have a guaranteed stroke of genius. People are genius by nature. There’s nothing special about plato, Picasso, or Okonma, they just found a small group of people to speak to who spread their message far and wide and now they are who they are. God I didn’t realize how much I needed to just yell these things to. The thoughts in my mind that sleep in my unconscious thought. I wish that I could just record all of my thoughts. Maybe I would think the same things less often. Venting in a permanent forum Is so nice.