#check with your economics professor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ugh-yoongi · 10 days

Text

ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don��t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol angst #seungcheol au #scoups angst #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #jewel writes

2K notes · View notes

camandemstudios · 1 month

Text

🎞️ Cam&Em Studios Presents...

Cam [ @highvern] and Em [ @gyuswhore] are proud to welcome you into the 2024 academic year with the Seventeen TA Collab! Take a look at our Course Options collated by your favourite writers, taught by your favourite members!

📆 Choose your Class Times and Professors below!

‼️Some classes contain NSFW content, remember to check the warnings on each lecture before registering!

🎓MSc Economics: Choi Seungcheol & TA!reader

📋Course Name: ex-conomics by @ugh-yoongi

📚Lecture Posted Here!

🖇️Course Overview: you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

🎓MSc Structural Engineering: Yoon Jeonghan & TA!reader

📋Course Name: building blocks by @the-boy-meets-evil

✂️ Course Outline 📚Lecture Posted Here!

🖇️Course Overview: agreeing to be the teaching assistant is the last thing you want in a semester where you're already swamped with work. but, you need a letter of recommendation from the professor and you're out of other options. enter jeonghan, the menace who signs up for the class seemingly on a whim and disrupts your entire routine.

🎓M.A. Spanish: TA!Joshua Hong x reader

📋Course Name: How to be a Latin Lover by @haologram

✂️ Course Outline📚Lecture Posted Here!

🖇️Course Overview: the dreadful semester has started — meaning your summer vacation has come to end, and so has your summer fling…or has it?

🎓MSc Human Anatomy: Wen Junhui & TA!reader

📋Course Name: pulse points by @wheeboo

📚Lecture Posted Here!

🖇️Course Overview: Being the TA for your anatomy class has always been really rewarding, especially stemming in your passion for the medical field. But as it’s approaching the peak of the school semester and labs have gotten more intense, you aren’t surprised to be dedicating your time to tutoring your strangely handsome, dorky, yet enigmatic classmate during after school hours — and reassuring him how to not be afraid of dissections.

🎓MSc Zoology: TA!Kwon Soonyoung x reader

📋Course Name: Araneae by @haologram

📚Lecture Posted Here!

🖇️Course Overview: when you realize your friend (with benefits) actually has feelings for you, a tangled web of lies and avoidance ensues.

🎓MSc Chemistry: TA!Jeon Wonwoo & TA!reader

📋Course Name: endpoint by @highvern

✂️Course Outline 📚Lecture Posted Here!

🖇️Course Overview: Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.

🎓MA Classics: TA!Lee Jihoon x Reader

📋Course Name: Oh, Agony! by @cheolism

📚Lecture Posted Here!

🖇️Course Overview: when you both find out that your boyfriend, lee jihoon, will be the ta for your classic literature class, it is agreed your relationship will take a temporary pause . no public dates, no pda; and, most tragically, no sex. nothing that can give away the truth to your relationship. only, it really is easier said than done.

🎓MSc Astronomy and Astrophysics: TA!Lee Seokmin & TA!reader

📋Course Name: Do Stars Collapse Into Black Holes, or Fall Into Something Unknown? by @idyllic-ghost

📚Lecture Posted Here!

🖇️Course Overview: Starting your second year of your master’s degree in astrophysics, and your first year as a TA, you were stressed enough - but the universe knows no bounds for your suffering. Seokmin, your handsome and annoyingly smart classmate, just had to become your colleague. As if you weren’t hard on yourself already, Seokmin’s presence only proved to fuel your self-loathing. But does he hate you too, or do you need to open your eyes and come back down to Earth?

🎓MSc Psychological Research: TA!Kim Mingyu & reader

📋Course Name: Statistically Speaking... by @gyuswhore

✂️ Course Outline 📚Lecture Posted Here!

🖇️Course Overview: In all your years of academic endurance, you’ve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldn’t know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,…it could.

🎓MFA Studio Art: TA!Xu Minghao x TA!Reader

📋Course Name: Perspective by @tomodachiii

✂️ Course Outline 📚Lecture Posted Here!

🖇️Course Overview: Xu Minghao hates you. You've been sure of it ever since you met him. And when you find yourself working alongside him as a teaching assistant for your painting professor, you think you might hate him too. But one late night, two semesters, and three exhibits later, you find your perspective beginning to shift.

🎓MSc Creative Writing: Boo Seungkwan & TA!reader

📋Course Name: Put It In Writing by @bitchlessdino

✂️ Course Outline 📚Lecture Posted Here!

🖇️Course Overview: You keep things professional--as you should--even if one of your students is someone you hooked up with one night before the college semester started. Meanwhile, Boo Seungkwan is anything but honest--he's a writer after all--but if he is honest about one thing, it's about wanting to write a new story with you.

🎓MS Computer Science: TA!Chwe Hansol x TA!Reader

📋Course Name: love between the lines by @etherealyoungk

📚Lecture Posted Here!

🖇️Course Overview: despite the initial nerves of your new gig as an english literature TA, you’re ready to tackle the new job. that’s where you meet vernon, the computer science TA, and he’s interesting to say the least. he’s all about coding and numbers while you live and breathe poetry and novels. it’s clear that you both have contrasting interests and personalities - but they say opposites attract, right?

🎓MSc Mathematics: Lee Chan x TA!Reader

📋Course Name: rates of change by @wqnwoos

📚Lecture Posted Here!

🖇️Course Overview: Your first semester as TA throws your previously unassuming college life into disarray, fuelled almost entirely by the brown-eyed and charming student who’s slipping closer to failing with every lecture. And in return for your mathematical assistance, Lee Chan decides he’s going to set you up with the guy you’ve been persistently pining over for a year and a half. It’s a simple equation: you teach him calculus, and he’ll teach you how to flirt. Except, as you’re both quick to discover, mathematical equations don’t translate over to real life as easily as you’d expect.

1K notes · View notes

kookslastbutton · 1 year

Text

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) || Series Masterlist

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, slice of life series

Word count: 44k

Rating: M, 18+

Warnings: 8-year age gap, professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), lots of family drama, fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, therapy, sexual content, flashbacks + more specific warnings per chapter

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, Heaven+

A/N: Ummm so I don't ever do series but....I can't help it this time :) big thing– jk is not a complete butt. This is not a "jk finally coming around after treating oc like garbage for wanting a kid". It's more of a we'll figure it out together kind thing, though there will be bumps in the road. Pls enjoy and lmk what you think 🥰

Chapters

༓ ch. I – "This eternal night with no end in sight" (4.1k)

༓ ch. II – "Just hold me silently like you did that day, that time" (5k)

༓ ch. III – “I could make it better” (3.3k)

༓ ch. IV – “I could hold you tighter” (4.1k)

༓ ch. V – “I can make it right” (3.3k)

༓ ch. VI – “Its you who gifted me the morning” (6.1k)

༓ ch. VII – “Can I now hold that hand?” (6.6k)

༓ ch. VIII – “Oh you're the light” (8.6k)

⤷ three month check-in

༓ epilogue: stargaze (4k)

Drabbles

↪ Surprising each other with gifts on the same day (requested)

↪ Jungkook proposing after two years of dating (requested)

↪ Happy Birthday, My Love - recreating Love 911 kiss scene (requested)

note: if you would like to request a drabble lmk ☺💗

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

2K notes · View notes

jamespotterismydaddy · 9 months

Text

Academic Rivals

michael gavey x reader

summary: a partner project in the library leads to heightened emotions

A/N: a request from my dearest belie boo! hope you enjoy @valeskafics !!

TW: smut!, semi-public sex, degradation, hate-fucking, misogyny, michael is a little perv actually

word count: 1,788 words

You despise Michael Gavey. The smug bastard sits right next to you in history and the two of you constantly compete for top of the class. You’ll be the first one to admit that he’d have you beat in any math class but history is yours. The worst part of it is that your professor encourages the rivalry, insisting that it’s ‘healthy competition’. Which is why you’re currently (very apprehensively) making your way to the library to work on your partnered essay with Michael.

You don’t want to make it easy on him though so you strut in, ten minutes late with an iced coffee in your hand. You’re dressed in a sweater and a very short plaid skirt with black thigh highs that just reach under the hem of it. His eyes glance over you almost too quickly, like he’s trying to avoid your gaze.

“You’re late.” He says while looking at his notes.

“This part of the library wasn’t easy to find.” You look around and there isn’t a single person in your line of sight. “Maybe that’s why it’s so dead in here.”

He scoffs. “Or perhaps you’re late because you stopped to get overpriced coffee on the way. Whatever you’re drinking is more sugar than coffee anyhow.”

“So hateful today.” I tease.

“If you spent more time focusing on punctuality then I wouldn’t need to be.” He says pompously. “Get out your notes. I need your contributions for the analysis of economics during the 18th century.”

“In a moment.” You say as you pull out your compact mirror instead of your notes so you can check your hair. You don’t particularly care how it looks at the moment but you know your primping will piss him off.

“Did you even do your research or were you too focused with your own vanity to get the work done?” He asks in a snarky tone and your eyes dart up to meet his.

“Just because I enjoy putting an effort into looking good doesn’t mean i’m an airhead. Of course I did my research.” You say with a roll of your pretty eyes. Michael thinks you look particularly pretty when you’re angry.

“How should I have known any different? You spend more time worrying about getting attention than your studies. It’s pathetic really. You have so much potential, yet you let your feminine interests dominate you.” He says with a mock look of pity.

“Oh you poor thing. If my ‘feminine interests’ seem to dominate my life then why do I have the highest mark in our class? Shouldn’t you have the highest mark if you dedicate all your time to your studies?” You give him a sweet little smile and he is mortified at the way it makes his cock harden.

“History is hardly my top priority when i’m in much more academically challenging classes and I was top of the class last week so it won’t be long before I overtake you again anyhow.” He tries to act nonchalant but you can tell your words got to him.

“It’s probably difficult for you to do as well as you could when you spend most of the class staring at me.” You say and feel a sense of accomplishment when his cheeks turn crimson red.

“I only look at you because you spend all class talking and giving your half-brained takes on the French Revolution.” He retorts but his words are a little clumsy.

“Then why are you blushing?”

“It’s hot in here.” He says firmly.

“It is a little hot in here.” Your tone is casual but he can sense the mischief in your voice. His eyes widen as you shrug off your sweater to reveal a tight, white camisole underneath and because it isn’t really that warm in the library, your nipples harden under the garment and they poke through the fabric. “Something wrong, Michael?” You ask sweetly, noticing how his eyes are glued to your perky tits.

“No, of course not.” He answers too quickly and you smirk at him.

You stand up and walk over to his side of the table and sit on it right next to him, so your thigh could almost brush his arm. He can now clearly see the lacy hem off your stockings. “You’re so flustered. It’s pathetic.” You say a little cruelly and he stands abruptly, his chair almost tipping back.

“You’re a bitch.” He spits back at you.

“That’s no way to speak to a woman, Gavey. What would your mother think?”

He just glares at you for a moment and you can’t tell if it’s hate or lust burning in his eyes. You realize quickly that it’s the latter when he grips the back of your hair and forces your mouth to his. Michael presses himself against you and you can feel how painfully hard he is in his trousers as he kisses you roughly. You hate to say that you kiss back, enjoying how sloppy and inexperienced he is, although full of emotion.

He parts his mouth from yours but stays slotted between your thighs. He looks almost nervous, like he half expects you to slap him and leave. He’s fucking delighted when you roll your hips gently against his instead. The math nerd has never touched a woman before but he’s more than ready to grasp the opportunity. He slips both his hands right up your top and groans when he feels your soft tits. He massages them and you whine, lifting your shirt for him so he can see exactly what he’s doing.

“Oh, God.” He murmurs as he rolls your nipples between his fingers.

“Have you ever been within two feet of a woman?” You ask him with a cruel little smirk but then you squeak as he pinches your nipple hard. “Ow! Fuck, Michael.” You whine.

“You fucking slut.” He murmurs and you can’t tell if it’s a term of endearment or just plain old misogyny. “Always have some bratty little remark to say.”

Your eyes glaze over a little and you pout at the way he looks at you. You would never think that a virgin could act so dominant.

He looks like he’s fighting some conflict in his mind before he speaks. “Now, you’re going to take your underwear off and bend over the table… then i’m going to fuck you.” He says it like it’s a command but it’s almost as if he’s trying to breathe a dream into reality. When you obey him, his eyes widen and he begins to make quick work on the removal of his belt. He can hardly believe that a woman as hot as you just listened to him, that a woman who seems to despise him with every inch of her being has just bent over a table, waiting to be fucked by him.

He lifts up your skirt, feeling more bricked than he’s ever been as he rubs his hand over your ass. He gives a firm slap to your right cheek just to see how you’d react and he’s pleased when you whimper. Michael runs his fingers through your folds as he finally releases his cock from his pants. He pumps himself as he rubs you, enjoying how wet you are, knowing it means you like it.

“Jesus, Michael, are you gonna stand there all day or are you going to fuck me?” You barely manage to get the question out when he decides to slam himself, balls deep, inside of you. You whine out as you try to get used to how big he is. You really didn’t expect him to be so hung.

All he can do is think to himself, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum. As he tries to block out the sound of your voice so he doesn’t spill himself inside you prematurely.

“Michael…” You whimper out, not even knowing why you’re saying his name.

“Shut the fuck up.” He murmurs before beginning to move himself in and out of you. “Little fucking brat, thinking you’re smarter than me.” He starts to thrust harder. “I’m the smartest person in this entire fucking school.”

His cock is slamming in and out of you at this point and all you can do is let out little moans from how roughly he’s treating you.

“Say it. Say i’m the smartest person in the school.”

“Fuck you, asshole.” You manage to groan out from under him.

He grins. “That’s my job.” Michael may have never had sex before this but he sure as hell knows how the woman’s body works. So, his fingers snake around your front so he can roll your clit between his fingers. You let out a strangled gasp. “Say it. Now.”

“You’re the… smartest… person… in the school.” He punctuates your words with his thrusts as his hips slam against yours, making you stutter at every other word.

“Good girl.” He says smugly.

You give him no warning when you cum and the way your pussy squeezes and convulses around his cock almost makes him fall to his knees and pray to God in thanks. He cums instantly after you, not having the self control to hold it back anymore and not having the will to pull out as he spills deep inside of you.

He now fully contextualizes the fact that, no matter if it’s a deserted section, the two of you are still in the library. He pulls himself out quickly and you whine at the abruptness of it all as he swiftly begins to clothe himself.

“Get dressed!” He urges but you can hardly do more than lie there after being fucked so hard.

You move slowly as you pull up your panties and fix your skirt and top, your thigh-highs looking rumpled.

“We’re going to be expelled!” He panics as he kneels down to straighten up your thigh-highs for you.

“Nobody saw and there’s no cameras in here.” You say as you manage to pull yourself together enough to roll your eyes.

“T-This is your fault!” He exclaims.

Post-nut spiralling i guess.

“My fault?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yes, it's your fault! You seduced me!” He gets his things together, his face one shade off of a tomato.

“Then it won’t happen again.” You say simply. His face drops.

“Whatever.” He seems to have calmed down a bit, slightly irritated by your words.

You sigh and decide that it’s best to leave while you’re ahead.

“Goodbye, Michael.” You say in a sing-songy tone as you strut away, now leaving him as the dazed one.

“B-But we didn’t start the essay!” Is all he can get out before you turn around the corner and out of his sight.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 7 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey

sorry if y'all only wanted to be on my hotd taglist i forget

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey #ewan mitchell #ewanverse #saltburn #saltburn smut

691 notes · View notes

obeythebutler · 3 months

Note

For the fluff prompt, may I please have Lucifer and "making funny faces behind the computer while the other one is in a boring Zoom meeting" with Mc being the other one???

It starts small.

The most insignificant of details that the eye won't catch at first glance, but the brain notices something is amiss.

For starters, the pair of spectacles Lucifer always dons is sitting on his desk. You swear he was wearing them just a moment before—your eyebrows furrow—but then you divert your attention back to the screen. The demon continues with his paperwork.

End semester projects require regular progress checks. Your group members are done informing the professor of their progress, now it is your turn to speak up.

"We are done with our research," You say, involuntarily straightening your posture. "We have encountered several problems while trying to know more about the economic practices of the Devildom in the year 1121. Astarion and I have gathered what we could find and compiled it in the document attached in our recent email to you."

"And what is to be done next?" The demon asks.

Magoth speaks up, and you take the moment to grab the bottle of water next to you. You open the cap and take a sip, eyes darting behind the screen.

"We have already verified it from—"

You choke on the liquid in your throat.

Several voices of concern chime in through your speakers as you hack and cough. Hurriedly wiping your mouth, you splutter and blurt out words of assurance. The talking resumes, and your brain can't believe what it saw.

Lucifer, pouting as he stares into his phone, the device outstretched in his left hand. Puckered lips and and all.

"Don't." You mouth the words at the demon, who smirks and raises an eyebrow in challenge.

"This project will be submitted by the end of next month," You pipe in, voice confident of your group's ability to meet deadlines. "There's a survey also planned for extra credit, and Astarion has already formulated the questions."

"Very good! Ah, that reminds me, I've made a new email id—please mail me your survey results on..............."

You make the mistake of glancing at Lucifer.

You have to resist the urge to smile after.

He's winking at you now, comically so, and the demon looks ridiculous.

You mute your mic, and let yourself giggle. "Lucifer," You whine, "I'm in a meeting!"

"Can't I have a little fun now and then?" He says, picking up his pen again. "Besides, you should be focused on the meeting, and not on external variables."

You glare at the demon.

"MC?" Magoth chimes. "Are you trying to say something? Your mic's on mute."

You force yourself to make a polite smile. "Everything's alright! Just a little disturbance. Please, carry on."

You lean back on your chair. The sound of pen scribbling on paper makes for a suitable background noise, and you finally focus on the meeting being held.

You assume the demon has finally calmed down on his rare antics.

Progress is made, conclusions revised, and the meeting is wrapped up in the next twenty minutes.

You close your laptop after, and nearly jump in your seat.

Because there is Lucifer, eyebrows furrowed and a hand grabbing his chin. Lower lip being bitten by his teeth.

This time, you let yourself laugh freely.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me nightbringer #obey me fluff #omswd

395 notes · View notes

antifainternational · 1 year

Note

Since youre antifascist, how about you give us a definition of fascism? What exactly makes someone a fascist? (and in case you use terms such as left-wing or right-wing be sure to define them too)

Guess it's been a while since a clever Anon challenged us to define fascism, huh? Right, let's get into it: Via the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum:

Yale professor Jason Stanley:

“Fascism is a creation of race hatred and its politically organized expression.” - Willhelm Reich, The Mass Psychology of Fascism (1933).

“Fascism is capitalism plus murder.” - Upton Sinclair

“Repression by brute force is always a confession of the inability to make use of the better weapons of the intellect — better because they alone give promise of final success. This is the fundamental error from which Fascism suffers and which will ultimately cause its downfall…that its foreign policy, based as it is on the avowed principle of force in international relations, cannot fail to give rise to an endless series of wars that must destroy all of modern civilization requires no further discussion. To maintain and further raise our present level of economic development, peace among nations must be assured. But they cannot live together in peace if the basic tenet of the ideology by which they are governed is the belief that one’s own nation can secure its place in the community of nations by force alone. ” - Ludwig von Mises, Liberalism: A Socio-Economic Exposition (1927).

“Spent most of the day reading fascisti leaflets. They certainly have turned the whole country into an army. From cradle to grave one is cast in the mould of fascismo and there can be no escape … It is certainly a socialist experiment in that it destroys individuality. It destroys liberty.” - Harold Nicolson, The Harold Nicolson Diaries : 1919-1964 (2004).

“The liberty of a democracy is not safe if the people tolerated the growth of private power to a point where it becomes stronger than the democratic state itself. That in its essence is fascism: ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or any controlling private power.” - Franklin D. Roosevelt

“A fascist is one whose lust for money or power is combined with such an intensity of intolerance toward those of other races, parties, classes, religions, cultures, regions or nations as to make him ruthless in his use of deceit or violence to attain his ends….If we define an American fascist as one who in case of conflict puts money and power ahead of human beings, then there are undoubtedly several million fascists in the United States.” - Henry A. Wallace

“Fascism is the cult of organised murder, invented by the arch-enemies of society. It tends to destroy civilization and revert man to his most barbarous state. Mussolini and Hitler might well be called the devils of an age, for they are playing hell with civilization.” - Marcus Garvey, Authors take Sides on the Spanish War, 1937 Philosophy Tube's breakdown of the elements of fascism is very thorough and recommended if you're not the reading type. But do you read books? We hope so if you're looking to engage in political discussion about anything. Here are some books that tackle the definition of fascism, in whole or in part, that we would recommend to you (check/order from your local library!) Mark Bray's highly-accessible Antifa: The Anti-Fascist Handbook is a great starting point for this topic.

Columbia history professor Robert O. Paxton's excellent book The Anatomy of Fascism goes into this in great detail.

There's also Umberto Eco's The Eternal Fascist

or his "practical list for identifying fascists" as well as Hannah Arendt's seminal The Origins of Totalitarianism

We hope you weren't looking for a simple answer to the complex question of "what is fascism?" Anon, just as we hope you're up to taking our challenge of checking out all of the above so you're curiosity is satisfied and you're well-versed on the topic.

#antifa #fascism #defining fascism

648 notes · View notes

sh0jun · 1 month

Text

Ikemen Sengoku Modern AU

Boys as various university professors or teachers--

I'm not elaborating it much for now

Maybe there would be updates idk--

Oda forces

→ Nobunaga Oda (Academic Head/Economics teacher)

He's gonna have a separate drawer in his office FILLED with candies

That drawer has a lock on it all the time (he doesn't want Hideyoshi to find out about it)

→ Hideyoshi Toyotomi (history teacher)

Really looks up to the department head

Very patient with all the students and will help each and every single one of them :)

You'd see him in the halls A LOT

so be careful. If you get caught breaking the rules you WILL be lectured by him

He keeps a check on every teacher's health too- also he would tell you to take it easy if he sees that you're not well

Also pretty good at giving motivational speech

→ Mitsuhide Akechi (computer science)

Okay hear me out. This man will be GOOD with computers and technology.

The event stories prove it

He's the teacher you'll go to every time there's something wrong with your iPad

And he WILL tease you endlessly

→ Mitsunari Ishida (Maths teacher)

For obvious reasons.

Our clumsy but very smart angel.

He'll be very kind. And calmly teach you if you're having trouble with a math problem no matter how many times you come to him

But no matter what you do, you won't be able to get his attention if he's reading

The janitor has caught him several times in the library reading books in a secluded corner when it's late in the night

Librarians sometimes have to kick him out

→ Masamune Date (food tech)

Yes.

I think it's self explanatory (I don't have anything to say about him I'm sorry-)

You'd always. ALWAYS. catch him at the farmers market.

→ Ieyasu Tokugawa (Biology/ chemistry teacher)

Yes.

He knows his stuff when it comes to plant and medicine

He'd be very cranky if you come to his with a question but he will answer it in full detail

He does NOT like the math teacher

The math teacher and the physics teacher seem to constantly fawn over him which he does not enjoy.

→ Keiji Maeda (Drama/music teacher)

Pretty self explanatory this one.

He and the literature teacher are good friends :3

Best friends in fact.

He's the cheery teacher. Very enthusiastic.

→ Ranmaru Mori (teacher assistant)

The principal's assistant to be more specific

Running around doing errands for Nobunaga. Looks very cute and is very helpful

The students love him

Kasugayama forces

→ Kenshin Uesugi (specialist PE teacher/sports department head)

Martial arts. Fencing. Horse riding. Swimming. Sword fighting. You name it

This guys knows EVERYTHING

he trains students in these sports for competitions.

The group sports activities go to the other gym teacher

Very cold. And seems very rude and icy. But will teach you if you ask for his help

Also do NOT expect him to go easy on you

It's your first time learning judo? Will TOO bad. You will be thoroughly beaten up by this guy

→Shingen Takeda (DT/department head)

The hot teacher who's at the carpentry workshop

Many students attend the workshop JUST to see him

Very nice. Flirt to everything that breathes

Loves sweets just like the academics Department head.

But doesn't like Nobunaga at all

→Yukimura Sanada (PE teacher)

The worst PE teacher you'll ever have 💀

Doesn't know how to talk to students or teachers which result in him getting some pretty snarky comments

Is in charge of preparing sports teams for sports competitions

Does not like Kenshin's guys but has to put up with them

He's best friends with the physics teacher and they sometimes show experiments together (yuki is the lab rat of course)

→Sasuke Sarutoki (Physics teacher)

That fun physics teacher that shows experiments in the class

Uses memes in his lectures

All his lectures are extremely fun

The students are often confused as to how does he always has a straight face

The PE teacher is his guinea pig at times

The sports department head has some beef with him for some reason

→ Yoshimoto Imagawa (Arts teacher)

The guy LOVES art and appreciates it to his fullest

This job was MEANT for him

Will appreciate your art and also give you pointers if you ask for it

Very charming

Students fawn over him

Has a very soothing voice along with a pretty face

→ Kanetsugu Naoe (Literature teacher)

Teaches English along with Japanese

Very strict

He's pretty and has little fangs but the students are afraid of him

A very good teacher

But also does some very strict marking in tests

Do not try to fight with him cause he will point out all the grammatic errors

Lone forces

→ Kicho (linguistics teacher)

Teaches other foreign languages

Like French, Chinese, Korean, Spanish, German, arabic, Russian. You name it.

This guy is a genius

He and the computer tech teacher are cousins

Seems very tired always (cough blackholes cough)

→ Motonari Mouri (portugese teacher)

Yes.

No comment on him.

Those who know him well will probably get it.

Will teach you every single curse word there is >:D

→ Kennyo (History teacher/ religious studies)

He does not like how modern studies are taking over

No phones allowed in his class

Very calm but also hella intimidating

Uhhh- does not put up well with the Computer tech teacher's antiques

Usually eats alone outside with cats.

Animals love him <3

Mai

→ Mai Mitsuzaki (Textiles teacher)

Das right. Mah girl gets her own category

The most fashionable teacher on campus

Everyone loves her

Shingen, Masa and she are the DT trio

Will teach you all there is to know about clothes and fashion

Designs the best clothes

She should be a designer.

Tags: cause idk who wants to be tagged--

@ikesenanigans (we came up with these together<3)

@rubia8 @bakersgrief @nightvers @ginshoujo @y2ashlee

UHHHH IDK WHO ELSE :(

Anyways Enjoy :D

This is my first hc that i wrote--

Leave in the comments whatever else you want to add? Idk how this works bro- (　-̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥᷄◞ω◟-̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥᷅ )

83 notes · View notes

divinesolas · 2 years

Text

Econ tutor | 100 Follower Special

Summary: You're failing econ and you need to pass this semester. When you asked your professor he told you he would assign you a tutor, Ethan Landry.

Pairing: Ethan Landry x Fem!reader

Warnings: SLOWBURN, fluffy, he fell first and fell harder, no ghostface au! Ooc characters (Happy friend group laugh out loud), ethan gives me peanut allergy vibes, misunderstanding trope, strangers to friends to lovers, not proofread.

word count: 9.3k

Looking at the grade from your most recent test on canvas you can only groan and put your head in your hands, You suck at econ. Econ aka economics is one of the worst classes ever invented.

You couldn't fail this class, you needed it to graduate and you definitely weren't repeating it especially when you paid a lot of money to take it. As a freshman at Blackmore University you needed to take econ for your degree and it sucks.

You should email your professor and ask if he's free. You draft out an email and during his open hours you send it to ask if he has any advice for you to improve your grade. Just like any other professor he of course does not answer you within a reasonable time and all you can do is stress out for the next week.

He finally gets back to you and tells you to meet him after your last class. You dreadfully walk your way to his class and knock on the door. "Come in." You open the door and see your professor standing by his desk with a boy who must be the same age standing stiffly near him.

You make your way towards them and you feel confused, Did you get the time wrong? No, you repeatedly checked the time and date so you can't be wrong.

Your questions are quickly answered as he begins to speak. "This is Ethan Landry, he's a star student and he's agreed to tutor you and prepare you for the final." The final was a couple months away as it was only just the beginning of the second semester and you needed to pass it to pass the class.

You look at Ethan who smiled as soon as you looked at, "It's nice to meet you." "It's nice to meet you too." He's not bad to look at, at all. He's got a nice smile and curly hair, he wears a plain black hoodie and blue jeans with sneakers. He's cute.

The professor goes over some other things like scheduling and how you two should scheduling meeting days. Once you two are dismissed you are standing outside of his room with him.

"So, could I get your number?" He looks at you shocked, his face slightly red, "You know, so I can text you and we schedule a day to meet." He looks embarrassed, "Oh right."

You hand him your phone and he puts his number in and hands it back. An awkward silence falls over you as you bounce heel to toe. "So.... When are you free?"

"What?" "You know, like for our first session." You're shocked his face can get anymore red, "Right! I'm free any day. I never really have anything planned. Oh my god that sounds so lame I mean I have plans sometimes just not anytime soon-""Ethan." You're laughing. He's really cute.

He's looking down at his feet as he kicks some of the pebbles on the ground. "I'm sorry I'm not laughing at you. Promise." He nods. seemingly not believing in you as you continue. "So, What about thursday? I get out of my liberal arts class at 2 then I'm free for the rest of the day."

He nods, "I get out of algebra at 2:30 if you're willing to wait." You nod as you smile. “That's fine, We could meet in the library?” He nods, “yes that works.” You smile as he lifts his head, “I really want to thank you for doing this, I really appreciate it.” He nods and scratches the back of his neck with a sheepish grin, “It's no problem really.”

You begin to walk back and wave “I'll see you.” You turn back before he gets to say anything and head to your dorm for the day, exhausted after your morning classes. He seems like the nerdy smart type and that’s good because you really need help with this class. You should find a way to thank him for doing this.

It's monday so you have a couple days until your first session. For some odd reason you can't wait to study econ.

–

‘Do you have a favorite dessert?’ Ethan can barely believe his eyes at the text you just sent him. It's Tuesday and he doesn't have class on Tuesday so he spends the morning at the gym, sweat dripping down his face as he reads over the text you sent. Dessert? Why were you asking him about the dessert? “It's the first text you sent him other than a confirmation text to confirm it was actually his number (a text he totally did not stress over for about ten minutes before he answered)

He couldn't believe his luck when his econ professor had come up to him and asked if he would tutor you since you were failing the class. You being the person he had a massive crush on since he first saw you walking around campus, then he found out you were in the same econ class as him and began to sit closer to you during class so he could look at you. Not in a stalker way of course. He didn't mention this to anyone, especially not Chad, his roommate and the person who he considers to be his best friend. Chad would definitely find a way to make fun of him and beg him to ask you out at any given moment.

When he was talking to you yesterday he felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. He made a fool out of himself and he was embarrassed, of course the first time he tries to talk to you he ruins it. You laughed at him, your laugh is nice so is your smile it's so much better when directed at him than seeing you smile from across the room. “What's got you smiling like that huh?” Chad had walked up to him with a curious look on his face and a grin. “Nothing.” Ethan quickly turned off his phone as Chad crossed his arms, “Nope what is it.” Ethan sighs, “It's nothing really.” His phone dings and before Ethan can blink, Chad is snatching it out of his hand, “Hey!” You texted again, ‘also do you have any allergies?’ Ethan tries to get the phone back but Chad is looking at it with a tilted head, “Y/n? With heart next to it dude you never told me you got a girlfriend.” Ethan manages to get the phone back and shakes his head, “She's not my girlfriend.” Chad now has a look on his face that Ethan does not like, “Oh you got a crush on the girl, got it.”

Ethan groans as he sits down on the bench, This isn't good. “I dont think ive heard of her, I'm gonna ask Tara if she knows her.” Chad pulls out his phone. “Please don't.” “aaaaaaand send, oh no too late.” Ethan groans and lays back on the bench with his head in his hands. This is the worst, exactly what he was trying to avoid. Ethans phone buzzes and he looks at it, ‘No way your nerd ass has a crush on that hottie LOL.’ He throws the phone on the ground next to him and covers his face. Chad laughs, “Oh she works with Tara and is her lab partner, ooo she sent me her insta.” Ethan’s ears burn, he is so embarrassed. “Oh she's cute, ask her out.”

Ethan finally sits up, “No way.” Chad rolls his eyes, “Dude why not.” Ethan shakes his head, “She doesn't like me. She doesn't even know me.” Chad sits on the bench next to him, “If she doesn't like you then why the hell is she asking you if you're allergic to anything?” “I dont know im her tutor for econ-” “woah woah woah woah back up.” Ethan sighs, “You're her tutor??” “Starting thursday.” He can't wait for Thursday, it had only been a day since he found out and he could barely contain his excitement. “Oooo the perfect opportunity to ask. her. out.” “Chad-” “Think about it, you two are sitting cozy in your bed going over notes-” “Why are we in my bed?” “And you make a move on her, it's perfect.” “You're ridiculous.” “I'm not being ridiculous, I'm being serious, ask her out.”

Ethan stands up and cleans up his stuff to leave, “Nope and this is exactly why i didn't want to tell you.” Chad shakes his head, “Don’t worry man I got you.” “Don't even think about it.”

–

‘Um, I like cookies.’

‘Allergies? I'm allergic to peanuts.’

You had settled on making him a dessert as a gift most people like desserts right?. Cookies it is. You started researching different recipes and planned out a day to go get ingredients when you got a text from tara.

‘Hey, are you free on friday?’

You groan and hope she's not about to ask you to cover a shift for her, Fridays are usually a free day for you, no classes and no school so you're free to do what you want and you do not want to spend another Friday covering a shift.

‘If you need me to cover a shift for you, no but if it's for anything else then yes.’

‘You wouldnt cover for me 🙁’

‘No way.’

‘Im joking, you're coming with me to go bowling with my friends. Five. be dressed i'm gonna come pick you up.’

‘Do I have a choice? You never invite me to these things.’

‘Nope. love you <;3’

Why does she want you to come? It's an odd request because despite the fact you two are close you've never been invited to hang with her friend group, you don't even know who’s in said group. You thumbs down her last message before going back to your cookie research.

–

“She’s coming!” “Nice!” Ethan glares at Tara and Chad as they high five and peck lips in his dorm. “What are you two talking about?” Tara smiles at him as she moves to leave for the night, “Oh nothing, just got you a bowling partner for friday, you're welcome.” Ethan tilts his head confused, “I thought Quinn was gonna be my partner.” His sister, Quinn, while not a main member of their friend group, usually joined them for these sorts of hang outs, “She cant make it she needs to make up a test for physics.”

Ethans earlier conversation with Chad plays in his mind as he looks at them, “What did you two do?” “Nothing! Goodnight!” “Tara!” She runs out the door and he turns to Chad, “Don't you dare tell me-” “You're welcome.”

Ethan flops onto his bed and sighs. He should have never let Chad find out and now Tara knew and that only made it worse. He runs his hands over his face, he really likes you and he doesn't want to ruin it, now he would be partnered with you for bowling and the worst thing is he sucks at bowling.

–

It was wednesday and you were in lab with tara doing some research lab, she was clearly not interested in it though as she started talking to you.

"So I heard you're getting tutored for econ." you turn to her shocked, "how did you hear about that?" she rolls her eyes, "um i'm dating chad?" "I know? what does that have to do with anything?" she gives you a dumbfounded look, "Ethan is Chad's roommate? And my friend? did you seriously not know this, he's gonna be there on friday."

oh. "No?!? why would i know that tara i usually tune out whenever you start talking about him-" "hey what's that supposed to mean-" "it means i don't want to hear about you and what your boyfriend are up to especially knowing you-" "knowing me?-" "you're gonna say something weird so i tune out-" "I would never." You give her a blank stare and she shrugs, "You're just mad I have a hot boyfriend. I knew it."

You groan and look at your paper and begin to work, "definitely not jealous tara." "sure...." for a few moments it's quiet and you hope that's the end of her questioning but of course, "there has to be a guy you think is cute."

You look at her, "What?" "Is there a guy you think is cute?" "Tara, stop pushing your relationship agenda onto me. I don't need a boyfriend- ""or a girl I don't judge-" "tara." "One person just named one."

you roll your eyes, "i don't know," You think and your mind automatically drifts back to ethan. You two haven't texted since you asked him about desserts but right now when asked if there's a guy you think is cute all you can think about are his dreamy eyes and curly hair. "Ethans pretty cute." You blurt out before you can stop yourself and slap your hand over your mouth, tara grins. You don't like that grin.

"I see...." "I didn't mean to say that-" "okay...." "Tara forget about it." "No way." she pulls her phone and texts someone while you can only look at her with horror. "Who are you texting?" "nobody." she smiles as she puts her phone down and goes back to work, "Oh come on we need to finish this paper." "I hate you."

Thursday had rolled around faster than you thought it would. Yesterday after your work shift you walked to the grocery store and picked up what you needed to make a (hopefully) good batch of cookies. Walking out of your liberal arts class you walk back to your dorm and pick up the cookies you made and make your way to the library.

You sit down at one of the empty tables and text him where you're sitting. You don't receive a response until 2:30, 'Okay! I'll meet you there, just need to run back and grab my econ textbook.'

He walks in at 2:45, he spots you and smiles as he moves towards you. "Hi." "Hey there." He sits across from you. He looks cute today, he's wearing a red sweater with black jeans, and his hair looks really soft. "So..." You realize you're staring and look down at your notes you had pulled out. “Um….” It's awkward, his face is red and he’s fiddling around with his papers. You need to end this before you guys just end up sitting here in silence. “Do you mind if we start with the recent test, I'm sorry but it's just… It was really bad.” You laugh and he smiles, “No I mean yes! Of course we can.” As soon as you begin you fall into an easy conversation, He’s way more confident while going over Econ, you realize it's kind of hot that he’s so smart.

“I'm sorry but I don't know how much more econ I can take for the day.” You rub your head as he laughs. It's now after six and you're starving. “That's okay, we can wrap up for the day and continue next time.” You two pack up and walk out the library together, the sun is set so it's dark out and he looks at you worried, “I didn't even notice the sun had set.” You say looking at the sky, “Please it's my fault let me walk you to your dorm.” You laugh and shake your head, he looks really worried and apologetic, it's cute. “Ethan really it's okay not your fault at all, probably mine to be honest i really didn't get all that inflation stuff.” You really sucked at anything with money, especially if it's in economics, you two had to sit there for an hour as he went over just that one question with you.

“No.. really it was- i mean please let me walk you there. I would feel bad letting you walk on your own, not that you can't take care of yourself of course but you know it's late and there are a lot of weird guys walking around right now i kind of seem like a weird guy don't i shit-""Ethan!” You're laughing, he really is so cute. He stares at you amazed at you laughing before he looks down, “I'm sorry, I can go-'' He quickly turns to leave but you grab his arm to stop him. His arm feels muscular, does he have muscles? No… is he really underneath all those baggy hoodies and sweaters he wears? He turns back to you alarmed, “Walk me home? Maybe you're right there are a lot of weirdos around and I need a big strong guy over 6 ft to protect me, don't you think?”

You squeeze his arm reassuringly as his face burns and his ears go red. You're teasing him, you look at the look on his face and think about apologizing before he speaks again, “Yes.”

You swear you saw him puff his chest slightly. You almost laugh but after seeing his reaction last time you dont and smile at him as you let go of his arm, "my dorm is this way." you lead him and he walks next to you side by side. "Wait here." He switches places with you so he's next to the road, He's sweet. You two fall into a comfortable silence, it's nice. He bumps into you slightly as you walk, his arms are warm. Your hands brush against each other but before anything else can come from it you arrive at your door.

"Thank you for everything I mean, I really appreciate it." "It's no problem really." You nod as he turns to leave, he makes it a few steps before you call after him, "Wait! shit i can't believe i almost forgot." He turns to you confused, "is everything-" "I made these for you." Youre hold out a container for him and he stares at it, "They're cookies."

He looks at you in disbelief, "You mentioned you liked them so I thought I would make you some, you know, as a thank you for tutoring me." He stares at you not moving, "if you don't want them that's okay too i promise i didn't poison them." You try to awkwardly joke, feeling a little defeated he didn't want the cookies. He snaps back and shakes his head furiously, "no no no no i want them thank you im just, really shocked." He takes the container out of your hands and holds them as if he fears they're gonna be taken away from him. "Thank you." he says quietly, looking at the container.

"no thank you." You walk back and get to your door, still standing there looking at you. You smile at him and wave "Bye I'll see you tomorrow!"

He's frozen outside your dorm as he stares at where you were just standing. He's gripping the container tightly in disbelief. You had made him cookies. The last time someone made him cookies was his mom who died years ago. He looks down at the container as his hands begin to shake.

He realizes how crazy he must look, standing outside your dorm so he quickly begins to walk to his dorm. His face hurts from how hard he's grinning, all the time he thinks he can't fall any deeper for you he does. Today was the best day ever, you two sat there for hours. He felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest every time you looked at him while he was going over a topic. When you got so excited every time something finally made sense and you looked at him, your face covered with a smile, he felt like he couldn't breathe.

When you were asking him questions all he could do was stare at you. You were the most beautiful girl in the world to him. He opens his door and enters his dorm, the large grin never leaving his face. "Awe look at you." Chad was leaning against a wall and smiling, "You're adorable." Ethan ignores Chad as he moves past him to his bed. He places the container on his desk and his bag on his chair then sits on his bed to take off his shoes"what's this huh?" Chad inspects the container of cookies with a teasing look. "Put that down."

Chad opens the container, "Cookies? Where did you get these? Can I have one?" Ethan rolls his eyes and shakes his head, "Get out." Chad hums his thoughts and his eyes light up, "did y/n make these for you? oooooo i get it loverboy you don't want me to have any of the sweet cookies your girlfriend made with love for you." Ethan stands and snatches the container out of his hands, "Shut up!" He's red and his grin still hasn't left, Chad looks happy. "So anything fun happens?" Ethan shakes his head, "We just did econ that's all." "boring.'' Chad leaves not before yelling a quick ask her out. Ethan begins to rethink the day. Every Time he thinks he's done something right with you he always finds a way to mess it up.

He takes a shower and changes into his clothes for bed and as he's about to sleep he eyes the container of cookies. He takes one and bites into it. It's sweet.

You close the room to your dorm and sigh. The tutor session kicked your ass, you kicked off your shoes and threw your tote bag to the ground and layed down on your bed. Today went well, you were shocked when you looked at your notes you could actually comprehend what any of it meant. It was all thanks to ethan.

You were shocked you found yourself enjoying his presence so much. It was weird, you didn't expect yourself to like him as much as you did. He was smart, kind, he made you laugh, he didn't degrade you when you didn't understand the topics he went through it with you slowly and made sure to go over anything thoroughly, he wasn't like most of the other guys on campus who were douchebags. you were glad you got ethan as your econ tutor.

It's now Friday, almost five as you put the finishing touches on your outfit. As you get a text from tara, 'HERE COME OUT NOW' you roll your eyes and grab your bag and walk out the door.

A large group of people are out there chatting, you don't recognize most of them. The door closes behind you and all the heads turn towards you.

"Hey dude." "Hey tara." Tara rushes over and gives you a hug. "So this is mindy, chad, anika," They all smile at you, you notice mindy and anika holding hands and standing side by side, anika waves while mindy nods. Chad is standing behind Tara and gives you a knowing smile, "and of course you know ethan." Ethan. He's standing in the back with his hands in his jeans, he's wearing a blue polo shirt with a black jacket. He looks really cute.

You smile back at him and look into his eyes. He locks eyes with you and he smiles. "Wait, you two know each other?" Mindy asks with an accusing finger. "I tutor her for econ." "really?" Anika looks back at Ethan who nods.

Tara claps and gets everyone's attention, "enough standing around let's move guys." Tara wraps her arm around chads and begins to walk, mindy and anika following closely behind leaving you and ethan walking side by side.

"I really liked the cookies." You turn to him as he looks away, you smile as a warm feeling fills your chest. "I'm glad."

"So did i." Chad looks back with a smile, "you had one?" Ethan asks with a glare, "we split one, you need to make some for me." Tara calls from the front. "I will as long as you stop asking me to cover for you at work." She gasps, "I would never." You give her a blank look as she laughs.

"So how long have you two been studying together?" Anika looks back at you with a smile, "um, we only had one session yesterday, he's supposed to be tutoring me until the final." You look at Ethan who has a big smile on his face. Anika looks at the two of you and gives mindy a knowing look.

An easy conversation begins to flow between you all as you walk to the bowling alley. You sneak glances at Ethan who wears a grin on his face while everyone in the group teases him for whatever they 're currently talking about. You like the way he acts around his friends, he's a little more confident as he shuts Chad up for making fun of his messy room or arguing with mindy about some horror movie. It was nice, the night hadn't even begun but you felt like you hadn't had this much fun in forever.

You all finally arrive at the place and they all rush to get their shoes. "So the pairs will be, me and tara, anika and mindy then y/n and ethan." "Oh we'll be in pairs?" you turn to ethan and smile, "we're gonna win." His face is red but he nods, "Definitely."

"I'd like to see you try dude." Chad slaps his back he leans in close to you, "fyi he's terrible at bowling." "Dude!" Chad runs away before Ethan can say anything else. "I'm not good either, it's okay, as long as I do better than Tara I don't care." To this he laughs, "Oh we definitely need to do better than tara." You two laugh as you go to collect your shoes and pick your ball.

"Can you hurry or else I'm gonna put you last." You walk over to Tara and roll your eyes, "you're gonna put me last anyways." She gasps, "I would-" "never yes I know." She pouts as you sit next to anika.

Ethan makes his way over and sits down next to you. The order is decided to be anika, mindy, you, ethan, chad then tara.

As anika takes her turn Chad starts talking to you. "So how long have you and Tara been friends?" You think before answering, "um, I had been working at this place for a couple years and I had heard about her when she was hired. Never got the chance to talk with her until we started working the same shifts. We got along and soon found out we attend the same school. We got the same lab class, she became my partner and she's been bothering me ever since." "Hey."

"So you've been living in New York your whole life?" Ethan asks, "yup born and raised." Mindy cheers anika up as she misses her shot, Mindy walks up to take her turn, not before giving anika a kiss and anika sits down. “So what are we talking about?” You guys flow into an easy conversation, mostly about yourself, like your major or what your interests are before it's your turn.

“Can I admit something?” you turn to the group, “I have no clue how to bowl.” Tara looks at you shocked, “No…” You laugh, “I seriously never have before.” “Well I can-” “Ethan can show you how to.” Chad is quick to interrupt anika, the two share a look, “oooooo yeah yeah yeah yeah can definitely show you right ethan.” The rest of them start to encourage him as he gives them a look you can't read. “I don't really care who teaches me, I just wanna throw this thing away.” Ethan stands, “I can do it.” He moves to take off his jacket and you're greeted by the sight of his muscular arms.

Wow. He really does have muscles. You stare at his arms as he walks towards you. You've always thought he was cute but he just got so much hotter. His shoulders are large, and the polo on him is tighter than you thought, his chest pressing against the fabric.

You look at his face finally and see it's very red and he's standing stiff. Oh my god you were blatantly checking him out. you turn your back towards him and go to pick up your ball. The group behind you laughs as Ethan walks towards you. you put your fingers in the holes and pick up the ball.

"So when you're throwing it you want your arm to be straight..." You try to correct your arm position and look at him, "like this?" he shakes his head, "no it's more... um do you mind if i..." you nod as he comes closer to readjusting you himself, his warm body is basically pressed against you as he moves your arms and shoulders slightly. "That's better." It's a small whisper in your ear but your face burns.

God when did he get so hot. No he always was but right now it's all you can think about. Fuck. He moves his hand to cover yours, "and when you throw it it's something like... this." he sways your hand and you let go of the ball. You watch as the ball rolls and it knocks all the pins down.

"No way." You cheer as you turn to face him, "I did it!" you hug him and he stands stiff. You let go and turn towards the rest of the group who clap. "Good job." "Nice!"

"That was really good." His ears are red as you mumbles out the words. "Well it's all thanks to my wonderful teacher." You smile at him and he looks away, "no...."

"enough flirting then it's your turn." Mindy yells as the rest of the group laughs. You walk back to the rest of the group and sit down and watch ethan. He stands still for a few seconds before shaking it off and walking towards his ball.

You had no clue what Chad was talking about because Ethan continued to get strikes, if not really good scores for the rest of the night. You're shocked by this and seemingly the rest of the group is too.

When you go to the bathroom the group confronts him."When the hell did you get so good at bowling? Have you been practicing?" Ethans face is shocked and he quickly blinks his eyes and shakes his head, "No..." Chad catches this and laughs, "No way you've really been practicing." "It's not true!" His face feels hot and he quickly looks down at his feet.

"Why did you practice?" Anika asks, "Clearly because he didn't want to humiliate himself in front of his little girlfriend." Tara laughs and Ethan feels like he wants to curl up into a ball and die.

Yes he had been practicing, any hour he could squeeze in since finding out you would be joining them for bowling night he came down to the bowling alley to practice. He was bad, the worst of the group at least and now he can compete with Chad in score. You come back soon enough, you question what they were talking about but they all just laugh.

You cheer as Ethan throws his last strike signifying your win. “We did it!” You hug him as he walks over, unlike last time he hugs you back and squeezes you tightly. You pull back and look at him and smile, “I didn't know you were that good.”

He smiles sheepishly and shakes his head, “I'm not-” “Yes you are.” You slap his chest lightly and he looks shocked. “Stop putting yourself down, you carried my ass through that game, admit it.” He shakes his head, his grin is large as he looks down, “No-” “Stop it!” You turn back to the rest of the group who all have grins on their face, “What?”

“Oh nothing.” Tara says as she stands up, “It's later than i thought lets go i have to open tomorrow.” “Do you really? I'm close.” “Shit you're so lucky.” “Am i really i have to close for your messy ass.” She shoves you and you laugh.

You all leave together and walk back to the dorns. When you all get there they all turn to you. “You passed congrats.” You look confused, “What?” “I told you guys she was great.” “I wish Sam could have made it.” “What's happening?” “Welcome to the friend group!” You think before realization hits you, “Oh!” You laugh, “Thanks guys.”

They all say their goodbyes and anika gives you a hug before they all walk off to their dorms. Ethan stays with you and fiddles with his hands. “I thought i should walk you to your dorm, its-” “Late, yes it is, thank you my knight in shining armor.” He looks away and you two walk side by side to your dorm.

You admire him, as you two walk in silence. At your door you say goodbye and wave and he waves back at you as you close your door.

–

It had only been a few weeks since then, study sessions were going really well. You two began to grow closer over the weeks but there still seemed to be something blocking you two from getting closer. As for the friend group, you soon met Sam and Quinn who were more than welcoming to you. You watched as Quinn would tease her brother and how embarrassed he would get when she would tell you embarrassing stories about him from when he was younger.

You had just finished up a successful study session with ethan and you two walked out the library, you pulled out the container of cookies for him and handed them to him with a smile, “Here you go kind sir.” He smiled and shook his head, “Thank you. You know you don't have to do this for me everytime.” You laugh it off, “I need to thank you somehow.”

He stood there with a contemplating look on his face. It had started to stay lighter outside later in the day so you didn't need him to walk you back to your dorm (He still did) but now he realized you two could do something else instead of just walking home. “Do you want to eat them with me?” You look at him confused, “I mean.. There a cafe down the block we can go there get some coffee or whatever and eat them together.” The look on your face must have sent the wrong message because he immediately starts to back track. “I mean if you want to i don't want to do anything you don't want to its a stupid idea anyway i'll just walk you back to-” “Ethan i'd love to.” He gulps, “Really?” You nod with a grin, “seriously. I mean i made them with browned butter this time they have to be my best batch yet.” You two began to walk side by side to the cafe, you made some small talk about if the group was hanging out tomorrow and he answered that they wanted to go to sams for dinner. When you two arrived he turned and asked if you wanted something to drink, you stared at the menu until something caught your eye and asked for that. He ordered your drink and a hot chocolate for him. He pulls out his card and pays as you insist you should, “You made the cookies let me pay.” You give him a look as you reluctantly agree.

Once you two have your drinks you two decide to sit at one of the benches outside since it was good weather out. He pulls out the container of cookies and admires them, “They do look really good.” “What did you not think they would.” You're kidding but he looks up alarmed, “i didn't mean-” “i'm kidding ethan.” you put a hand on his arm and squeeze it reassuringly.

He smiles and nods as he takes two cookies and hands one to you, “cheers?” you take it and link them together, “Cheers.”

you both took a bite and he immediately hummed, “this really is so good.” “I know.” you both laugh.

as he dunks his cookie into his hot chocolate you look at him as you think to yourself that he looks so content while eating the cookie.

“Is there a reason why you like cookies?”

he looks up at you with a shocked face, “what?” you shrug, “i mean there are so many other desserts and most people prefer other things so is there a reason? other than that they taste good of course.”

he laughs and shakes his head, “um.” He coughs before he continues, “my mom used to make cookies when i was young.” you look at him shocked he never talks about his mom. “Whenever I would do well on a test or in soccer she would make a big batch of cookies and would sit with me and eat them with me with a big glass of milk.” He laughs with a smile on his face, “whenever i would get a milk mustache she would laugh and wipe it off with the biggest smile on her face.” His voice quiets down and you can see his hands begin to shake.

“ethan.” you grab his hand and squeeze it, “i'm sorry.” he wipes his eyes with his other hand then places it on top of yours. “its okay ethan.” he shakes slightly as he begins to cry, “i miss her, so much.”

You feel like something is squeezing at you heart as you you watch him you get up from you seat and he looks up at you in shock, you move to sit next to him and wrap your arms around him, “Im so sorry ethan.” he leans into you and cries, “I'm sorry-” “you shouldn't apologize, its okay.” he sniffles as he looks up at you, “Thank you.”

–

Your feelings for Ethan grew into something more but you didn't know how to put it in words. You soon understood them when it was the beginning of may, only two more weeks until your final and you were beginning to stress out. Ethan told you not to worry and everything would go well but you couldn't help it. Even though your test scores had improved and you began to understand a lot of the material you couldn't help but worry over the class.

During one of your own personal study sessions in the library you realize you ran out of paper for your binder and needed to go get more. You were standing in the subway waiting for the train to arrive stressed out of your mind, this was the last thing you needed to happen right now and you had no clue how to calm down. Once the train arrived you walked on and realized there were no open seats, of course, great. You walk over to one of the poles but you see Ethan sitting on one of the benches. A wave of unexpected relief flows through your bones seeing him you didn't know why.

He notices you and smiles, he gestures you towards him and you realize the seat next to him is open just being covered by his bag. You smile in relief and rush over. “Thank you oh my god you're a lifesaver.” He just laughs, “It's not a problem.”

The train begins to move as he turns to you, “So what are you doing out?” You sigh and the worry begins to flood back into your body. “I was studying econ and then I ran out of paper for my binder so I have to go get some and I'm just so stressed out because I need to do well-” “Hey.” He places his hand on yours and you turn to him.

He's giving you a pleading look as he squeezes your hand, “Please relax,” You sigh, “I cant-” “Yes you can just relax, hey… um i'll come with you to go get the binder paper.” “Really?” “Yeah definitely.”

You smile at him, “Okay.” Now feeling a little more calm you look in your bag for your airpods to listen to some music but soon realize you left them at your dorm. You groan and set your back down by your feet causing Ethan to look at you alarmed, “I left my earbuds at my dorm.”

He looks down at the phone in his hair and hesitates before taking out the other airpod he wasn't wearing from his case and handing it to you, “Here you can… listen with me, if you want to I mean.” You look at his case and realize he has one of the cheetos airpod cases and laugh before looking back at him and taking it, “Thank you, cute case.”

He looks at it and shakes his head before shoving it in his bag, “Quinn got it for me.”

You put the airpod in and are immediately stunned, “Taylor swift?” He had been listening to all the girls you loved before and he suddenly looked down at his phone, “I can change it-” “No i was just shocked i like this song.”

While you sat next to him you felt a sense of peace wash over you and you relaxed for what was probably the first time this whole week. You lean against him unconsciously and feel him stiffen before he relaxes. You realize his hand is still on yours and you lace your fingers with his as you close your eyes. No you weren't tired, you just wanted to bask in his presence for a moment with his heartbeat near your ear and his breath tickling your head.

You liked him. It didn't hit you like an unexpected realization; it felt freeing to finally put what you were feeling into words. You smile to yourself and move closer to him.

It's been another week since then and you were struggling to decide if you were really going to confess at the end of the school year. You had decided since the school year is almost over and He would be going home for the summer and you wouldn't be able to see him so if you confessed and he rejected you it wouldn't be as awkward because he would leave and you two wouldnt see each other again until the new school year but the idea of him never talking to you again made you feel sick.

It was the last wednesday of the school year, the last day before your last study session with ethan which was also the last day before your econ test. There was a party, you didn't know who was throwing it but Tara practically begged you to come so here you were sitting on a couch next to anika as you two were chatting. “I told you that dress would look super cute on you.” “Thanks anika.” You looked around the room for the one person you were hoping to see, “Where's ethan?” Anika sits up and looks around before shrugging, “I have no clue.”

You begin to worry as you frantically look and can't find him, “I'm gonna go look for him.” Anika nods as you get up and begin making your way through the party.

Your about to turn a corner before you freeze at the voice you hear, “Ask her out man.” Chad. “No way i've told you this” Ethan. Who was he talking about? “C'mon man you're hot as hell just ask her out already.”

All you can hear is ethan sigh, “She doesn't-” “Oh shut up man just ask her out.” Who the hell are they talking about? Does Ethan like somebody? A pit forms in your stomach as all you can feel is dread. “Shes sitting over there man ask her out.” Now you feel sick, there's somebody Ethan likes, and it's not you. You back up and walk away. You head back to anika who has your bag and gives you an alarmed look at your upset face as you grab your bag from her side. “Is something wrong? What happened?” You shake your head as your eyes water, you attempt to say something but you can't. As she moves to stand up you rush out of the house. You can't be in there anymore, the amount of heartbreak you feel is miserable and you aren't even dating the guy.

You rush back to your dorm and lean against the door as you shut it. This is so embarrassing, here you are sitting and crying over him while he probably walked over to that person and asked them out. You managed to make it to your bed and flop on it, crying yourself to sleep.

–

“Have you guys seen y/n?'' Anika had come up to them frantically as Chad and Ethan remained talking against the wall. Chad had been begging Ethan to finally ask you out all night but Ethan kept on refusing. He couldn't risk what you two have especially since it meant so much to him. What had started out as a simple infatuation had turned into so much more, you meant so much to him and to lose you would be horrid.

“No? Is something wrong? Thought she was sitting with you.” Chad took a sip of his drink after he answered, “She went to go looking for e, then she came back and looked like she was about to cry then she ran out.” ethan felt sick, had some guy said something to you? “Like she ran out of the house? Shit.” Chad put down his drink and turned towards ethan, “You gotta go look for her man.” “Please e? Im really worried.” Ethan put down his drink and walked away before they could say anything else. “I'm gonna ask around.” “Me too.”

Shit. you weren't answering your phone, “please answer please” he was mumbling and shaking his phone as if that could make you answer. He decided to just fuck it and run to your dorm to see if you were there. He knew the route like the back of his hand and he was booking it full speed. He was worried about you and was praying you were alright. Once he got to your dorm he pounded at the door, he knew you had a solo room luckily since your roommate transferred out in the beginning of the second semester and no one came to fill it. He calls you names to no answer, after a couple of minutes he's defeated and texts you if you're still at the party when the door opens and he quickly looks up at you.

–

Who the hell is pounding at your door? You don't know how long you've been asleep, it couldn't have been that long since it was still dark out. Annoyed and not wanting to talk to anybody, you attempt to block out the noise until you hear his voice. Ethan.

He was here and calling for you. you sat up quickly and walked towards the door before you stopped hesitantly in front of the door. What did he want? You didn't want to answer, just ignore him and move on but he sounded worried so you opened him. His face was red and his eyes were watery, he was breathing heavily, looked like he was out of breath, did he run all the way here? Seeing you he let out a sigh of relief. ‘Ethan-” “Are you alright?” You look at him alarmed. “Yeah um did something happen?”

It's awkward to look at or to talk to him but he can't seem to notice that right now, “Anika was worried she said you ran out looking upset.” Now you feel embarrassed, looking down at your feet, “Did somebody say something to you? Did something happen?-” You couldn't listen to him anymore, all you wanted to do is blurt it out but knowing it would ruin everything you can't, maybe you should just do it. You open your mouth but you quickly close it. You need to have him tutor you tomorrow. The day before the big test. You need him just for one more day. then you can set him free. “Im… im okay i promise, i'm sorry for worrying you, all of you.” You think over your next words carefully so as to not let the things you truly want to say split out. “I just was getting overwhelmed, parties are so loud you know?” You try to laugh but at the look on his face you stop and look down.

He walks closer and tries to grab your hands but you pull them away and try to smile at him, “Im really tired.” He now looks like he's about to cry, “Please be honest with me, did something happen? Is somebody bothering you?” Yes. “No, i promise.” What a liar. He looks like he wants to say more but if he really does he keeps his mouth shut and nods.

“We still on for tomorrow?” You hate yourself for asking but you need to make sure you haven't ruined anything. He looks at you confused, “Of course?” You nod and move towards your door, “Do you need anything I'm here-” “No really, it's okay Goodnight.” You don't wait for his response as you shut the door, the tears at their breaking point as you lean your head against the door. Why can't this just be easier?

–

He stares at the place you were once standing with a sad look on his face. You were lying, he could tell that easily but about what? He stands there and contemplates over it, maybe something did happen or maybe it.. Was something he did? No that couldn't be right, you two were acting perfectly normal this morning. But why were you acting like that with him now? You were never that stiff, you shut him out. It was weird and he didn't like it at all, he felt the urge to knock on the door again and comfort you, bring you into his arms so you can talk all out but he knows that that's not what you must want so he leaves.

He lets Chad know he won't be showing back up to the party and that you're fine. He hopes that when he goes to bed this will all be just a bad dream and tomorrow when he arrives at your study session everything will be just fine.

—

It is not just fine. It started off simple. You didn't text him in the morning like you always did. You arrive five minutes late which is odd since you're always the one that arrives first, you give the excuse you slept in late. He doesn't believe you but keeps his mouth shut. Worst of all you didn't make him any cookies this time. It became a habit, after every session you would give him a container of cookies (and a side one specifically for chad since he liked them so much) as a thank you. The session is awkward and very to the point, when he tries to joke with you like usual you brush him off and ask him to move on to the next topic. He felt awful, he asked you if something was wrong but you just said it was nothing. You had even wrapped up the session early, it was barely hitting four when you called it.

“Im just tired.” You pack up your things and give him a brief goodbye and rush to leave. He watches you go before he realizes he needs to do something, he cant let your relationship deteriorate like this. He runs after you and grabs your arm as you're standing outside.

“Ethan-” “I like you.” You look frozen as you stare at him, “I'm sorry if I did something wrong but I just want to get back to the way we were and I need you to know this now. You can forget about it-” “Ethan”

You try to interrupt him like you always do but he stops you, “Please.” His expression softens, “I need to do this.” You hesitate before you nod, he takes both of your hands in his as if he's afraid you're going to run away. “You can forget all about this if you want to but just know i like you so much and i hate this strain between us, whatever it is. Please tell me what i've done wrong so i can fix it and we can move on and you can make me more of your cookies and you can crack dumb econ jokes about the topics we're talking about or you can complain about your shift at work with tara and how she can never restock properly. Please tell me what i did wrong.” hes begging you, squeezing your hands so tightly, as he locks eyes with you, all you can feel is sincerity and love.

“Then who was the girl?” You ask as your voice wavers, he looks at you shocked, “What girl?” Your eyes water too, “I overheard you at the party.” He tilts his head confused, “What?” “At the party, when Chad was encouraging you to go ask the girl out.” He relaxes and gulps. “I was going to come find you, then I heard you and I just felt like shit because I was..” You trail off as he looks at you expectantly, “I was going to tell you that I like you.” His eyes widened and his mouth opened in shock, “Not that day of course tomorrow after the econ test.” “I was talking about you.” You shake your head, “Chad said she was sitting right there. I was sitting there.” He shakes his head, “no no no no no we couldn't see the couch from where we were standing so he was just pointing in the direction of the couch i swear i had thought you were there. I was talking about you. I only have eyes for you, for as long as I've known you it's always been you.”

You can only look at him in shock at the sincerity of his words and you move closer to him. You rip your hands from his and he has a really apologetic look on his face, as he's about to apologize you pull his face to meet yours and you kiss. It feels like your heart is about to burst out of your chest as you feel love and relief as he kisses you back. He grabs your face and pulls you closer if that's even possible. You pull apart, breathing heavy as you two stare lovingly at each other with a smile. “I'm sorry ethan.” He shakes his head and gives you another kiss before answering. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

You smile at him, “soo…?” You're looking at him expectantly as he looks confused, “So?’ you scoff and shove him, “You're really bad at this.” Now he looks really confused, “Ugh. Ethan, will you be my boyfriend?” Now his eyes widen as he opens and closes his mouth like a fish. You laugh as you look at his red face. After a minute he manages to calm down, “Yes, I would love to be your boyfriend.” You two smile at kisses. You finally feel like you can breathe, this was perfect.

–

The next day you're in a large room writing in the last answer to the econ test. Ethan had finished earlier than you, that morning he promised to wait for you outside so once you hand it your test you rush out to see him and the rest of your friends. You see him and he turns to you and smiles as you make it to him he picks you up and twirls you around as you laugh. “So??? How did you do?!” Anika asks you with a big smile on her face. You keep your eyes locked on Ethan and his grinning face. “I think I did great, all thanks to my wonderful tutor.”

He shakes his head, “No, it was all you, beautiful.” You two kiss.

a/n: I hope you guys like this !!

tags: @bajadotcom

#ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #scream six #scream vi #scream

992 notes · View notes

kyufessions · 1 year

Text

downpour

synopsis: your boyfriend picks you up after your class

pairings: non-idol, boyfriend! intak x g.n. reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.4k

a/n: intak 🥹 our favorite golden retriever. also, not proof read as of yet, too tired lmao. italics are text messages from intak. (requested here.)

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois

the one time you decide to not check the weather it begins to downpour during your economics class. every day you stay on top of the weather, especially since nowadays it seems to become more and more unpredictable. but today, of course, you went with your gut. and oh how wrong it was. you didn’t even have to look outside a window to know it was raining- the aggressive patter of raindrops were telling enough against the college building.

as your professor finished up the lesson early due to the weather, you quickly searched your bag for an emergency umbrella but to no avail. sighing, and mentally cursing yourself, you pull out your phone to check when the rain would stop. luckily enough, you noticed a string of text messages from your boyfriend that you assume he sent during your class.

i hope class is going okay <3

oh shit it’s raining. did you bring an umbrella?

i’ll pick you up after class, text me when you get out!

♥️ see you soon

smiling at the messages, you quickly call him as you swing your bag over your shoulder. within a few seconds, he answers with an excited tone.

“your uber driver has arrived in parking lot B.” the smile was evident in his voice, the thought of it bringing butterflies to your stomach.

“thank you, baby.” you say before hanging up to

scurry towards the exit to get back home for the day. you felt bad that intak drove all the way back to campus after leaving only two hours ago from his own classes, but at the same time you felt extremely grateful. if it weren’t for him you’d either have to get soaked taking the bus or take a thirty five dollar uber- both options not necessarily being of interest for you.

just as you approached the glass double doors, you notice intak’s red car in the pick up and drop off center of the parking lot. smiling foolishly at the sight of your boyfriend tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, you quickly run to his car with your jacket over your head. as the door opens up, intak jumps at the sudden noise and puts his hand over his heart for dramatics.

“hey baby!” you spoke, turning your head in his direction and smiling innocently at his heightened state. a small fit of laughter leaves your lips as you bring your hand up to cup his cheek, pecking his lips quickly before putting on your seatbelt. “thanks for picking me up, you didn’t have to.”

“it’s pouring outside, i wasn’t going to let you get soaked getting home. besides,” he starts pulling off, starting down the road towards your place. “i’m your boyfriend. it’s my duty to take care of you.”

you give him a look, a smirk playing across your lips as you lay your wet jean jacket across your lap to start drying off a bit. “i can take care of myself.” you respond in a teasing tone, your eyes admiring the way he looks behind the wheel. he might’ve just gotten his license a month ago, but he definitely didn’t drive like it. you felt safe when he was behind the wheel, despite him being a new driver.

he puffs out his cheeks as hd turns a corner, being careful on the wet roads as the rain continues on. “i know, but i love taking care of my baby.” as he hits a stop sign he quickly moves his hand from the wheel to your face, squeezing your cheeks as he quickly pecks your lips over and over before a car beeps at him from behind. “i’ll take care of you as long as you allow me to.”

inside your apartment were you, intak, and a mini fort built from couch cushions and any and all blankets available. originally, he was going to come in for a late lunch and head home. but as the weather got worse and thunder started to roar in the distance, you both decided it was best if he stayed the night. so within the past few hours, you’ve both made dinner and cuddled underneath the fort with food, snacks, and in matching pajamas you kept in a separate drawer for whenever he stayed over.

a few weeks ago you both had started a new kdrama called It’s Okay Not to be Okay. it’s quite depressing, but the storyline is beautiful and definitely keeps you both interested. thanks to the growing storm outside, you’re nearly close to finishing the show and are almost done with your milkshakes and popcorn- the ramen long gone at this point.

intak’s head propped up on your thigh as you ran your fingers through his hair as your other hand held on the edge of the popcorn bowl to periodically grab some. gasps and mumbled comments could be heard from him every few minutes, along with little giggles when the main characters would get close to kissing or getting together.

“i’m glad we didn’t take this long to get together.” intak says, his tone playful as he leans his head fully back to look up at you.

“yeah, because you made it obvious from the start.” you replied, smiling down at the boy below you. the way his hair was fading into a dark golden blonde made your heart flutter more than ever before, the color suiting his skin tone perfectly and making him appear more luminous than ever before.

intak noticed the sparkle in your eye whenever you looked at him, the sight never failing to upturn the corner of his lips even just the tiniest bit. “i did not.” a pause. he starts thinking for a moment. “did i?” he looks at you with wide curious eyes- eyes he knows you love.

you nod, a smile breaking out. “i’m glad you did though, i would’ve been too scared to make the first move.”

“why?”

you think for a moment before deciding to respond. in hindsight, you didn’t have anything to be scared of when it came to intak. he was so loving, so caring, so attentive. and he knew how to make someone feel comfortable around him. but truth be told, his beauty and demeanor can come across as intimidating at first. he’s so bubbly, so smiley. and everyone loved him. not that you yourself weren’t lovable but to an extent, you felt like you had to meet his standards to surpass them in order to even be considered as his partner. but you were wrong; he proved that.

playing with his waves, you lean down and plant a kiss on his lips. whenever your lips met his, as cliche as it sounded, sparks flew as if it were the fourth of july. everything felt right. the time, the place, the way your lips synced up together- perfection. nothing ever felt awkward between you two, even from the first meeting.

heart pounding, intak kisses back without hesitation and brings his hand up to your face and begins rubbing circles into the apple of your cheek. as you pull away, he swipes away an eyelash and admires your features for the hundredth time that day. no flaw could ever be detected from you- he truly thought of you as an angel. “i love you.” he admitted, the words spilling from his lips. your eyes widened for a second, taken aback by the sudden confession. “you don’t have to love me back, but just know i love y-“

“i love you too, intak.” you respond, cheeks heating up from this moment. suddenly the thunder sounded like birds chirping, and the grey skies were a clear sky blue with no clouds in sight as the sun became brightly visible. everything felt right- everything felt perfect.

melting into his touch, you place a soft kiss to the side of his palm before responding to his previous question. “you intimidated me at first.”

shooting up from his comfortable place on your lap, you watch his movements as he shuffled onto his knees to be eye level with you. “me? why?” the disbelief and curiosity was evident in his voice, making you chuckle at his cute reaction.

you shrug, unsure of why you even thought so in the first place. “i guess because of how outgoing you are? and pretty. you’re very pretty, baby.” you sit up on your knees and wrap your arms around his neck, placing a quick kiss to his forehead before laying your head on his shoulder. “not anymore though. now i just think of you as my annoying and dorky boyfriend.”

wrapping his arms around your waist as he laughs, he starts rocking you both back and forth as the rain continues to downpour outside. maybe, just maybe, the weather should become more unpredictable more often.

#kyufessions p1harmony #p1harmony fluff #p1harmony #p1h intak #p1harmony intak #p1harmony imagines #intak fluff #intak imagines #intak #hwang intak #intak x reader

393 notes · View notes

waitimcomingtoo · 2 years

Text

Some Light Voyeurism

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: you’re mean and Peter likes that, so he stalks you while you’re on a date

Masterlist

“Did you guys check online and see who your lab partner is yet for Professor Lind’s class?”

“Not yet. Did you?” Peter asked Ned as he opened his laptop.

“Yeah. I’m with some dude named Michael Morbius. He sounds like a total doof wad.”

“Hey. That’s not nice.” Peter chuckled. “It’s says I’m with some girl named Y/n L/n.”

“Oh no. You got Y/n as a lab partner?” Neds eyes widened.

“Is that bad?” Peter worried.

“Dude, she’s like the most popular girl in school.“ MJ told him.

“Really? I didn’t realize popularity was still a thing in college.” Peter said, mostly to himself.

“It is. And she’s the face of it. Good luck man. That girl is gonna eat you alive.” Ned sighed and shook his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I heard that she’s a total bitch. She’s mean to everyone.” Ned whispered as he looked over his shoulder to where you and your group of friends were sitting.

“She’s never been mean to me.” MJ shrugged.

“That’s because you’re a girl. But I’ve seen her make men cry. Even professors.” Ned replied.

“Well I like her. She calls it like she sees it and doesn’t take anyone’s bullshit. I think it’s pretty cool actually.” MJ said in your defense.

“You’ll think it’s less cool when she bullies Peter into doing the whole project. You know how fragile Peter is. She’s gonna destroy him.” Ned whispered loudly.

“Oh no. The first project isn’t due for another two months. That means there’s a lot to do for it. How am I gonna survive two months with this girl?” Peter groaned.

“You’re not.” MJ snorted.

“It’s been nice knowing you, man.” Ned said and patted Peters back. Peter frowned and looked over his shoulder to get a better look at you. He leaned in a little so that he could hear what you and your friends were talking about. One of your friends was talking and he could see you rolling your eyes at her.

“I hate when girls say this but it’s so true for me. I’ve just always gotten along better with boys. You can even ask my mom. Like when I was little, all my friends were boys. It’s the same way now. I’ve always gotten along with them better than girls. Girls are so much drama, you know? And all they talk about is makeup and their clothes and their hair. Like, I would honestly much rather talk about the economic state of the world. But girls never want to talk about that. That’s why I honestly prefer boys.” Your friend, Gretchen, told your friend group. Peter could hear you let out a little groan before throwing on a fake smile.

“Hey Gretchen?” You asked.

“Yeah?” Gretchen answered.

“Can you shut the fuck the up?”

“What?” Gretchen laughed in shock.

“It’s just that nobody cares and you’re lying.” You shrugged. The girls at the table exchanged a look as Gretchen sputtered a few times.

“I’m not lying. You can literally ask my mom.”

“Why the fuck would I ask your mom?” You asked. “I don’t know her like that.”

“I’m not lying.” Gretchen laughed again as her face turned bright red.

“If you hate girls so much, then how come you’re sitting at a table full of girls right now? And how come I’ve never seen you talk to a guy? Name one guy friend you have.”

“Psh. Noah.” Gretchen said like it was obvious.

“Noah? Who’s Noah?” You laughed in surprise.

“He doesn’t go here. He’s my boy best friend. We like grew up together.” Gretchen answered as her eyes darted around.

“Well can I see a picture of this Noah?”

“I don’t have any.” Gretchen said quietly.

“Then pull up his Instagram.” You shrugged.

“He doesn’t have one. And honestly, I want to delete mine. Social media drains me.” Gretchen said and out a hand over her heart.

“How does social media drain you?” You laughed again. “I’ve seen you get kicked out of class three different times because you posted your BeReal during a lecture.”

“I’m different now. That was in the past.” Gretchen stated.

“That was this morning.” You reminded her.

“Whatever. This is why I don’t hang out with girls. Too much drama.” Gretchen scoffed and got up. She brushed past Peter, bumping his shoulder as she went. You made eye contact with Peter when she did this and gave him an apologetic smile. He turned bright red and smiled back, falling for you right then and there.

After school that day, Peter waited by the bus stop with his earbuds in. He noticed someone out of the corner of his eye and looked up just as a man approached him.

“Excuse me, young man. Do you speak Spanish?” The man asked Peter. Peter tensed up, always feeling anxious when he had to talk to strangers.

“Um, no.” Peter gulped.

“Me either.” The man replied. “Would you like to meet the mother of my children?”

“No thank you.” Peter smiled nervously.

“You seem really strong. Can I feel your bicep?” The man asked and reached out to touch Peter. Before the man could touch him, you approached by Peters side.

“Hey. Are you ready to go?” You asked and linked your arm through Peters.

“Yeah. Excuse me, sir. I have to go.” Peter immediately went along with whatever you were doing and walked away with you. You kept your arm linked through his until you made your way to the next bus stop a block away.

“Thanks for that. I never know what to say to strangers.” Peter thanked you once you were at the next stop.

“No problem. Girls have to stick with girls, right?” You said with a kind smile.

“I’m not a girl.” Peter told you, making your smile drop.

“Oh my god. I thought you were a lesbian. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I honestly get that a lot.” Peter admitted, making you laugh.

“I think it’s the jacket. And the haircut.” You told him through a laugh.

“Oh.” Peter laughed in embarrassment and looked down at his jacket.

“Dude, it’s not a bad thing. Lesbians literally rule the world.” You told him with the upmost sincerity.

“Thats true.” He said with a soft smile. You looked at each other for a moment until your eyes drifted behind him.

“Hold that thought. What the fuck are you looking at?” You asked angrily. Peter turned around and saw a guy staring at you like you were something to eat.

“You. Have I see you before?” The man asked as he walked towards you. You wrapped your arm around Peters again and took a step back.

“How would I know who you’ve seen before?”

“I think I would’ve remembered a face like.” The man flirted, making you gag a little.

“So then your original question was pointless and you wasted our time.” You stated, making Peter hold back a laugh.

“You have a little attitude, don’t you? I like that.” The man smiled and took a step closer to you.

“Excuse me for a second. Some men were born without the ability to take a hint.” You said to Peter before turning back to the man.

“Look dude, no one ever fell in love with the balding loser who hit on them at the bus stop. I was standing here, having conversation with someone when you interrupted. Nothing about my body language made it seem like I was open to you coming over here to speaking to me. I’m not interested in or your wispy little mustache. In fact, I could probably grow a better one myself.”

“Uh, what?” The man laughed in confusion.

“Honestly, I’m not sure why you haven’t walked away yet. Because what do you have to offer me other than the juice stain around your mouth and a low credit score?” You asked with a shrug.

“Damn. You could’ve just said you weren’t interested.” The man grumbled.

“And you could’ve minded your business and never come up to me in the first place. Have you ever noticed that most women stand behind the pillars at the train station or against the wall at bus stops? It’s because they don’t want to be seen by men like you for their own safety. So you staring at me like I’m the next girl you’re gonna skin and eat is not appreciated.”

“I should’ve known you and your lesbian friend were a bunch of crazy feminists.” The man scoffed and looked between you and Peter.

“The craziest. Now fuck off.” Peter stated. The man rolled his eyes at you and finally left you alone.

“Peter Parker. That was unexpectedly awesome.” You turned to him with a smile once the man was gone.

“You know my name?” Peter smiled in surprise.

“Of course I do, lab partner.” You said with a wink. Before Peter could respond, the bus pulled up. Peter sighed a little in disappointment as the doors to the bus opened.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Peter.” You called as Peter went up the steps of the bus.

“See you tomorrow.” Peter smiled as the doors shut.

When tomorrow came, Peter spent his lunch period staring at you with a dreamy smile on his face.

“You were wrong about Y/n. She’s really cool.” Peter sighed happily and rested his chin on his hand. Ned turned around to see what Peter was looking at, which was you on the phone with your manager.

“I need you to come in tonight to cover Brian’s shift.” You manger said over the phone.

“Can’t. I have plans.” You told him.

“You have to. We have no one else working. Jenny was gonna do it but she pulled out.”

“Your dad should’ve pulled out.” You said before hanging up.

“Is she?” Ned asked sarcastically.

“Yes. Shut up. I love her.” Peter stated.

“Love her? You spoke to her for the first time yesterday.” Ned reminded him.

“Yes, and that was all it took.” Peter said simply.

“I don’t know dude. She’s mean.” Ned pointed out.

“Yeah, but in a hot way.” Peter insisted and went back to staring at you. He didn’t mean to, but he could hear your conversation and with his enhanced hearing.

“You’re meeting Danny’s parents tonight, right?” One of your friends asked you, making Peter frown.

“Yep. It’s my first time meeting them. I’m kinda nervous.” You told your friends.

“Who’s Danny?” Peter asked Ned.

“You mean Danny Fenton? Her boyfriend?” Ned asked.

“What? She has a boyfriend?” Peters face crumpled as he looked at you again.

“I don’t think they’ve been together long. Just a few weeks maybe. But he’s super popular.”

“He’s popular too? Since when are people popular in college?” Peter grumbled. He got an idea suddenly and his expression went from upset to intrigued.

“Oh no. What are you thinking about?” Ned asked him.

“I was just thinking that I don’t know much about this Danny guy. Maybe Spiderman should visit her on her date to make sure he’s safe.” Peter shrugged.

“Peter. No. No more stalking. We’re still not allowed back on the street Taylor Swift lives on.” Ned reminded him.

“This won’t be like that time. And we were barely stalking Taylor.” Peter insisted.

“Peter, no.” Ned whined. Peter looked at you again and felt his heart ache with how much he wanted you.

“Peter yes.” Peter decided.

That night, Peter found himself perched in a tree outside of Daniel Fenton’s house. He was dressed in his suit and watching you through Danny’s window. You were sitting down at the dinning room table with Danny’s parents and Peter could hear your heart beating with anxiety. Peter pulled his mask off so that he could get a better look but already didn’t like was he was seeing.

“Who the hell is this guy?” Peter grumbled as he got comfortable in the tree.

“Well.” Danny’s mother smiled sweetly as you and gestured to the casserole sitting in a dish in the center of the table.

“Well?” You repeated in confusion.

“Sweetheart, Danny is waiting.” She said and looked at the casserole again.

“For what?”

“For you to make him a plate.” She said like it was obvious. Peter saw your face go from a polite smile to having murder behind your eyes.

“The food is on the table in front is us. I think he can make himself a plate.” You laughed awkwardly and looked around for support. To your surprise, everyone was looking at like you were the crazy one.

“Yes. But you’re his girlfriend. It’s what girlfriends do.” The mother repeated as her smile shifted to a stern look.

“It’s not what I do.” You smiled sweetly in return as your eyes shot daggers at her.

“It is now.” She said sternly. “Make Danny a plate of food. Now, please. He’s hungry.”

“Yeah, babe. Why are you making such a big deal out of this? Can you just get me some food? It’s not that hard. Damn.” Danny mumbled. Your head slowly turned to look at him as you sickly sweet smile never dropped. Peter let out an excited laugh and watched closer to see what your reaction would be.

“If it’s not that hard, do it yourself.” You’re said, batting your eyelashes at him while maintaining your poise.

“I just sat down. Come on. I’m starving.” Danny whined and held his plate out to you. You looked at the mom again, who was looking at you with disproval.

“He’s starving.” His mom repeated and handed you the spoon for the casserole. Your smile dropped as you took the spoon from her.

“So why don’t you get off your ass and go get some food?” You said loudly and looked at Danny.

“Do not raise your voice at my son.” The mother snapped at you.

“Don’t raise your voice at me. Or we’re gonna have a problem Debby.” You snapped back and pointed the spoon at her. Debby looked down at the spoon before slowly looking up at you.

“Sweetheart, please. Don’t be difficult. Can you just go make my baby a plate?” Debby asked with a falsely calm voice.

“Your “baby” is a grown ass man. If he’s hungry, he can get food himself.”

“You are his girlfriend. It is your job now.”

“He’s not a helpless little baby. He can is perfectly capable and picking up the spoon and serving himself some food.”

“Make him a plate or get out of this house.” Debby said in a low voice. You stared at her for a long time as every else at the table sat in silence. Peter was on the edge of his branch, eager to see how this would play out. Finally, you held out the spoon in front of you and dropped it as if it were a microphone. Debby and the rest of his family gasped as a smile tugged at your lips.

“All right, bye.” You smiled at them all before turning to leave.

“I’ll call you!” Danny called after you.

“Don’t!” You called back in a cheery tone. Peter couldn’t see you as you walked through the house but suddenly saw the front door open.

“Oh shit. She’s coming.” Peter whispered in fear. He went to scoot back, forgetting he was in a tree. He fell out of the tree with a loud thud, landing directly in front of you. You stopped walking and gasped as Peter rolled over with a loud groan.

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” You asked and helped Peter get off the ground. He had landed face down, so you had only seen the Spiderman suit and the back of his head so far.

“What? Me? Yeah. I’m fine.” Peter shrugged it off like he wasn’t aching in pain all over his body. Your expression when from concerned to shocked when you looked into his eyes.

“Peter?” You whispered in disbelief. Peters eyes widened as he reached up and touched his bare face.

“No. Not Peter. I’m his cousin. Pe…nis.” Peter stammered weakly.

“Oh, okay.” You cracked a smile. “Hey Penis. What’s up?”

Peter shut his eyes in embarrassment and shook his head, knowing he just messed up big time. Meanwhile, you bent down and picked up his mask before handing it to him.

“Thanks.” He smiled weakly.

“You’re welcome.” You smiled back. “Come on. Walk me to my car.”

Peter slipped his mask back on and walked beside you as the two of you made your way towards your car. You were being oddly normal about finding out his identity and it made Peter even more anxious. You reached your car and your gestured for him to get in the passenger seat, which Peter complied.

“This is a really nice Prius.” Peter said once you were inside.

“I know.” You deadpanned, making Peter gulp in fear.

“You can take your mask off. No one can see you in here.” You said in a soft tone. Peter nodded his head before tugging his mask off again. You looked him up and down for a second before smiling.

“Were you up in that tree?” You asked him and pointed to the tree outside Danny’s house.

“No.” Peter lied quickly.

“There’s a branch in your hair.” You pointed out.

“It’s to keep my bangs off my forehead.”

“Oh. I usually use a headband for that.”

“I lost mine so.” Peter shrugged and looked away, making you laugh. He relaxed a little when he heard you laughing and settled into your passenger seat.

“So you used a branch from the tree outside my boyfriends house? Makes sense.” You nodded.

“Yeah. He has really good branches for that type of thing.” Peter said, knowing you didn’t believe him.

“I’m sure he does. But I also saw you fall out of said tree, so I’m thinking maybe you’re not telling me the whole truth.” You smiled teasingly, making Peter shrink down in his seat and covered his face.

“Right. Forgot about that.” Peter mumbled in embarrassment.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Were you stalking me?” You asked in a casual tone. Peter knew he was already caught and had no use lying.

“A little.” He admitted.

“Just a little? So not fully stalking?” You asked sarcastically, making him groan.

“No. Not fully stalking. Just some light voyeurism.”

“Aw. Peter.” You chuckled. “You don’t know what that word means, do you?”

“Yes I do. It means to watch somebody through their window.” Peter insisted.

“No, honey. It doesn’t.” You smiled sympathetically and shook your head.

“Yes it does.” Peter frowned and pulled out his phone. He googled the word quickly and felt his stomach drop when he read what it actually meant.

“So it turns out I didn’t know what that word meant.” Peter said simply, making you laugh again.

“I figured.” You shrugged. Peter looked at you for a minute, wondering why you weren’t more freaking out about what was happening. You just caught him stalking your date in his Spiderman suit and yet you seemed completely unfazed.

“So, you probably have a lot of questions.” Peter said and looked down at his suit.

“Eh. Not really.” You shrugged. “I’m assuming you developed a crush on me after our encounter at the bus stop and wanted to see what I was doing.”

“Well, yeah. But the suit and the tree? That doesn’t concern you?”

“I’m not really shocked by that either. I’ve seen you scale fences without touching them. And the only times Spiderman has been spotted outside New York was Washington DC during the decathlon tournament, a team which you or a part of. And in Europe while we were on a school trip there. A school trip you were always mysteriously missing from.”

“Damn. You peeled the onion all the way to the middle didn’t you?” Peter mumbled when he realized you had him completely figured out.

“It’s okay. Don’t feel bad. It was only a hunch that you were Spiderman until I watched you fall out of a tree in front of my boyfriends house dressed in the literal Spiderman suit.”

“That’s pretty much a dead giveaway, huh?” Peter laughed a little.

“Pretty much.” You scrunched your nose and nodded. You gave one last look at Danny’s house before starting your car and driving away.

“So did you hear any of that back there?” You asked Peter.

“Yes. All of it. I was up there for a while.” Peter admitted.

“I’m worried about what you constitute as full stalking.” You laughed when you remembered Peter had told you he was only doing some “light voyeurism”.

“Okay, maybe I was fully stalking you. Maybe. But you’ve been on my mind ever since the bus stop and I wanted to see what your stupid boyfriend looked like.” Peter shrugged, making you laugh again. You liked the chemistry between you and Peter and took the long way home just to spend more time with him.

“And what did you think now that you’ve seen him?”

“I think that your stupid boyfriend is also your stupid ugly boyfriend.” Peter mumbled.

“Well after tonight, I can assure you that he’s not my boyfriend anymore.” You looked over your shoulder at him with a smile.

“Well that’s good news.” Peter returned the smile. You looked back at the road again but kept your smile on. You stopped at a red light and Peter looked over at you just to admire the way you looked under the street lights.

“Just so you know, my mom is super dead. So she would never ask you to make me a plate of food.” Peter told you. You burst out laughing and playfully hit him in the chest.

“Good. Because I would never make you one. And I would fight your dead mom if she tried to make me.” You deadpanned, making Peter smile at your shared sense of humor.

“I bet she’d really enjoy that fight. In fact, I know she’d really like you. She was a bitch too.” Peter told you, smile instantly dropping when he realized what he had said.

“You think I’m a bitch?” You gasped playfully but looked honored.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Peter said quickly. “I mean, I did. But I didn’t mean for it to sound mean. I just mean you speak your mind and stand up for yourself and I really like that. My mom was the same way. She didn’t take shit from anybody. You reminded me of her back there at Danny’s house. At the bus stop too. I think….I think she would’ve loved you.”

You pulled in front of your apartment building just then and unbuckled your seatbelt so that you could turn to look at Peter. He was worried he had just said way too much, after all he did just compare a girl he barely knew to his dead mother, but you were once again unfazed. You gave him a soft smile before reaching over to take his hand.

“Thanks for saying all of that. Sounds like it’s an honor to be compared to her.” You said and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Yeah. She was a pretty cool lady.” Peter smiled sadly and looked down at your intertwined hands.

“So you like that I’m mean to people and I remind you of your mom? Sounds like you’ve got some kinks just begging to be discovered.” You said and clicked your tongue.

“Don’t forget the light voyeurism.” Peter sighed.

“Who could forget that?” You chuckled. You looked at each other for moment until Peter frowned.

“If you have a car, why were you at the bus stop?” He wondered.

“I wasn’t at the bus stop. I was walking past the bus stop when I saw you needed help. Did you see me get on the bus, dumbass?” You asked him angrily before cracking a smile. Peter smiled too when he realized you were just joking.

“Do you think I could take you on a date? To make up for the one you just walked out of?” Peter used all his courage to ask.

“I mean, I never actually ate tonight. And unless you had snacks up in that tree, I’m guessing you didn’t either. We could go somewhere now.” You suggested, surprisingly looking just as vulnerable as Peter did.

“Want to go get pizza or something? There’s a place a few blocks from here that makes really good pineapple pizza.”

“Pineapple pizza is an abhorrent crime against humanity.” You said calmly.

“That’s just not true.”

“You can’t put a sweet fruit on something savory like a hot pizza.”

“Yes you can. People do it all the time.”

“They should stop.” You said out of the corner of your mouth.

“You need to open your heart to the wonderful world of pineapple on pizza. Have you ever even tried it?”

“I don’t need to try it to know that it’s disgusting.”

“Yes you do!” Peter laughed. “You can’t say it’s gross if you’ve never even tried it.”

“Okay. Well sorry for having great tits and a right opinion.” You mumbled and went to start your car again. You pulled the keys out of the ignition suddenly and looked over at Peter.

“I don’t want to drive to the pizza place.” You told him.

“Oh, okay. We could get something else.”

“No, I mean I want to walk there.”

“Oh. Why?” Peter wondered.

“Because you can’t hold my hand if we drive there.” You said through a shy smile.

“I mean, I technically could. You could just hold my hand with the hand that isn’t on the steering wheel.” Peter explained, causing you to stare at him for a long time.

“Hey Peter?” You asked after a minute.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to shut the fuck up and hold my hand?” You asked sweetly.

“Yeah.” He smiled. “I really do.”

Tag List 🏷️

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @serendipitous-amor @tom-hollands-wifey @20fandomfangirl

@lavender-writer @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@mara-twins @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland @flixndchill @sovereignparker

@thisisthebiplace @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild

@canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe @kelieah @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger

@electraheart-3174 @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @horanxholland

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff

@maybemona @alexxcorona113

@lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey @pandaxnienke @thestylestour @officialsimppage @mrvelscaptains @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours @okkulta @parkerlovebot @jungkxxkk @olixerwxxd @starkbrain @ilovefrogs1000 @itstaskeen @wrendermeuseless @amazinggracy @iprobablyshipit91 @magicalxdaydream @whereismytelephone @leilanixx @namoreno @dracoswhore007 @tomhollandloml @avengers-hamiltrash @gh0stgurl @so-very-asleep @veryholland @white-wolf1940 @spideycheles @firwproof

@nowayhomeparker @imobsessedzs @spideyspeaches @bookfrog242 @hihiweezing @mathletemadison @mackenziejanine @dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr @aayaissaa @loudthoughts-softspoken @hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu @noimaginationforblognames @mrs-brekker15 @celestialholland @ciarahollands @nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @supermouse @boogywoogywoogy @freakofmusic25 @elizabethraymond @crowleysqueenofhell @televisionboy @tomholland85 @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @laic2299 @daydreamingchaos713 @marvel-asgard @marajillana @sunnysidee-up @moonchild-s-blog @venomsvl

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

mjanelupinblack · 5 months

Text

starving creatures | chapter two 🖤

pairing: xu minghao x reader // jun x reader (mainly lol)

description: starving creatures have arrived at your homeland in forks. little do you know, they not only intend to drain the blood out of you... they'll also to break your heart in two.

genres: slowburn (please bare with me), fluff, angst, vampire!au

warnings: blood drinking, lot of blood related themes, repressed emotions, family issues, miscommunication, kinda toxic friendship with cheol? blood and smut will be mixed. emotionally and physically starved vampires oops. did i mentioned blood?

minors dni!!!

Check out the fic’s playlist 🖤

CHAPTER 2

Not even two days were necessary for your neighbors to become a sensation at the school hallways. Rumors are quick travelers, as you told Joshua before. But you forgot to warn him about how easily they tend to blend with the truth. Especially when they linger around people with such an enigmatic aura, like Jun and Minghao. How maddening it is to know that they have so many adventurous stories to tell, but neither of them dares to share a word about them! How unfair to admire their beauty from afar, since they won’t come close enough for one to scrutinize their eyes. Locals get upset with strangers who refuse to comply with their requests...

That’s when fantasy starts to play its game.

Who are they? Orphans of neglectful parents. Why did they leave California? A girl accused Jun of leaving her pregnant but he’s actually not the father and she ruined his reputation and his life. Some people even say their parents kill themselves, but there’s no way of knowing the truth. So, what are they doing in Forks? Protecting each other. Trying to heal from generational trauma. Finding refuge. Surviving. And it is a heart-rending story. Minghao would do anything to protect his younger brother and the only reason why you’d find them separated from each other would be because of school… where Jun sits next to you.

And who are you? Of course, Cheol's friend, but they've never seen you around that much. That is probably because you used to miss the majority of your classes and now you don't because Jun is here, so you must be a gold digger. A freshman asserts he heard you and Cheol get into a fight because of Jun the other day. Another one is saying that your aunt is sick. But one of your classmates bets that, actually, she's a witch. So maybe you are one too. Who lives in the middle of the woods in plain XXI century anyway?

You never liked the attention. You neither want it, nor need it. It’s impractical in a town like Forks. So, during history class, you decide to confront your seatmate about it.

“I would like to know how you handle all this stuff, because it’s driving me crazy.” You say, assuming he will know exactly what you’re talking about. Most of the time, he does.

“Ignore them,” he advises. “They will find someone else.”

“You ignored them, they found me, how do you fix that?” you say. “They say I’m a witch.”

He chuckles. His usually petrified gesture gives up and breaks into a wide smile. You start laughing too, given the ridiculousness of the situation. Rumors are so dumb.

“Mr. Wen,” Professor Moon calls. “As you are so distended in my class, I’ll assume you know by heart all of the themes we’re talking about in this lesson. Please, enlighten us with your knowledge. Let’s go back to World War I. Maybe you can tell us why it was initiated.”

“That’s a tricky question, professor,” Jun answers, still cheerful. “But if you want a concrete answer, I’d go with the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary.”

“Place and date?”

“Sarajevo. 1914.”

“You said a concrete answer. Let’s go with the wider one.”

“I’ll have to ask you to be more specific about it. What do you want me to talk about? The alliance system? Economic factors? Nationalism? I can go on all day.”

Well, well, well… If someone had told you Jun would’ve been so thrilled about playing trivia with Professor Moon, you wouldn’t believe them.

“That’s enough, kid.”

After that, he comes back to your conversation.

“You could be a witch, you know?”

“Sorry?”

Before he can say anything, Jun stops himself.

“Nothing,” he answers. “It’s a compliment.”

•••

Minghao avoids discussing the details about the night he got turned. As for most of his kind, it’s a sensitive topic; no one wants to remember the moment they lost their right to die.

He hardly discusses the topic with Jun. Primarly because his brother was the sole reason he ventured into this sick lifestyle.

After a century of consumption, it would be easy to believe that Minghao would have grown accustomed to replacing his bitter coffee with morning packs of blood, but that isn’t the truth. The heavy liquid turns his stomach the same as the first time he tasted it. However, after all these years, the feeling comes hand in hand with the pleasure of satiety and the twisted desire for it not to come from an animal, but from a palpitating neck.

An unthinkable notion that no one dares to speak out loud, leaving Minghao feeling horrible about it.

Joshua tries to reassure him. He says that, in terms of nutrients and structure, pig blood is the most similar to human blood. They’ll have to endure it for a couple of months, at least until Vernon gains the trust of the hospital staff and it becomes easier to sneak out some bags of human blood.

Minghao envies Josh’s lack of interest in human nourishment. Many times he tried to free himself from his appetite, but his instincts won every battle, obliging him to succumb to hospital blood. His instincts are stronger and also wiser than he is. Nevertheless, he tries to suppress them every chance he gets. He does so by exercising, or perhaps painting. He no longer dances because he found movement is a catalyst that, sooner or later, will make his needs erupt like a volcano. So he replaced it with painting, meditation and pottery.

Given the circumstances, his knowledge as a nurse is only a remote memory.

“Hi.”

He’s grown accustomed to suffocating his desires to the point where he completely forgot how to experience them. You, on the other hand, aren’t quite as skilled at concealing your emotions.

“You’re Minghao, right?”

Minghao answers without ceasing his task. With his upper body unclothed, you find him outside his house, leaning over his pottery wheel, his clay-stained arms embracing the wet piece as if it were a long-awaited lover. A wave of heat quickly flushes your cheeks. Your neighbor stares at you, likely curious about the reason for your interruption. He’s used to being interrupted while working. Encountering a nearly naked man in the middle of the forest isn't something you can claim to be accustomed to, on the other hand.

“Sorry for interrupting. Have you seen a white cat?” You ask, with a jar of sardines in your hand.

“Cotton ball-like fluffy, with a black spot on his left eye…”

“Sorry, I’m afraid not,” Minghao answers. “What’s his name?”

“Cat,” You say, a bit embarrassed of your thirteen years old self. “Just cat.”

“I’ll let you know if I find Cat then.”

“Great! I’ll keep looking. Thanks.”

As much as you’d love to continue chatting with Minghao about anything —truly anything— else, your lack of creativity doesn’t stop at your difficulty to name your pet. He continues working on the edges of his raw ceramic vase; fingers sticky from the wet paste he tries to stick the handles with. You don’t have the heart —nor the ideas— to interrupt him once again. And that’s when your seatmate comes to save the day.

“You’re not going anywhere, y/n,” Jun says, appearing next to you like a magician mesmerizing everyone with the trick of teleportation. “I mean… not alone. Especially with a storm coming. Where are your manners, brother?”

“Shouldn’t you be studying or something?”

“Get your ass off that wheel and help us look for the pet. One cup less isn’t gonna hurt anyone.”

“It’s a vase.”

“Honestly, I couldn’t care less.”

You thought he’d be harder to convince, but as soon as Jun orders it, his brother stops the wheel and puts on the t-shirt he was sitting on. Minghao's resistance to the cold weather impresses you. His muscles don’t even flinch at the freezing breeze coming from the north.

“A penny for your thoughts?” your neighbor teases.

“You’re so annoying.”

•••

It was a huge mistake not to get rid of that mirror the moment they got it.

There was no use for it in the middle of the living room. But there was also no reason to keep it in the basement, as Vernon had insisted. It usually wasn’t pleasant to get into a discussion with his friend. So, as he attended his interview to get a job at the town’s hospital, Joshua found himself following his orders and carrying the furniture down the stairs and to the basement.

The material it was made of felt unbelievably heavy, even for a human-fed vampire. Like Sisyphus, Joshua repeated the same routine until he reached the cellar; going down two steps, stopping abruptly, and trying to catch his breath before continuing.

When he finally reaches the ground, he understands the reason behind Seungkwan’s little present. And he’s grateful that Vernon is not there to see it.

In front of him, he finds his own image. First young, like he hadn’t seen it in more than a hundred years, and then gradually rotting until his skin starts to detach from his cheeks. So that’s the infamous Life Mirror. There are very few in the world, and Joshua never thought he’d get to see himself in one. The more you mesmerize yourself at your young image, the more crudely it’s going to show you the reality of your soul. Joshua used to believe it was just a myth from the vampire folklore. But he should’ve known better. Myths tend to be history for the immortals.

“Son of a bitch.”

That's the last straw. Joshua doesn't care about Vernon's instructions when the Boo Family's welcome was, in fact, a declaration of war—a war they're not ready to fight, nor would they be even if they wanted to. Years of weakened minds and bodies are not so easy to recover, not even with a gallon of fresh blood.

He needs to destroy that mirror before his friend comes home. But his knuckles aren’t strong enough to do it, and the hammer is near Minghao’s workspace, who’s most definitely going to be curious about the reason behind his urgency. As a temporary measure, he decides to throw an old blanket over the structure.

He needs air.

Outside, the ground shakes with the wind. Minghao is no longer at his station, yet the piece he was working on lies unfinished over the wheel. Rain will catch it any second, converting it into a liquid vestige of what could’ve been a beautiful plant vase. That’s an odd behavior from him. Where could he possibly be?

His question is quickly answered by laughter emanating from behind the lodge. Joshua follows his senses until he finds Jun and you jumping like crazy to reach one of the thickest branches of a tree.

“Stop! You’re scaring him.” You tell Jun, who insists on being the one to bring the cat back to the ground.

“Scared? No! He rubbed his head on my wrist.” Jun complains. He sounds very determined.

“Jun, Y/n is right. It’ll be better to bring a ladder. He doesn’t know you.”

“I got…I got him!”

“Wait! He’s gonna…”

Blood. Lots of it pouring from your hand. Maybe trimming your cat’s nails would’ve been a wise decision to make before throwing yourself in the territory of four very thirsty vampires. Your scent is strong, like cold pennies resting on the palm of your sweaty hands, but it is also sweet. Pig’s blood could never be that sweet. The thought of it makes Jun’s fangs start showing without him being able to notice. Minghao notices and quickly grabs your wrist. He turns you around to face him, leaving a trace of dry clay over the spot your blood flowed.

Clay and blood, intertwined.

Your heart races. Minghao's touch is both frightening and tender. He worked hard on his self-control just to be able to handle these types of situations. If you saw Jun in that state, it would be over for them.

“Are you okay?”

But now that he thinks about it, your blood smells like candy taken out of its wrapper. And it running so fast due to your nervousness releases a scent he never sensed before. One that has him dying to let go of his virtues and succumb to sin.

And Joshua notices.

“T/n! Come here, let me see.”

He rips you out of Minghao’s clutcht to check at your wound and you head inside together.

“Guys, grab the cat and come inside before it rains. T/n, does it hurt too much?”

In another scenario, you might have noticed he was trying to distract you. But right now, the spot where Minghao's hand was grabbing still feels hot and throbbing when Joshua touches your hand. It’s hard to concentrate. He gestures for you to sit on the sofa, and you comply. Not even two seconds later, he returns with a first aid kit. You can't help but contrast Minghao's firm grasp with the compassionate way Joshua is holding you while disinfecting your cut.

“You must think I’m a terrible mother,” you say, watching Joshua shake his head as he kneels in front of you to examine your hand more closely. “He’s not usually like this. I don’t know why he got so scared.”

Animals rely on their intuition. They detect danger and protect the people who love them and take good care of them. Joshua knows you’re not a terrible mother. It was Jun’s hand your cat was trying to sever.

“Don’t punish yourself,” he says. “He’s lucky to have you. It was Jun who drove him crazy.”

“He was so nice though, trying to help me,” you hiss at the strong liquid Joshua pours over your skin. “Do you think Hao is okay? His eyes went all weird when he looked at the scratch.”

“What do you mean, weird?”

“I don’t know, dark? I think it disgusted him.”

Thank goodness you think that, among all the things Minghao’s look could have made you think.

“Oh… Yes. Hao can’t stand blood. There’s no wonder he refuses to become a doctor.”

“He doesn’t need to. He’s so talented in ceramics.”

“He is. He will appreciate it if you tell him. Do you see all of the pots and vessels in the house? They’re all his work. Minghao is an artist, he’s always been.”

He truly is. The fact that the piece he was working on has already lost its shape due to the rain makes you feel sad and guilty about interrupting him. You're amazed at how your neighbor achieved most of the patterns and textures. They highlight the house, once yours, with the sparkle you thought it would never regain after your uncle’s death. It’s fascinating to realize that Minghao’s mind is so vibrant with colors.

“You don’t stay behind,” you say to Joshua, as he bandages your now disinfected hand. “Suddenly it doesn’t even hurt.”

“You are too kind,” he answers, smiling shyly while he stands on his feet. “I appreciate the compliment. But I hope I never have to display my skills on you again.”

“Sorry. I’ll pay you next time.”

It’s heartwarming to make him laugh. Before making the comment, you had a hunch that Joshua would crack a smile if you told him something along those lines. His smile is not only kind, but also genuine. It makes you wonder how many of the ones you were given before might have been only half as sincere.

“God, no, t/n,” he answers. “Please just take care of yourself.”

After a few minutes of watching the storm shake the trees, a soaking wet Jun opens the door for his brother, who enters with your cat purring in his arms. You wonder if your eyes are deceiving you. Cat is an animal of strong character and delicate temper. Yet, he sleeps like a baby in your neighbor's embrace, as if he has been charmed into tranquility.

“He liked Hao best,” Jun explains, with his hands on his waist. “I don’t care. I’m not a cat person anyways… Now, who’s making dinner?”

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚ ⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚ ⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

Heyyyyyy let’s play a game. I write and you tell me how many taylor’s songs possible references you find ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ (there’ll be many lol)

Taglist: @90s-belladonna @milopenne @angel-ishere @cheiyoma @hipsdofangirl

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚ ⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚ ⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

masterlist | next chapter (soon)

52 notes · View notes

soundspeachytome · 10 months

Text

our future lives - shohei ohtani soft au

trope: childhood best friends to strangers

word count: 5.9k words

author notes: (this will be a bit long so if you want to jump straight to the fic, go right ahead!)

I wrote this in retrospect to the days i spent with my high school newspaper publication team. Recently, an old friend and org mate from the school newspaper (who i have not spoken to in years) followed me on instagram and it took me down memory lane.

This was a time when a boy who (coincidentally enough, also played for a sports team) used to read drafts of my silly stories and poems of fictional heartbreak and would compliment my writing all the time. He was my best friend until he wasn’t.

This was when everything was awkward, confusing and unsettling; when I didn’t believe love could blossom beyond friendship. And when it was already right in front of me, I chose to run away.

With Shohei Ohtani as my current muse, I write this to close the what ifs our high school memories have left us. And when love finally visits us once again, instead of running away, maybe, just maybe, we’d be able to look at it straight in the face and say, "welcome, I hope you enjoy your stay."

Songs i listened to while writing: (repeatedly, repulsively, and obsessively)

Right where you left me - taylor swift (evermore)

Shouldn’t be - luke chiang

You are in love - taylor swift (1989)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

==============================

I didn’t feel anything at first but when realization sank, I almost doubled over. A familiar feeling punctured somewhere on the middle of my chest, like a pounding, beating of a drum. While an economics faculty was waiting for me to check out her library card, she chatted animatedly with her colleague and I couldn’t help but eavesdrop. When the words “homecoming”, and “shohei ohtani” were mentioned in one sentence, I almost dropped the books on the professor’s feet.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation… Did you say Shohei Ohtani is coming back…?” I croaked.

“Yes! It’s on the news everywhere. He’s attending his former school’s foundation anniversary as a baseball alum.” She hushed excitedly. She almost looked like she was blushing.

“Professor, didn’t you graduate from Rosewood High School, too?”

She and her friend looked at me expectantly, like I’m some sort of Bingo announcer about to shout their magic winning number. I nodded slowly, a small smile formed my lips.

“Wow! You and Shohei Ohtani were schoolmates, then! Were you in the same year?”

“Has he always been so tall?”

“Did he have any girlfriends back then?”

The pair of them launched their questions like an automatic rifle, I swung albeit defensively, and yet I couldn’t duck myself for cover in time.

I shrugged and quietly said, “I didn’t really know him that much, he was always just playing baseball, I guess.”

Before they could respond, I pushed my thick-rimmed glasses back to the bridge of my nose and went back to my Excel spreadsheets. They said their thank yous and skipped their way out of the library.

Finally, quiet again.

Like every typical librarian, one glare from me could snap chatty visitors’ mouths at an instant. I reveled in the silence of my humble workplace, with shelves taller than any average person, filled with books old and new. I could spend hours in the silence, tapping on my computer archives, or shelving books from the returned pile. This is the job of my dreams. Customary, routine, familiar, comfort zone.

I realized that I have been tapping the letter Y key from the keyboard, lost in thought. I couldn’t believe the words I heard earlier could ever be strung in one sentence, not even in my wildest dreams. I tapped my legs restlessly. It couldn’t be true, could it?

How many popular Shohei Ohtanis could make girls this flustered?

There’s a one-hundred one percent chance that the result is, well, one.

To preserve my peace of mind, I decided to google him, and when the results showed the rumor to be true, I almost spiraled in my seat.

Did you know Shohei Ohtani in high school? The words from the two professors rang in my head.

I knew damn well who Shohei Ohtani is.

Shohei and I have been friends since the day we learned how to talk. We lived on the same block, sat together in class, shared snacks during recess, we’d bicker loudly and fight like the worst of all enemies. According to our mothers, when he pulled my hair after I had claimed his Spiderman lego toy, I screamed so loud it could be heard two houses down the block. He felt so guilty about it and rushed to peck me on the cheeks so I’d stop bawling. Not sure how accurate our mothers’ anecdotes are, if they had been exaggerated or not, but they said, after that fight, little Shohei had treated the little me sweeter after that.

On good days, we played swings in the playground. We walked home together and would visit each other’s houses to play board games and Bomberman until it was no longer comfortable to stay in each other’s bedrooms without getting weird ideas.

Upon reaching puberty, I had grown in breast size, started getting my periods and hormonal mood swings while Shohei had grown a foot taller and his shoulders stretched widely. He lost his baby fat and developed muscle definition after playing sports. It was a time in our lives when it was officially awkward to hold hands while crossing the street, or for him to playfully grab me by the neck. If we did, we would get notes from the schoolmaster for indecency.

It wasn’t only the skinship that changed. Shohei grew to be more popular with the girls when he performed well in high school baseball. He was tall, fit, respectful and most importantly, he had a kind smile that would make your heart do a tap dance. And so my heart wore dancing shoes everyday.

While Shohei was busy playing his ball games, I joined the school paper as a news writer. The club meetings took up most of my afternoons then when i used to spend it by waiting for Shohei. By the time he finished practice, I would still be in the school library, either my face buried in a stack of books, or fingers furiously tapping an article on my laptop.

“You can go first. I don’t think I can go home yet, not unless this article writes itself.” I said one afternoon, not looking up. I was preparing an article for the school sports festival, where Shohei was the third-year representative and captain. I heard him walk up to me and braced myself. Tap tap tap.

He set his gym bag and batting equipment on the table and sat on the chair beside me.

“I’ll wait.” He said calmly. He crossed his arms over the table and closed his eyes, as if to sleep. He sat there in silence, baking in the sounds of my keyboard smashing my unnerving thoughts and emotions.

Suffice to say, I didn’t get anything done after that. The smell of soap and cologne crept up to my nose and his broad shoulders lightly touched mine. Him sitting so innocently with his head on the table was enough of a distraction. It also didn’t help that on my periphery, I knew that he was facing my direction. In the next three minutes or so, I allowed myself to stare at his face: bags under his eyes were slowly showing, his well-defined nose, his mouth slightly agape, with evidence of picking and biting the lower lip skin.

When he startled awake, I scrambled to close the laptop monitor so loudly I thought I had cracked the screen. Embarrassed and face probably beet red, I stood up to leave. He carried all of my bags that day. When I offered to carry his gym bag, he refused.

In the last few weeks of that semester, I had become interim editor-in-chief. Shohei’s games had ended and our deadline for the year-end publication drew nearer. That meant I had made the library my second home like a bridge troll, only allowing brief, important conversations. My entire table was covered with mock newspaper clippings, sample layouts, glue, stacks and stacks of drafts that went through multiple, desperate, bloody revisions. This and the rest of my academic subjects I balanced gingerly on a thin line. Shohei would continue to visit and wait by the other corner of the library, pretending to read mystery thriller books he picked from the shelves. Most of the time, he slept. I never saw him study, even in the library. He didn’t need to as he aces all his subjects while hitting home runs on the field. I always suspected that he astral projects in his sleep and studies inside the realm of dreams. That’s probably why no matter how much he slept, he was still constantly tired.

In other words, Shohei always seemed like he never had to try. He was good at everything. And I always had to work hard just to be able to stand on the same playing field as he is, at least once or twice.

One particular day, when afternoon classes were canceled to give way to the club meetings, I was in my usual spot in the library with Zumi, our layout artist and a third-year from class B. We were finalizing the layout design before submitting it to the publishing house. Shohei was in baseball practice and had been MIA from the library all week.

A group of girls suddenly filled the library.

“He’s not here!” I heard one of them say. They noticed Zumi and I chatting quietly in the corner.

“Hey, you’re Y/N right?” A girl with jet black hair siad. Her skin was white as porcelain. She had retainers on, the ones that looked unfairly pretty on lucky pretty girls.

I nodded.

“Are you Ohtani’s girlfriend?”

“Excuse me?” I blurted out, eyes almost popping out of my eye sockets.

She chuckled. “Right? I couldn’t believe it myself too. I know Ohtani only sees you as his best friend.”

I couldn’t respond right away. It was true but why did it sting so much?

“But they’re always together, I saw her give him a lunchbox during breaks.” A petite girl with a wolf haircut emerged from the sides. She had her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

The rest of the group murmured in unison.

“Our mothers are close friends, so it was natural for us to grow up being friends, too.” I said irritably. Not only was this irrelevant but it was so annoying that a bunch of girls would question her decade-long friendship.

“I don’t have to spell out the dynamics of our friendship to you.”

“If that bothers you so much, why don’t you personally tell Ohtani’s mother to stop asking me to bring his lunch boxes for him.”

It was quiet for a few seconds. I was afraid that it would escalate into a screaming match or a brawl that could result in us being kicked out–or worse, banned–from the library. The herd of girls glared at me and I glared right back.

“Um, a-as you can see, he is not here.” Zumi breaks the silence, clearly intimidated but she soldiers on. “And you’re disrupting our meeting.”

The first girl gives me a pointed look and spins on her heel and the rest follows.

Zumi sighed in relief. “Oh my god, Y/N, I thought I would experience my first visit to the schoolmaster’s office before graduation.” She rubbed her sweaty palms together.

I stifled a giggle, anger fading. Zumi’s gentle personality softened me right away. I couldn’t help but smile at her.

“Don’t worry, Zumi, we don’t start fights but we sure as hell can end them.”

Shohei and I met less and less after that. I had purposely avoided him as much as I could because I still felt upset and he didn’t even have a vague idea about other girls spreading rumors about us. Another reason was I didn’t want to be referred to as “Shohei’s female best friend” anymore. His growing popularity in school made me only slink back down to the pits of the social hierarchy.

I also wanted to take some time away and contemplate my feelings about our friendship. He’s only a friend I grew up with. We shared meals together and walked home together. He would hug me when I’m upset and I would console him when his anger skyrocketed. These are common best friend behaviors, right? So why else would it suddenly change? Why don’t we ever stay like this forever?

Weeks after my so-called Shohei blackout, I was left alone to clear the table I had claimed in the far corner of the library when Shohei popped in to visit.

The school year had finally come to a close, exams and ball games concluded, and the year-end paper was now distributed to everyone on campus: Shohei’s team pictured on the front page headline, declared as the year’s champions in inter-high school level.

He had a copy of the newspaper in his hand, grinning.

“Nice article, Y/N.”

“Is it nice because it had your winning face covering the entire spread?”

“I mean, you finally got an article on the front page!” He was waving the paper to you, pointing at the byline, as if you’ve never seen the layout more than a hundred times already. “Written by– your name! How cool is that!”

“My name is in a tiny font under your 32 font-size on the headline. I promise you, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is for me, though. I read it word for word. I loved it. You’re so good at words, Y/N” his eyes crinkled at the sides and I waved him off, blushing.

“I’ve seen enough of this newspaper, I think I’m going to be nauseous.” you faked a retching sound.

“I’ve started seeing that damn thing in my dreams, Sho.” You grimaced. “Please hide that from me. Or I will rip it into shreds.”

Shohei giggled boisterously. You immediately swiped your hands over his mouth.

“Sshh! The librarian will hear you!” You looked around nervously, relaxing after realizing the librarian was nowhere in sight. “I don’t want to get kicked out on our last day of school.”

He held your arms away and uncovered his mouth from your hands. “Seriously, though, I’m proud of you. You worked so hard for this all semester.”

“Well, the subject was interesting to write about.”

“Is that right?” he smiled, mischief glinted in his eyes.

“”Rosewood’s revival after years of being dormant in high school baseball” was a pretty cool angle to write.” I said. And it truly was. The moment I saw the efforts and hardwork of Shohei and his inspiring leadership setting a momentum into the games, I knew right away that I had to call dibs on the story.

“Uh-huh.” He was just looking at me, hands still wrapped around my arms, locking me in place.

“It was a story worthy to tell and I just happened to tell the story. It all just–” I tried to mash my hands together, demonstrating the words synonymous to merging, fusing, blending.

He pulls me close and rests his hand at the back of my neck. I could feel the snug of his embrace melting me into a puddle. He hesitates but leans in. It was soft, abrupt and merely testing the waters. He pulled back slightly to look at my reaction. I didn’t know what I looked like, but what I did know at that moment, my heart bounced uncontrollably like a basketball. I swear I thought it would burst my chest open.

When I didn’t react or push him back, he leaned in for another try, this time, with more intent, meaning, and weight on my lips. When we parted, he looked away sheepishly that all I had to do in response to the kiss was to pull him in a tight hug. We stayed like that for a few more minutes because neither of us knew when to let go, or even wanted to. We just stood there relishing our newfound warmth while concealed in between the quiet and that precious corner space that held us. I don’t know how to define this feeling yet… but I could get used to this.

Nothing further ever happened after that sweet library moment because the next day, we received news that Shohei Ohtani was granted a full scholarship overseas. Thanks to his impressive performance during the last game. Ohtani joked that it was mainly because my frontpage piece was so well-written, it moved the university scouts’ ice-cold hearts to tears.

“You’d be an idiot not to go.” I was at the kitchen counter of our home, setting the newly baked chocolate chip cookies out of the oven to cool down. It was a Saturday morning and Shohei visited, like any other day.

“I’d be alone, though.” he was wistfully eyeing the cookies on the wire rack. “I’m scared I might fail and be a disappointment to my dad.”

His arm slowly reached for the cookies but I immediately swatted him away.

“It’s still hot, dumbass.” I gave him the bowl where the cookie dough was originally mixed. He dutifully scooped the remains and popped a finger in his mouth, he grinned, satisfied.

“You won’t be alone because everybody likes you. And you won’t be a disappointment because you work twice as hard than everyone else. You’re Shohei Ohtani, for god’s sake.”

He doubted but I knew what he was thinking because I was trying not to think about it, too. If this was about the kiss, we can let it go. We can forget about it. It was just a kiss, this was our future and it shined brightly in front of him. It would make me a selfish person to try and block that from him.

“There won’t be a Y/N there, though.” he said, eyes trained to the cookie dough he held. “My best friend won’t be there.”

“I’ll be right here when you come back. Besides, we can always email each other, like we always did in computer class.”

I didn’t tell him this but it also broke my heart to say those words. I will definitely miss him, sure. He’s been a constant presence in my life that once he leaves, it would definitely leave a big hole in my life.

I wanted to tell him that whatever happened in the library that day will always be etched in my memory as long as I lived, that I wanted it as much as he did, and it hurt to say goodbye to a possibility, to something that had barely even started. If I had told him that, he would’ve turned down the offer right away.

So I didn’t, and so he left.

Ohtani and I would email constantly during our very first year in uni. He would send me pictures of the new places he visited, food he tasted, with little descriptions every now and then. You knew he was trying to include me in his new life as much as he could. In return, I showed him how I continued my simple, quiet life, how I met new friends at uni, how I ate at new hole-in-the-wall restaurants with the promise that we’d try them out when he returned back home.

Of course that didn’t last very long as life apparently came in between us. Long training hours for Shohei, and newer opportunities showed up in my doorstep as I got a partial scholarship and part-time job as a student assistant.

It went on like that for a very long time as we kept missing each other’s emails. I would already be asleep when he sends his messages and he’d be out in the field by the time I could reply. Sometimes I don’t receive anything at all at weeks’ a time.

One day, after two weeks of radio silence, I heard a girl in the washroom gush about Ohtani’s popularity overseas and how he has gotten a girlfriend. They were pretty serious, she would go on to say. She had long black hair with a pretty slender body, something like his type.

I stood there, hands dripping wet, listening to something I normally wouldn’t believe unless he confirmed it himself. The thing is, I haven’t heard from him in weeks, so I didn’t have a choice but to believe in the words from the grapevine.

I stopped waiting for his emails to come. If he sent me new ones, I didn’t check. I busied myself in the halls of the library studying, reading and writing, writing and writing my feelings away.

I wrote until my hands got tired, until I spilled everything I needed to forget into paper. Until I welcomed a new love into my life. He was also tall, kind, and cheerful. He respected my time and he loved going to new coffee shops with me. At that point, I was overfilled with joy and contentment that I barely thought about Shohei anymore. In the back of my mind, the chapter of Shohei Ohtani is now closed and my rosy high school life became a beloved, worn out book that I no longer revisited.

Later I learned in life that some things, despite making you undoubtedly happy, could still end horribly.

My relationships turned sour, some of my friendships fell out, but the worst part of it all was when my dad had a heart attack.

He died six months later.

It was pretty much autopilot after that. I could only ever handle so much, I don’t think I am as brave as Joan D’arc to handle ten, twenty more scars. Not when two of the best people I loved have left my life. Not when the person I want to run the most to is… no longer there to meet me.

I was a student intern at the archives section when the post for head librarian was vacated. I’ve already applied to multiple companies in the private and public sectors and kept getting waitlisted but the university hired me on the spot. A week after graduation, I had started my full-time job at the library, and it felt like I was somehow glued back together.

XXX

The cans of beer clinked together as I swayed the black plastic on my way home from the convenience store. Nothing beats a cold can of beer after a full meal. Also because “Shohei Ohtani” is a name I never thought I’d hear again in this lifetime. So much so, that a homecoming sounded so ridiculous that if someone ever suggested that idea to me before today, I would have laughed at their faces. It was an appropriate time to wallow in my drunken thoughts.

Four years was a long time for anyone to change. It was long enough to switch jobs, get promoted, to save up money and travel, to save up money and get married and have kids, or none at all, to study for a new degree, to meet new people and develop romantic feelings for them, to lose such romantic feelings, to forgive and move on, to develop new habits, and it is also long enough for character development if you think your personality needed an overhaul. Four years was a long time apart, a long time to forget each other to even be considered taboo. And yet.

And yet.

XXX

My phone buzzed against my jeans pocket. It was a text from Zumi. She now works freelance and designs her own stationery and stickers sold at mega discount stores all over the country.

“You wouldn’t believe what I just heard.” Zumi texted. Even before she could conjure a follow-up text, I responded right away.

Y/N: “Someone’s coming back to town?...”

Zumi: “WUT.”

Zumi: “U KNEW? AND DIDN'T TELL ME #betrayal”

Y/N: “I heard about it a couple of days ago and blacked out after 3 cans of beer. Sorry, Joomi-chan.”

Y/N: “I didn’t drink only because of the news, though. I ate almost 2 KGs of wagyu, too. It was the perfect drink to end the day.”

Y/N: “I ate ice cream, too."

Y/N: “I’m rambling. I”ve been restless since I heard about it.”

Y/N: “I’ll be okay, though. I always have been.”

I was about to put my phone down after the text blasts I sent to assure her when text bubbles appeared. Typing. I waited.

Zumi: “It’s alright to admit you’re not okay about this, Y/N”

Zumi: “He was a big part of your life, who ghosted you, asshole move btw, and his head’s probably gotten too big for his own good. I wonder how he walks around with that swollen head without toppling over.

Zumi: “Also, I’m only saying all of this because my role as Y/N’s only best friend is currently being threatened. I forgive you though!”

I had to laugh. Zumi was always fond of Ohtani and I even back in high school. Whenever she had time, she would join us on our katsu curry runs and hated matcha, while Ohtani and I loved it. She always preferred strawberry. She was the perfect balance in our little trio. And now, she is my voice of reason.

I paused to reread the text. Am I really okay about this? It’s a fairly small town, the chances of running into him are slim, but never zero. And what if I do meet him by chance, what should I do?

Zumi: “Text me when you feel like drinking again. I’ll sneak out and join you in solidarity!”

Before I could send the cutest peach butt sticker to Zumi, a message from an unregistered number popped up on my notifications.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s Shohei Ohtani. I got your number from your mom. I’m sorry for being abrupt like this but I just flew back from the States and will be spending a few days at home.

Do you want to meet up for some curry katsu for old time's sake?”

Holy hell, I stared at the messages in disbelief. Am I being punked right now? Where is the hidden camera? If the universe is listening right now, please, swallow me whole into the earth right now.

I clenched the phone hard, against my chest. You are better now. Don’t fumble.

Tap tap tap.

XXX

I don’t know what had gotten into my head that when I responded a few hours later, had agreed to meet up after work for curry and drinks. Future me would like to smack past me of five hours ago for making a decision like this.

But here I am now, just a few stores away from the curry place I had suggested for dinner.

Suddenly feeling conscious, I stopped by a convenience store that had a convex mirror on top of the corner shelves. I swiped lipstick on my lips and powdered my nose. I also bought mints just to play for time. I worked up the courage to text Zumi.

Y/N: So, please tell me I’m doing the wrong thing and I will turn back.

Zumi: What happened?

Y/N: After we texted earlier, Shohei texted me out of the blue and that he’s already in the town.

Zumi: He WHAT???

Zumi: Are you telling me he asked to meet up and you said yes?

Y/N: You should switch careers and be a fortune teller instead.

Zumi: You WHAT???

Y/N: Pls, pls, pls tell me I’m wrong for doing this.

She didn’t respond right away. Her text bubbles went up and down infrequently. I stood outside of the restaurant, in the cold of the night waiting for her response.

Zumi: How do YOU feel about it?

Zumi: If I were you, I, who have witnessed all the carnage all these years, I would do it. I know if you turn your back now, you’d spend another four, five years wondering what would’ve happened if you chose differently.

Zumi: Don’t try to rationalize it, Y/N. You’re panicking now. But I know in your heart, you want answers. You want this. So suck it up and be a big gworl!

She resonated exactly how I felt about this. So why was I hesitating?

I walked up to the restaurant and scanned the room. It was almost empty after dinner hours, except for a few white collar workers catching up on late night meals.

And then I saw him. He sat at the back of the room, his back facing the front of the shop. I could recognize those wide shoulders anywhere in a heartbeat. I made a beeline towards him.

He wore a blue polo buttoned up to his chest, creasing at the shoulders as he slouched forward. He looked absolutely different from the memory of the boy who used to carry my bags. His hair grew into thick waves and his cheeks and jawline was chiseled and defined to the bone, revealing more of his handsome face.

He stood up, smiling widely and threw his hands around me, a whiff of his sandalwood perfume and the feel of his hair pressed to my cheek brought everything back: spending lazy days in the library, the night strolls on the way home from school, sharing twin popsicle ice creams, the warmth of his hands intertwined with mine, that last first kiss. I pulled away and he gestured to me to sit down. As we both sat down, I thought, You are always finding ways to get my hopes up.

We stared at each as I settled down on my seat. For a few moments, I felt the room was charged with cold air. His eyes traced my face making me more and more self-conscious, I had to break the ice.

“The chicken curry katsu is good here, you know.” I said, as a waiter approached and served us water. “But if you prefer pork, it’s heaven too.”

I sipped the cold water nervously and fidgeted the hem of my plaid skirt.

“It’s been a while.” I started.

“I’ve been busy.” He started to explain. I hate how he thinks this was his decision, how he didn’t even consider the fact that I’ve been busy, too. “How about you? I’ve stopped hearing about you since…”

“Things happened.” I simplified, but really, I wanted to give him a rundown of how things have more or less worked out okay for me–how I am doing well at my job, taking my Masters, thinking about traveling to Southeast Asia with Zumi, spending time with family on weekends, trying to do pilates at least thrice a month, and catching up with some old friends whenever we got to clear our schedules. How I am, despite his absence, was not entirely miserable. But I don’t want him to think that I am just doing this to prove a point, so I coated a response with the standard, “But I’ve been fine, thanks. How are you?”

“Same old, I’m here for business and something else. I finally got the courage to tell you this now.” He said, finishing up the last of his meal and downing his glass of water before speaking again.

I honestly don’t want to know, I want to order another glass of beer and fall asleep drunk. I want to crawl into my bed and waddle in self-pity at how I’ve spiraled back to square one, of how after all these years, I am still hopelessly in love with this unattainable man, who thinks we are still each other’s best friends after years of no contact. Instead I responded cautiously, “What is it?”

He inched forward and leaned his face on his right hand. “There’s this girl.”

I held my breath and braced myself for impact.

“There’s this girl. We almost always never stood on the same foot. She hated sports and hated standing in the sun to see me play, but watched regardless because she had to write an article about it.

“When we finally started realizing we liked each other, I received my scholarship grant and moved overseas. If she got mad about me going MIA, I could've explained better to her that I had an accident during Spring training and was in a hospital bed for almost a month. Had she checked her emails, she would know. But she never replied. Ever.

“After a few months, I heard from our friends that she finally got a boyfriend and was in a happy, healthy relationship. I thought, ‘Oh. Good for her! I'm happy for her. Someone near to take care of her.’ but was I really, though? I got myself a girlfriend, too and forgot about this girl for a while.

“But I heard about her dad’s passing and I tried to reach her but I couldn’t. Her home phone number was disconnected, my mom said they moved out of the block and she still won’t respond to my emails.

“I couldn’t be there for her but I thought, “she'd be with her boyfriend. She’ll have someone to lean on. But then her friends said they had broken up long before the incident. She carried all those baggage all by herself? Who did she have to lean on? Was she eating okay? Was she sleeping well? Does she still smile when she watches puppies run around bumping into things?

“It seemed like the timing was never on our side. She was available when I wasn’t, I was free on the days that she was occupied.

“I’ve always wondered if the universe played some practical joke on the two of us. If somehow, they'd ever allow me the chance to meet her again. I’ve been waiting for her for a long time now.

“Y/N, do you think if I ask her now, she’d finally be as ready as I am to meet her?”

I exhaled and felt my heart pounding. There is the thrum in my chest that felt all too familiar. Have we been missing each other’s chances all this time? Have I been getting on and off the wrong platform, just as much as he did, because we didn’t know what we wanted when we were barely twenty?

“I think you should ask her before it’s too late.” I said, catching myself, still staying on that third person narration. I mulled over the times we constantly missed each other like he had pointed out. He had been there for me when I was searching for myself and what I wanted to do, and I had watched him from afar when he was trying to meet his dreams, to the point of pushing him far away.

“I’m asking you now. I was always late, wasn’t I?”

His brown eyes bored into mine, expectant, hopeful. “Yes. You were...but you’re here now..." I trailed off, thinking how much shock I was to hear Shohei's speech. I wondered if responding to my real feelings was the right thing to do. He had his accident, my dad's funeral, the miscommunication between us. The sudden falling out. I wondered, if after all this time, someone like me would still be worth restarting over with.

"...and I think, you’re just in time, Sho.”

He smiled widely, showing the crinkles on the sides of his eyes, he exhaled as if he had been holding his breath all this time.

"Thank god. I was almost certain you'd say no and disappear on me again." he laughed.

Freckles that I've never seen before popped over his nose and cheeks. So much has changed in his appearance but it was the same smile of the boy I love since eighteen.

“I’m home,” he whispers.

“Welcome back,” I said, finally smiling at him, too.

Shohei stands up and offers his hand as we exit the restaurant; I take it and interlace our fingers. For the first time in a long time, the tap dancing of my calloused heart has returned ever so exhilarating, like a lost pulse bringing me back to life. We are catching up on lost time, and for whatever fragment of memory that may have escaped through the cracks, we’ll slowly string them together. It doesn’t matter how many possibilities we’ve missed in the last four years of being apart. The important thing is this possibility, the right here and right now.

#shohei ohtani #shohei ohtani au #shohei ohtani imagines #shohei ohtani pov #shohei ohtani soft hours #soft spot for #high school shohei #i'm not so confident about this one #but i hope everyone likes how it ended #thank you for reading! <3

145 notes · View notes

hockeylovee12 · 5 months

Text

Crossing Enemy Lines

Chapter Five

Luke Hughes x Original Character

November 14th, 2023

In the middle of a vast lecture hall at NYU, Jordan sits in her 9 AM economics class, struggling to stay focused as her professors' monotone voice drones on about opportunity cost.

Suddenly she feels her phone buzzing in the back pocket of her blue jeans, a welcomed distraction.

She quickly glances around the room, making sure her professor or his TA’s aren't watching and carefully grabs her phone, sliding it underneath her notebook.

She unlocks the screen, and sees a text from Luke: Hey what are you up to?

A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she types out her response.

Trying not to fall asleep in econ. It’s so boring

She hits send and tries to refocus on the lecture, but her phone buzzes again almost immediately.

Luke: Those classes are the worst. Last year at Michigan I had a 9am for stats. It sucked and my professor kinda sounded like one of those drowning goats from YouTube.

Jordan stifles a laugh, her shoulders shaking. Her friend, Taylor, sitting next to her, nudges her shoulder and leans in, whispering, "What's so funny?"

Jordan shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Oh, nothing. Just a meme I saw earlier."

Taylor raises an eyebrow, not entirely convinced, but turns back to face the front of the class. Jordan looks down at her phone and types out another message: OMG stop you’re making me laugh.

Luke's response comes quickly.

Luke: Mission accomplished then. 😎 I'm just picturing you in class, trying to hold it together. It's a pretty cute mental image.

Jordan feels a blush creeping up her neck as she reads his words. She bites her lip, trying to suppress the giddy smile threatening to spread across her face.

Jordan: You're going to get me in trouble! But I have to admit, it's a lot more fun texting you than listening to this lecture.

She hits send and looks up, only to find her professor staring directly at her, a stern expression on his face.

"Class, I know it's early," he says, his voice carrying across the lecture hall, "but please put your phones away. This information is important and will be on your upcoming test."

Jordan feels her cheeks heat up as a few of her classmates glance in her direction. She smirks sheepishly and puts her phone back in her pocket, mouthing a silent "sorry" to the professor.

As she tries to refocus on the lecture, her thoughts keep drifting back to Luke. She can’t help but feel a slight thrill, at the thought of him picturing her, even when they’re apart.

The rest of the class seems to drag on forever, but Jordan finds herself feeling lighter and happier, despite the boring subject matter. She knows it's because of Luke, because of the way he can make her laugh and smile even from a distance.

As the professor finally dismisses them, Jordan gathers her things and heads out of the lecture hall, already pulling her phone out to see if Luke has texted her again.

*****

The New Jersey Devils players gather in the video room, going over video footage, from their match from last night against the Red Wings.

Coach Ruff stands at the front of the room, laser pointer in hand, breaking down the team's performance.

"Okay, guys," Ruff says, pausing the video on a particular play. "Let's take a look at this shift. Nico, great job on the backcheck here. You managed to break up their odd-man rush and turn the play around."

Nico nods, a small smile on his face, as he receives a few head pats and shoulder claps from his teammates.

Ruff continues his analysis, and in the midst of him discussing the power play, something Luke should really pay attention to considering he’s on the first unit, Luke feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

His hand twitches, itching to reach for it, but he knows better than to check his messages during a team meeting. He tries to focus on the video, on Ruff's words, but his mind keeps drifting to thoughts of Jordan and what she might be texting him about.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Ruff wraps up the meeting. "Alright, boys, that's it for today. Remember, we've got a big game coming up against Columbus. Let's make sure we're sharp and ready to go."

The team murmurs in agreement and starts to file out of the room.

Luke is one of the first ones out, making a beeline for the locker room.

He walks to his stall, taking a seat and pulling out his phone to check his messages.

Sure enough, there's a text from Jordan. He opens it eagerly.

Jordan: Just saw a dog on campus that looked exactly like you.

Luke laughs out loud, shaking his head as he types out his response.

Luke: Oh yeah? Was it incredibly handsome and charming?

Jordan's reply comes quickly.

Jordan: Nah, it was just really goofy-looking.

Luke: Wow, rude. See if I ever compare you to a cute animal again.

Jordan: Aww, I'm sorry. You're much cuter than any dog. Forgive me? 🥺

Luke grins, feeling a warmth spreading through his chest.

Luke: I suppose I can let it slide this time. But only because you admitted I'm cute.

As he hits send, he hears someone clear their throat. He looks up to see John standing there, a knowing smirk on his face.

"Texting your girlfriend again, Hughesy?" John teases, leaning against the stall.

Luke rolls his eyes. "She's not my girlfriend. And mind your own business, Johnny."

"Oooh, defensive," Tyler chimes in across the room. "Must be serious."

"Who are you texting, Lukey?" Jesper asks, looking up from his stall.

Luke sighs, pocketing his phone. "No one. Just a friend." he claims, causing his teammates to exchange some looks.

Luke stands up, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "I gotta go find Jack. See you guys tomorrow."

“See ya later, Romeo!” Nate shouts as Luke walks out of the locker room, he rolls his eyes before walking towards the trainer’s room, knowing Jack is probably there.

He can feel his phone buzzing in his pocket again and he smiles, having a pretty good idea who it's from.

*****

Jordan settles into her bed, propping her phone up against a pillow as she waits for Luke to answer her Facetime call. After a few rings, his face appears on the screen, a warm smile spreading across his features.

"Hey, you," he greets her, his voice soft and intimate in the quiet of his room.

"Hey yourself," Jordan replies, feeling a flutter in her stomach at the sight of him. "How was your day?"

Luke sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Busy. We had a long practice today, and Coach really worked us hard. I'm pretty wiped."

Jordan nods sympathetically. "I know the feeling. I've been studying all day, got like five tests coming up. I feel like my brain is going to melt out of my ears."

Luke chuckles, “I’m sure you’ll do great”

Jordan feels a blush creeping up her neck. "I don't know about that. But thanks for the vote of confidence."

They fall into easy conversation, trading stories about their days. Jordan complains about her homework and Luke tells her about the prank war that's been brewing in the Devils locker room.

"I swear, if I find one more rubber snake in my skates, I'm going to lose it," he laughs, shaking his head.

Jordan giggles. "Maybe you should retaliate. Put some itching powder in their gear"

Luke's eyes widen. "You’re an evil genius, you know”

Jordan laughs.

“Hey Jordan?” Jacob’s voice cuts through the screen as the door to her room bursts open. Luke freezes for a moment on the other line, before, quickly clicking the buttons to hide his camera and mute his microphone.

Jordan turns her phone face down on her lap, “What’s up?” Jordan says trying to come off as casual as possible

“Kelly is going out tonight, so it’s just us for dinner. Any preferences?” Jacob asks

Jordan lets a small smile cross her face as she shakes her head.

“Whatcha up to?” Jacob questions a smirk dancing on his lips

“Nothing just chatting with a friend about homework” Jordan lies

“Mhmm, ok well I’m gonna make salmon then, sounds good?”

“Ya sounds good” Jordan says, Jacob smiles again, before leaving the room, shutting her door completely-which is a very rare thing for a sibling to do.

“He’s gone” Jordan says her voice hushed as she flips her phone back over.

Luke unmutes himself and turns the camera back on “That was kinda close” Luke exhales

“Ya, but don’t worry, he just thinks it’s some guy from school” Jordan whispers

"Does he know about date?" Luke asks

"He just knows I'm going on one on Saturday" Jordan explains

“Ok good, I should probably get going though, Jack’s gonna be back any minute with our dinner” Luke says

“Ya me too, but I’ll talk to later ya?” Jordan asks

“Definitely, bye Jordan”

“Bye, Luke” She responds, letting his name fall off her tongue in a hushed tone.

*****

November 15th, 2023

Jordan’s 10 AM psychology class is in full swing, as her professor goes on and on about the different types of validity, for probably like the millionth time.

Her notebook is open in front of her but her pencil hasn't touched the page in minutes, as her professor's voice fades into the background and her mind drifts to thoughts of Luke and their upcoming date.

She pictures the restaurant he mentioned, which she had done a quick google search of prior, it’s a rather nice italian/seafood place, located away from the city.

She imagines the way he’ll look, with his tall frame, his curly hair, which kinda reminds her of a poodle, but in a cute, charming way.

Jordan's thoughts turn to her outfit, and she mentally rifles through her closet, trying to decide what to wear, even though this date is still three days away.

She wants something that screams come and get me, but not desperate, or easy, definitely not easy. Something that will make her feel confident and beautiful.

Maybe that navy blue dress she bought last summer, the one with the straight neckline and the tight skirt. Or maybe her favorite pair of dark-wash jeans, paired with a fun strapless corset and her leather jacket.

As she loses herself in thought, she has that faint feeling that her name is being called, then a small nudge to the shoulder, by the classmate to her left, forces her to regain focus.

“-rdan, are you with us?”

Jordan blinks realizing her professor is staring directly at her, an expectant expression on his face.

“I’m sorry what?” she asks, feeling a blush creep up her neck.

Her professor sighs, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “I asked you to explain the difference between content and criterion related validity.”

Jordan's mind goes blank, and she feels a surge of panic rising in her chest. She knows she should know this, they've gone over it in class before, and she’s seen it in her notes but right now all she can think about is Luke and their date.

Her classmate nudges her gently with her elbow, again, a concerned look on her face. Jordan takes a deep breath, trying to focus.

“Uh, I’m sorry I don’t know the answer” she admits, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Her professor lets out a heavy sigh “This is a key concept, we’ve been talking about for weeks. You need to learn if you would like to pass this class, please stop daydreaming and pay attention” He scolds towards Jordan.

Jordan sinks lower in her seat, feeling a mix of shame and frustration wash over her.

*****

Jack and Luke sit comfortably inside Jack’s range rover, heading towards the Prudential Center, to meet with their team, before their flight to Columbus.

Luke is in the passenger seat, his phone in his hand as he texts back and forth with Jordan.

Jordan: Are you excited to go to Ohio?

Luke Nope, I hate Ohio

Jordan: How do you hate a state?

Luke: I’m from Michigan, Michigan doesn’t like Ohio.

Jordan: Just a general overall hatred?

Luke: Nah, it's a whole thing. Pretty sure it's in our state constitution that we have to hate Ohio. I think it's right after the part about cherishing our Great Lakes and wearing socks with sandals. Jordan: Note to self: Never wear Ohio colors around Luke

Luke chuckles softly at Jordan's last message, a goofy grin spreading across his face. Jack glances over at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Who you texting?" he asks, a note of curiosity in his voice.

Luke quickly locks his phone, slipping it into his pocket. "No one," he says, trying to sound casual.

Jack gives him a look, clearly not buying it. "Seriously, man, Tell me."

Luke sighs, shifting in his seat. "It's just a girl, okay? No big deal."

"A girl, huh?" Jack presses, a hint of a smirk on his face. "The same girl from the bar the other night? You guys make up?"

Luke feels his cheeks heat up, and he looks out the window, trying to hide his smile. "Maybe," he admits.

Jack laughs, shaking his head. "I knew it! So, when are you gonna see her again?"

Luke hesitates, he can tell Jack about the date, just to get him off his back, just don’t give away details,

"We have a date on Saturday," he says, trying to sound nonchalant.

Jack's eyes widen, and he lets out a low whistle. "Damn, Lukey, moving fast!"

Luke rolls his eyes, feeling his face flush even more. "Shut it, Jack. It's not a big deal."

But he knows that’s a lie.

“ Come on, kid, you've been grinning at your phone like an idiot for days. It's obviously a big deal.”

“Shut it” Luke scoffs

“Oh come on, give me the details, what are y’all up to?” Jack presses, with a wide grin plastered across his face.

“Don’t worry about it” Luke says

Jack's eyes leave the road, and shift towards Luke “Why all the secrecy?” Jack asks, curiouss

“No secrecy I just don’t wanna tell you” Luke shrugs

“You tell me everything” Jack retorts, with a chuckle of disbelief.

“Ok well I wanna keep this to myself” Luke explains, avoiding eye contact

Jack pauses for a moment, “Alright, Lukey” Jack says, shifting his vision back to the road, “Well I’m here if you want any advice.”

A smile crosses Luke’s laugh as he speaks, his voice laced with a teasing tone, “I think I’m alright, I’d like this relationship to last longer than two weeks”

Jack glances at him, before throwing a light punch to Luke’s shoulder.

“Jerk” Luke mutters, and Jack smirks.

They pull into the parking lot of the Prudential Center, and he grabs his bag and heads inside to meet up with his teammates, he can't wipe the smile off his face, can't shake the giddy anticipation building in his chest, for Saturday.

*****

Hours later, Jordan sits cross-legged on her bed, a canvas propped up on her lap and a palette of colorful paints carefully balanced beside her.

She's working on a piece for her art class, a vibrant abstract that's slowly taking shape under her careful brushstrokes and that was supposed to be due yesterday, but thankfully she received an extension on it, because she was a little distracted.

In her ear, she listens as Luke’s laughter mingles with the soft sounds of a running shower. Alex is in the room seeing as how room checks have already been done, and that last thing Luke wanted was to give his teammates another reason to tease him.

"So, who's your favorite artist?" Luke asks, his voice echoing slightly off the bathroom tiles.

Jordan hums thoughtfully, dabbing a bit of blue paint onto the canvas. "That's a tough one. I love so many different styles and periods. But if I had to pick just one, I'd probably say Van Gogh. There's just something about the way he captures emotion and movement in his brushstrokes, you know?"

"Yeah, I can see that," Luke agrees.

They talk about their favorite paintings, the museums they'd love to visit someday. Jordan tells Luke about her dream of studying abroad in Paris, of spending her days wandering the halls of the Louvre and the Musée d'Orsay.

"What about you?" she asks, switching to a smaller brush for some detailing work. "If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?"

Luke is quiet for a moment.

"Iceland," he says finally, his voice a little muffled as he dries his face. "I've always wanted to see the Northern Lights, to hike through those crazy landscapes with the glaciers and the hot springs. Plus, I hear the people there are really friendly and laid-back."

Jordan smiles, picturing Luke bundled up in a puffy coat and hiking boots, his breath fogging in the crisp Icelandic air. "That sounds amazing," she says softly. "Maybe, someday we should go together”

There's a beat of silence on the other end of the line, and Jordan feels her cheeks heat up, worried that she's overstepped. But then Luke chuckles, and she can hear the smile in his voice.

"I'd like that," he says warmly. "We could rent one of those little cabins, spend our days exploring and our nights curled up by the fire."

Jordan's heart flutters at the thought, at the easy way Luke includes her in his future plans. She knows it's still early, that they're just getting to know each other, but somehow it feels right, like pieces of a puzzle clicking into place.

"So, did you have any pets growing up?" Luke asks, changing the subject.

Jordan laughs, setting her paintbrush down and leaning back against her pillows. "Oh, yeah. We always had dogs in my family. Golden retrievers, mostly. They were like our unofficial mascots."

She tells him about Bubba, the rambunctious puppy who chewed up all her favorite stuffed animals, and Ginger, the gentle old soul who used to sleep at the foot of her bed every night.

"What about you?" she asks, curious. "Any childhood pets?"

Luke groans, and Jordan can practically hear him shaking his head. "No, no pets for me. Although one time, my brother found a lizard in our backyard and decided to adopt it."

"A lizard?" Jordan giggles, trying to picture a young Luke with a scaly companion.

"Yeah, he named it Godzilla and everything. But then one day, he thought it would be hilarious to put it on my head while I was sleeping. I woke up with this thing crawling all over my face, and I've hated lizards ever since."

Jordan bursts out laughing, imagining the look of terror on Luke's face as he wakes up to a lizard on his head. "Oh my god, that's terrible," she gasps out between giggles. "Your poor brother, though. He was probably devastated when you didn't want to be Godzilla's co-parent."

"Hey, he's the one who ruined it by using the lizard for evil," Luke protests, but Jordan can hear the laughter in his voice. "Besides, I think he was better off an orphan, than having my brother be his parent"

They dissolve into laughter again, the kind that makes Jordan's cheeks ache and her eyes water. It's the kind of laughter that comes from a place of pure joy, of feeling completely at ease with another person.

As their giggles subside, Jordan realizes that she's been talking to Luke for over half an hour, and that her painting is long forgotten on the bed beside her.

“I should let you go, don't you have a game tomorrow?” She asks

“Ya, you gonna watch me play?” Luke asks, a smile crossing his lips

Jordan know’s she’s got class tomorrow, from 9-3, but Luke plays at 2, she hesitates before responding “yes”

“Sounds good, goodnight Jordan”

“Goodnight Luke”

*****

November 16th, 2023

Jordan wakes up to the sound of Jacob knocking on her door. She glances at her phone and sees that it's 8 AM.

“Come in,” Jordan calls out, sitting up in bed.

Jacob opens the door and peeks his head in. "Hey, Jordy. Kelly already left for work and I’m heading to skate, so I wanted to see if you want a ride to campus?”

Jordan hesitates for a moment, then shakes her head. "No, thanks. I think I'm just going to walk today.”

Jacob nods, a smile on his face. "Alright, Have a good day, I'll see you tonight after the game."

Thanks, Jake. Good luck today!" Jordan calls out as Jacob closes the door behind him.

Once she hears the front door close, Jordan flops back onto her bed, a grin spreading across her face. She has no intention of going to class today - not when Luke and the Devils are playing at 2 PM.

She grabs her phone and sends a quick text to Luke.

Jordan: Good luck today, superstar! I'll be cheering you on from my bed.

Luke: Haha, thanks, Jordan, I’ll try to score for you ;)

Jordan smiles, before setting her phone.

She spends the next few hours working on some homework assignments, trying to stay focused despite the anticipation building in her chest.

Finally, 2 PM rolls around, and Jordan settles onto her bed with her laptop, ready to watch the game. She puts in her headphones and pulls up the streaming site, her eyes immediately scanning the ice for Luke's familiar figure.

The game is intense from the start, both teams fighting hard for every inch of ice. Jordan finds herself on the edge of her seat, her heart racing with every shot on goal.

And then, halfway through the second period, it happens. Luke gets the puck on his stick, weaves through the defenders like they're standing still, and snaps a shot past the goalie's glove.

"Yes!" Jordan cheers.

She's so caught up in the moment, so focused on Luke, that she almost doesn't hear her bedroom door opening behind her.

"Jordan?"

Jordan jumps, her heart leaping into her throat as she quickly slams her laptop shut and yanks out her headphones. She looks up to see Kelly standing in the doorway, a confused look on her face.

"Kelly! Hi! I didn't hear you come in," Jordan stammers, trying to catch her breath.

Kelly frowns, glancing at the laptop on the bed. "I thought you had class today? What are you doing home?"

Jordan's mind races, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. "Oh, my 2pm was canceled so I decided to come back and get some studying done.”

Kelly nods slowly, there's a hint of suspicion in her eyes. "I see. And the cheering?”

“Just uh finally understood my econ homework” Jordan says, forcing a laugh, hoping it doesn't sound as fake as it feels. Kelly studies her for a long moment, and Jordan holds her breath, praying that her sister-in-law will buy the lie.

Kelly nods, and her smile widens “Ok, well don’t let me keep you from studying, I’ll be in the living room if you need anything”

Jordan nods, relief washing over her. "Will do, Thanks, Kel."

As Kelly leaves the room, closing the door behind her, Jordan lets out a shaky breath. She knows she won't be able to watch the rest of the game now, not with Kelly home and the risk of getting caught.

With a sigh, she grabs her phone and sends a quick text to Luke.

Jordan: Ugh, had to stop watching. Kelly came home early and almost caught me. But I saw your goal! You were amazing out there. Can't wait to hear all about it later.

She sets her phone aside and tries to focus on her homework, for real this time.

*****

After a thrilling 5-2 victory over the Blue Jackets, the Devils' locker room is buzzing with energy and excitement. Luke, still riding the high of his first multi point night, with a goal and two assists, and is grinning from ear to ear as he towels off his sweaty hair.

"Luke!" a member of the Devils' PR team calls out, poking his head into the locker room. "Media wants to talk to you. You're up for post-game."

Luke nods, taking a deep breath and trying to compose himself.

He follows the PR rep out to the media scrum, where a cluster of reporters and cameras are waiting for him. He takes his place in front of the backdrop, the Devils' logo prominently displayed behind him.

"Luke, congrats on the big win tonight," one of the reporters says, holding out a microphone. “You’ve scored a goal your last two games now, what has contributed to your improved performance?”

Luke grins, shrugging modestly. "Just feeling good, I guess. When the team's playing well, it's easy to feed off that energy. We've been working hard in practice, and it's starting to translate onto the ice."

The questions continue for a few more minutes, ranging from his thoughts on the team's defensive performance to his personal goals for the rest of the season. Luke answers them all with poise and professionalism, even as his mind keeps drifting back to Jordan, to the way her voice sounds when she's cheering him on.

Finally, the PR rep signals that the interview is over, and Luke makes his way back to the locker room, a spring in his step and a glint in his eye.

As he enters the room, he's greeted by a chorus of cheers and wolf whistles from his teammates.

"Rusty!" Dawson calls out, grinning broadly.

"Two apples and a goal, Hughesy? You're making the rest of us look bad," Jesper teases, tossing a ball of tape at Luke's head.

Luke laughs, ducking out of the way and flipping Jesper off good-naturedly. "Hey, someone's gotta carry you slugs to victory."

"Oh, is that right?" Nico chimes in, raising an eyebrow. "And here I thought you were just trying to impress a certain someone."

Luke feels his cheeks heat up, and he shoots a glare at Jack, who's sitting in his stall with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"You told them?" he hisses, his voice low.

Jack shrugs, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "I might have mentioned that you have a big date coming up."

Luke groans, burying his face in his hands as his teammates start to hoot and holler around him.

"Lukey's got a girlfriend, Lukey's got a girlfriend!" Nate singsongs, doing a little dance in his skates.

"She's not my girlfriend," Luke mumbles, but he can't quite keep the smile off his face. "We haven't even gone out yet."

"But you want her to be your girlfriend," Dawson says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Come on, Hughesy, spill the beans. What's she like? Is she hot?"

Luke scoffs, and rolls his eyes, hoping his silence is enough of an answer, which it is, but only because coach comes in the room, and tells them to hurry up because they gotta get to the plane.

*****

November 17th, 2023

Jordan emerges from her bedroom, dressed and ready for her English Lit class. She's wearing a comfortable but cute outfit - her favorite pair of jeans, a cozy sweater, and a pair of ankle boots. Her hair is pulled back into a messy bun, and she's got a backpack slung over one shoulder.

As she walks into the living room, she sees Jacob and Kelly sitting at the breakfast table, sipping coffee and chatting quietly. They both look up as she enters, smiling warmly.

"Morning, Jords," Jacob greets her, setting down his mug. "You're up early."

Jordan shrugs, adjusting the strap of her backpack. "Yeah, I've got class at 9. Figured I should probably be on time for once."

Kelly chuckles, shaking her head. "I still don't know how you manage to function at that hour. When I was in college, I avoided 9 AMs like the plague."

Jordan grins, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. "It's not so bad once you get used to it. Plus, my teacher is pretty cool. He makes the lectures interesting."

Jacob nods, taking another sip of his coffee. "Speaking of class, what happened yesterday? I thought you had a full day, but Kelly said you were home when she got back."

Jordan feels a flicker of panic in her chest, but she tries to keep her expression neutral. "Oh, yeah, my last class got canceled. The teacher sent an email the night before, but I didn't see it until I was already on campus for my second class. So i just came back”

She takes a bite of her apple, chewing slowly to give herself a moment to compose her thoughts.

Jacob studies her for a minute, as if he’s looking for something.

She glances at the clock on the wall, realizing that she needs to get going if she wants to make it to class on time. "Alright, I should probably head out”

Jacob stands up, stretching his arms above his head. "You want a ride? I'm heading to the rink for practice, but I can drop you off on the way."

Jordan hesitates for a moment, tempted by the offer, before deciding to decline, “That’s okay, I think I’ll walk”

Jacob shrugs, grabbing his keys from the counter. "Suit yourself. Have a good day, Jords. Learn something new."

Jordan laughs, rolling her eyes. "I'll do my best.."

*****

Luke sits in his stall, methodically taping his stick as he goes through his pre-game routine. Around him, the locker room is a buzz of activity - teammates stretching, chatting, getting into the right headspace for the game ahead.

But Luke barely notices the noise, his mind a million miles away. He can't stop thinking about Jordan, wondering what she's doing right now.

He takes a deep breath, trying to center himself. He knows he needs to focus, needs to be fully present for the game ahead. The Flyers are a tough opponent.

But even as he tries to push thoughts of Jordan aside, he can't quite shake the butterflies in his stomach, the giddy anticipation that comes with the promise of seeing her again soon.

Suddenly, his coach's voice cuts through the chatter, calling the team to attention. It's time to hit the ice, to put everything else aside and focus on the task at hand.

Luke stands up, grabbing his helmet and gloves and falling into line behind his teammates. As they make their way down the tunnel and onto the ice, he feels a familiar rush of adrenaline, the roar of the crowd washing over him like a wave.

The first period is a blur of motion and speed, the puck bouncing from stick to stick like a rubber bullet. Luke is in the zone, his skates carving through the ice like blades, his mind completely focused on the game.

But the Flyers are relentless, their forecheck suffocating and their defense stifling. The Devils struggle to gain any momentum, their passes just a little off, their shots just a little wide.

As the buzzer sounds for the end of the period, Luke skates off the ice feeling frustrated and drained. They're down 1-0, and he knows they need to find a way to turn things around if they want to have any chance of winning.

In the locker room, the coach tries to rally the troops, his voice stern but encouraging. "We're not out of this yet, boys," he says, looking each player in the eye. "We need to simplify our game, get pucks deep and work harder on the forecheck. We can still win this."

Luke nods, wiping the sweat from his brow and taking a long swig of water. He knows the coach is right, knows that they have the skill and the determination to come back from this deficit.

But as the second period starts, it becomes clear that the Flyers have other ideas. They come out flying, their skates a blur as they swarm the Devils' zone like angry bees.

Luke does his best to keep up, defend rushes and create chances for his team. But the Flyers are relentless, and before he knows it, they're down 3-0, the game slipping away from them like sand through an hourglass.

As the second intermission rolls around, the mood in the locker room is grim. Guys are hanging their heads, muttering curses under their breath. The coach tries to keep things positive, but even he seems to be running out of words.

Luke sits in his stall, his head in his hands. He can't help but feel like he's letting his team down, like he should be doing more to turn the tide.

But even as he tries to rally himself, to find that extra gear that will help him push through the fatigue and the frustration, his mind keeps drifting back to Jordan.

He wonders if she's watching the game, if she's cheering him on from her couch or her bedroom. He pictures her face, the way her eyes light up when she smiles, the way her laugh makes his heart skip a beat.

And somehow, for the first time in his life, he feels like there’s more to life than hockey, and he doesn’t know if he should be ecstatic or terrified.

As the final buzzer sounds and the Devils skate off the ice with their heads held low, Luke feels a sense of disappointment wash over him. It's never easy to lose, especially at home in front of your own fans.

But as he makes his way back to the locker room, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulls it out to see a text from Jordan, a simple message that makes his heart swell with warmth.

You played your heart out tonight. I'm so proud of you. Can't wait to see you tomorrow.

#luke hughes #nj devils #original story #crossing enemy lines

48 notes · View notes