#hallmate sides

[dazevi]

outta my mind | vi x fem!reader, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI) wc: 20k

synopsis: you didn’t plan on falling for anyone, let alone the painfully attractive bartender at the underground bar your friends dragged you to. she’s trouble, but she’s the kind you don’t mind getting into. | masterlist

content warnings: bartender!vi x fem!reader — modern au, bartender!vi, college student!reader, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn ish, drinking/alcohol, flirting, mutual pining, pet names; baby, princess, sweetheart, smut!!!; top!vi, bottom!reader, semi-public sex, making out, marking/hickeys, fingering (r receiving), pls let me know if i’m missing anything else!

note: lovely request by @balinor93 ! fanart by wickestd on twitter! ( title inspo from song called outta my mind by monsune )

YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.

It was an underground pub, called the Last Drop, tucked between an alley of a street near your campus. The air inside is heavy, thick with a haze of cigarette smoke and the low hum of chatter and laughter. The brick walls are decorated with bright paintings and band posters, chipped and scratched in places, and adorned with flickering neon signs advertising cheap liquor and beers on tap. It’s dimly lit, with most of the light spilling from the bar itself—a warm glow reflecting off rows of liquor bottles stacked neatly against the back wall. The scent of stale beer and faint traces of spilled whiskey linger in the air, mingling with the beat of a bass-heavy track pulsing through the speakers.

You didn’t really plan to be here tonight.

In fact, you pictured something far less chaotic—maybe sitting cross-legged on your tiny dorm bed, your laptop open to half-hearted notes, headphones in to drown out the incessant noise of your hallmates partying down the corridor.

Finals week was looming, but somehow you found yourself here instead, caught up by a friend you weren’t too close with, Maddie, who told you to wear something cute and live a little.

You glance down at yourself, suddenly self-conscious in the outfit you hastily threw together—something a little nicer than your usual, a pretty black dress you found in your closet a jacket to battle the cold, though, it was not nearly as flashy as what your classmates seem to have pulled off effortlessly.

The slight chill in the room makes you tug at the sleeves of your jacket as you follow your group further inside, weaving through the crowd that seems to grow louder and rowdier by the minute.

Your friend is already laughing, tossing her short hair over her shoulder as she chats with someone from another group, leaving you trailing behind. They surge toward the bar, a noisy clump of university students jostling for attention from the bartender. You linger at the edge of the crowd, unsure of whether to join in or keep your distance.

Your eyes wander across the room, taking in the mismatched furniture and the way the low-hanging lights cast strange shadows over the scuffed wooden floor. It feels gritty, raw—nothing like the polished campus lounges or cafes you’re used to. People are packed into every available space, some leaning close to shout over the music, others pressed together in corners.

When you finally look toward the bar, something—or other, someone—catches your attention.

She’s pretty tall, her toned, tattooed arms flexing subtly as she works, pouring drinks expertly without even looking at her hands sometimes. Short, pink hair glows faintly under the neon lights, messy and partly shaved on the side of her head, but it was like she rolled out of bed and still managed to look better than anyone else in the room. She’s wearing a fitted black tee, tattoos peeking out along her biceps as she slides a drink across the counter to a waiting customer.

She glances up for the briefest moment, her sharp blue eyes scanning the crowd—and they land on you. Just for a second, you think, but it’s enough to make your pulse quicken.

But you look away before you could give her a chance to the way your cheeks reddened slightly, thought it would’ve been hard to see anyway underneath the dimness of the light.

You ended up in a booth in one of the corners of the room, sitting with a couple of your classmates as they drank and ate their pizza. The booth creaks slightly as you lean back, your drink—something simple and unadventurous—sitting untouched in front of you.

The group you came with has scattered across the room now to various corners of the bar, their loud laughter and shouts blending into the rest of the noise.

You’re not sure why you agreed to come tonight. Finals around the corner were stressful enough without the added distraction of cheap liquor and the kind of music that vibrates in your chest.

Across from you, someone slides into the booth with a bit too much enthusiasm, too much confidence, their knee knocking against yours under the table.

You glance up to find a man from your group—one of those classmates whose name you barely remember—flashing you a wide grin. Jason? Jacob? He had short brown hair, a white button up under his coat and smells faintly of whiskey and strong cologne, his cheeks flushed in a way that suggests he’s had a drink too many.

“Hey,” he says, his voice pitched louder than it needs to be over the music. “You’re in Professor Medarda’s class, right? Postmodern lit?”

You blink at him, already regretting this conversation.

“Yeah,” you reply, tone flat, hoping he’ll get the hint and move on.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he leans in, propping his elbow on the sticky table like he’s settling in for a long chat.

“Aren’t you the one who absolutely wrecked her in that debate? Something about, what was it—‘deconstructing the deconstruction’ or whatever?” He waves a hand vaguely, his grin turning lopsided. “Man, that was brutal. Everyone was talking about it for days.”

You press your lips into a thin line, your gaze drifting toward the bar. The bartender with the pink hair is still there, moving effortlessly behind the bar underneath the warm glow of the lights. She laughs at something one of the regulars says, the sound faint but distinct over the din, and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere but here, maybe talking to her instead of… this guy.

“Yeah, well,” you say finally, dragging your attention back to him. “It wasn’t… really a debate. I just pointed out that her entire argument was contradictory.”

Jason-or-Jacob—whatever—laughs, a little too loudly, and takes a swig of his drink.

“See, that’s what I mean! It’s… it’s impressive… And not to mention… you’re… really pretty on the eyes.” He gestures vaguely in your direction, his eyes lingering a little too long.

You shift uncomfortably as you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Uh… right, thanks.”

He chuckles again, clearly not picking up on your disinterest. “No, seriously. You’re, like, intimidating. Smart. And hot. In a good way.”

“Uh-huh.” You tap your fingers against the edge of your glass, your patience wearing thin. “Listen, if this is your way of hitting on me, you might want to workshop it… or something.”

That finally seems to trip him up, his grin faltering as he moves awkwardly in his seat. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just…”

“Right,” you cut him off, standing and grabbing your drink. “Thanks for the conversation, but I’m gonna go… anywhere else.”

You don’t bother waiting for his response as you stand and step away from the booth, weaving through the crowd.

The bar feels slightly less oppressive now that you’re moving, and as you approach the counter, you can’t help but glance toward the bartender again. She’s wiping down a glass, her movements precise, and for the second time tonight, her eyes meet yours. This time, there’s a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe—as her lips twitch into a subtle smirk.

You set your drink down on the counter, your heart skipping just a little. Maybe tonight isn’t a complete waste after all.

The stool creaks faintly as you settle onto it, the weight of the night pressing on your shoulders. You prop your elbow on the bar and glance down at your drink, still untouched. The condensation clings to the glass, cool against your fingertips as you absently trail them along its surface.

The music feels louder here, basslines thrumming through the wooden counter, but it fades into the background every time your gaze drifts upward—to her.

The bartender.

She’s been moving nonstop, hands deft and practiced as she pours drinks, slides glasses across the counter, and exchanges brief words with customers. She was confident and smooth without even trying, her short pink hair glowing faintly under the neon lights that flicker lazily behind her.

You tell yourself you’re not staring, but you are.

She’s impossibly attractive, the kind of person who seems entirely out of reach—too cool, too confident, too… everything. And yet, you catch yourself glancing her way more often than you should, trying to look away quickly enough that she doesn’t notice.

You sigh, shifting in your seat as you fiddle with your drink again, fingers tracing patterns on the glass. You haven’t taken a sip, and you’re not even sure why you ordered it. It was just something to hold, something to keep you occupied in this crowded room.

Just as you glance up again, hoping to catch another fleeting glimpse of her, a voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Hey there,” someone slurs, the words thick and clumsy.

You blink, turning to find a man standing far too close, his grin lopsided and his eyes glassy from too many drinks. His shirt is untucked, and he sways slightly as he leans an elbow on the bar, effectively blocking your view of anything else—including her.

“You’re way too pretty to be sitting here all alone,” he says, his words slurred but bold. “Let me keep you company, yeah?”

“I’m not alone,” you say flatly, holding up your glass like it’s proof. “And, I’m not interested.”

He laughs, as if you’ve said something charming. “Nah, come on. You’re too gorgeous to be hiding away in the corner. You need someone to—”

“No,” you interrupt, your tone sharp. “I’m really not interested.”

But he doesn’t take the hint. Instead, he leans in closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Don’t be like that. Just one drink, huh? I promise I’m a good time.”

You grimace, leaning back and trying to create some distance. “And I promise I’m not.”

The man chuckles, as if he thinks you’re joking, and you feel your frustration rising. You glance around, hoping someone—anyone—might intervene, and that’s when you notice her again. The bartender.

She’s been watching, her sharp eyes narrowing as she assesses the situation. Her hands pause mid-motion as she sets down a freshly poured drink, and without missing a beat, she walks over to your side of the bar.

“Hey,” she says, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

The drunk man looks up, startled, as she plants both hands on the counter, leaning slightly forward. Her gaze is steely as she stares down the man next to you.

“You bothering her?” she asks, her tone deceptively casual, though there’s a warning laced in her words.

The man blinks, clearly caught off guard. “What? No, we were just talkin’.”

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t look like she’s enjoying the conversation,” she replies smoothly. Then she turns her attention to you, her expression softening just a fraction. “You good, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. The word sends a small jolt through your chest, and for a moment, you can only shake your head, your voice caught in your throat.

The man mutters something under his breath, but the bartender doesn’t budge.

“You should go.” she says firmly. “Or I’ll have someone make you leave.”

He hesitates, but the weight of her stare is enough to make him backpedal. He stumbles away, disappearing into the crowd, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Thanks,” you murmur, glancing up at her.

You see her more clearly now. Light blue eyes. A strong nose. A small scar over her top lip. Another one over her eyebrow. Nose ring. And a small tattoo of the Roman numeral six on her cheek.

She straightens, brushing her hands off on a rag as a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips.

“Don’t mention it. A lot of people don’t know how to take a hint.”

You can’t help but smile faintly, your fingers still absently fiddling with your glass. “You seem good at dealing with them… They listen to you.”

“Well, there’s this rule around here that, uh, people shouldn’t really mess with the guy who pours the drinks, so… they either listen or I call Loris—our big scary bouncer.” she says with a smile, leaning against the bar now, her full attention on you.

“Do they always listen?”

The bartender smiles that charming smile of hers and simply says, “No.”

She clears her throat and looks down at your hands, then looks back up at you with an eyebrow raised.

“You gonna drink that, or is it just decoration?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” you say. Her teasing tone makes your cheeks warm. You glance down at your untouched drink, swirling the liquid idly in the glass before muttering, almost to yourself, “I don’t actually drink that often, to be honest…”

Her voice pulls you from your thoughts, warm and teasing. “A glass of water for the pretty lady, coming right up.”

Your head snaps up at the words, your cheeks instantly heating. She’s already reaching for a clean glass. But there’s something different now—something about the way she smirks just a little as she glances at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Pretty lady?” you echo, trying for casual, though you’re sure the slight waver in your voice gives you away.

She shrugs as she fills the glass with water, the ice clinking softly against the sides.

“Well, yeah,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What else would I call you?”

Your stomach flips at the nonchalant confidence in her tone, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. “I don’t know. Most people just go with my name.”

She places the water in front of you, her smile widening just enough to show off the faintest hint of dimples. “Fair enough. But I don’t know your name yet.”

You hesitate, caught between the urge to give her your name and the inexplicable nerves that come with her attention.

You tell her your name, your voice a bit quieter than you intended.

Her smirk softens into something more genuine, and she repeats your name back to you, slow and deliberate, like she’s trying it out.

“I’m Vi,” she says.

Vi. The name suits her—short, sharp, and just as bold as the woman herself.

“Thanks for the water,” you manage to say, your fingers brushing the cool glass.

“Anytime.” Vi leans her weight on her forearms, resting them on the counter as she tilts her head slightly, her eyes catching yours. “So, if you’re not much of a drinker, what brings you here?”

You can’t help but smile, a small laugh escaping you despite yourself. “My friend thought I needed a break from studying. Dragged me out here against my better judgment.”

“Ah… Those your friends over there?” She nods her head in a certain direction, and you follow it slowly.

You see the group you came with, some scattered by the bar spilling drinks and laughing loudly, others by booths making out and shouting over the music and the rest dancing on the dance floor. There are others, who are gathered by the jukebox, laughing and trying to figure out how to play something other than the heavy bass thundering through the speakers. One of them is gesturing wildly, clearly tipsy, while another leans against the wall, scrolling through their phone like they’re already over it.

You shake your head and smile, “Yeah…”

“Loud bunch.”

“Sorry ‘bout that… finals are coming up soon this month, so...”

She gives you a smile and says, “No need to apologize, princess. I serve you, remember?”

Another one. Princess. You were sure you probably as red as a tomato now.

“I barely know half of them...” you say, taking sip of your new glass of water.

“So, what’s your usual crowd then?” Vi asked, her eyes completely on you as she grabs a glass to wipe it down with a rag.

You shrugs, “Textbooks?”

“Well, that’s no good.”

“So I’ve heard,” you reply dryly, taking another small sip of the water she’d poured for you.

She chuckles again as if she finds your answer amusing in a way she doesn’t quite want to admit.

“I’m not exactly big on crowds either,” she says, leaning a little closer as if sharing a secret.

You raise an eyebrow, gesturing subtly to the packed room around you, where people are practically spilling over each other in their rush to the bar. “I’m not sure if I believe you.”

Vi follows your gaze, scanning the chaotic scene with a small smirk tugging at her lips.

“Fair point,” she concedes, looking back at you.

You glance at her again, curious despite yourself. She’s standing still now, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her gaze is on you, not in the sharp, observant way she’s probably used to watching the bar, but softer—almost like she’s lost in thought.

Her smile is faint, but it’s there, tugging gently at her lips, and it’s different from the teasing smirks you’ve seen so far. This one feels more… personal, like she’s mulling something over and doesn’t quite realize she’s staring.

Your stomach twists, her attention making you acutely aware of every small movement you make—the way your fingers nervously trace the condensation on your glass, the way you’re trying not to shift under her gaze.

Finally, you can’t help but ask, your voice a touch quieter than you intend, “What?”

Vi blinks, like you’ve pulled her out of a daydream, and her soft smile turns into something a little sheepish.

“Sorry…” she says, before licking her lips. “Just, uh, a bit distracted.”

Her eyes linger on you for a moment longer, as if she’s debating saying something else. Absentmindedly, she tries to trace every feature of your face with your eyes, trying to remember it.

She wanted to say something else—anything… But, fuck. You were really pretty… and it was distracting her. She also decided that she really liked talking to you—even though it’s barely been ten minutes.

But then, from down the counter, someone shouts her name—a regular by the sound of it, slurring slightly as he waves an empty glass in the air.

“Vi! Another round over here!”

Vi doesn’t move right away. Her head turns slightly in the direction of the call, but her attention snaps back to you almost immediately. She hesitates, not wanting to go anywhere.

She shifts her weight, one hand resting on the counter, her body angled toward you even as she glances down the bar.

“Be right there!” she calls back. It’s almost begrudging.

Your lips twitch into a small smile, watching the tiny battle play out on her face.

“You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” you say lightly, though there’s something a little playful in your tone.

Her eyes dart back to yours, and she huffs out a soft laugh, her hand running through her short pink hair.

“Yeah, I know,” she smiles and mutters, almost to herself, before adding softly, almost like a plea, “Call me if you need anything?”

You nod and she smiles. You watch her go, the faint blush on your cheeks lingering as you sip at the water she poured, the ice cold and refreshing.

For the first time tonight, you’re glad your friend dragged you out.

You cant stop thinking about her.

The library is silent except for the soft rustling of pages and the faint clicking of keyboards. It’s a lot more crowded here now, especially during this time of the year, and you’ve grown not to like it. You’re hunched over a stack of textbooks, a highlighter in your hand, staring down at a paragraph you’ve already reread three times. The words swim on the page, refusing to stick, as if your brain has decided it’s reached its limit.

You let out a frustrated sigh and lean back in your chair, dragging a hand through your hair. The fluorescent lights overhead feel harsher than usual, and the quiet tension of finals week is suffocating.

But it’s not just the studying—or the endless pressure of upcoming exams—that’s been messing with your head.

It’s Vi.

You’ve tried to focus, tried to immerse yourself in everything you could but every time your mind starts to settle, her face slips back in. The way her smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. The way her pink hair caught the light behind the bar. The low, teasing lilt of her voice when she called you pretty.

You groan softly, rubbing your temples. This is ridiculous. You barely know her. You’ve spent what—maybe an hour total in her presence? And yet, she’s managed to lodge herself into your thoughts so completely that it’s becoming a problem.

The highlighter in your hand falls to the desk with a muted thud, and you drop your head into your hands, your elbows resting on the textbook in front of you. You can still see the way she looked at you—softly, like she saw something in you that others hadn’t bothered to notice.

It’s infuriating, really. You’ve got finals to prepare for, and instead, your mind is full of half-replayed conversations and fleeting glimpses of pink hair, strong arms and tattoos.

The worst part? You can’t shake the feeling that she’s thinking about you, too.

It’s irrational—you know that. She’s probably forgotten all about you by now, busy serving countless other customers, flashing that same smirk at someone else.

But a part of you, buried beneath the layers of reason and logic you cling to, whispers otherwise.

You snap out of your thoughts and glance at the open book in front of you. The words blur together again, mocking your lack of focus.

With a frustrated exhale, you push the textbook aside and pull out your phone, the screen lighting up in your hand. You scroll aimlessly for a moment, debating whether you’re actually considering what your restless thoughts are urging you to do.

Should you go back? Would she even remember you?

You shake your head, trying to will away the temptation.

Finals. Study. Focus.

You tap your pen against your notebook, each click bouncing off the walls of the crowded library. It’s packed to the brim, filled with students just as desperate as you to cram as much information into their heads as possible before finals. Yet, instead of feeling motivated, all you can focus on is the cacophony—the whispered conversations that aren’t really whispers, the shuffling of papers, the faint tapping of keyboards, the occasional obnoxious laugh breaking the tension.

Your head throbs.

With a sharp sigh, you drop the pen onto the desk and lean back in your chair again, staring blankly at the high ceiling. You’ve been sitting here for hours, yet the number of notes you’ve managed to take is embarrassingly low. Nothing is sticking. You can’t focus.

It doesn’t help that your thoughts keep drifting to her.

To Vi.

You shake your head as if it’ll clear the image, but it doesn’t.

The noise of the library swells again, louder this time—a group of students a few tables down bursts into laughter, drawing glares from everyone around them. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, but it doesn’t help.

The dorm wasn’t any better. Earlier, when you’d tried to study there, the walls practically vibrated with the bass of someone’s speaker. The hallway had been filled with voices, laughter, and the unmistakable sound of another dorm party kicking off despite the looming threat of finals.

You’d lasted maybe twenty minutes before storming out, bag slung over your shoulder, hoping the library would be better.

It wasn’t.

You sit there for a moment, staring down at your open textbook and the mess of half-finished notes in front of you. The sheer impossibility of getting anything done right now feels like a weight pressing down on your chest.

Screw this.

You grab your things in one swift motion, shoving your notebook and pens into your bag with more force than necessary. The chair scrapes loudly against the floor as you stand, drawing a few annoyed glances your way. You ignore them, slinging your bad over your shoulder and walking out of the library without so much as a glance back.

The cold evening air hits you the second you step outside, sharp and bracing, but you welcome it.

You pause at the edge of the path, staring out at the quiet campus bathed in the glow of dim streetlights. You should go back to your dorm, try again, push through the noise.

But the very thought of that makes your stomach twist.

Instead, your feet carry you forward, down the path and out toward the street. You don’t have a destination in mind, but you already know where you’ll end up.

It’s not a conscious decision—it never is, really. You tell yourself you just need a break, some fresh air to clear your head. But the truth hums beneath the surface, undeniable.

You want to see her.

When your feet finally stop, the bar looms in front of you, the soft glow of its neon sign illuminating the damp pavement below. The night air is cool against your skin, a faint breeze carrying the quiet hum of traffic and chatter.

Your hands are shoved deep into the pockets of your jacket, fingers curling into the fabric as you linger just outside the door. You glance at your reflection in the window—a hoodie that hangs a little loose on your frame, jeans you’ve had for years, and shoes slightly scuffed from the walk here.

You bite the inside of your cheek, wishing you’d thought to stop by your dorm first. Maybe throw on something a little prettier. But instead, your feet had brought you straight here, as if they knew something you didn’t.

It’s almost 9 p.m., and the bar looks alive even from the outside. You can always hear the faint hum of music seeping through the walls.

You hesitate. What are you even doing here? It’s not like you have a good excuse—no friends dragging you along this time, no group to blend into. You’re alone, standing in front of a bar where you might not even be remembered.

But the thought of her pulls at you, stronger than the nerves keeping your feet planted. You’d tried to shake her from your thoughts all week, telling yourself she was just a random bartender, someone you’d probably never see again. But it hadn’t worked. Every time you sat down to study, her face would slip into your mind.

Your chest tightens as you reach for the door, your hand hovering over the handle. What if she doesn’t remember you? Or worse—what if she does, and she thinks it’s weird that you’ve come back?

You shake your head, trying to push the doubts aside. You’re here now. You might as well step inside.

With a deep breath, you pull the door open and step into the warm, dimly lit space. The scent of alcohol and faint traces of perfume hit you first.

The bar is slightly less crowded than it had been the last time, but it still carries the same energy—low lights, muted colors, and a buzz of life that makes the air feel heavier than the world outside.

You glance toward the bar, your stomach twisting when you see her. Vi is behind the counter, her pink hair catching the soft light as she leans over to pass a drink to a customer. She straightens, her expression neutral as she scans the room, and then her eyes land on you.

For a split second, her face doesn’t change, and panic spikes in your chest. Maybe she doesn’t—

Then she smiles.

It’s subtle, but it’s there—a small, warm quirk of her lips that sends your nerves scattering in a hundred directions. She holds your gaze for just a moment before returning to what she’s doing, her hands moving fluidly to pour another drink.

You let out a shaky breath, your feet carrying you closer to the bar. You slide into one of the empty stools, trying to shake off the nervous energy buzzing under your skin. The cool wood of the counter feels solid beneath your palms as you rest your elbows on it, trying to make yourself look casual.

But it’s hard to relax with your pulse pounding so loudly in your ears. You glance around the room, looking for anything to distract you from the fact that she’s here.

You’re trying not to fidget with your fingers, not to bite the inside of your lip, not to seem like you’ve been thinking about this moment for days now—trying to shake the nerves that have settled into your bones. But it’s hard when you feel her presence just behind the bar.

It doesn’t take long before you feel her eyes on you.

You glance up just in time to see Vi, mid-conversation with another customer, glance over the counter at you. And in a split second, she’s finished what she’s saying to the customer, brushing past them with an ease.

She doesn’t even seem bothered by the fact that she’s walking away mid-conversation. It’s as if she’s already decided where she needs to be.

Your pulse quickens.

You watch her approach, the way she moves is confident, the soft hum of the music surrounding her as she gets closer. Her smile is almost shy this time, like she’s not entirely sure what to say after the last time you were here. But she doesn’t hesitate.

“I was wondering when I’d see you again,” she says as soon as she reaches you, her voice low, almost teasing, with just a hint of something more.

Her words catch you off guard for a second. You shift slightly on your stool, trying to keep your cool, but you can feel the heat creeping up your neck. Her gaze is steady, not flirtatious exactly, but certainly interested, like she’s been waiting for this moment as much as you have.

You clear your throat, and even though you try to sound casual, your voice betrays you.

“I didn’t really expect to be back so soon.” The words feel like a weak excuse even as you say them.

Vi chuckles softly, leaning just a little closer as she rests her hands on the counter, her gaze never leaving you. “Not really the type to stay away for long, huh?”

There’s that spark in her eyes again, that teasing warmth that makes you wonder if she’s deliberately making you squirm.

You roll your eyes, trying to hide the nervous flutter in your chest.

“I needed a break,” you explain quickly, looking away for a moment. “Studying was driving me crazy.”

You pull your bag closer to the bar, pretending to straighten it out, but your thoughts keep slipping back to her.

Vi’s smile softens a little as she studies you, her eyes tracing your face for a moment longer than necessary. She doesn’t seem in a rush, doesn’t try to fill the space with empty words or awkward small talk.

You swallow, suddenly aware of how much closer she’s gotten, how much she’s drawn you in. There’s an easy chemistry between you, something unspoken but undeniable.

“Well,” she adds, a teasing glint in her eye as she straightens back up, “What’s your drink of choice, princess?”

You almost forget how to breathe for a second at the sudden shift in the atmosphere, your heart racing again. You take a moment to collect yourself before replying, your voice just a little quieter than usual.

“Surprise me,” you say, the words coming out with a confidence you don’t entirely feel.

Vi’s smile deepens, her eyes flashing with something a little mischievous, “Think I can manage that.”

She decides on making something light and sweet—remembering that you didn’t drink that often.

You watch her as she begins to gather the ingredients for your drink, her hands moving expertly behind the bar. The soft clink of glass bottles and the gentle hiss of the tap. You barely even realize you’re fidgeting until you catch sight of her looking back at you, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Finals week started?” She asks.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard by the question. The thought of finals feels like a weight you’ve been trying to avoid all week. The textbooks, the endless hours of studying, the fact that you’re still not feeling ready for any of it—it all hits you again in that instant. But Vi’s gaze makes it hard to focus on anything else.

For a split second, you can feel it too—the awkwardness, the nerves, the slight flutter in your chest that feels completely out of place. It’s not just her usual flirtation. This feels different somehow. She’s not the smooth bartender effortlessly working the crowd, she’s… her. And it makes your heart skip in a way you’re trying to ignore.

“Yeah, it did,” you answer, your voice quieter than you intended. You rub the back of your neck, feeling a little out of place yourself. “It’s… been a nightmare. The library’s packed, the dorm’s loud—honestly, it’s like no one even remembers that we have to actually study for this stuff.”

She raises an eyebrow, her smile never quite fading but now tinged with something a little more… uncertain. Her gaze flits between you and the drinks in front of her, and for a moment, you wonder if she’s just waiting for something to happen.

“Seems like you’re trying to avoid it,” she says softly, her tone lighter but still holding that underlying curiosity. Her voice is almost shy now, like she’s letting down the tough-girl act just a little, and it feels natural. She looks at you again, this time a little less playful and more vulnerable.

You feel something stir inside of you at her words—maybe relief, maybe the sense that she’s giving you a little window into her own world.

“Yeah, kind of,” you admit, your gaze dropping to the counter as you fiddle with the edge of your glass. You take a breath, glancing back up at her, your tone playful but also a little softer than you meant.

She’s leaning slightly over the counter, her eyes scanning the room for a moment, as though looking for your friends. When she doesn’t find them, her gaze returns to you, a small quirk of her lips tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Here alone tonight?” she asks, her tone light and soft.

You feel a small flutter in your chest, a hint of nervousness bubbling up—was she genuinely interested?

“Yeah,” you say, a little unsure, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass. “My friends are… off somewhere else.”

Vi nods slowly, that small smile still playing on her lips, and for a second, you almost feel like she’s understanding you without needing you to say much at all. She’s always been so good at reading people, it seems.

“Well, lucky for you,” she says with a wink, her tone playful but sincere, “I’m here to keep you company, then. No need to be alone if you don’t want to be.”

She leans a little closer, her voice dropping just low enough that only you can hear.

“Not that I mind the company, either.”

Her words settle in your chest, warm and easy, and for a brief moment, it feels like everything else—the noise, the people, the pressure of exams—falls away. All that’s left is the gentle pull of her attention, the way she makes you feel like you’re the only one she wants to talk to tonight.

You can’t help but smile, your nerves starting to ease.

“I like that you’re here,” you say, a little quieter now, the honesty behind your words surprising even you.

Oh.

Vi swallows the tiny lump in her throat, ears reddening at your words.

“Me too,” she says softly, her eyes meeting yours.

And then the night stretches on, the sound of clinking glasses and lively chatter filling the air, but somehow, the noise feels distant.

Vi moves between you and the rest of the bar, always managing to return to you just as you start to think she’s too busy to notice. She steps away occasionally to serve drinks, her smile never fading even when the pressure of the crowd pulls her in different directions.

Every time she returns, though, she looks at you with that same look in her eye, making you feel like you’re the only person in the room who matters. You can tell that she’s working, but there’s an ease in the way she glances over at you, as though she’s intentionally carving out space to keep you company, to make sure you’re not left alone in the bustle of the bar.

As the crowd grows louder and the night wears on, Vi seems to sense that things are getting a little out of hand. The rush of orders starts picking up, and she glances over at Mylo, a colleague of hers you’ve seen around. With a quick wave, she calls him over.

You watch as Vi leans against the bar, her body language shifting just slightly.

“Hey, Mylo, could you cover the drinks for a bit?” she asked, her tone casual, but there’s something unspoken in the way she does it. Mylo gives her a knowing glance, then nods and steps in to take over, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

Vi doesn’t waste any time.

For the rest of the night, she stays close, always coming back to check on you between serving drinks, leaning against the bar whenever she has a spare moment. Mylo helps manage the crowd, but Vi is there, always making sure you’re okay, always drawing you back into the conversation.

There’s no rush, no pressure—just an easy flow between you two, and the more time you spend with her, the next time her eyes meet yours, the way she smiled, the more you realize that this is something you’ve been craving without even knowing it.

The night slips away quietly, and when you glance at the clock on the wall behind the bar, a wave of disappointment hits you.

It’s later than you thought. You hesitate for a moment, your fingers brushing the edge of your empty glass, and then you finally say it, though it’s not what you want to say at all.

“I should, uh… get going,” you murmur, your voice quieter than you intended. You already know you’ll regret it—regret leaving this place, leaving her.

Vi’s smile falters just a little, her eyes quickly flicking to the clock too, and you see the shift on her face, like she’s come to the same realization. There’s a brief, almost imperceptible pause between the two of you as the world around you continues on, but time seems to slow as she takes a breath.

“I… didn’t realize it was that late either,” she says, her tone softer now. And for a brief second, you can almost feel the space between you close in, like neither of you really wants to say goodbye.

Then, without skipping a beat, Vi’s voice pulls you back into the present.

“Hey,” she starts firmly, like she’s made up her mind about something. “Let me walk you back.”

You blink at her, the suggestion catching you off guard. You hadn’t expected her to offer—hadn’t thought she’d even consider it. And though a little part of you wants to say yes immediately, another part of you, the shyer, more self-conscious part, hesitates.

“I don’t want to put you out,” you say quickly, though you’re not entirely sure why you feel so shy all of a sudden. “Besides, you’re working.”

It’s a simple thing, after all, a walk.

But you’d be even more alone. With her. And although that made you excited, it made you even more nervous.

Vi doesn’t give you the chance to second-guess yourself. Her smile returns, and there’s a spark of something playful in her eyes.

“It’s no trouble,” she says, her tone light but insistent. “I’m not going to let you walk back alone at this time. I don’t think I’d be able to focus without knowing you got home safe, so...”

Before you can protest again, she turns to Mylo, who’s tending to the growing crowd at the far end of the bar.

“Hey, Mylo!” she calls out, her voice carrying just enough over the noise to catch his attention. “I’m taking my break now. Be back in a bit.”

Mylo doesn’t even look up from his work, just nods in acknowledgment. “Alright, Vi,” he calls back, and you catch the playful undertone in his voice. It’s clear he knows exactly what’s going on.

Not wasting any more time, Vi grabs her jacket from behind the bar. She slips it on ace doesn’t look back at you to see if you’re ready; she just turns, giving you that soft, inviting smile.

“C’mon,” she says, her voice low and gentle, like she’s pulling you into something that feels a little outside of the ordinary, but in the best way possible.

Her words make you pause, but only for a moment. You look at her—really look at her—and something about the way she’s standing there, waiting, makes your hesitation dissolve. The warmth in her smile settles in your chest, and for the first time in a while, you realize you don’t mind the idea of the night stretching out just a little longer.

You nod, a soft smile curling at your lips.

“Okay,” you say, your voice more confident than it was a second ago.

Vi grins.

Without another word, she starts walking toward the door, holding it open for you, and you follow her out into the cold night air. The city seems quieter now, the streets not as busy, and as the two of you step into the night, the world feels a little smaller, a little more intimate—just the two of you, alone together for the walk.

You can’t help but feel your heart race just a little, but in the best possible way.

The walk to your dorm is slower than you expect, almost as if neither of you wants to rush through it. The night air is cold, the streetlights casting soft pools of light on the sidewalk. The hum of distant traffic fades into the background as you walk side by side, your pace matching each other’s, no one in a hurry.

You’re not sure what it is, but something about the silence between you feels comfortable—like there’s no pressure, just two people walking together. Vi’s steps are easy, casual, but every so often, she glances at you from the corner of her eye, as though she’s watching you without even realizing it. It’s subtle, but you catch her gaze a few times, and each time, she looks away just a fraction too late, as if she was lost in thought.

You can’t help but notice it, how her eyes linger on you, how her attention feels a little more intense than you’re used to, but it’s not uncomfortable. No, it’s the opposite, actually—it feels like she’s admiring something in you, and the idea makes your stomach flutter in a way you can’t quite explain.

Vi keeps most of the conversation light at first, teasing you about how you managed to get through the day without completely falling apart under the weight of finals. But soon enough, the banter turns into something more genuine, more personal, and you find yourself sharing little details about your life.

Vi, on the other hand, seems to enjoy telling you bits and pieces about herself. She talks about the things she’s passionate about—how bartending isn’t just a job for her, but something that gives her a connection to people and to her dad especially, how she loves the way a good drink can change someone’s mood, make them feel more at ease. She tells you about her favorite spots in the city, the places she goes when she wants to unwind or just take a break from the noise.

She mentions that she has a little sister—one that she’s so proud of with how smart she is. She has a scholarship at some other university a pretty far from here, and you can tell Vi misses her dearly.

For the entire way, Vi doesn’t stop glancing at you.

It’s soft and subtle, but you can see it, feel it—the way her eyes linger on you, tracing the lines of your face in a way that makes you feel warm from the inside out.

And for the first time in a while, you don’t mind being the center of someone’s attention. You can’t help but wonder if, in some small way, she feels the same as you.

“So, your dorm’s just up ahead, right?” Vi says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Her voice is low, and there’s a hint of something soft in it. You realize, in that moment, that this walk has felt… different.

“Yeah, just a couple more blocks,” you reply, your voice a little quieter now, feeling like the night has already given you more than you expected.

Eventually, the two of you reach the entrance of your building. It was an apartment style dorm, sitting just a few miles away from campus.

You stop for a moment, your feet lingering on the sidewalk as you take a small breath, suddenly feeling reluctant.

You don’t want it to end—not just yet.

But before you can say anything, the loud thump of music reaches your ears, coming from one of the floors above. Vi’s eyes flick up toward the building, and her brow furrows slightly as she notices the source of the noise.

“Guess the party’s already in full swing,” she murmurs, a bit of a wry smile tugging at her lips, but there’s something in her tone that’s a little amused.

“Yeah. The usual,” you say, your voice tinged with mild exasperation. You chuckle softly, rubbing the back of your neck, feeling a little embarrassed. “They don’t really care if it’s late… It can be quiet sometimes… but on rare occasions.”

Vi glances up at the building, the loud music still spilling out from one of the floors. She hesitates for a moment, then looks back at you.

“You know, uh, the bar doesn’t… open until six… I mean, the lounge opens at ten, but… no one really comes around that time,” she says, her voice quieter now, as if the suggestion she’s about to make is somehow more personal.

She glances at you again, her eyes flickering with tiny hint of nervousness.

“You could, uh, come earlier if you want some quiet… I’ll be there.”

You hadn’t expected that—hadn’t expected her to offer her own space at all. The bar, of all places.

You feel a warmth spread through you at the thought, a pull you hadn’t expected. Something about it makes your heart race a little faster, and you find yourself hesitating, uncertain if you should take the leap.

It was kind of a lousy excuse, Vi thought, but at least she’d get to see you again, instead of waiting all week to see if you’d stop by.

Though she knew she probably should’ve just asked you out on a date like a normal person, but… maybe she’d be able to see more of you this way.

“Vi, I—” you start, but you don’t really know what to say.

“You don’t have to,” she adds quickly, her voice gentle, as if she’s afraid to push too hard. “But if you’re looking for a place to study, it’s quiet in the mornings. And I promise not to be in your way. You don’t have to stay long or anything—just… if you want to, I’m there. And we could talk more, or just… not.”

The sincerity in her voice catches you off guard, and you feel a small tug at your chest.

You glance at her, meeting her eyes for just a moment, and that’s all it takes. Despite the swirl of thoughts in your head, you find yourself nodding.

“Okay,” you say, your voice steady now, though there’s a trace of something soft beneath it. “I’d really like that.”

You watch as her smile brightens, a little relieved and a little pleased, and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything, she just nods.

Vi pauses just as she’s about to turn away, a hesitant look crossing her face. For a moment, she seems to be second-guessing herself, like she’s trying to figure out the best way to say something without overstepping. Then, with a slight sheepishness that’s almost endearing, she glances back at you, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly.

“Oh, shit, I-I should probably give you my number… you know, in case I’m not there or anything,” she says, her voice a little softer, a little more self-conscious than usual. Her fingers nervously tug at the hem of her jacket, and her eyes flicker away briefly.

You can’t help but smile at the way she’s acting—this confident, capable bartender who, just moments ago, had been so cool and smooth, now hesitating as if she’s unsure whether she’s overstepping by asking for your number.

You reach for your phone, feeling a small rush of warmth in your chest.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” you say, your voice light but warm, trying to make her feel at ease.

You quickly unlock your phone and pass it to her, offering a small, reassuring smile.

Vi’s fingers brush against yours as she takes your phone, and for a second, the touch lingers. She types in her number quickly, and you catch the faintest flicker of a smile playing at the corner of her lips. She hands the phone back to you after saving her contact information and you glance down at the screen.

violet :)

“Done,” she says, her voice light again. “Just… in case you need to reach me or anything…”

Vi pulls out her phone, her fingers slightly fumbling as she unlocks it. Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and she gives you a small, almost nervous smile. You type your number into her phone in return, and when you hand it back, you make sure your fingers brush against hers just a little longer than necessary. She smiles softly when she gets her phone back, seeing the small heart you put next to your name.

“Thank you, Vi,” you say softly, feeling a little bolder now.

She grins, the playful glint in her eyes back now, “Text me… whenever.”

She lingers, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, the edges of her smile bright but just a little tight, like she’s holding something back. Her eyes meet yours, warm and soft, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

You notice the way her gaze flickers, almost imperceptibly, down to your lips. It’s quick, barely a second, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. Your heart thuds in your chest, and you wonder if she realizes how obvious she is—or maybe she doesn’t care. Either way, her attention makes your stomach flip in a way you’re not entirely prepared for.

“I should…” she begins, her voice quiet and almost reluctant. She shifts on her feet, looking down for a moment before glancing back up at you. She hesitates, like she’s searching for a reason to stay, even though she knows she can’t. “…get back to work.”

Her words are practical, but the way she says them—soft and almost regretful—makes it clear she doesn’t really want to leave.

She’s stalling, and you can tell.

For once, Vi doesn’t have that confidence she carries behind the bar. Right now, she just looks… a little unsure. A little vulnerable.

“Goodnight,” you say softly, the words gentle but carrying more weight than you intended.

Her smile widens, though it’s still tight-lipped, and she nods, her hands still buried in her jacket pockets.

“Yeah… goodnight, princess,” she echoes, her voice just above a whisper. She lingers for another second, her gaze sweeping over your face before she finally steps back.

The sound of her boots on the pavement fades as she turns and walks away, heading back down the street toward the bar.

As she disappears into the distance, you catch yourself glancing at your phone, her number now saved there, and you wonder how long you’ll be able to resist texting her. The night air feels colder without her, but the warmth she left behind lingers all the same.

Truth be told, Vi isn’t usually the one to open the bar.

That’s Mylo’s job, and it’s been that way for as long as she can remember. Surprisingly, he’s the early bird, arriving just maybe thirty before ten—always grumbling about it but showing up on time regardless, keys jangling as he flips on the lights and starts the long process of getting the place ready. It’s quiet in the morning, and it’s practically empty until the sun starts to set.

Vi’s shift doesn’t typically start until later in the evening, right when the crowd begins to build, when the air gets thick with chatter and the clink of glass. That’s her time, where she thrives: loud music, fast drinks, and tiny bit of chaos.

But as soon as Vi gets back to work that night after walking you to you back, something shifts. She heads straight behind the bar, sets her jacket down with a quickly, and finds Mylo leaning against the counter, lazily wiping down the counter like he always does. He glances up at her, one brow quirked, clearly ready to make some smart comment about her lateness and tease her about that little crush she has on you.

But before he can get a word out, she cuts him off.

“I’m opening from now on,” she says flatly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Mylo freezes mid-motion, the rag in his hand hovering over the counter. He stares at her for a moment, like he’s not sure he heard her right.

“What?” he says finally, his tone incredulous. “Since when do you wanna deal with the morning grind? You hate opening.”

“Since now,” Vi snaps, her tone sharp like she’s already decided and doesn’t care for an explanation.

Mylo narrows his eyes, leaning against the bar with a skeptical look. “You’re serious? You, of all people, wanna deal with the dead hours?”

“Yeah,” Vi says simply, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and beginning to organize the counter with quick, efficient movements. “It’s not a big deal.”

Mylo snorts, tossing the rag over his shoulder. “It is for you. You hate the quiet. You told me that yourself. Even Claggor hates the quiet.”

Vi doesn’t answer right away.

She busies herself adjusting the liquor bottles, her back turned to him as she forces herself not to think about why she’s doing this—or more accurately, who she’s doing this for. But her thoughts betray her anyway, drifting back to the way you’d looked at her tonight, soft and unsure but trusting, the way you’d smiled at her when she offered you the bar as a place to get away. The memory makes something tighten in her chest.

She finally turns back to Mylo, her face composed, her tone even.

“Just need a change of pace,” she says with a shrug, though even she knows it’s not convincing. “Besides, you could use the extra sleep.”

Mylo stares at her for another beat and squints his eyes, clearly unconvinced but too tired to argue.

“Is this about that girl you were talking with earlier?”

“No,” Vi said all too quickly, but she knows she couldn’t keep up the lie against Mylo for too long. “Maybe… Yes.”

“Why didn’t you just ask her out? Looked like she liked you enough. Plus—she literally came back to see you—“

“Just—Let me have this. If it goes sour, you can have all the free drinks you want.”

“Fine,” he says, throwing his hands up in defeat. “It’s your funeral. Just don’t come crying to me when you’re stuck listening to the same three jazz songs we have on Vander’s old jukebox.”

Vi smirks, but it’s faint, her mind already elsewhere. “Noted.”

The truth is, she doesn’t care about the mornings or the hassle of opening. All she cares about is the chance that you might show up again, walking into the bar in the early hours, looking for a place to escape the noise.

And if that means opening the doors herself, sitting in silence for a couple hours, and putting up with Mylo’s grumbling, so be it.

She doesn’t tell him any of this, though. She just gets back to work, excited for the next time she might see you.

The sunlight filters in through the thin curtains of your dorm room, soft and golden, warming your skin as you slowly wake. Your eyes blink open, the haze of sleep still clinging to you, and for a moment, you simply lie there, staring up at the ceiling.

Then, your mind drifts back to the night before.

Vi… again.

The thought of her hits you like a spark, and you feel a smile tug at your lips before you can stop it. Your chest tightens slightly, but not unpleasantly, just enough to make you feel warm all over.

Still smiling, you roll onto your side, glancing at your phone on the nightstand. The thought of texting her had crossed your mind the second you got back to your room last night, but you hadn’t been sure if you should. What would you even say?

Now, as the morning stretches ahead of you, you find yourself staring at your phone again, the nervous energy in your chest making it hard to breathe.

You pick it up, the screen lighting up instantly. And there it is.

A small notification sits at the top of your screen.

“1 new message from violet :)”

Your heart jumps, and your thumb hovers over the notification for just a second before you tap it, unable to wait any longer. The message opens, and your breath catches when you see it.

not to brag, but it’s very quiet this morning. open invitation ;)

Attached is a picture of the bar. The room is empty, save for the neat rows of chairs and the warm light spilling in from the windows. The space looks so different from the lively, chaotic energy you’d seen before—calm, inviting, almost serene. But what catches your eye most is the subtle detail in the photo: her black jacket draped over the back of one of the chairs in the corner, and a mug sitting on the counter.

She’s there, waiting.

Your heart does a little flip, and you bite your lip, staring at the message. The cheeky little smirk emoji at the end feels so quintessentially Vi, and you can almost hear the teasing lilt in her voice as you read the words again.

You’re not sure how long you sit there, staring at your phone, trying to decide how to respond. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, typing and deleting messages you’re too nervous to send. Finally, you settle on something simple, something safe.

all that space for me?

You hit send before you can overthink it, your chest fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves. Almost immediately, the little bubble indicating she’s typing pops up, and your stomach flips again.

you get special treatment, what can i say?

Her reply comes with another photo—this time, a close-up of her coffee mug on the counter, a little steam curling up from the top. In the background, you can see her hand resting on the bar, the edge of a tattoo peeking out from her wrist. It’s casual, but the fact that she took the time to send it makes your cheeks flush.

You can’t help but smile again, your heart racing as you stare at the screen. The morning, which had started so quietly, now feels electric, buzzing with the possibility of seeing her again. And as you type out your next reply, you can’t help but wonder where this might lead—and how you’ve somehow stumbled into something that already feels so much more than you expected.

You barely even remember the process of getting ready.

It was all a blur of rushing to find something cute, definitely cuter than the night before yet comfortable, sifting through your limited wardrobe for something that felt right. Even though the chill of winter was biting at the edges of the morning, you chose an outfit—layered up enough to keep warm, but nice enough to make you feel put together. You’d even spent a little more time on your hair, fixing it neatly just for Vi to see.

Now, standing in front of the bar, the nerves hit you all at once.

The quiet street around you makes the moment feel even more amplified. You glance at the entrance, the black-painted door that suddenly feels much taller, more imposing, than it had before. Your heart is pounding in your chest, the bag full of textbooks and notes hanging heavy at your side, reminding you of the excuse you gave yourself for coming here.

It’s just a quiet place to study, you tell yourself for the hundredth time, though you know it’s only half the truth.

The other half is much more difficult to admit—that you’re here for her. That something about Vi has been stuck in your head ever since she walked you home, her warm, smooth voice, the way her blue eyes lingered on you. She made your entire body flutter and you can’t help but want more of it.

You take a deep breath, clutching the strap of your bag tightly, and push the door open. The soft chime of the bell above the frame jingles lightly, and you step inside, immediately greeted by the sound of soft jazz playing in the background. The bar looks just like it had in the photo—empty, calm, and warm, bathed in the golden glow of lights reflecting off the polished surfaces.

Your eyes scan the room, and there she is.

Vi stands behind the bar, her jacket from earlier now draped over a nearby stool. She’s pouring herself a cup of coffee, her back to you at first, but as the door closes behind you, she glances over her shoulder. The moment she sees you, her face lights up with that easy smile, the one that makes your chest flutter in ways you’re not quite ready to deal with.

“Look who it is,” she says, setting her mug down and leaning casually against the counter. She folds her arms across her chest, giving you an appraising look. “Was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”

You step forward, trying to steady your breathing as you approach the bar. “Well,” you say, your voice soft but steady, “that picture you sent was pretty convincing. Had to check it out for myself.”

Vi’s smile widens, and she gestures to the empty space around you. “Guess you came to the right place, huh? It doesn’t get much quieter than this.”

You nod, trying not to fidget as you sling your bag onto one of the stools. “Yeah. Plus, you did say I’d get special treatment.”

Vi chuckles at that, her voice low and warm, “I did, didn’t I?”

She leans forward slightly, resting her elbows on the counter as she watches you unpack a few of your books.

“Something like that,” you mumble, flipping open a notebook and trying not to let her attention distract you too much. It’s easier said than done, though, especially when you feel her eyes on you, warm and curious, like she’s genuinely interested in every little thing you do.

Vi gestures toward your bag with a playful grin. “Didn’t know you’d bring your entire library with you.”

“It’s called being prepared.”

She smirks at that, but as you settle into your work, she finds herself falling quiet. Her gaze lingers on you as she leans back slightly, folding her arms.

“Go ahead and start. I’ll be here if you need anything,” she says kindly, a smile on her face that made your stomach flutter.

You thank her with a smile and a nod and the only thing Vi can think about is how cute you are.

In just a couple of minutes, you’ve focused up, skimming through a page of dense text, your brow furrowed in concentration, and Vi can’t help but notice the way your nose scrunches just a little when you hit something particularly complicated.

It’s… endearing.

She doesn’t mean to stare. Really, she doesn’t.

The jazz music playing softly in the background seems to fade into white noise as Vi lets herself get lost in the little details of you. The slope of your shoulders, the way your hair falls to the side when you tilt your head, the faint flush in your cheeks that she wonders—hopes—might have something to do with her.

She doesn’t even realize she’s staring until Mylo’s voice echoes in her head: You’re being so obvious, Vi.

She clears her throat, tearing her gaze away and reaching for the coffee mug she’d left on the counter. As she takes a sip, she glances back at you, this time trying to keep her interest a little more subtle.

You catch her staring just as you look up from your book, your eyes meeting hers for a brief moment. Vi freezes, caught, and you tilt your head slightly, raising an eyebrow.

“What?”

She blinks, quickly shaking her head and giving you a grin that’s a little too casual.

“Nothing,” she says, her tone light, though her ears flush faintly.

Then she looks down at her mug, then back up at you. She watches you as you shyly turned away, trying to mask the way your cheeks reddened under her stare. With a soft chuckle under her breath, she moves towards the edge of the bar, finally deciding to make you a cup of coffee.

She moves quietly as she works the espresso machine. The bar is silent except for the faint hum of the machine, the relaxing jazz playing in the background, and the occasional sound of you turning your pages, but her focus isn’t entirely on what she’s doing.

Instead, it keeps drifting to you. Sitting there, head bowed over your notes, and Vi can’t help but notice how different you look today compared to the last time she saw you.

You’re dressed a little nicer today—nothing too flashy, just enough that she can tell you put some thought into it. She likes it. She really likes it.

Maybe it’s the way your sweater hugs your frame a little more snugly, or how your jeans look perfectly paired with your boots. Or maybe it’s just the fact that everything about you feels intentional, like you dressed up… just for her.

Either way, it’s distracting her in the best way possible. She shakes her head slightly, trying to focus on the task at hand, but the thought keeps nudging its way back in: So pretty.

She glances at you as she pours the espresso shot into the cup, the deep brown liquid swirling into the mug. You’re chewing on the cap of a pen, your brow furrowed in concentration, and Vi feels a faint, involuntary smile tug at the corners of her mouth.

She watches closely. Too closely. She watches your lips shamelessly, wrapping your lips around the cylinder shape, biting softly on that pen, and… god, you’re just… something else.

Vi shakes her head and tries to throw the thought out of the window. It’s far too early to be thinking about you like… that.

The hot water follows, and before she knows it, the americano is ready. She sets it on the counter softly, barely making a sound, and steps back to admire her handiwork—not the coffee, but you. And maybe she’d never admit it out loud, but she could probably watch you for hours.

When you finally notice the mug in front of you, you blink up at her with a smile, a little startled.

Vi shrugs, leaning one elbow on the counter, her grin casual but her gaze lingering. “Coffee. Figured you could use it.”

Your lips quirk up slightly at her teasing, but there’s something shy in the way you glance down at the mug, your fingers brushing the edge of it.

“Thank you,” you mumble shyly, almost under your breath.

“No problem, princess.” Vi leans back, her hands sliding into her pockets as she studies you for a moment longer. You’re even prettier up close, she thinks.

After a couple minutes, Vi busies herself cleaning the counter, though her eyes flick back to you more often than she means them to. There’s something about you today that feels different… And if she’s being honest with herself, it’s driving her a little crazy—in a good way.

When Vi had her back turned for a moment, adjusting the bottles on the shelf behind the bar, it was your turn to take the opportunity.

Your eyes wandered before you could stop yourself, taking her in as she worked. She moved smoothly, easy, like she’d done this a thousand times before—and maybe she had—but it didn’t make the sight any less captivating.

You’d been trying to focus on your notes, scribbling little reminders in the margins or flipping pages as if you were actually absorbing the words.

But who were you kidding? You couldn’t concentrate. Not when Vi was right there.

Your gaze lingered on her arms first, toned and inked, muscles flexing just enough with every movement. The way she reached up to straighten a bottle, her fingers long and strong, made your thoughts blur and stutter.

And then there was her profile—the sharp angle of her jawline, the way her asymmetrical lips curved faintly even when she wasn’t smiling. That tiny quirk, one side of her top lip arched slightly higher than the other, was unfairly charming. It made her look like she was always on the edge of smirking, always holding back some witty comment.

When she turned slightly, moving to wipe down the counter again, you quickly dropped your eyes back to your notebook, pretending to read a passage you hadn’t actually taken in.

But the distraction didn’t last long. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her pick up a glass, her hands moving over it in smooth, practiced motions as she polished it to perfection. Her forearms flexed again just slightly, and you caught yourself staring again, your thoughts hazy and full of her.

Every time you looked up, there was something new to notice—the way her brows furrowed just a little when she was focused, the way her tattoos seemed to tell a story you desperately wanted to know. You liked the way her hair fell just a little out of place when she leaned forward, the way her shirt clung to her broad shoulders and the defined curve of her biceps.

You liked the way she moved, so sure of herself yet entirely unaware of just how mesmerizing she was to watch.

It was distracting, sure, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. If anything, you welcomed it.

It didn’t take long for the mornings at the bar to become your new routine.

Vi would open promptly at ten in the morning, and you’d stroll in not long after, bundled up in a jacket, a bag full of textbooks and notebooks slung over your shoulder. She’d always greet you with that soft, lopsided smile of hers, already moving to make you coffee before you even asked.

“Morning, princess,” she’d say, setting the mug in front of you with a little flourish, and you’d roll your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips every time.

You’d settle into your usual spot, unpack your books, and get to work while Vi busied herself behind the counter.

She was always within view, her quiet presence oddly comforting as you flipped through pages and scribbled notes. And she didn’t hover, not exactly, but you knew she kept an eye on you. She’d pause her cleaning or organizing to glance over, catching little glimpses of your concentrated frown or the way you tucked your hair behind your ear absentmindedly.

For you, the quiet space was perfect, and Vi’s company made it even better.

You studied through the morning, your head bent over your books, easily working and concentrating with the quiet surroundings, before eventually packing up to head to your exams in the afternoon.

One morning, though, exhaustion finally caught up with you. You’d been cramming for a couple days, running on little sleep, and your body decided it couldn’t keep up anymore.

Vi noticed you were quieter than usual, your head drooping slightly as you flipped through your notes. She’d thought about saying something but didn’t want to disturb you.

When she looked over again a few minutes later, though, she saw you slumped forward on the counter, your head resting against an open textbook. Your breathing was slow and even, your face pressed against the pages, looking completely at peace.

Vi froze for a moment, her chest tightening in a way she couldn’t quite explain. You looked… adorable, she thought, almost too perfect in that quiet, vulnerable moment. She wiped her hands on a towel absentmindedly, then glanced around the empty bar.

Unable to help herself, she moved from behind the counter and slid into the stool beside you, making sure to be quiet. She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the counter as she studied you.

The soft rise and fall of your shoulders, the way your lashes fluttered just slightly in your sleep, the curve of your lips as they parted ever so slightly—it all made her heart ache in the strangest way.

For a few long minutes, she just sat there, her head tilted slightly, watching you like she was trying to memorize every detail. She thought about waking you up, but part of her didn’t want to. You looked too peaceful, and honestly, she liked having this moment to herself.

Vi let out a soft breath, her lips curving into a small smile.

“Pretty,” she murmured under her breath, the words barely audible even to herself.

When finals week ended, you should’ve felt relief.

You’d survived the late nights, the endless notes, the last-minute cramming. But as you walked back to your apartment after your last exam, all you could feel was a gnawing worry sitting heavy in your chest.

Without exams to study for, without needing the quiet escape of the bar in the mornings, what excuse would you have to see Vi now?

Could you just… show up?

Vi had told you plenty of times that you were welcome there whenever. But it felt different now, like you were losing the one solid reason you had to sit in that quiet space while Vi worked behind the bar.

The thought made you slow your steps, your bag of textbooks feeling heavier than it had all week.

You’d fallen into a rhythm with her—those soft, peaceful mornings where she’d make you coffee without asking, tease you gently when you got too absorbed in your books, and being in her presence made you feel more grounded than you’d ever been.

Now that the routine was gone, you weren’t sure where that left you.

You tossed your bag onto your bed and flopped down beside it, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe I’ll still go to the bar tomorrow morning, you thought, trying to reassure yourself. But doubt crept in immediately. Would she think it was strange if you kept coming back without a reason? Would it seem like you were lingering too much, too long?

You rolled over, burying your face in the pillow as the worry churned in your mind. You couldn’t deny how much you liked being around her—how much you liked… well, her. The idea of not seeing her felt almost unbearable.

With a groan, you sat up and pulled your phone from your pocket. You stared at the screen, thumb hovering over Vi’s contact name.

You’d only messaged a few times before—mostly her checking in, asking if you’d made it back to your apartment safely. The thought of starting a conversation now made your stomach twist nervously.

But you wanted to see her. Needed to, even.

You tapped out a message and then erased it.

Then another.

Then erased that too.

What were you supposed to say? Hey, finals are over, but can I still come to the bar and stare at you for hours like a hopeless idiot? Stupid.

Finally, you set your phone down with a sigh, running your hands through your hair. Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe she was thinking about you too, wondering if she’d still get to see you now that finals week was done.

But for a while, you stayed away.

Not because you didn’t want to go back—you wanted to more than anything—but the thought of walking into that bar now made your chest tighten with nerves.

The thought embarrassed you, enough that you buried yourself in other things—laundry, tidying your dorm, even a quick grocery run you didn’t really need. Anything to avoid confronting the growing ache in your chest that whispered how much you missed her already.

You told yourself you’d go tomorrow. Then tomorrow came, and you put it off again.

But those days dragged.

The emptiness of your mornings felt heavier than you expected, and the thought of Vi kept slipping into your mind no matter how hard you tried to focus on anything else.

Here, it felt hollow, like something was missing. And you knew exactly what it was.

By the second night, you were pacing your room, staring at your phone every few minutes, wondering if you should just message her. You groaned at yourself, flopping onto your bed and tossing your phone to the side.

It was ridiculous. You wanted to see her. You liked seeing her. So why was it so hard to just show up?

It was the knock on your door that snapped you out of your restless thoughts. You opened it to find Maddie standing there, already halfway dressed up, her hair curled and makeup done. She grinned at you, that mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned against the doorframe.

“Get dressed,” she said without preamble. “We’re celebrating. We deserve to let loose a little.”

You hesitated for half a second, your mind immediately jumping to Vi and that bar. “Where exactly are we going?”

Maddie smirked. “The Last Drop, obviously.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you tried to play it cool, shrugging like you didn’t care either way. “Oh, back there again?”

“Hell yeah,” she said, already pushing her way into your dorm. “C’mon, don’t make me drag you. Get dressed. No excuses.”

For the first time in two days, you felt a rush of anticipation—nerves, yes, but excitement too. You couldn’t deny it anymore. You wanted to see Vi.

And maybe going with Maddie and the others would make it easier. Less pressure, less obvious that you were showing up just to see her.

So you jumped at the opportunity, rifling through your closet while Maddie lounged on your bed, offering unhelpful commentary about your choices. Eventually, you settled on something nice—a pretty dress, stockings, a coat to match.

“You clean up well,” Maddie teased as you slipped on your shoes.

You flushed, ignoring her as you grabbed your bag and jacket. It was cold outside, but you’d still made an effort—a bit of mascara, a touch of lipstick, enough to feel put-together.

But as you walked toward the bar, the nerves came creeping back.

The neon sign of the bar glowed in the distance, and your chest tightened as you stepped closer. The thought of seeing Vi again made your heart race, but you shoved the nerves down.

As soon as you stepped through the door of the bar, you could feel the atmosphere shift. It was quieter tonight, but still filled with the familiar hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the low buzz of the jukebox in the corner.

Your eyes automatically darted to the bar, hoping—no, praying—that you might catch sight of her.

And then Maddie’s voice broke through your thoughts, loud and unmistakable.

“Hey, over here!”

You turned to see her waving enthusiastically at a booth toward the back of the bar. A few of her friends were already there, but what caught your attention wasn’t a group. It was the other two people sitting at the table, one of them leaning back with a casual air, a drink in hand, the other staring at you like they were expecting you.

You froze for a moment, your heart sinking. Your gaze flickered between Maddie and the table, noticing her bright, mischievous smile. She’d set you up.

You forced a smile, suddenly feeling out of place. “Uh, Maddie…?”

Your stomach dropped. A double date?

“This is Chris,” she interrupted, pointing at the guy sitting next to you. He smiled widely, practically leaning over the table as he extended his hand.

You hesitated for a moment, still processing the situation. “Uh… hi.”

“We thought you two would hit it off,” Maddie added, as though she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on you.

“Yeah, you know, I take Professor Talis’ class, right?” Chris said, his voice a little too eager. “We’ve had a couple of group discussions before.”

You offered a polite smile, not quite sure what to make of him. You weren’t even sure how to respond to the whole situation.

Was this supposed to be a date? You’d come to the bar to see Vi—not this.

You glanced around, your eyes scanning the familiar faces behind the bar, hoping to see her. And there, at the counter, you finally spotted her.

Vi.

Chris kept talking, his voice a constant buzz in the background as you tried to nod politely, throwing in an occasional “mhm” or “yeah” just to keep the conversation moving.

But your attention wasn’t on him. It wasn’t on anything other than Vi.

You saw her again, and this time, it wasn’t a subtle glance. Vi had noticed you, her gaze locking onto you from across the room. Her eyes moved briefly over your face, taking you in, before they shifted downward—her gaze narrowing slightly as she looked at Chris, who was still talking to you like everything was normal.

Your breath caught in your throat when you saw her brow furrow, just enough to let you know she was confused.

There was something in the way she looked at you, something almost possessive, like she couldn’t quite figure out what was going on but she knew for a fact that she didn’t like it. She stood still for a moment, fingers wrapped around the edge a glass as she studied you.

For a second, you wondered if it was just your imagination, but then it clicked. Vi was jealous.

You hadn’t noticed before, but now you saw the little tension in her posture, the way her lips pressed together just slightly, the way her gaze flicked back to you every time he leaned in a little too close.

Chris, oblivious to well… everything, kept talking, his voice rising a little as he continued to try and make small talk.

You had no idea what he’d said because all you could hear was the beat of your heart in your ears, and the undeniable pull of Vi’s gaze on you. It was like she was silently challenging you, wanting to see what you’d do.

You glanced back over to Vi, who was still watching you, but now she was pretending to be busy with something—towels, or glassware, or whatever it was that could distract her from the situation.

You saw her glance down at her phone for a second, and you could almost feel her trying to decide whether or not to come over, to approach you, to do something to get your attention.

But instead of doing that, she lingered behind the bar, still looking at you—her expression unreadable now. And as much as you tried to focus on the conversation in front of you, your mind kept drifting back to her. You didn’t care about him anymore. You didn’t care about anything except the way Vi looked at you just now.

Your eyes slid back to Vi, and this time, you didn’t look away. You didn’t try to hide how you felt.

On the other side of the room, Vi’s eyes were locked on you, even though she tried to focus on the tasks in front of her.

She couldn’t help herself, a sense of possessiveness building in her chest. She wondered if you had dressed up like that for him. The guy you’d been sitting with, the one talking a mile a minute, clearly trying to impress you.

Vi’s stomach twisted, and she found herself gripping the counter a little too tightly as she watched you.

God, you looked so good. Vi’s chest tightened at the thought. She tried to focus on cleaning the counter in front of her, but the image of you with him—of you dressed up for him—kept invading her mind.

She wanted it to be her you were dressed up for. She wanted it to be her who got your attention, who you couldn’t stop thinking about.

She couldn’t do this.

She had to look away, had to force herself to breathe, because it was all getting too much.

With a frustrated sigh, Vi wiped her hands on a towel and excused herself, slipping through the back of the bar and into the staff area. She didn’t care if anyone noticed. She just had to get out of there.

She slammed the door behind her, pressing her back against it as she took a deep breath. Her heart was racing, and her mind was spinning. She had no idea what this was, what you were doing to her.

But the thought of you with someone else, the thought of you not being hers, made her ache in a way she wasn’t ready for.

She rubbed her face with both hands, trying to shake the frustration from her body. She tried to steady herself, taking in a few deep breaths as she stared at the floor. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way. She wasn’t supposed to be jealous.

But she wanted you.

And the more she thought about it, the clearer it became.

Vi’s heart skipped a beat when she heard the knock on the staff room door.

She’d half expected it to be Mylo, probably ready to give her a hard time for disappearing off the floor. He always seemed to have a knack for knowing when she was brooding in the back, and she was sure he’d have something to say about it.

But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Mylo.

It was you.

You stood there in the doorway, hesitant, but with that soft look on your face. You looked so damn good up close like this—like you had stepped out of a dream. Vi’s chest tightened, and she swallowed hard.

You looked at her for a moment, unsure of what to say, and then, in a voice that was soft, you say, “I thought… I thought you might be back here.”

She stood still for a second, just staring at you, unsure of how to handle the fact that you had found her.

“Uh, sorry if I—” You paused, glancing down at your shoes like you weren’t sure how to proceed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to, I don’t know, check in.”

“You’re not interrupting. I just—“ Vi stepped back to let you in, closing the door behind you. “—needed to take a break.”

She leaned against the door, keeping her distance, unsure if you’d notice how much she was trying to keep her guard up.

The silence stretched between you two, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt… intimate in its own way.

You were quiet too, glancing around the small room, but eventually, your eyes fell to her again. Vi noticed the way your gaze lingered on her, and she couldn’t help but feel the heat rise to her face.

Her breath caught in her throat for a second, but she quickly brushed it off, trying to focus on the conversation, trying not to get lost in the way you looked at her.

“You didn’t come back… when your tests were over…” Vi’s voice dropped quieter, a little hesitant, like she wasn’t sure how to ask the question.

She hadn’t seen you in a while, and it made her question everything.

The words hung between you, and Vi shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flickering away for a moment, focusing on something in the corner of the room.

She didn’t want to look too eager, too desperate. But the truth was, she had been thinking about you. Every minute of the day. And when she didn’t see you, when she didn’t hear from you, it made her feel like maybe she wasn’t as important to you as she had thought.

She didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but the words had slipped out. Vi cleared her throat, turning back to you.

“I thought… I thought maybe I’d see you again, but… you didn’t come back.” Her voice softened again.

Did you want to come back? Had she somehow messed things up by letting herself feel this much for you? Vi couldn’t keep the questions from creeping into her mind, even though she tried to push them away.

“You didn’t even text,” she said quietly, her voice softer now, almost a whisper.

You blinked, surprised by the sharpness in her voice, the way it cut through the silence that had been so comfortable just a moment ago. You could see it in her eyes—something in the way she said that, something fragile.

It made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t meant to distance yourself from her. You just… didn’t know what to say.

“I… I didn’t mean to disappear,” you said quietly, your voice soft and unsure. You shifted your weight, glancing down at your feet, before looking up again. “It’s just, I was nervous about coming back without having a solid reason to, and I thought maybe, you know…”

Vi’s gaze softened, the intensity in her eyes giving way to something more tender. She tilted her head slightly, studying you.

“Nervous?” she repeated quietly, as if testing the word. Her brow furrowed slightly. “About what?”

You swallowed, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress, trying to find the right words. It felt strange, admitting it aloud, but with Vi in the room with you, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“About… you,” you said, the confession slipping out before you could stop it. “About all of this… about seeing you again, about how I feel when I’m around you… I didn’t want to mess it up.”

Vi’s heart skipped a beat at your words. Her breath caught for a fraction of a second.

“It’s just…” she started again, her voice a little rough. “I missed seeing you. That’s all.”

Her gaze shifted to the floor for a moment, a faint flush creeping up her neck. She wasn’t used to admitting this kind of thing aloud either, not even to herself. But there it was, spilling out between you two like something she couldn’t stop.

You felt your heart tug at the honesty in her voice, the way it made you feel like maybe you hadn’t been the only one thinking about this.

“I missed you, too.”

And for the first time tonight, Vi finally smiled.

You couldn’t help but tease her, a small smirk curling at the corners of your lips as you said, “I was waiting for you to text me, too, you know.”

The words felt bold, but you couldn’t hide the nervous excitement bubbling up inside of you.

Vi dropped her head and let out a breathy chuckle. The jealousy, the frustration, everything she’d been feeling earlier—it seemed to vanish completely.

She leaned back against the door, her eyes never leaving yours, full of something far gentler now—something you hadn’t seen before, or at least not like this.

“Can you come here?” she asked, her voice soft, almost like a whisper, but there was something in it that made the air in the room thick.

You hesitated for just a moment, heart pounding in your chest, but you couldn’t resist. Slowly, you walked over to her, your movements measured, though a nervous excitement fluttered in your stomach.

Vi’s eyes never left you as you approached. She watched the way your dress moved with each step, the way your body shifted as you walked toward her, and it drove her absolutely wild. She couldn’t help but let her eyes linger, taking in the sight of you, the way the fabric clung to your curves.

By the time you were close enough, Vi had already moved. She leaned against the door, her hands coming up to gently but firmly grip your hips, pulling you in closer. You felt the heat of her touch spread through you, her hands on your hips guiding you so that you were now flat against her chest, your bodies pressed together.

You couldn’t stop the breath that caught in your throat, the feel of her hands on you sending a wave of heat rushing through your body.

You could feel the rhythm of her breathing, the slight hitch in it when you finally stood there, so close. Her gaze flickered down to the dress you were wearing, and you could feel the tension in her fingers as she lightly traced the hem of it, playing with the fabric as though she couldn’t quite get enough of it.

“I like this,” Vi’s voice was quiet, almost a murmur, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s pretty.”

You didn’t say anything at first, instead simply meeting her gaze, your pulse quickening under her touch. The way she looked at you now, hungry and dazed, made your stomach flip in the best way.

“I… I wasn’t sure if it was too much,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, feeling a little shy but also emboldened by the way Vi was looking at you.

Vi smiled softly, her lips curving up as she leaned in just a little bit closer, her breath warming your cheek.

“It’s perfect,” she said, voice low, as if the words were meant only for you. “You look perfect.”

Her eyes darkened just a fraction, the playful smirk on her lips transforming into something more primal, more feral. Her hands on your hips tightened just a little, urging you closer, as if she couldn’t get close enough.

Vi’s gaze was heavy, her pupils dark and blown wide as they locked onto your face, moving slowly down to your lips. Her stare was intense—shameless, even—and it made your breath hitch.

Her grip on your hips tightened, fingers pressing firmly into your sides. The fabric of your dress bunched up under her hands, her thumbs brushing against the soft material as though she couldn’t help herself. Her touch was slow, almost like she was trying to memorize the feeling of you under her palms.

You could feel the heat radiating off her, the space between you almost nonexistent now. The way her gaze lingered on your lips sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt rooted to the spot, as if moving would break whatever spell had settled over the two of you.

Vi swallowed hard, her Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, her hands twitching against your hips as though resisting the urge to pull you impossibly closer. Her chest rose and fell in time with her quickened breathing, and you could feel her struggle to keep herself in check, though the way she stared at you made it clear how difficult that was.

Instead, her fingers tightened again, the slight pull of your dress drawing you even closer to her. Her lips parted slightly, as if she were on the verge of saying something, but her gaze kept flickering back to your mouth, and you wondered if words were even necessary.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but before you could form a single word, Vi moved. Her grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your dress as she leaned in and claimed your lips with her own.

Her mouth was warm, soft but insistent, and it stole the breath right out of your lungs. You froze for half a second, startled, but then everything in you melted. Your hands found their way to her shoulders, gripping her lightly as she pulled you even closer, pressing your body flush against hers.

There was a kind of hunger in the way her lips moved against yours, but it was careful too—like she wanted to take her time and savor every second of it. Her fingers slid up your sides slightly, still gripping your dress, her thumbs brushing over your waist as she tilted her head to deepen the kiss.

When she finally pulled back, just barely, her forehead rested against yours. She was breathless, her eyes still heavy-lidded as they locked onto yours. Her hands were still on your hips, holding you against her.

Vi looks at you, a wide, soft smile spreading across her face as she leans her head back against the door, her hands moving upward, tracing the curve of your back slowly. Her fingertips brush against the zipper of your dress, playing with it absentmindedly as she lets out a breathy laugh.

“I think I’m doing this out of order…” she murmurs.

Your brows knit together slightly, still dazed from the kiss.

“Out of order?” you echo, your voice quieter than you intended.

Vi nods, her gaze drifting back to your lips as if they we drawn there magnetically.

Her smile turns almost sheepish, but the heat in her eyes doesn’t fade as she mutters quietly, “Yeah… ‘was supposed to ask you out on a date first.”

The words make your stomach flip, and before you can respond, she keeps going. Her voice softens, a little lower, as if she’s painting a picture just for you.

“I would’ve asked you where you’d like to eat… something casual, nothing too fancy. Then I’d pick you up, you’d wear something pretty for me, and I’ll take you somewhere nice. Not here,” she says with a small grin, “somewhere quiet, somewhere where I could actually talk to you without interruptions.”

Her hands are wandering now, sliding slowly down your sides, then up again, the warmth of her palms seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. One of her thumbs brushes against your ribcage, close to the underside of your breasts, her touch gentle but enough to make your breath hitch.

You’re barely holding onto her words as her hands move, but she keeps talking, her tone calm and almost hypnotic.

“Maybe, take you to this little Italian place I like. Not too crowded, but the food’s incredible. Candlelit, y’know? Not to be cheesy, but I think you’d like it.”

Her hands drift down again, her thumbs skimming along the curve of your hips as she keeps her voice low and steady.

“We’d get some wine—unless you’d rather have water, of course,” she teases softly, her lips twitching into a smirk, “and then we’d just… talk. No distractions, no noise, just you and me.”

Her fingers glide back up, tracing the line of your spine.

“After dinner, maybe a walk somewhere. I dunno, a park, the waterfront… wherever you’d want to go. Just somewhere I could hold your hand and maybe steal a kiss, if you let me.”

You try to focus on her voice, but her hands are relentless, mapping your body like she’s trying to memorize every inch. Your breath catches when her fingers tease the short sleeve of your dress, her thumb brushing your shoulder.

“Then,” she continues, her eyes flicking to yours, “I’d walk you home, make sure you got inside safe. And maybe… maybe if I was lucky, you’d ask me to come in and... Well, I don’t wanna spoil it.”

Her lips curve into a lazy smile, her fingers halting just above the small of your back.

“That’s how it was supposed to go,” she says softly, her voice dripping with affection as her gaze locks onto yours.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your body warm and your mind spinning. It’s impossible to think straight when her hands are on you, her voice so low and inviting.

“So why haven’t you?” you ask softly, your voice almost a whisper.

You lean in closer, and Vi instinctively follows your lips, her breath brushing against them.

“Hm?” she hums, clearly distracted, her gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips.

“—asked me out yet?” you finish, your voice trembling slightly, the boldness of the question surprising even you.

Vi freezes for a fraction of a second, then her lips tug into a small, almost bashful smile. Without saying a word, she leans in and kisses you again, soft and lingering, her lips fitting against yours. After a moment, her mouth leaves yours only to trail a path down to your jaw, her lips brushing against your skin.

She pauses at the curve of your neck, pressing a slow kiss there before muttering against your skin, her voice husky and low, “You make me nervous, too.”

You feel her lips curl into a smile against your neck, like she knows exactly what kind of effect she’s having on you. Her hands tighten slightly on your waist, holding you as if she can feel the way your legs are threatening to give out beneath you.

You tilt your head slightly, giving her better access without even thinking, and she takes full advantage of it. Her breath is warm against your skin, and every kiss feels like it’s melting away whatever distance was left between the two of you.

“Vi…” you murmur, unsure if you’re trying to stop her or encourage her to keep going.

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her lips slightly parted, her cheeks faintly flushed.

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice quiet.

You don’t have an answer, not one you can articulate anyway. All you can do is stare at her, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure she can hear it. And then she smiles, a crooked, endearing smile that makes your stomach flutter in the best way.

Vi’s lips return to your neck, her breath warm against your skin. She lingers there, her mouth pressing gentle kisses to the curve of your throat, her hands holding your waist firmly as if to steady you. You feel her lips part, the faintest scrape of her teeth against your skin sending a shiver down your spine.

“V-Vi…” you whimper again, but your voice lacks conviction, too soft, too dazed.

And good god, her name sounds so good on your lips.

She hums in response, low and teasing, as her lips close over the sensitive spot she’s found, sucking lightly. The sensation sends a shiver through your entire body, and you grip the fabric of her shirt without thinking, your nails pressing into her shoulders as she kisses your neck.

Her hands slide up your back, keeping you close, and her lips move to a new spot, determined to leave another mark. You know you should stop her, that you’ll be left with marks you can’t easily explain, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Her tongue traces over the freshly made hickey, soothing it before she moves lower, her lips brushing against your collarbone now. You feel lightheaded, completely consumed by her—her touch, her warmth, her scent, her hands, her lips.

“Vi…” you try again, but it comes out weaker than before, more like a plea than a protest.

She chuckles softly against your skin, the sound low and rumbling, and you feel her smile.

“Too much?” she asks playfully, though she doesn’t pull away.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Instead, your fingers tighten against her shirt, and she takes it as permission to continue. Her lips find the hollow of your throat, her teeth grazing against the delicate skin there before she sucks lightly, her hands roaming lower to rest just above your hips.

By the time she finally pulls back, you’re breathless, your head spinning. Her lips are slightly swollen, her smile smug but tender as she looks at you.

“You’re gonna hate me when you see those,” she says softly, her fingers brushing lightly against your neck where her lips had been.

As soon as Vi pulls back, her lips curling into that smug, tender smile, you don’t think. You act. You grab her collar, pulling her down as you surge up to meet her lips, kissing her hard and desperate, pouring every pent-up feeling into that kiss.

Vi grunts softly against your mouth, low and rough, and it sends a thrill down your spine. Her hands, still gripping your waist, tighten possessively to keep you exactly where you are. You feel her smile against your lips for a moment before she kisses you back just as fiercely, her teeth grazing your bottom lip, her tongue brushing against yours in a way that makes your knees weak.

It’s almost overwhelming, the way she kisses you—like she’s been starving for you.

She breaks the kiss just long enough to push herself off the door, her hands sliding to your hips as she turns you around. Before you can even process what’s happening, your back hits the door with a soft slam, the wood rattling slightly behind you. Vi’s hands cage you in, one hand by the side of your head and the other on your hip, keeping you in place as she crashes her lips back onto yours.

She kisses you like she’s claiming you, like she wants to make it crystal clear who you belong to. Her heart swells with pride as she imagines that guy you were with outside, seeing all those little bruises she left on your neck for everyone to see.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” Vi murmurs against your lips, her voice hoarse and ragged, before diving back in.

Her fingers slide underneath the hem of your dress, tracing the soft curve of your skin, sending a shiver up your spine. The moment her touch makes contact with the bare skin of your thighs, you gasp, the feeling of her fingers inching higher and higher, making your pulse race.

You can feel the way she presses in, her grip firm, as if she’s marking territory, staking her claim. She wanted you so bad. But she’s careful with you, and you can feel how she’s holding herself back just a little, the restraint making you ache for more. You know she wants you just as much as you want her—and you can’t help but be drawn deeper into her orbit.

Her hands reach up under your dress, the pads of her fingers tracing your lace panties and Vi shudders at the feeling. She can feel the dampness and warmth of you already and fuck, it drives her absolutely wild.

“You’re already wet, sweetheart,” she says, smiling against your neck proudly.

“V-Vi… Here?” You gasp into her ear.

She nods eagerly, eyes dazed as she looks at you, “Mhm.”

“B-But, someone might hear—“

“Then, you’ll keep quiet for me, won’t you, princess?” She purrs into your ear. “Can you do that?”

Your breath hitches at the way she says it, making your knees feel weak. You feel her smile against your skin, a sly curve of her lips that tells you she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

“Hmm?” she hums, her thumb rubbing the center of your panties in soft circles, testing your reaction. She tilts her head slightly to catch your gaze. “Or are you gonna make it hard for me?”

You swallow, your heart pounding as you meet her gaze, your lips parting to answer, but nothing comes out. Instead, you nod, your breath hitching as her thumb presses your clit over the fabric of your panties.

She smiles, one hand coming up to fondle your breast. You whimper when she squeezes softly, enjoying the soft fullness in the palm of her hands.

“Tell me.”

You get lost in her stare, blue eyes telling you how much she wants you.

“I-I want you, Violet.”

Without wasting another second, Vi slips the hand that was under your dress and into your panties, her fingers immediately coming in contact with your soaking cunt, your folds slick with want. She hums in approval, and all you can do is nod again, biting down on your lip to keep from making a sound. Vi notices, her smirk widening as she leans in again, her lips trailing down your neck in a series of soft kisses.

“That’s my girl,” she whispers, her voice vibrating against your skin, making it impossible to focus on anything but her.

And when she slips a finger inside, you drop your head to her shoulder, trying to muffle your moan. Her finger immediately curls against your tight walls and you can feel your knees buckle as she thrusts her finger into you.

“Oh, V-Vi—“

She lifts her head up and kisses you on the lips, her tongue slipping inside with ease. She swallowed your moans as she whimpered into your mouth, her body trapping you between her and the door.

“You look… so good,” she murmured, voice hushed, her lips grazing your skin as she spoke. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

But then she adds another finger without any warning, her pace speeding up as you leaned your head back against the door behind you. You let your jaw fall when you feel her thrusting, and thrusting, and thrusting, and curling right into that spongy spot inside your pussy that made you moan.

“N-nh … A-Ah, fuck!” You gasp, unable to control your voice as she speeds up her fingers.

“Shh, shhhh, baby,” she murmurs against your lips, tilting her head as she watches you fall apart on her fingers. “Does it feel good, princess?”

“M-Mhm—ah—“

“Yeah?” You feel Vi smile on your lips.

Nodding your head, you whine, feeling your body grow weak the longer she fucked you.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs against your neck, her voice low and husky.

Her fingers move quickly as they piston in and out of you, a soft squelching noise filling the empty room, teasing and testing your boundaries, gauging every reaction you give her. You could hear the low thrum of the music outside, playing in the lounge and in the bar, but you can barely begin to think about anything else other than the way Vi was making you feel, the way you were coming undone right in front of her.

“Look at you,” she whispers, her voice thick with adoration, “so pretty like this.”

Her free hand, the one that was fondling your tits, moves from your waist to cradle your face, her thumb brushing over your cheek as she leans in to kiss you deeply.

And holy fuck, you could feel it—how close you suddenly were.

You were sure Vi could feel it, too. She groans against your neck, head falling to your shoulder as she breathes you in, feeling your tight walls clench around her digits. You close. You were so damn close—

Then, Vi’s ears twitch—the sound of footsteps coming closer from behind the door.

She freezes. But only for a brief moment when she hears Mylo’s voice through the door, her body going taut as she glances at you. Your eyes widen, but Vi doesn’t pull away. Instead, a sly grin spreads across her face, her pupils blown wide as she looks at you.

Her lips find your ear, her words sending a shiver down your spine. “Stay quiet for me, yeah?”

And instead of stopping, her lips curl into a mischievous grin. Her fingers don’t falter, if anything she thrusted them faster into your wet pussy, her other hand moving quickly to cover your mouth as a quiet whimper escapes you, muffling all your delicious moans. You whimper against her mouth, eyes rolling back, not sure when you were going to cum. You felt so close—so fucking close.

“Shhh,” she whispers, her mouth brushing against your ear, her voice low and dripping with amusement.

From the other side of the door, Mylo’s voice comes again, confused but unconcerned. “Vi? You in there? You good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she calls out, her voice steady, calm, like nothing at all is happening. “Just… needed a minute.”

You feel your face heat up as you struggle to stay composed, muffled against her palm, your eyes wide and pleading. But Vi’s gaze is locked onto yours as she continues to fuck you.

“Well, can you hurry up? The bar’s getting packed,” he says.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll be there!” Vi sighs as your legs begin to tremble.

Mylo grumbles something you can’t understand, footsteps retreating as he wanders off.

As soon as the sound of his steps fades, Vi lets out a low chuckle, finally removing her hand from your mouth. Her thumb brushes against your lips as she leans in close, her breath fanning your cheek. You were right around her fingers, and Vi couldn’t help but groan and press her thumb against your clit.

You jolt in her arms as you hold on to her shoulders for some leverage, trying to keep yourself steady, even though it felt like an impossible task. Vi groans when you clench, your soaking wet pussy dripping down your thighs, dripping onto her hand as she fingers you.

Vi could feel it on her fingers, slick and tight. How close you were—fuck fuck fuck. She moved faster and all you could do was hold on and cry into her shoulder.

“V-Vi, I—close—I’m—“

“You wanna cum? Yeah?” Vi whispers, using her body to press you against the door, fingers thrusting harder, deeper and faster. “Cum for me, baby.”

Then it crashes. Vi feels your body tense under her touch, your breaths coming faster as you gush around her fingers. She can see it in the way your hands clutch at her shoulders, the way your head tilts back slightly, lips parting as a soft, desperate mewl escapes your mouth.

But before that sound can grow louder, Vi’s lips crash onto yours, swallowing the moan that tries to escape. She doesn’t stop her fingers until you’re trembling in her arms. You melt against her, your body trembling, leaving you breathless and clinging to her, her strong arms and broad shoulders hold you up. Vi doesn’t pull back, keeping her lips on yours until she’s sure you’re done riding it out.

When she finally does break the kiss, her lips linger close, her forehead resting gently against yours. You’re panting softly, and she’s just smiling.

“Fuck,” she murmurs and you can feel her smirk against your skin as she presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Vi’s hand slows to a stop, pulling her fingers out of you slowly, her palm pressing flat against your thigh as she watches you. Her gaze is stuck on you, like she couldn’t believe what she’s seeing. The way your body trembles against hers, the soft flush of your cheeks, the way your lips part as you gasp for breath—it’s all too much and somehow not enough at the same time.

Her chest tightens as she leans her head forward against your shoulder. Vi wasn’t prepared for this—wasn’t prepared for you. And the thought crashes into her like a freight train: she’s falling hard. Maybe she already has.

She lifts her head up and he thumb absentmindedly brushes against your skin as you catch your breath. You’re leaning against her now, your head resting lightly on her shoulder, still dazed and glowing after your orgasm. Vi doesn’t even realize she’s staring, her lips slightly parted, her pupils blown wide with love.

She blurts it out without even thinking.

“So… dinner… Friday?”

Her ears burn as she watches for your reaction.

“I mean—” she starts, her voice faltering, unsure whether to backtrack or double down.

But when she glances down at you, still pressed against her, all she can do is grin sheepishly.

“You’re seriously asking me out… right now?” you say, lifting an eyebrow at her. Your voice is soft and teasing, but still a little breathless from everything that just happened.

Vi’s lips curl into a crooked grin, and she lets out a laugh that’s equal parts nervous and amused. She’s holding you up slightly, biceps flexing under her shirt, her hands resting lightly on your hips, her thumbs grazing the fabric of your dress like she’s afraid to let go.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice low but steady, her grin widening. “Is that a problem?”

You shake your head, narrowing your eyes at her like you’re trying to figure her out. You dart your eyes downward, glancing down at where her hands are on you, feeling the warmth of her touch through the thin fabric.

“Stupid,” you mutter under your breath.

You stare at Vi.

“Friday?” you ask softly, tilting your head slightly, your voice teasing her.

Vi nods again, more earnestly this time, her lips parting like she’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. Instead, she just looks at you, like she’s this big, lovesick puppy. And, if she had a tail right now, you’re pretty sure it would be wagging hard enough to knock over a chair or two.

“Friday,” she repeats.

She shifts on her feet slightly, her hands still resting on your hips, thumbs brushing tiny circles against the fabric of your dress. You bite back a laugh, your smile growing as you watch her, all nervous and excited.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vi’s entire face lights up, her crooked grin spreading so wide it makes her dimples appear.

“Yeah?” she says softly, and you nod, still smiling.

And then she stops, her eyes flickering to your lips one last time, but she doesn’t move any closer.

She’s waiting—patiently, sweetly—for you to close the gap if you want to. And it makes your heart ache a little because she’s trying so hard to hold herself back for your sake, even when you can tell it’s killing her.

But as soon as your eyes day to her lips and smile softly, her restraint crumbles. She leans in and kisses you, her hands tightening slightly on your hips. Vi’s heart feels like it’s about to burst out of her chest. She likes you—so much it scares her, so much she doesn’t know what to do with herself right now except kiss you harder.

You kiss her back with just as much intensity, your fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt to pull her even closer. You can feel the slight tremor in her hands where they grip your hips, sliding up slowly to your waist. She tastes like peppermint gum and something faintly sweet, and the way she kisses you makes your heart race so fast you’re surprised she can’t feel it through your chest.

Vi pulls back for just a moment, her forehead resting against yours as she exhales a shaky breath. Her lips are still parted, her eyes half-lidded as she looks at you, and she’s smiling—wide and boyish and so full of joy that it makes your chest tighten.

“I really, really like you.”

You laugh softly, your hand moving up to touch her jaw, your thumb brushing over her cheek where her tattoo is.

“I really, really like you, too,” you tease, your own voice a little shaky from how lightheaded you feel.

Vi grins, her dimples showing, and then she kisses you again, this time slower, softer, like she’s savoring it.

You cant think of anything else but her. The noise from the bar, the memory of whatever brought you here tonight—it’s all drowned out by the feeling of Vi’s lips on yours and the warmth of her hands on your waist.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself stop overthinking.

Vi feels like she’s floating, her chest so full it feels like she might burst. She likes you so much it almost hurts, and the way you kiss her back like you feel the same way makes her head spin. She pulls you just a little closer, her fingers slipping around your waist, and she can’t stop the quiet, breathless laugh that escapes against your lips. You smile into the kiss, your own heart thudding loudly in your chest.

If this is what liking Vi feels like, you think, you don’t ever want it to stop.

ty for reading ! | navigation

[casiavium]

you know the guy asking me to do his totally-not-a-sex-thing probably wanted me to do the weird thing as Zelda or possibly Link, as has happened before, but I almost want to do it in Ghirahim because that cosplay is off putting

can PEOPLE be NORMAL to COSPLAYERS

[a-kaash-me-outside]

the walls are thin - ch7.5

in which maki was your college boyfriend with whom you shared everything. previous | ch7.5 | next (coming soon) [masterlist]

// passionate, silently perfect romantic, unwavering platonic ~ ᴍᴀᴋɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 3176 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni, absolutely not necessary to read for the plot, just some maki background for my maki bitches, backstory, light angst (they break up that's not a spoiler), flirting, cute scenes, she/her pronouns

join my taglist here!! ~~ (last ch tmrw,, and an epilogue nxt wk) ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍ��ᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

falling in love with hanamaki takahiro was like waking up to soft sunlight and a gentle morning breeze. you weren’t expecting it to happen, were expecting to wake up to your alarm clock or a frantic knock on your door, didn’t know it was even happening until you were awake. it happened sooner than you thought it would, but it wasn’t jarring, wasn’t abrupt, was slow and patient, unfolded overtime, piece by piece, until one day, it just was. 

you had had relationships in the past, high school crushes and senior year flings, but hanamaki takahiro taught you what love was, what it was like to trust a person so deep in your bones that it practically felt like you carried them along with you wherever you went. 

but before it was this passionate, silently perfect romantic love, it was an unwavering platonic love, a friendship that didn’t just make sense to the two of you or your closest friends, but anyone you came into contact with. former classmates, semester-long friends, professors, and hallmates, everyone that knew you, knew maki, and everyone that knew maki, knew you. 

on your way to class, eating lunch alone for a change, in the grocery store with him an aisle away, you were always met with, “where’s maki?” as if he was a defining characteristic of your personality, as if being without him was life-threatening to you. and the weird thing was that, you didn’t mind the questions. you didn’t feel lesser because a part of you was attached to this incredible person who just made your life better. besides, you did always know where maki was. 

hanamaki takahiro was the first real friend you made on campus, not just a college friend that lasted within the confines of your school and town, but someone you instantly knew was going to be in your life for a really long time, no matter what form.

</3 </3 </3

about halfway into the second semester of freshman year, hanamaki takahiro made the only somewhat, maybe it should’ve been a bit more difficult decision to go out of his comfort zone in the name of shifting the labels of your incessant flirting and weekend long hang out sessions. 

you were on the way out of his dorm, bag thrown over your shoulder already, shoes already on, goodbye already dissipating from the room, hand reaching towards the door handle when he blurted, “holy shit this is going to be so embarrassing if i read this situation wrong, but would you maybe want to like… go get a drink with me?”

your motions halted, slowly turning to face him as you narrowed your eyes, head tilting to the side out of caution. “like now?” you asked. it was one out of a million other questions you could have asked to understand the exact connotation of the question.

“i mean, sure? that’s not necessarily what i meant,” he said, hand on the back of his neck sheepishly for just a few moments before turning his palm to the sky in a half shrug. 

this side of maki wasn’t one that you got to see often, somewhat shy, a little unsure, and you were really loving the way you could see the subtle blooming of a pink tint on the highs of his cheeks. even when you were ruthlessly flirting with him and he was perpetually flirting back, you never got to see this amount of fluster. it was quite adorable. 

you leaned your shoulder against his door frame. “then what do you mean, maki?” you asked him, crossing your arms over your chest, only somewhat nervous that he was going to call your bluff. you absolutely knew what he meant. 

“i meant, like- like a date?” he clarified. 

“you want our first date to be at a bar?” you asked.

his cheeks got even pinker, eyes slightly widened as he tried to recover a bit, “not necessarily, just thought it might be a casual way to ask you out, like we get dinner all the time. we’ve never just gotten drinks as friends, so i thought it would be a bit easier to just-”

“i’m literally fucking with you, maki,” you said, sentence barely leaving your mouth before the corners of your lips turned upwards into a devilishly sweet smile. you didn’t torture him any longer, “of course i’ll go on a date with you. a drink sounds nice.”

“you’re the worst, y’know that?” he replied, exhale of breath expelled as his shoulders relaxed. he ran his fingers through his hair, exhaled once more, and then smiled at you so absolutely genuine with heaps of adoration that you could’ve kissed him right there. 

“you’re smiling pretty big for someone who’s going on a date with the worst,” you teased, leaning forward onto the tips of your toes. your chest felt light, skin felt tingly, stomach felt fluttery. how were you supposed to just live like this until you went on your date? “so, are we going now?” you blurted.

he quirked his head. “you- you want to go now? it’s like, 9pm on a wednesday, don’t you have classes tomorrow? and i look like this.”

“what? cute?” you asked, and the funny thing is that it wasn’t any different than you’d normally reply. maki knew that too. “i just think that if we don’t go now, how are we supposed to act tomorrow when we get lunch? like friends? like another date? like friends who are about to go on a date? it’s just easier this way.”

“you want to just get our date out of the way?” maki poked. 

“sure,” you replied as if it was a real question. he almost looked slightly taken aback until you followed quickly with, “that way we can set the tone, y’know? figure out that we really like each other sooner, keep flirting with each other, schedule another date, that kinda thing.”

“alright,” he said, walking to the corner of his room to get his jacket, shoving his wallet into his pocket, grabbing his keys. “let’s go then.”

“really?” you asked, eyes bright, standing up straight off of the door frame. he reached past you to open the door, instantly ready to go on your explanation. 

“well, yeah, you think i’m going to say no to you?” he asked, smiling, one hand sliding down to slot his fingers with yours. you took his hand quickly, squeezing hard enough that he could feel your heartbeat against his palm. he stopped for a second, looking at you fondly, smile growing even bigger, eyebrows furrowing together “you think i’m going to say no to going to get a drink right now with the person i’ve had a crush on for months?”

</3 </3 </3

it didn’t take long after that for the two of you to become inseparable. you were exactly right, just as maki expected you to be. your first date was flawless, easy. he bought your drinks and he let you buy his and the two of you ended up spending the same amount of money, but it was the gestures that really mattered. 

the only fear that you had going into the date, the only thing you could come up with walking down the cold downtown streets was what if it just felt like you were having a drink with your friend, what if the date label didn’t make it any different, but while you were there, drinking at the quiet end of a quiet bar, it didn’t feel like you were just having a drink with your friend but it didn’t feel like you were on a date either. it felt like you were spending the night at a bar with maki and it was really nice. 

a few minutes after you finished your first drink, maki put his hand on your knee, scooched his chair closer to yours despite the fact that there wasn’t really a need to, no driving factor, no small space to take up because of a crowd or closeness needed because of the noise. you barely noticed it when it happened. it wasn’t weird or out of place. you only really clocked it when he pulled his hand away to pay the bartender for the next round because of the lack of warmth against your leg, a warmth that you quickly realized that you wanted in your life forever. 

you leaned in closer, knees against his as you nudged it under his hand. his fingers wrapped around the top of your thigh, smiling at the contact again as he continued to tell you about his first kiss only because you asked. when you told him about yours, his eyes kept flickering down to your lips, distracted for a few moments before looking back up into your eyes again. 

he didn’t kiss you that night, walked you back to your dorm despite your protests and thanked you very sweetly for agreeing to go out with him and for suggesting that you went out tonight. “i’m not sure how i would’ve lasted until this weekend to go out on a date with you, honestly,” he admitted. 

you didn’t mind though, that he didn’t kiss you right then and there, that he gave you a night to digest what all had happened, to let you sit on it and savor the feeling of transition between friends and something more before making it quite to that something more. 

the following day at lunch was only slightly different. the conversations were the same, the lunch table was the same, the flirting was the same. the only difference was warmth on your knee, the soft touch throughout the hour that didn’t waver for a single second. 

</3 </3 </3

the second date came quickly, a movie on friday night in your dorm, which to be fair, was not an altercation of what your current plans had been anyway, but that didn’t matter. you labeled it as a date and it felt just like watching a movie with maki. the two of you fell asleep in your bed, curled up against each other with soft murmurs of scripted chatter droning in the background. 

the third date came quickly after that, and so did the fourth and the fifth, and somewhere along the tenth or fourteenth date, you started losing track of the count and the lines between you and maki hanging out and you and maki going on a date were super blurred. but by then it didn’t really matter. by then it was just you and maki, the rest didn’t matter.

he didn’t need to ask you to be his girlfriend. the label didn’t mean much, not when the relationship between the two of you was going to stay the same anyway, but he just wanted to be able to call you his girlfriend. that was a good enough reason for you.

“cool, yeah, girlfriend,” you said, nodding along, “sounds cute.”

“sounds cute?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows, “not oh, maki, how romantic or oh, maki, yes, i’d love to be your girlfriend or oh, maki, i can’t wait to be committed to you and only you.” 

“is that what that means?” you asked, stretching your arms upwards before falling backwards onto his bed, head on his pillow. “maybe not then, wanna keep my options open.”

“oh, you’re the worst, you know that?” he said, both arms bracketing your shoulders as he hovered over top of you. he leaned down and pressed a kiss into your mischievous smile. 

“what! what if iwa and oikawa ever break up? gotta catch that rebound,” you teased. 

“i’m gonna tell oikawa,” maki said, chest already lifting to turn and storm out of the room. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulled him into you, kissed him again.

“don’t you dare,” you warned, kissing him again. he kissed you back, laughing against your lips. “not funny.”

“pretty funny,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face, leaning down to kiss the spot where it used to be. when his laughter ceased, he took a breath, smile constant, but more serious now, “so, will you? be my girlfriend, i mean.”

“oh, maki, how romantic, i’d love to be your girlfriend and be committed to you and only you,” you said, voice low, and despite the fact that it’s supposed to come out as a joke, you can’t help yourself from saying each bit genuinely, sweetly. 

you were, quite honestly, ready to be with him forever.

</3 </3 </3

over the course of two years, you learned to read maki really well, disgustingly well, actually, so well that you knew something was wrong the second that you heard the knock on your dorm door. you wanted to greet him with a, hey, what’s wrong? but he beat you to the first sentence. 

“hey, can we talk?” he asked, standing in your doorway with enough anxious energy to shut down an entire city. 

“hanamaki, you’re terrifying me,” you admitted, honestly, stepping into your dorm room and letting the door fall fast enough for him to catch it. he walked in behind you, locked the door as it closed. 

he let out a light laugh, “well, hey, don’t go throwing my name around like that.” you didn’t laugh back. he didn’t blame you. you sat down on the edge of your bed and he joined you, unsteady exhale leaving him, and then he looked at you.  

if he didn’t say anything else, just looked at you like that for a few more handfuls of seconds, you might not have needed to hear whatever he was going to say. his eyes were soft, features were gentle, and your heart was beating so furiously in your chest that you felt like you were going to pass out. 

he didn’t beat around the bush, didn’t prolong the reason that he came or the thoughts that he had been trying to combat for the past few days. “i’m really so in love with you, but i think that i can’t be in a relationship right now.”

you were quiet, didn’t say anything, just waited for him to explain further, something, anything to calm down your nerves and heart and confusion. “classes are kicking my ass in ways that they weren’t before we started dating and my internship hasn’t even started and i’m really scared that if i keep going like this that i’m going to fall behind for real,” he explained, eye contact steady in a way that his voice isn’t because he knew that you deserved it. 

“i’ve gone through this a lot in my head, on how to do this without breaking up with you, but i can’t. if we’re together, my number one priority will always be you, no matter how hard i try for it not to be, so i think i have to do this,” he said, and he sounded eerily unsure and very sure at the same time. 

you were quiet again, still not saying anything, but not because you needed any further explanation, just because you were waiting for the words to seep into your skin. when they did, when they settled in next to your self-doubt and biggest fears, you could only muster one sentence, “does this mean you’ll just be out of my life?”

he shook his head, hand reaching upwards to cup your face, thumb smoothing over your cheek. “i really hope not,” he replied. “i get it, if it’s too hard to just be friends or if you don’t want to see me for a bit or-”

you shook your head, forehead resting against his as you put your hand on the back of his, fingers curling around his knuckles. the words nearly fought you, clawed at the inside of your throat as you forced them out, “i don’t really want to be without you, hiro.”

he started to say your name, but you shook your head again, harder this time as you finished your sentence, “i get it. i’m not going to fight you on this. if you think this is the only option, i trust you. i can just be your friend. i’ve done it before, y’know?” you were crying, then, as the words left you, because it was really hard not to fight him on this, to just trust him, but you did. 

trusting someone in this capacity hard, but with hanamaki takahiro, everything’s a little bit easier. still, you couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t stop the sentence as it slipped out with a shaky breath, “are you sure?”

it took a few seconds, but he nodded against you, slow as to not disrupt the places where your body was pressed against his. he moved towards you, no longer a few inches separating the two of you, knees bumping against yours, one hand on the top of your thigh. he nodded again, maybe just for him that time.

you took a deep breath. “will you at least stay with me tonight?”

he didn’t hesitate. “of course.”

</3 </3 </3

it was hard slipping back into what you used to be after being what you were for so long. the touches still felt comfortable, warm, like no one communicated to your bodies how different it was supposed to be again. it took a few lunches for your picnic table to not hold as much weight anymore, for both of you to stop glancing over at the initials you had carved into the side.

but you did.

it took a few lapses of judgment for the two of you to stop hooking up after the breakup was official. it took even longer for the two of you to stop stealing kisses behind closed doors in tiny spaces that you would’ve before. neither of you regretted a single instance or a single kiss. 

but you did stop eventually.

hanamaki takahiro taught you not only about love but about letting go in micro doses, about hanging on to certain aspects of your relationship despite changing the makeup of it, about care and closeness that transcends labels. you’re not exactly sure when your relationship slipped back into the way it used to be, or if it ever completely did. 

there were still parts of your relationship that you held onto from your time dating like buying each other’s drinks and holding hands under the picnic table, but there were things from your time dating that you let go of when you let go of the labels like pet names and kissing in public. the you and maki that exists now is different from the one that existed before or the one that existed before that, evolved and bettered by time and mutual love. 

the you and maki that exists now will be different from the one in the future or the one after that or the one after that. different forms and different labels and different people in different situations, but constant, in your life for a really long time, no matter what form. you knew that then. you know it even better now.

♡ tori's polls ♡ ( omg a totally skewed poll of who are you rooting for? )

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[themuse-if]

The non-RO hallmates are too pretty, why have you done this to us!???!!!!?!??!??

I know! I'm sorry...no I'm not🤭

Remember just because they aren't end game romance options doesn't mean there won't be opportunities to interact with them. I plan to leave lots of room for MC to flirt and go on dates with these side characters, not as many or as serious as with the main ROs though.

I think it will be a lot of fun to explore friendships and situation-ships with these characters and see how it impacts your MC and their relationship with other characters.

[gamesception]

let's read rgu chapter 20

Sorry for the late, late update, got a bit distracted today. I'd just push it back to tomorrow, but this liveblog turned into a sort of accidental pride month project, and I don't want to miss the last day of June.

I don't think I've mentioned it yet, but somewhere along the way, probably the same time the scans went to all two-page-spreads, we went from a fan translation to what seems to be the official English localization, and, as much as I respect the hard work and dedication of fan translators, the professional translation work is greatly appreciated.

Anyway, last time Utena won her rematch with Touga. New Hallmate? wait, have they moved into Akio's building, like in the manga's 3rd arc?

Psh, oh yeah. I guess Touga lives here now.

This is ridiculous, and I love it.

Oh, yeah, why don't you be useful for once and dump some exposition?

Did we skip over the exposition, or?

You know what, I don't care, this whole development is hilarious. The entire student council defeated, now following Utena around like imprinted ducklings. And Utena, embarassed, just stomping forward, her fists clenched at her side, just trying to ignore them. God, these nerds. This is great. Manga redeemed.

At least this domesticated Touga has the courtesy to ask Anthy to leave the room first instead of just talking about her like she isn't there.

Anyway, now we get the exposition. I guess Touga just wanted a full audience first. Key points of the exposition:

The duels are over. Utena won.

The point of the duels was to gain the power of the Sword of Dios

Because the Sword of Dios somehow grants access to the castle/Dios itself

Dios may or may not be a real person, but regardless has power over the movement of the stars, and can therefore change fate/destiny and thus 'revolutionize the world'.

World's End organized the duels to gain this power for himself, and Touga believes he will take action to manipulate or control Utena.

We also get a much more overt warning to Utena not to trust Anthy. Something Touga tried to say in the anime, but with far less explanation and far less reason to listen to him since it was only after his final defeat in the duels and thus easy to dismiss as sour grapes.

Touga's clearly still trying to get access to the power of Dios himself by getting close to Utena, he basically says as much, so still hard to take the warning seriously.

Despite being sent out of the room, Anthy heard everything, and she urges Utena not to team up with Touga against World's End, and Utena, in an uncharacteristic show of interpersonal insight, picks out that Anthy has been betraying this mysterious organizer of the duels rather than the duel champion the entire time.

Anthy is showing quite a bit of fear towards her brother here, something we didn't really see earlier. I guess it's more fear for what he might do to Utena, which I guess makes sense.

The next day Anthy's warnings start coming true, as Akio's first warning shot comes in the form of a fire at Wakaba's dorm.

Fuck you, Akio. Wakaba is a saint, if anything happens to her.

Wakaba's trapped inside and Utena rushes in to save her, but the doors are jammed and both girls are trapped by the fire and smoke.

Akio rescues Utena, of course, and she starts to suspect he's her prince. Rightly this time, unlike with Touga, but Akio is just there to exploit it all the same.

Most important panels of the chapter: Wakaba is OK.

The chapter ends with a confirmation that yes, Akio set the fire. Oh, and he's World's End, just in case anybody missed that. Threatening Wakaba does draw some heat, if you'll pardon the pun, but honestly I half expected that he would have made Anthy set the fire. Doing his own dirty work seems a bit beneath the Akio I know from the anime.

But still, we have a proper villain now, since the manga really never wanted Touga to fill that roll. We're still seeing new stuff happen, so I'm excited to see where the manga goes next.

[thecaptainsgingersnap]

Oc Ask Game - The Basics: Hannah Kentworthy

1. What is your ocs full name? Does this name have any special meaning/history?

Hannah Louise Kentworthy, I just liked the way it flewed

2. Does your oc have any nicknames? How did they get these nicknames?

Han, Hannah Lou, and Hannah Banana are all obvious. Floor 19 calls her Ice Queen and her Boyfriend TJ casserole her Snowflake because her mother is the goddess of snow and ice.

3. How old is your oc?

Eternally 17

4. Does your oc have a defining physical trait? What makes this feature unique?

Her eyes, they're big and wide and ice blue

5. Does your oc have a defining personality trait? Why does this trait define them?

She's protective. She spent her last few years alive protecting her brother. She died protecting her gang of street orphans. Now in her afterlife, she's Floor 19's resident mom friend making sure her friends are mildly safe and their emotional and mental states are well taken care of.

6. What’s your oc’s current job and what’s their dream job? Do these jobs differ?

Well as a dead eternal teenager, she doesn't have a real job, but Blitzen let's her help at his shop sometimes. She wishes she could have owned a bakery.

7. How would you describe your oc’s style? How would they describe their style?

I'd call it cute, but functional. Hannah would call it I can wear this to combat training or on a date or dating to the death (a real thing at the Hotel Valhalla believe it or not.

8. What is your oc’s relationship status? Are they content with this?

She's in a long term relationship with her hallmate Thomas Jefferson Jnr. asks she is very happy with that.

9. How would you describe your oc’s personality? How would they describe their personality?

We would both say she's the mom friend with a sarcastic side

10. What’s your oc’s greatest weakness?

If she leaves the Hotel, she can die, but permanently this time

11. What’s your oc’s greatest strength?

She can control ice and snow

12. What is your oc’s biggest fear? Why?

Giant squirrels, you get chased through Yggdrasil by one and tell me you're not terrified afterward!

13. What is your oc’s most prized possession? What’s the importance/meaning behind this item?

Hermagic arrow, Willow, was the only gift her mother had ever given her. Her aim is always accurate and she always returns to Hannah's quiver. Plus like any good magical weapon, Willow can talk.

14. Does your oc have any hobbies? How did they get involved in these?

She sews and bakes. She uses them as excuses to make stuff for her friends.

15. What’s your oc’s favorite color? Does this color have any special meaning/symbolism?

Blue, it gives her wintery vibes and reminds her off her mother.

16. What’s your oc’s favorite food? Why is this their favorite food?

Yorkshire pudding was the first thing Hannah learned to bake and it reminds her of growing up in London.

17. What’s your oc’s biggest aspiration in life? Why?

She wants to delay Ragnarok as long as possible. She didn't get long to live her life and she's happy as an einherjar. She's in no hurry to give that up.

18. What’s your oc’s relationship like with their family?

Well her mother doesn't really talk to her but Hannah knows she cares from a distance. Her father and her brother are both dead and apparently in some other afterlife so she doesn't really have a relationship with them anymore.

19. Does your oc have any defining skills? How did they acquire/learn these skills?

Outside the typical einherjar abilities, Hannah is kheimo and frigokinetic. She inherited these skills from her mother Skadi. She's also an amazing archer. Part of that is also inherited talent but most of it comes from a lot of practice.

20. What does your oc’s bedroom/house look like? How does this reflect their personality?

Her room at the Hotel Valhalla looks like the inside of a cozy cottage. Her main atrium is divided between a large living area with comfy couches and chairs around a huge roaring fireplace with shelves full of books on the walls all around it and an enormous kitchen fully stocked for baking. To one side, there's a nook for maintaining her archery equipment. On the other is a nook with sewing supplies.

Basic Asks

[simplywhytney]

Back to school for Melinda which includes studying at home and at the library with Royce.

But the roomies make time for some fun with friends! This reminded me of my undergrad days playing board games with my roommate & hallmates.

Building snowpals with friends, and side-eyeing the Foxbury student neighbor are all important aspects of that college life!

[sideways-writes]

To AU or not to AU?

That is the question

[m-jelly]

Learning to blossom - Chapter 1

Stunning banner created by the wonderful @ladycheesington 💕

Pairing: Levi x Fem!Reader

Genre and tags: Romance, fluff, modern AU, Uni AU, confessions, tattooed Levi, drama, flustered Levi.

Fic concept: You and Levi fall in love after spending so much time together in lectures. As the two of you date, you experience a lot of firsts together such as this being Levi's first-ever relationship and you both are virgins. You face a lot of difficulties, such as a guy who won't leave you alone and spreads rumours about you. A few girls want to be Levi's girlfriend instead of you. A professor of yours seems to be a bit too handsy with you. You both go through different phases of your relationship during your three years at university such as getting a house with friends, graduation, what the future holds, and what you want in your relationship. You both grow together and throughout everything that happens, you love each other so deeply and stay strong.

Chapter: You meet Levi at a party and feelings spark away. You and Levi meet again in a lecture and hit it off. Levi saves you from unwanted advances again and takes you to lunch. You and Levi get closer to each other as sparks fly again. After a month of spending every day together due to doing the same subject as Levi, you both take the plunge and go with your feelings.

Notes: Due to my living in the UK, a lot of university life is inspired by the subjects I took and the life there for me and others. I will sprinkle a bit of USA university life in, but due to my knowledge and experience of that side being from movies and TV shows, I don't want to misrepresent it. Also, Levi plays a popular sport in the UK called rugby, I chose this because I know about it and know nothing about American football. Note for American readers, when I mention football I mean soccer for you. Hope all this helps! If you have questions place them in my comments.

AO3 link

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 The end

You were not too sure about this all, but your hallmates were adamant that you had to go. So, you were trying your best to dress nicely and put on some makeup. You were just going to go, socialise a bit and then go home. You just really weren’t in the mood for it all, but you needed to make some friends.

You perked up when someone lightly knocked on your room door. You opened it to reveal your neighbour across from you. Athena was so tall compared to you and had muscles too. She had a cheeky smile, always had plasters on her from cuts and her hair was a beautiful orange with the left side shaven and the right side long. She was a beautiful woman and could break anyone easily.

Athena grinned at you and leaned in your doorway. “Sup little cupcake. Woah, you look hot as hell. You aiming to impress?”

You gasped. “Is it too much?”

“Nah, cupcake. You look sexy.” She winked at you. “You’re bell of the ball. Maybe I should run off with ya.”

You giggled. “That’d be fun. Knowing you we’d get up to no good.”

“You’re right.” She shoved her hands into her baggy trouser pockets. “You ready?”

You hummed and checked. “Yeah, I’m good.”

She pointed to your bag. “You ain’t gonna need that. All the drinks are there. Unless you need it?”

You released a long sigh. “Call it a safety blanket.”

“Ah” she tapped the side of her nose “I get ya.” She stepped out of the way as you locked up your room. “You wanna grab coffee tomorrow and explore?”

You nodded and hummed in response. “Please.” You turned to Athena and smiled. “Hey, thanks for being so nice to me and supportive. It means so much to me that you’ve been a friend.”

She slung her arm over your shoulders and smiled. “Don’t mention it. You’re the only interesting person on this floor. The rest of these people are idiots.” She smiled. “You’re cool. You play games and you’re studying criminology.”

You blushed a little and smiled a bit at the annoyed-looking girls living in your hall as you passed. Athena told it like it is and didn’t apologise for anything. You felt safe with her, so you were more than happy to go to a party with her. You knew you were going to have a good time and at least there was someone to talk to. A lot of the time you’d go out with people and they’d just abandon you and you’d get lonely.

You winced a little at the heavy base music getting louder as you approached the halls filled with guys. You saw people hanging around outside the bottom floor halls, along with others sitting in windows. You felt your nerves seeping in as you got closer to the party. The closer you got, the more you didn’t want to be there.

Athena gave you a wiggle. “Cheer up cupcake. We’ll have a few drinks and then leave.”

You released a long sigh. “Yeah.”

She pulled you inside and past the crowded halls until you slipped into the communal kitchen. “Drink?”

You hugged yourself and nodded. “Sure.”

You looked around the room and felt a few stares. You felt as if you were meat up for grabs. You hated it so much. You noticed a guy with arched primed eyebrows, neatly tamed hair, sly eyes with an amber colour, and a thin smirk. He was handsome to most people and likely rich by the looks of his clothes. He was tall and lean with muscle and kept talking to the women around him that he was playing for the university football team.

You wrinkled your nose up in response and only felt irritated by him. You didn’t really want anything to do with a guy like him. You knew the type. He’d sleep around with as many women as possible and didn’t give a shit about them. You hated his kind and just wanted to keep to yourself. Guys like him equalled drama and you just wanted to have a nice three years at uni.

Your blood ran cold when he kept glancing over at you. You were beginning to panic and you were trying your best not to lock eyes. You glared at Athena, but she was still waiting to get drinks. You were slowly leaning towards full panic mode. You fiddled with your clothes as you felt him moving closer to you. You closed your eyes tightly and prayed to whoever was listening to help you.

“Tch, oi?”

You opened your eyes and gazed up at a man in a tight white top, leather jacket and tight black jeans. Your cheeks burned at his slightly tamed messy thick raven hair that was long on his neck. He had little earrings in his ears and you saw a bit of tattoo showing under his jacket. His grey-blue eyes were piercing as they took you in. You shivered when you saw how muscular he was due to his white top stretching over his chest.

He reached up and rubbed the lovely raven locks on the back of his neck. “You wanna come over to the side with my friends?” His cheeks burned a little as he got nervous. “So you uh don’t feel alone.”

You nodded. “Please. I just don’t want to be jumped on by some weirdo.”

He walked with you to the corner of the room where two people were hanging out. “I’m guessing you’re referring to the guy who has a rod up his ass? He’s Reuben and he’s on the university football team. He likes everyone to know. Tch, guys got a personality of football and law.”

You stopped walking and hummed. “He seems like an asshole to me.”

“He is.” He offered his hand. “Levi.”

You shook his hand and gave him your name. “My friend over there is Athena. We won’t be here long because I’d rather be at home wrapped up in a blanket.”

“Sounds nice. I’d prefer that.”

The woman next to him smirked. “He’d prefer to join you!” She offered her hand as Levi shouted at her. “HI! I’m Hange.”

You laughed and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

She winked at you. “You too.”

The big blonde offered his hand. “Mike. Our friend Erwin couldn’t make it tonight, but he’d love to meet you.”

You smiled softly. “Nice to meet all of you.”

Athena strolled over. “Fuck me that took forever. Here you are cupcake.”

You took your cup and smiled. “Appreciate it.” You sipped your drink as everyone introduced themselves. You smiled at your new tall friends chatting away. You felt a gaze on you and noticed Levi kept looking at you. You smiled at him making him blush and look away. You tugged on Athena’s shirt and smiled. “I’m going outside for five minutes.”

Athena winked at you. “Sure thing. Text me if you need me.”

You waved to her and moved through the massive crowds until you got outside. You released a sigh and shook off your anxieties as best as you could. You ruffled your hair and looked around you. You glanced to the side to see Reuben was outside too. You turned away and groaned in annoyance. You pulled your phone out and checked it. You pouted a moment but someone walking over to you made you stiffen up.

You turned and stared up at Reuben. You wrinkled your nose up at the strong cologne coming from him. “Can I help you?”

He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke to the side away from you. “You looked lonely.”

You wafted the air around you. “Just needed fresh air, but you’re kind of making it not.”

He sucked his teeth a little. “My bad. I can’t smoke inside so I have to do it out here.”

You hummed as you stared at the cigarette between his fingers. “Maybe you should quit? It’ll be better for you and you won’t be messing with people’s nice air.” You coughed a little. “Plus, I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t smoke if you’re a footballer.”

He smirked at you. “You know I’m a footballer?”

“Well, it’s hard to miss when you’ve been telling everyone at this party.”

He chuckled. “You’re a spunky little thing, aren’t you?”

You let out a long sigh. “I don’t want to sound rude, but I kind of want a moment to myself.”

He flicked his smoke making the ash tumble. “Am I that bad? Come on, I’m a handsome guy. Just talk to me a bit.”

“No thanks.”

He moved closer. “Come on, let’s talk.”

“No thank you.”

He reached for you. “Come on-. AH! Ow!”

Levi had grabbed Reuben’s hand and bent it backwards causing the cry of pain. “Tch, she said no.”

Reuben winced. “All right! Now let go of me you animal.”

Levi released Reuben and stood between him and you. “Back off and accept the no.”

He chuckled a little and flicked his cigarette at Levi. It bounced off Levi’s incredible chest and dropped to the floor. “Whatever man. You can have her for now.”

“She doesn’t belong to anyone. Fuck, you’re a dick.” Levi flipped him off as the rich pretty boy walked away. “Fuck him.” He turned to you. “You okay?”

You nodded shyly. “Yeah.”

He pulled his leather jacket off and put it around your shoulders and revealed his left arm had tattoos on it. “I’m glad. Try and stay away from him. I know we all started uni a few days ago, but we’re all aware of him.” He blushed. “Not that I’m telling you what to do…”

You reached over and held his soft warm hand with rough parts. “Thank you.”

Levi blushed hard at the sweet contact. “Y-You’re welcome.”

You squeezed his hand and held it for a moment before releasing it. “You’re a nice guy. Thank you for your kindness.”

“CUPCAKE!” Athena ran over to you. “You all right? Do I need to break a face?”

You shook your head. “Levi helped me.”

Athena smirked at the man. “I appreciate it. There should be more guys like you.”

Levi cleared his throat. “I just…I wanted to help.”

Athena pulled you against her body and held you with one arm. “Thank you. You know, we might head back.”

You wiggled out of your friend’s arms and pulled the jacket off. “Here Levi, thanks.”

Levi took his jacket back. “Any time. Do you want escorting back?”

Athena shook her head. “I got this.” She waved and walked with you. “See you soon!”

You waved shyly to Levi. “See you soon.”

Levi waved to you. “Yeah, see ya…” He sighed and mumbled. “Hope so…”

You gripped your bag strap and ran as fast as you could through the halls as you looked at the doors with the room numbers on. Your heart was racing and you were filled with panic at possibly being late for your first lecture. To be late on your first day was a nightmare for you. You could feel the lump in your throat forming ready for a cry.

You’d gotten up on time, but you had gotten distracted by some drama in your hall between some girls. You settled everyone down but realised you needed to get to the lecture fast. You hurried to lecture and realised you didn’t have your phone on you, so you stopped and thought if you should go back, but then you chose to keep going. Your lecture was more important than having your phone for the day.

You carefully pushed the door open and peeked inside the small lecture room that had only ten rows of seats. You blushed a bit when you saw people chatting and the lecture hadn’t even started yet. You hurried inside and walked up the stairs and down an empty row. You pulled your seat down and plopped yourself down as you sighed in relief.

“Tch, you’re late.”

You turned your head to see Levi was sat in the row behind you. “Oh, hello Levi.”

He leaned his chin on his hand and covered his mouth a little. “Surprised you’re here. You in the right place?”

You gulped hard. “Ethics?” You stared at Levi as his gaze bore into you. “Am I in the wrong place?”

Levi smirked behind his hand at how adorable you were. “You’re in the right place. This is ethics.”

You let out a long sigh. “Thank goodness. Jeez, you are a tease.”

“I like to joke around.”

You giggled. “You got me.”

He hummed as he studied you in your cute jumper. “What are you studying?”

“Uh, criminology.”

Levi blushed a little. “Same. Tch, means I’m stuck with you.”

You laughed. “I guess so.”

He frowned in thought. “Why were you close to being late?”

“There was some drama in my hall and I helped sort it out. However, it meant I was delayed and I forgot my phone.”

Levi hummed and felt a bit sorry for you. You were too nice for your own good, so he was thinking he needed to protect you as much as possible. He flicked his gaze around the room to see Reuben casually walking in and had his eyes on you. Levi needed to act. “Mind if I sit next to you?”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t mind.” You squeaked when Levi jumped over the seats and sat next to you. “Oh wow.”

He grabbed his bag and put it next to him. “Tch, thanks.”

You got what you needed out and smiled at Levi. “So, what are your plans?”

“For today or life?”

You blushed as you felt embarrassed. Levi was too hot for his own good, he was funny and rather kind. "I uh...I meant...well...”

He pulled his leather jacket off and sighed. “Well, for today I just have this lecture and then later I have training.”

You perked up at his words. “Training?”

He rubbed the back of his neck as he blushed. “I play rugby.”

You gasped in delight and shuffled closer to Levi. “You play rugby? That’s so cool! I enjoy watching it and played a bit in secondary school.” Your cheeks burned. “Oh, sorry I’m getting a bit…sorry…I’ll be quiet.”

Levi frowned at your response. “Why?”

You cleared your throat. “I was told once that I talk too much.”

He shook his head. “Tch, don’t listen to that piece of shit. You’re perfect.” He inhaled quickly and blushed hard. “I uh…what I mean is…”

You reached over and placed your hand on his. “Thank you.”

He gulped hard and squeezed your hand back. “You’re welcome.” He looked up to see Reuben moving over and taking a seat in front of you. “Tch, what do you want?”

Reuben smirked at Levi. “Simply taking a seat in front of my new friends.”

“You’re not my friend.”

Reuben narrowed his eyes at Levi before turning his head to you. “What about us? We’re friends, right?”

You clenched up a little. “I ah.”

Your professor entered the room and introduced himself. He asked all of you to refer to him by his first name from now on. He smiled and looked at everyone. “Now, I know the first weeks of university are a bit awkward. So, I want you to make friends. I want you to have a study and work buddy. The person next to you will be your partner for the rest of the semester.”

You looked over at Levi and felt bad. “Sorry, you’re stuck with me.”

Levi covered his mouth with his hand and hid his smile. “Don’t be sorry. I’m happy to work with you.”

“Really? I’m glad.”

Reuben raised his hand. “I think our class isn’t even. So, could I join a pair?”

The professor sighed. “I suppose. Pick anyone.”

He looked at you. “These two. I’ll work with them.”

“All right! Now we have our groups, let’s get to the lecture.”

You made notes as your professor chatted and informed you what the plans were for the semester. You sat there for a while and enjoyed yourself, you were looking forward to your three years at uni. You glanced over at Levi now and then and saw he was transfixed by the lecture as well. You’d both blush when you caught each other’s gazes.

Near the end of the lecture, you huffed a bit causing Levi to look over. “I’m hungry.”

Levi leaned over and whispered back. “Hungry?”

You nodded. “I was planning on bringing like a little bag of snacks with me, but I got so sidetracked with the girls that I just…” You hugged yourself. “I need food.”

“Did you have breakfast?”

You pouted a little. “No…you gonna tell me off?”

He shook his head. “No, why would I? I didn’t have breakfast either.” He blushed hard. “Do uh…”

Reuben turned to you as the lecture ended. “You, me and a lunch date.”

You strained a smile. “I ah…well…”

He looked your up and down and smirked. “You will be having the salad and water, of course, nothing else. What do you think?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re not?” He tilted his head and eyed you again. “Really?”

You hugged yourself a little. “Y-Yeah.”

He hummed and pulled his phone out. “How about I get your number then?”

You packed your things. “I don’t have my phone on me.”

“Look, if you aren’t interested and don’t want to, just say. Don’t lie and beat around the fucking bush. God, you women can be frustrating.”

Levi growled. “She forgot her fucking phone. She was late to this lecture because she forgot it. I bet you were late because you were busy kicking out that girl you took back to your room last night!”

Reuben went white. “I…you…you’re a dick.”

You stood up with tears in your eyes. “I’m…bye.” You ran off away from both men. Levi was wonderful, but Reuben was so judgemental. You leaned against a wall and wiped your tears. “Fuck.” You heard someone getting closer to you. You sniffed back your tears and smiled at Levi. “Hey, Levi.”

Levi leaned his side against the wall and shielded you from others. “You hungry? I want to eat something massive. We can go for ramen, dim sum, tacos, sushi, burgers or pizza.” He frowned. “No fucking salads, okay? I don’t care much for them.”

You sniffed and laughed a little. “That sounds nice.”

“I’m going to be eating a lot, so I need an eating buddy.”

You cleared your throat. “I can do that.”

He pushed from the wall. “I’m letting you choose this time, but next it’s my choice.”

You walked with Levi through the halls and out of the building as you thought. “How about sushi?”

“Sounds great.” He put his hands in his pockets and walked with you across campus to the sushi place. “This will be my treat.”

You sat down next to the little conveyor with sushi on. “Treat? Oh, but I can pay.”

Levi grabbed some sushi off the belt and ordered some tea for two. “You’ve just had a shitty conversation that made you cry, so I want to cheer you up.” He blushed a little. “You don’t mind, do you?”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t mind. I’ll accept this nice offer.”

“Good.” He waited for the tea to be put down before pouring you a cup. “Go ahead, grab the sushi you want.”

You hummed as you looked at went past and grabbed a few things. “Thanks.”

Levi ate in silence for a while before speaking to you. “Why did you lie to him?” He gulped when you locked your pretty eyes with his. “About being hungry. Most girls have been falling all over him.”

You shrugged. “I just got this vibe from him. When I first saw him I knew he was the type to sleep around, brag about it and spread rumours. I just want my time at uni to go well. I don’t want drama and he’s like drama central.”

He wiped his mouth and hummed. “I couldn’t agree more. A nice relaxing time at uni would be good.” His cheek burned as he went for it. “So, how is your boyfriend coping? You know with you being here?”

You laughed as you poured two new cups of tea. “I have no boyfriend, but it’s cute of you to think. I’m single and no, I’m not recently broken up either. It’s been like a year since my last relationship.” You downed some of your tea. “What about you?” You saw Levi’s cheeks burn bright red. “Levi? Have you never been in a relationship?”

He groaned and looked away from you. “Is that bad?”

You shook your head. “No! No, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

He released a long sigh. “I just…I have a single mother and we’ve never had much money, so I often worked part-time while studying at school. I was so focused on helping out that I never got the chance to date.”

“Well, you’re a handsome guy who is smart, kind, funny and caring. I know for sure you’ll find a lovely…” You stared at Levi for a while.

Levi flinched a bit. “Girls, I like girls.”

“Just checking.” You cleared your throat. “Anyway, you’re the total package. Any woman will be lucky to date you.”

He hummed and looked at his sushi. “Thanks. M-Maybe I’ll g-give dating a chance here.”

You blushed a little. “It’s getting a bit late and you have training. I’m taking too much of your time.”

“You’re not taking up my time, but yeah I do have training.” He stood up and paid for lunch.

You hurried next to Levi and walked with him. “Hey, so could you escort me back to my room?”

Levi blushed at the thought. “Sure.” He put his hands in his pockets and walked with you. “Are you warm enough?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He hummed a little. “Good.”

You smiled at Levi. “Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself.”

Levi perked up and started talking about his mother, his two friends back at home, his friends that came to university with him, his past rugby teams with schools and the things he was into. You both discovered you had a lot in common and you made each other laugh. Your chat went so nicely that when you got to your room Levi walked in and you offered him a seat at your desk.

Levi looked over at your tv and gaming set-up. “A nerd, huh?”

You blushed. “A bit.”

He hummed and smiled a little. “I could never afford my own, but I would play on one at my friend’s place.”

You grabbed your phone that had been charging this whole time. “Well, if you ever want to play games again, you can come over and play something.” You blushed. “Th-That’s if you want to.”

Levi gave you a tiny smile. “That’d be cool.” He looked at the phone in your hand. “Can I have that?”

“Huh?”

He reached towards you. “Your phone.”

You looked at your phone. “What about it?”

He blushed. “I ah…I got this wrong. Let me word this better.” He cleared his throat. “C-Could I-I have your n-number?”

You smiled. “Yes. Oh, wait!” You unlocked your phone and changed your lock screen and background picture to not be a character you simped for. “Here.”

Levi took your phone and added his number. “Thanks.” He gave you his phone. “Only add your number if you want to.”

You tapped your number in and saved it to his phone. “There, you have my number.”

He took his phone and blushed hard. He waited a bit as he processed his feelings. He was nervous but relaxed. He was excited but calm. You made him feel so many things and he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He looked up at you and blushed hard at how cute you were. He ruffled his messy hair as he tried to think of something to say to you. He frowned when his phone pinged to see you’d texted him. He opened the text and smiled at the little emoji you sent him.

Levi hummed a laugh. “Thanks.”

You blushed. “So, do you want me to walk you to your training?”

Levi stood up. “Ah, no I can walk there.”

You stood up and gazed into his wonderful steel-blue eyes. “I’ll walk you out then.”

“S-Sure.” He walked at your side as girls in your hall watched. Levi thought it was because of the stern look he had that people were staring at, but really it was because he was a muscular bad boy. He stopped by the outer door and turned to you. “I’ll see you in lectures tomorrow.” He gulped hard. “T-Text me?”

You nodded. “I will. When does training end?”

“In about two hours.”

“I’ll text you then.”

Levi waved to you and walked towards the locker rooms. He frowned when his phone pinged again. He looked down and smiled at your text saying good luck at training. Levi felt his heart flutter and worked extra hard during his practice because you gave him a spark. After he was done you texted him again asking if everything went well. He texted you right back with a gentle smile on his face.

Athena smirked as you sat on her bed smiling at your phone. She was happy that you’d been at university for a month and you were smiling happily at something. “You texting Levi?”

You dropped your phone and blushed hard. “N-No.”

She hummed a laugh. “I don’t know why you two haven’t been on a date yet. He takes you out to lunch after lectures.”

You released a long sigh. “He’s been busy with practice and training. So, all his free time is gone.”

“Oh and he spends all the time he does have with you! So romantic.”

You groaned a little. “It’s not like that…he’s just…he’s nice and we both do criminology. It’s just that.” You nibbled your lip as your bad thoughts seeped in. “Besides, he wouldn’t be interested in a girl like me.”

Athena turned her chair around and glared at you. “You really have no clue how cute you are, do you?”

You gulped hard. “I just…I don’t know…”

She stood up and smiled. “I think you need a drink. Why don’t you ask Levi if he’s free and we’ll all go for a drink?”

“But.”

She leaned down and looked you in the eyes. “I’ll be there. We’ll make it a group thing and it’ll mean you’re not alone and you can relax a little.”

You nodded and picked up your phone. “I’ll text him.”

“Nooo, you’ll call him.”

You gripped your phone tightly before selecting Levi’s name. “Okay, I’ll call.” You dialled Levi as your heart raced in your chest. “H-Hi Levi?” You winced at your voice catching. “Sorry, so umm…are you free?”

Levi walked around the locker room in just a towel as his friends laughed and shouted. He ruffled his hair and felt his heart race at your cute shy voice. “I’m free. I just finished practice. Are you okay?”

“I’m great.” You nibbled your nail. “I uh…how was practice?”

Athena smacked your arm a few times and angrily whispered. “Ask him damn it!”

Levi walked to a quiet spot. “It went well, thanks.”

You smacked Athena back. “Do you have any plans tonight?”

Levi’s cheeks burned red. “N-No. I-I don’t.”

You locked eyes with Athena as she mouthed to you what to ask. “Well, how about we go out for drinks? You know, all of us?”

Levi looked at his friends and winced a little at how annoying some of them might be, but he also really wanted to spend time with you outside of uni. “Sure. We’ll meet you at the university-run bar in about an hour.”

You gave Athena a thumbs up making her dance around her room and shake her bum in your face. “Great. We’ll see you in an hour.” You ended the call and flopped against the bed. “This is a disaster! I don’t know what to wear!”

Athena rubbed your back. “It’ll be okay cupcake.” She slapped your bum hard making you scream. “Come on sexy! Let me help you out.”

You sat up and huffed. “Fine, fine.”

She yanked you against her buff frame and grinned. “Let this stylish nerd dress you!”

You let your computer science nerdy friend drag you out of her room and into yours. You watched her rummage through your wardrobe until she grabbed the things she wanted. “I’m not sure about that dress.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s a bit revealing with the boobs.”

She walked up to you. “You have incredible boobs. So, flaunt them.”

You released a long sigh. “Okay. I’ll trust you.” You changed into the dress and you blushed a little. You picked thigh-high socks instead of tights and a nice little cardigan. “This okay?”

Athena purred at you. “Looking like a little cupcake I wanna eat.”

You blushed. “Athena…”

She hummed a laugh. “Trust me. If I wanna devour you then Levi totally will.”

You grabbed your bag and sighed. “Are you changing?”

“Nah, I’m good. You’re the one who should impress.”

You blushed and walked with your friend. “You think he’ll like this?”

She put her arm around you. “I think he will love it so much he’ll kiss you.”

“A-Ah no! I d-don’t think so.” You walked outside with her and towards the bar. “He’s probably not into me. I’m just a friend to him. We sit next to each other in every lecture. We get lunch every day.” You saw Athena grinning. “Friends do all that!”

“Uh-huh. Oh, and friends totally drop everything to text you back too even when they’re busy.”

You sighed as she opened the door. “I really think you’re reading too much into his actions.”

“So why is the grumpy guy smiling and waving?”

You blushed as Levi stood in a booth with a gentle smile as he waved to you. You waved back as your heart throbbed. “He’s cute.”

Athena pushed you along. “You two are cute together. Just go for it, okay?”

You nodded and moved over to Levi and his three friends. “Hey.” You smiled at another tall blonde. “You must be Erwin! Lovely to meet you finally.”

Erwin shook your hand. “You too. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Levi blushed hard. “Tch, oi eyebrows, stop.”

You giggled. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

You nibbled your lip. “I’ll get it.”

He put his arm around you. “Let me treat you.” He blushed and locked eyes with a grinning Athena. “Can I get you something?”

Athena held her hands up. “I’ll get mine. I just want to chat with your friends for a bit.”

Levi gulped hard as he took you all in. He thought the dress looked incredible on you. “You uh…you look cute.”

You smiled a little as your heart fluttered in your chest. “Thank you.”

Levi moved you to the bar. “What would you like?”

You blushed a little and looked at the menu. “I uh…a cocktail? I’ll have the pina colada.”

Levi nodded. “Can I get a pina colada and a black Russian?”

You smiled as the bartender made the drinks. “I like white Russians.”

Levi looked down at you. “They’re pretty good. So, you like cocktails then?”

“I do.” You frowned a little. “Didn’t think you were a cocktail drinker.”

“I am. That bad?”

You shook your head. “No, it just means I have someone to take with me to a cocktail bar.”

He smiled a little. “I’d be happy to go with you.”

“Awesome.” You gazed at Levi as he blushed. “You have a mark on your cheek.” You reached over and lightly touched his cheek. “Are you okay?”

He hummed in response. “I’m okay. I got knocked by someone’s elbow.”

You moved closer and gasped. “It must hurt. Have you put anything on it?”

Levi blushed at you worrying about him and tending to him. “I ah…yeah. I put some ointment on it.” He leaned his cheek against your hand. “Thank you for worrying about me.”

You smiled a little as your heart raced. “How can I not worry? You’re important to me.”

Levi’s eyes widened. “I am?”

The bartender put the drinks down. “You two are a cute couple! What a lovely thing to see!”

You grabbed your drink. “Th-thank you.”

Levi blushed at you not denying anything. “Y-Yeah, thanks.” He cleared his throat and paid before walking with you back to the booth. “After you.”

You slipped in first and pressed up against the wall. You blushed as Levi sat next to you. You fiddled with your glass as everyone chatted. You joined in a bit but all you could focus on was Levi’s warm body next to you and the wonderful lemon scent that was drifting from him. You looked over at him to see he kept looking down at you.

You moved your gaze to his lap to see his left hand resting on his thigh next to you was clenched and twitching, almost like he wanted to do something but stopped himself. You took in a deep breath and bit the bullet. You reached over with your right hand and placed your hand on Levi’s. You blushed when he flinched at your touch, so you pulled your hand away.

Levi had been desperate to hold your hand this whole time. Your smell was intoxicating and sweet. He was so flustered by you and wanted so badly to hold your hand. He flinched when he felt your feathery touch on his hand. He saw you looked embarrassed and sad at his reaction. He panicked at possibly losing his chance. He reached for you and grabbed your hand before you pulled away for good.

Levi blushed as he held your wrist tightly. He felt like a deer in headlights. He ran his hand down your palm and then entwined his fingers with yours. He gave you a side glance to see you were smiling with an adorable blush on your cheeks. He gave your hand a little squeeze before running his thumb over your skin. He felt soothed by your touch even his heart was racing just a little bit.

Erwin and Athena got the drinks for everyone due to being sat at the end of the booth. You passed your card down when needed. Levi paid mostly for your drinks, but you managed to twist his arm and let you pay. Eventually, you needed the toilet and Levi said he did too. He let go of your hand and walked with you to the toilets. When you left Levi was waiting for you and looked a little nervous.

You smiled as you approached him. “You okay Levi?”

He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “So uh…about the umm hand holding…”

You blushed as you played with your dress. “R-Right.” You looked up as Levi leaned closer to kiss you, but you both ended up banging your heads. “Ow.”

Levi rubbed his head. “Tch, shit s-sorry.”

You giggled. “It’s okay.”

“I was trying to kiss you and fucked up.”

You blushed. “You wanted to kiss me?”

He stopped rubbing his head and blushed. “Y-Yeah.” His eyes darted around as the nerves seeped in. “I uh…I like you. I like you more than a friend. I-I’ve never liked someone as much as this before, so this is all new to me. A-All I know is I want to be your boyfriend a-and spoil you, t-take care of you, h-have a lot of firsts with you a-and um…just be with you.” He held his hands up. “O-Only if y-you want to.”

You walked up to Levi and held his hands. You squeezed them tightly and smiled softly. “I like you more than a friend too. I would like to be your girlfriend if you’ll have me.”

“I would really like that.”

You giggled. “Well then, I guess we’re a couple.”

He hummed a laugh as he lightly smiled. “I want to do this better, so…may I kiss you?”

You nodded shyly and leaned up to him. Your lips softly grazed his causing a tingle to begin in your lips. You shivered at his warm breath against your sensitive skin. You hummed as he kissed you gently, as if he was a bit scared you might break or run. When Levi realised you wanted this, he pressed his lips against yours with more purpose.

He tilted his head to the side and released your hands. He slowly slid his hands along your back and tugged you against his muscular body. You ran your hands up his chest and clung to him a little bit. He felt his heart race in his chest at kissing you. He’d never really kissed anyone before except for when a random girl kissed him when he was a kid, but he’d never had a real kiss. You were truly his first in everything.

You felt so adored in this kiss. It seemed so innocent but with a hint of desire. You felt truly cared for by this sweet man. He might have looked like he was a beast of a man, but really he was a sweet stuttering sweetheart who’d barely had romance in his life. You felt so much love from this man. You felt special and you knew you were going to do everything in your power to treasure this adorable bad boy.

You pulled from Levi’s lips and blushed a little. “Wow.”

Levi sighed. “You can say that again. That was my first real kiss.” He gripped your waist. “W-was it okay?”

You nodded. “It was more than okay! It was perfect.” You nibbled your lip. “Do…do you still want me? I mean, a kiss can change things.”

“I really want you.” He tapped his forehead against yours. “I-I want to take you on a d-date. I-I was thinking this S-Saturday? I uh have n-no practice.”

You smiled. “I’d love that. Oh, um…could I come to practice sometimes? I would like to watch.”

Levi groaned as his heart was close to bursting in his chest at how adorable you were. “Y-Yes. You can come.”

“Thank you.” You hummed a laugh. “I can’t wait to watch. I will come to your matches as well.”

“You’ll be my lucky charm.”

You laughed a little. “I don’t know about that.”

He held your hand and walked with you back to that table. His friends and Athena noticed the hand-holding but never said a thing about it and let you be. You all joked and laughed together and had a few more drinks before you decided to make the five-minute walk back to the halls. Levi waved to his friends and took you to your room.

Athena leaned against her door opposite yours. “Night you two! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t doooo.”

You blushed a little as she fell into her room. “I’m sorry about that.”

Levi ruffled his hair. “My friends will rip into me when I get back.”

“Ah, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be” he leaned against the door and smiled at you “they’re happy for me most likely, they’re just a joking bunch.” He blushed when you gave him a little peck on the lips. “Ah…uh…thank you.”

You blushed. “Kiss of courage.”

“I feel brave already.”

You hummed a little laugh. “Thank you for walking me back. You didn’t need to.”

He reached towards you and shifted your hair. “I wanted to.”

“I should walk you to the door.”

“Oh, but I walked you to your room door.”

You held his hand. “Maybe I want to spend more time with you.”

He led you to the door out of the hall and smiled. “I’m glad.” He stopped by the door. “Tch, this damn hallway should be longer.” He turned to you and kissed you. “I’ll text you.”

You nodded. “I’d like that. We uh, have lectures tomorrow, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He squeezed your hand before releasing it. “See you tomorrow.”

You waved to him. “Bye.” You hummed a laugh when he didn’t leave. “Levi.”

He leaned closer. “Sorry, one last kiss.” He kissed you and smiled. “Better. Okay, see you.”

You waved to him and watched him go down the stairs to the outside door. “Bye.”

[collegetennisoriginstory]

monthly (ish) progress update CT:OS

Hi everyone! I’ve been pretty quiet on tumblr the past few days, but active on the coding/writing side of things :) Just wanted to give a short update on how things are going :) 

(As a rough gauge, I edited almost 50k words, and wrote + coded another 25k. P.S. My editing process is super important - ‘cause it’s where I do really major rearrangements/re-writes + add ideas + polish + brainstorm the next few scenes - basically, CT:OS would be so very, very different if I stopped at my vomit draft (yes, this is what I call my first draft). So it’s not just me wasting time, I promise!) 

Writing/Coding/Editing

Day 1 of freshman orientation (Sat) 

Meet D (and G) in the morning (Edited) - choose your fave beverage 

Meet your hallmates/orientation group (Edited, rearranged some scenes) - play a short icebreaker game, choose your major

Amazing race (Edited) - achievement up for grabs

Go ‘waterfalling’ (Edited) - added a short alternative scene 

Day 2 of freshman orientation (Sun)

Morning of the activities fair (Started editing) - options to hang out with hallmates at the fair, or alternatively, with Rayyan or Tobin

Laser tag (Written - raw draft) - tested + brainstormed some edits/improvements to the gameplay; achievement up for grabs

First day of classes (Mon)

First class (Written - raw draft) - tested + brainstormed some edits/improvements 

Training session- short scene (Written - raw draft) 

Rest of the week (Tue-Thur)

Short class scenes (Planned - skeleton) 

Friendly doubles match on Thu (Planned - all choices and scenes charted out, to code and write text) - long tennis gameplay scene, plus some Tobin interaction (finally!) 

Poll/Beta-testing/Asks

Poll

Conclusion: Y’all are frikkin hilarious. AND so very, very kind. Thank you for the awesome responses, I read every single one in detail (sometimes multiple times), and they all made me grin. 

Also, it’s hilarious how many people are into Valentina/woman at the chinese restaurant (she doesn’t even have a name yet! oops.)

Finally, yes, I have created dedicated blogs for CT:OS and Merry Crisis (for the purists in the poll!) 

Beta-testing

BIG BIG thank you to everyone who’s left their contact information, and details about your background and interests, or even suggestions for some of the routes! They were an absolute delight to read, and I am so excited for the next chapter of CT:OS. Can’t wait to bring you guys on board! 

Unfortunately, because I hope to get out the next chapter of CT:OS, so I can send it over to you guys to test, I’ve been prioritising writing before contacting everyone who’s reached out. 

I will be reading everyone’s applications again, organising/sorting them by routes/interest, and reaching out to those I have contact info for. If you indicated interest, but didn’t type in your email address, do note that the poll did not display/collect your email address (as I wanted it to be fully anonymous), so you’ll either need to drop me a DM or ask with your tumblr handle/email. But you can also wait for my official post in the next month or so. 

Asks

SORRY for being really bad at answering asks the past week/weeks, I’ve been concentrating on writing, planning, coding and editing. 

I’ll be heading off for a long holiday in <1 week, so things have also been super busy for me at my day (real) job + trip planning + trying to write as much as I can at night. So: If I don’t get the update out to beta-testers in a week, before I go hiking (most likely), it looks like an update in End July or Aug seems probable. 

Thank you to everyone who’s played CT:OS :) Sending you all much love, and hope you have an awesome summer!! 

[mallorykeen]

OKAY BUT IMAGINE THE ANGST IF ALEX WAS A TRAITOR. Any HC for this idea ? 😳💖

ooh okay

it's in skadi's castle and magnus has the mead and alex comes to visit him and he gets all his hopes up because they kissed and then he wakes up from being knocked out and they've lost the mead and now they're going to lose

blitzen is furious that he let alex in, they really bonded over fashion and he even taught her some asl along with hearth and thought they were good friends to the point they all considered alex another empty cup and now they're all going to die because of her

hearthstone is preparing all his contingency plans even though he never has any and won't even let himself think about it because he knows if he does he's going to do something stupid and/or get everyone killed

tj mallory and halfborn have seen this shit before but it really hits different when it's your own hallmate and they're all stuck at the anger stage of grief

honestly, samirah is the most betrayed, she feels guilty for picking alex in the first place and that was her sister who doomed the nine worlds and alex and samirah were really close at this point so she's really confused and in denial but also kicking herself

magnus is just like "huh? alex wouldn't do that." until they see her again at loki's side and she has kvasir's mead in her hands and he just breaks

send me asks

[the-stray-storyteller]

2, 30, 96 for whichever OC is currently on your mind!

Ah-dainn from Defenders.

2. Do you think you would get along with your oc if you could meet them? What things would you talk about?

Yes, I would get along with Ah-dainn, everybody gets along with that alien. No talking only hugs.

HUGS.

30. How caring/empathetic is your oc? Are they the type to immediately adopt and protect others, or are they a true sadist?

He is very caring and empathic. He understands people and can form emotional bonds with them. He tries to protect and be there for his friends and sometimes this causes him to be a little overbearing.

69. How energetic is your oc? Are they constantly tired, or constantly bouncing off the walls?

Ah-dainn is somewhere in between but leaning more towards the tires side because being hallmates with Jay and Skyler (who fight a lot) can be very draining. He is also Skyler's bestfriend, that itself is something else. Their whole relationship is literally :

"Sklyer, no."

"Skyler, yes."

[themuse-if]

A Few Things

Hello everyone!

I've really been enjoying reading all your asks and I'm still trying to get caught up! I'll try to do at least 2 a day!

I've been trying to think more about side characters lately, since the ROs won't be the only other students that MC interacts with.

On MC's hall in their dorm there is 1 single room that with be Silas' (the RA), and 7 double rooms. There are 14 beds total for freshman 6 will be taken by ROs and 1 by MC, so that leaves 7 more spots.

I've gone ahead and created these other hallmates and plan to post them sometime this weekend or next week.

These characters won't be ROs but they will definitely add to the drama! Just because they aren't main love interests doesn't mean MC can't go on a date or two. Or maybe kiss one of them during a silly little game of spin the bottle.🤭 🤭🤭

Also thank you guys for all the well wishes! I really appreciate all the support! Check out the extras tab on my page to get caught up with any fun asks you may have missed!

[greenninjagal-blog]

Trouble

Hi yeah its me, and look I’m already back with a new fic for the new year :D cherish this moment I don’t think i will have have this turn around so quick again. For the TSS Fanworks Secret Santa Exchange because I was a pinch hitter :DD @nerdywriterhaven I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Patton has a thing about boardgames and Virgil has a thing about Logan. Together they figure it out. 

Word Count: 7900

Quick Taglist: @alias290​ @chelsvans​ @coyboi300​ @dante-reblogs @dwbh888​ @glitchybina​ @faithfulcat111​ @felicianoromano​ @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries​ @jemthebookworm​ @killerfangirl3​ @mrbubbajones​  @musical-nerd18​ @nonasficcollection​ @stricken-with-clairvoyancy​ @the-sunshine-dims​ @themagicheartmailman​ @themultishipperchild @thenaiads​ @treasureofpriam​ @vianadraws​ @welovelogansanders​  

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Patton shows up at Virgil’s dorm room just slightly after six pm on a Tuesday with two thermoses of soup that are still warm to the touch, a halloween tupperware of chocolate chip cookies that had been passed between him and Virgil so many times that Patton really doesn’t remember whose it was originally, his laptop, phone, the chargers for both, and the board game Trouble.

Virgil, predictably, shuts the door in his face the second he sees the game box hidden under all the other things in his arms. Patton also thinks that Virgil tells him to go away, but it’s muddled by the door.

Instead he shuffles all the supplies to his left arm and knee, and knocks again on his door just below the leftover tape from the nametag that his RA keeps putting up and Virgil keeps ripping down because he doesn’t want anyone knowing where he sleeps. His knuckles hum with the rap, datatata dat dat! And he smiles even when there’s the sound of something being thrown at the door from that side.

Patton chooses not to hear it because he’s a good friend and an even more stubborn houseguest.

The door a little bit down the hall opens up with the usual fanfare of someone who is running late to a night class-- which of course is the charm of Roman Prince. He looks nice, as usual, and Patton even thinks that if he hadn’t been wearing two different colored shoes, no one would even know that he had probably just woken up from a nap. The music of his room blares out into the hall with a rap song Patton thinks is Hip With the Kids these days, but Patton himself can’t make out any of the actual words.

All the much better because he’s pretty sure it’s Remus’s music and Remus likes his songs like he likes just about everything else: dirty, scandalous, and offensive. Not that Patton is good friends with either of the Prince siblings, but he’s heard the rumors floating around about both. Roman smiles at him, with glittering white teeth and dimples and soft warm brown eyes that could have been made of melted chocolate.

“Oh! What a spectre!” Roman says, seeming to forget that he’s on the way to a class at the sight of Patton standing at Virgil’s door. “Tell me, angel, what brings a glorious sight such as you to our dorm buildings on this amazing day?”

Virgil’s door swings back open before Patton can answer and Virgil hisses from the darkness, the way he’s usually prone to do whenever Roman or Remus or their blatant disregard for the rules about music volume at two AM is brought up.

He looks not much better from the glimpse Patton got before the door was closed in his face earlier: he’s still pale to the point of looking sickly and dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, with his eye shadow smeared and his hair not brushed at all. There’s a red imprint on the side of his face that Patton thinks matches a crease in his blankets or pillows from where he probably tried to suffocate himself on and off all day between anxiously texting Patton all about “the absolute worst day of my entire life and no I’m not even exaggerating this time Pat”.

“Hi Virgil!” Patton says, as Virgil reaches forward and to take a thermos and the tupperware from his arms and glare unbidenedly at Roman. “I brought dinner!”

“I hate you,” Virgil says, and does not mean because he loves Patton’s Broccoli Cheddar Cheer Up Soup and he’s been in need of cheering up since Patton had seen his messages at noon on his way to his second class of the day.

Roman gasps like he’s offended on behalf of Patton who is not offended as much as endeared to his best friend of several years. “Virgil! How could you act so callus towards a beautiful muse such as this?”

“Get lost, Princey,” Virgil tells him firmly, grumpily, Virgil-ly. “He came here specifically to make a pun about my pain.”

“I do it with love,” Patton adds. “And I brought cookies to make up for it.”

Roman looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that information and Virgil doesn’t give him time to find out because he kinda hates Roman-- although Patton always tells him that “hate” is a strong word and Virgil always says he means it anyway. Patton supposes that if he, too, had hallmates that played music louder than life up to the early hours of the mornings during Finals Week, and then cranked it higher when he knocked on the door to ask them to stop, he might also strongly dislike them.

Virgil ushers Patton into the dark room and then kicks the door closed while Patton is waving goodbye at Roman.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light level: Virgil was certainly making use of those thick blackout curtains! It made the whole room look like it was three AM, rather than six PM! There are blobs of stuff all around the room, piles of clothes and blankets that Virgil prefers to have on the floor rather than put somewhere where he’s not going to trip over it in the middle of the night, but Patton supposes that’s just how Virgil’s always been.

“If someone breaks in, they’re gonna trip over this shit and I will be out of here long before they can get back up,” Virgil had said the first time Patton had suggested maybe, possibly cleaning something until they found the floor.

The desk where Virgil did his school work is empty and the textbooks and computer that normally covered it are all on the ground like a massacre from what Patton can make out. Virgil shuffles through the room and ends up turning on the purple lava lamp that Patton got him three years ago so that they could at least see each other and the faux-floor, and even then he doesn’t look happy at needing that much. The elevated bed had the blankets ripped up from it and turned into a nest with Virgil’s phone light peeking out from the depths like some underwater cave with a sea monster in it waiting for an unsuspecting diver.

“Remind me, how you got into this building?” Virgil says, tiredly as he pries open the cookie container. “It requires a key and last time I checked, you don’t have one of those, Pat.”

“As if a key would stop me from checking on you!” Patton replies. He plops himself on a pile of clothes and clears away another spot for Virgil to collapse next to him, so that Virgil can’t exactly escape. “Now, what is this about Logan again? You were being kinda vague and world-ending-y again. ”

Virgil lets out a moan around the cookie he shoved in his mouth and drops to the floor next to Patton, to munch angrily or just upsetly without actually offering an answer, because he’s Virgil and he’s allergic to talking about things that upset him. Patton sets down his other thermos, his laptop, and his own phone to make room for the game between them.

“Must we?” Virgil asks as Patton sets up the board with a practiced hand. Even in the near darkness of the room he knows exactly what he’s doing, and could probably figure it out with no light at all.

“Of course!” Patton says. “You sounded like you were in Trouble.”

“ Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s rather Risk -y of you to be self deprecating while within hugging distance.”

Virgil doesn’t say anything for a moment, just swallows the bite of his cookie and stares at the colored pieces in front of him. The board game is well worn and well loved-- one of the first ones Patton had ever gotten and one of the first ones he ever convinced Virgil to play with him. Although “convinced” is a strong word for how Patton had just been staring at the board numbly with red rimmed eyes when his father had asked Virgil to come over and try to coax him into eating something, anything, please .

They’d lost three pieces of the red team and one of the yellow and two of the green, but that’s okay because Patton generally played blue and Virgil had custom ordered four purple pieces for just the two of them a few years ago.

Carefully, placatingly, Virgil reaches a hand forward and pops the dice bubble for his number. He gets a four.

Patton gets a five.

“How many times have we played this one, Pat?” Virgil asks, in a voice much softer than before. In the faded purple light and the shadows, it’s hard to see the number on the die, and harder to see exactly what Virgil is thinking about with his eyes hidden like that. His nails are bitten down to the quick, ruining the black nail polish he spent an hour applying last weekend over their shared Biology notes.

Patton shrugs as he reaches forward to take his turn and pops the bubble. Honestly he didn’t think he could calculate the answer if Virgil pressed: this was their go-to game, this was his go-to pun, this is what they did even when the world was falling apart at the seams. It was easier to focus on moving playing pieces a couple pegs than it was to focus on the sound of a heart monitor or raspy breathing or bony pale fingers that shook when they tried to hold anything.

It was easier to find a way to win when the instructions were so clear, and the rules were so fair, and the consequences of losing were just having to put the game back in the box.

Virgil doesn’t say anything more and Patton doesn’t force him to, although he desperately wants to. He wants to reach out and catch Virgil’s hands in his own, he wants to give him a squeeze, he wants to wipe away the tear tracks in his makeup and he wants to tell Virgil that whatever it is, Patton will be there for him.

He wants Virgil to look at a game for once and have fun.

But the only sound in the room is the popper when they roll the die back and forth.

Patton gets the six first. He moves his second leftmost piece to the start and hits it again for a three.

Virgil stares his blue piece on the board for a long moment, without blinking. His hands lie limply in his lap and the tub of cookies sits at his knee. The purple light makes his eyes glisten sweetly, wetly, sadly, with a resignation that Patton knows and wishes he doesn’t. The lump in his throat swells up.

“Virgil?”

Virgil blinks. And then blinks again.

“Why should I even bother at this point?” he asks. He runs a hand up to his hair and tugs at the locks.

“Virgil, this is the opening of the game,” Patton says. “You can’t give up alrea--”

“But it’s not like I’m going to win,” Virgil says and Patton sucks in a breath sharply.

Oh. It was one of those days.

Patton thinks that he should have been expecting this; it had been a decent amount of time since Virgil last had refused to finish a game, and Patton had almost thought that maybe they had kicked those thoughts for good! That through sheer willpower and perseverance and proof to the contrary, they might have managed to rework how Virgil approached a challenge. That at one point Virgil might laugh and smile even when he wasn’t in the lead--

And yet, Patton’s sitting with one piece three spaces ahead of Virgil and Virgil is ready to call it quits. The game had just started. Patton had only been sitting in the room for a total of five minutes. Virgil hadn’t talked for more than a couple sentences.

It’s one of those days, except that Patton doesn’t think that it’s ever been this bad before, because usually they at least made it to the one piece around the board in Trouble , through to one check in Chess , through to one hotel being built in Monopoly , or one train ticket completed in Ticket to Ride .

“This is a sign, isn’t it?” Virgil continues. “I’m just being stupid even considering it. Of course I am. I always am. Nevermind, I don’t want to do this today Pat. Thanks for the soup and the cookies and I’m sorry that I made you walk all the way--”

Patton reaches out and snags Virgil’s arm before he can get all the way off the ground. The board nudges to the side dislodging several pieces into the surrounding void, but Patton thinks that he can replace a hundred playing pieces.

He cannot replace his best friend.

Virgil’s skin is cold, even though the room was comfortably warm, and he’s soft to the touch-- which is never what Patton expects when he gets those lightning quick hugs, when Virgil rests his head on his shoulder during movie nights, when they go shopping and there are crowds that make Virgil want to run for the hills and only Patton’s hand in his keeps him grounded there. Virgil is soft despite the jagged persona he puts on to drive away other people, and he hasn’t gotten any sort of touch in a while because he shuts up the moment that Patton’s own warmth floods over him.

The room holds the silence for an eternity: Virgil frozen halfway up from the ground, and Patton latching on to him like he can pluck all the reasons Virgil is upset out of his mind through osmosis. The lava lamp makes him look unreal, makes the silence ring louder, makes the lump in Patton’s throat grow larger.

“Virgil,” Patton says, “please.”

Please tell me what I can do. Please allow me to help. Please let me in.

“It’s stupid,” Virgil says.

Patton wants to laugh, because nothing that ever hurts Virgil has ever been stupid. “I don’t think so, kiddo.”

Virgil bites his lip and inhales with all of his chest.

“You didn’t go to any classes today. You’ve been crying. You’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes.” Patton says. “Something happened. And it can’t possibly be stupid because nothing that affects you like this is can be anything less than something huge.”

Patton feels Virgil’s hand curl into a fist like he can hide his shaking when Patton is right there .

“Do you remember Logan Ackroyd,” Virgil says. “The senior a year older than us who I had Sociology with last year?”

The same Logan who took extra notes for when Virgil missed class and emailed them to him. The same Logan who offered Virgil a granola bar when he overheard that Virgil had missed lunch. The same Logan who helped Virgil break into the auditorium after school hours to search for his missing earbuds.

The same Logan who has eyes more knowledgeable than the entire galaxy, who wears a tie to class, who smells like coffee beans and pen ink and looks like he’d give really good, safe hugs.

The same Logan who Patton has never once met, but feels like he knows intimately thanks to Virgil’s starstruck rambles.

Logan must be something great and amazing. Patton has known that for a year now, from watching the months slip away and suddenly the ghost of Logan joins them on every outing, summoned by the blush over Virgil’s ears and the soft smile on his lips and the way that Virgil steadfastly won’t meet Patton’s eyes like it will prevent Patton from noticing the way that the senior is always on Virgil’s mind. Logan is kind. Logan is smart. Logan has a new book every day. Logan has a voice like the ocean waves.

Logan, Patton thinks, should have been more careful if he caused Virgil this much distress. Because there are things that Patton would do for Virgil that not even a cold blooded killer would consider doing.

“Yeah,” Patton says, with a smile soft and dumb and innocent. “You guys have Analytical Science together this year, right?”

Virgil lets go of his lip, and breathes out a breath that sounds like more relief than Patton is supposed to hear. “Yeah. Yeah. He, uh… yeah.” Virgil shifts back down, shifts so that he’s on his knees and Patton is right next to him, and they’re still touching and that warmth is stronger than the shadows made by the blobs in the lava lamp.

“Janus… Janus asked him out yesterday,” Virgil says, using his other hand to pluck at a thread in his jeans.

Oh. Patton doesn’t think cookies and soup were enough.

And golly, Patton doesn’t think Logan is as smart as Virgil is always saying he is either, because if he said yes in front of Virgil, he must have been the stupidest person on the planet.

Virgil is quiet, dismissible, a shadow in his own skin even on his best days. But he is not un-noticeable.

He carries an aura around himself that storms and thunders and promises danger to those that get too close. His laughter is a threat first and a comfort second. His smile is a knife blade that even Patton sometimes wonders if he might find in his back one day. Virgil was someone that you noticed and you stayed the fudge away from.

Unless you were Patton, who hadn’t been afraid of Death from the moment he watched his mother cough up blood over the cards to CandyLand, watched his mother turn into a real-life game of Operation, watched her breathing get ragged and her fingers struggle to hold playing cards between them.

Logan hadn’t been scared away by Virgil’s thunder, and somehow he had weathered the storm that Virgil put up to protect himself and lived securely in the eye of the hurricane. And somehow he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t cared, had taken advantage of Virgil’s softening heart just to shatter it.

“He didn’t…” Virgil says. “Janus… he didn’t really mean it. I don’t think. It might have been a joke because they’re friends but Logan told everyone that he would only consider dating someone who could… could…”

“Could what?”

Virgil’s eyes flick down to the Trouble game board, to the pieces lost in chaos of the floor, to the box they hadn’t needed except for transport. Patton feels his heart thud in his chest before he crawls up his throat and he tastes it in his mouth along with the remains of the raw cookie dough he licked off the spoon while cleaning up.

Virgil’s words come back to him in whispers. But it’s not like I’m going to win. This is a sign, isn’t it? I’m just being stupid even considering it.

“Someone who could….” Patton says, “beat him in a boardgame?”

Virgil yanks the thread on his jeans sharply and nods without meeting Patton’s eyes. “I told you it was stupid.”

“Virgil,” Patton says. “This is great! We’ve been playing games together for years! You can beat--”

“That’s the thing!” Virgil says with his shoulders curling up to his ears and burying him in layers of excess fabric. “Pat, I can’t even beat you in a board game and I know all your strategies!”

“I don’t think that Trouble actually has any strategies. It’s really luck of the roll--”

Virgil peeks out of his hood enough to give Patton a miserable glare. “When was the last time I won against you, Pat? Be honest.”

Patton purses his lips. “I don’t think that’s fair, kiddo. I’ve been playing games since I was able to understand the rules--”

“You don’t even remember, do you.”

“It was Dominos and you won by twenty points.”

“Nice try, but you purposely miscounted and you actually won by two.” Virgil reaches out for another cookie and offers it to Patton without making any move to pull his other hand from Patton’s hold.

“You would have a lot more wins if you didn’t insist on not finishing games sometimes!” Patton says. “You never know the ending of a game until you play it out!”

“I could tell you that Logan was going to beat Janus in Chess the moment the opening moves were made,” Virgil counters. “He won in twelve moves and then the next game in six.”

Patton opens his mouth, but Virgil shoves the cookie in before he can actually say anything.

“And God Rest Remy’s soul because Logan obliterated him in Trivia Pursuit.” Virgil continues, “He turned Roman to mincemeat over Scrabble, and not only beat Remus in Poker, but won one hundred dollars off him too. I also watched him win in Othello against some kid he tutored in Calc, a game of Mancala with an art kid who was doing it for clout, and Stratego which he won before I finished reading the fuuuuuudging rules and made his opponent cry over it.”

Patton swallows down a bite of cookie that he didn’t not chew well enough because he feels it tear up his esophagus as it goes. Virgil politely ignores him dying for a second and offers him his own thermos of soup to help it down, before remembering that he’s supposed to be brooding and staring at Patton for too long makes him soft.

“Not to make a pun here, but no dice; I legitimately cannot beat Logan,” Virgil says. “He’s just… so good. At everything. What is the point in humiliating myself with this? Even if I find a game so obscure that he’s never heard of it and doesn’t have a strategy built for it, just going up to him and putting the board between us is like-- that’s telling him that I’ve had this massive stupid crush on him for ages and what if he doesn’t even like me? What if I win and then he has to date me because he said so but he actually hates me? What if--”

Patton coughs so hard he thinks he might have dislodged his own lung, which is fine!! Because at least it got Virgil to snap back to him and table his panicky spiral for later.

“Weren’t you,” Patton croaks, “Weren’t you already going to confess to him? You bought the chocolate kisses and you sent me pictures of them in your bag right before class last week.”

Patton can’t see Virgil’s ears because of his hood but he knows that they’re glowing red from the way that Virgil can’t meet his eyes again.

“I just….I did but then he….” Virgil nudges a pile of questionably clean band t-shirts with his socked foot. “He said he wasn’t interested because class was starting and I still don’t know if he meant an actual kiss or a Hershey kiss because he had to leave class early to pick up his kid brother from his middle school because he was sick with a fever and then I was too mortified to bring it back up-- See Pat, I can’t even come up with a creative way to tell Logan that I wanna listen to him ramble about jellyfish immortality and play with his hair or tell him that I wanna know what the flavor of his chapstick is-- which, by the way, I did say to him and he told me was cake batter and that I could find it at the corner drugstore because he thought I was looking for recommendations-- There is no way to subtly tell him that I want to date him.”

“Then maybe… don’t be subtle?” Patton suggests, and then points at the game between them. “Boardgame?”

Virgil scowls at the game like it had personally offended him. “But I can’t beat him. And if I lose and by some miracle he still wants to be seen with me, then he’d be breaking the very rules he set up and everyone else who lost is going to be pissed at both of us and I can’t do that to Logan.”

Patton bites back the then don’t lose that he wants to say. It seems so obvious to him. He doesn’t really see why Virgil doesn’t think he can win one single game. There isn’t even a rule that says Virgil can’t come back and play again-- which isn’t that the point of games? That you can play them for a little while, pack them up, and then come back to them later? That you sit down with friends-maybe-more and you play and have fun ?

Not for the first time, and not for the last time, Patton wonders why Virgil ever played games with him at all. He knows the first time was pity because he found Patton sitting on the floor of his bedroom with Trouble on the ground in front of him and staring at it numbly because he had cried all the tears out of himself already at the hospital, at the funeral, at the everything that had come after that he couldn’t remember. The first time it had been to get Patton to react because he had been so lost, but every time after that Virgil had made the conscious decision to pick up the pieces.

Even if sometimes he had put them back down halfway through and Patton hadn’t figured out how to convince him that the point isn’t to win as much as it is to have fun.

Virgil twists his wrist loosely in Patton’s grip so that he’s holding Patton back, his cold fingers somehow feeling comforting rather than startling. Patton has always loved that about him, although he’s never sure how that works. The coolness of his touch is familiar, but the vulnerability of Virgil reaching out is something newer, something special, something fragile and Virgil holds onto him like he’s expecting Patton to let go at any moment and Patton steadfastly refuses to let him drift off. Patton squeezes his wrist gently, lightly, softly.

I’m here. I’m not leaving. We’re in this together.

“I think that Logan can make decisions for himself,” Patton says with words so featherlight they barely move the air. “Remember the dominos? Any player can choose to lose, whether it be miscounting or it be refusing to finish the game in the end. But if you never even offer to play with him… Logan can’t make that choice, Virgil.”

Virgil holds his gaze for a moment, two, three, and there’s something in his eyes that shies away from the glow of the light, something slippery and weak and scared. Something that Patton is afraid to put a name to, lest it disappear from him forever.

Something that causes Virgil to squeeze his wrist back.

Together. Us. We’ve got this.

“So what game do you want to play with Logan?” Patton asks. “We can go look at my collection if you want? I loaned out Backgammon to a girl in my Shakespearean class, but other than that I have the usuals with me.”

Virgil takes a deep breath. “Can we…” He says. “Do it tomorrow? I don’t want…” He squeezes Patton’s wrist again and Patton can fill in the rest of the blanks with his own interpretations. He is, after all, fluent in Virgilese, as much as Virgil is fluent in Pattonish.

“Yeah, yeah,” Patton says and shifts through the piles of clothes that act as cushions so he’s right next to Virgil, pressing their shoulders together, leaning his head on Virgil’s collarbone, and reaching around him for another cookie. Virgil moves the tub between them and then pulls the Trouble game board in front of that.

He hesitates for another moment-- they’re missing two of Patton’s blue pieces to the floor, and one of Virgil’s purples to a pile of sweatshirts-- but the fact that Virgil drops forward and presses the bubble to roll the die makes Patton’s chest warm.

He gets a six, and then a four and that thing in his eyes seems to grow just a bit stronger.

That is, of course, when the rap music from next door starts up loud enough to shake the entire room and Patton wonders if Logan would still be up for playing a game with Virgil when he’s incarcerated for second degree murder.

Patton, at least, gets a hug out of it, when he tackles Virgil to the ground before he can get to the door, and he manages to coax Virgil back to their area, back to the floor, back to the game, and then later into the blanket-fort-and-movie-night that they watch with one earbud each and their foreheads pressed together late into the night.

***

Patton’s mother developed lung cancer when he was seven. He remembers it in vague flashes: the blood, the shakiness, her fall to the floor because they had never had any sign of it happening until it was too late to do much about it. He was told it was because his maternal grandparents both smoked a lot when she was growing up and she spent the weekends helping them around the house still.

The doctors said she had a year. She got eighteen months.

He barely remembers her face from his own memories anymore, all of them blurred and twisted by the passage of time that he almost got swept away in entirely. Her picture still hangs around the house, though, and he guesses he’s lucky in that regard. He liked how he could see her every time he passed by the stairs, even after his dad remarried and he had grown up and the telemarketers stopped calling the house to tell her that there was an interesting charge on the credit card she didn’t have anymore.

He still wakes up sometimes with his heart beating in his ears and his eyes blinded with tears and his lungs refusing to cooperate because of nightmares about forgetting her entirely, of seeing her stand up to call out to his dad, of seeing her cough out blood and then fall to the floor right in front of him as his dad is running down the stairs. He still wakes up and feels his heart aching where she might have once been if everything had gone just a little bit different. He still wakes up and wishes that he could go back to sleep because at least in his dreams she’s still there waiting with a deck of cards and a smile that says, “Alright, Buster, don’t think I’m going to go easy on you this time!”  

Usually those types of days he labels as “Bad Ones”, and he finds it harder to crawl from under his blankets to do pretty much anything.

Virgil knows immediately when he sees Patton staring at his black laptop screen that it’s a Bad One.

Patton loves that he knows not to ask, hates that Virgil can read him so easily, wants to cry because it’s been so long and shouldn’t the edges of that pain have gone away by now? He wants to pull Virgil’s purple comforter back over them and drift back off into the blissful warmth while pretending that the idea of a game right now didn’t make his hands shake.

She hadn’t left Patton specifically a lot of things, but the things that she had left him had been boardgames. Things that she had collected over the years and kept on a shelf in the study for them to play after work and school: Candyland, Trouble, Snakes and Ladders. She had a whole shelf for him when he got to an age where he could understand more complex concepts: Ticket to Ride, Pandemic, Mysterium, Star Realms, Settlers of Catan.

After she was gone… Patton had stared at that shelf and wondered if she had ever thought that maybe she wouldn’t get a chance to play some of them with him.

He wonders how many of them he could have beat her at, how many of them she might let him win in, how many of them they would love to play together and how many of them they would both play through once and then wrinkle their noses at because it wasn’t what they thought it was going to be.

He wonders and maybe it’s a bit too much because he’s stomach is rolling nauseously and he thinks that if he has to look at a game he’ll actually throw up this time.

Virgil doesn’t say anything, even as he gets up and Patton remains buried under too many blankets and the alarm on his phone goes off again for his morning class. The darkness is safe and warm and Patton thinks he understands why Virgil likes it so much as he closes his eyes and tries not to think of a woman who is long gone and in the ground.

“Breakfast?” Virgil whispers at some point.

“Cookies,” Patton mumbles back.

Virgil had carted a hand through his curls and then the door to the room had opened closed and locked behind him. Patton thinks that was nice of him-- to lock the door like he was protecting anyone from coming in and stealing his valuables even though Patton was there. Or maybe since Patton was there? Patton presses his head into a pillow that smells vaguely like chocolate cherries and black licorice and other things that screamed Virgil, and thinks that Virgil might consider Patton a valuable that needs to be protected and kept safe.

Sometime later Patton wakes up with Virgil lying beside him, headphones on and typing on his computer with one hand while dragging fingers through Patton’s curls with the other. It’s impressive of him by itself, but not nearly as impressive as the fact that Virgil’s hood is down and the blackout curtains are parted enough to bring in a decent amount of light.

Virgil blinks at him and removes one earmuff. “I read that flowers need sunlight to grow,” he says in lieu of explaining the rays of light cascading into the room over the two of them.

Patton wants to laugh, and thinks he might if it were any other day and not this one. He settles for a somewhat bent smile and Virgil reaches to somewhere he can’t see and brings back a muffin from the Campus Cafe.

“Chocolate Chip,” he says. “Which is like a cookie, but better because it’s a muffin and I said so.”

Patton can’t really tell if the tears that prick in his eyes are from the lingering sadness or the softness of just a simple gesture from his best friend. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither.

It’s a muffin, not something he should be crying over, and he repeats it even as he takes a bite from the top and Virgil pretends like he doesn’t see Patton scrubbing his cheeks as he chews. It’s a muffin, but Virgil got it just for him and Virgil came right back here and sat with him so he wouldn’t wake up alone and sad and and and--

And if Patton liked anyone romantically like that(™) he thinks he would have fallen straight into love with Virgil.

“Did you miss class?” Patton whispers.

Virgil shrugs. “Nothing important. I sent an email to my teachers saying that I wasn’t feeling too good and didn’t want to risk accidentally spreading anything to anyone, which already helps because I didn’t go to class yesterday and I’ve already turned in all my work for the week for most of my classes. Besides, you were here and I didn’t want to just leave you all alone-- what if Roman started playing his Disney compilations at 160 decibels again?”

“You like Disney, though.”

“I also like my hearing and my best friend,” Virgil says like it’s nothing, like it’s obvious, like it shouldn’t be making Patton tear up again because Virgil is just so nice.

“I’m sorry,” Patton whispers.

Virgil moves his computer and jostles around on the bed until they’re lying side-by-side even though the bed was definitely not made for two persons. He presses his head to Patton’s, and he’s cool and soft and safe.

Together. We got this.

“Your mom?” He asks.

Patton nods, with a lump in his throat that makes all the words he wants to say crumble to ashes on his tongue. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Pat,” Virgil says.

“But… Logan…”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Virgil says. “And, full offense, but no boy is going to be more important to me than you regardless of how fuuuuuuunkily hot he is. Funkily, yeah, sure, that’s a word that I definitely was going to say right there.”

Patton feels the laugh build up in his chest, against all the odds in the world, and it tastes like chocolate when it rolls out of his mouth.

Virgil bumps his shoulder, and grins. “Look, I’m trying here. Cursing is in my nature!”

“Thank you,” Patton says. For everything.

“No prob, Bob,” Virgil says. I would do it all all over again and never change a thing.

“I’m not Bob! I’m Pat!”

Virgil’s laugh is like the sun breaking through the clouds after a rainstorm, like a rainbow cascading through the sky, like being caught after a fall. Patton gets the energy to smile back when he hears it and that alone nearly makes him want to cry again.

Patton twists the blanket under him between his fingers and takes a deep breath. “Did you…” He says before pausing to swallow back the taste of his own stomach acids he’s not sure is entirely imaginary. “Did you pick a game? For Logan?”

Virgil’s nose twitches, which means the answer is a sound no. “It’s not that important right now. You’re not feeling up to--”

“ Vir -gil,” Patton says and Virgil’s nose twitches again.

They share a look for another minute, two, three, before Virgil exhales and looks away.

“Fine, fine,” he says. “I didn’t pick out a game yet. I actually saw him in the Cafe earlier with Janus and he waved, though, which was awesome until I waved back and forgot to look where I was going and walked straight into a glass door. At this point it’s going to be a miracle if Logan doesn’t laugh in my face when I ask him to play anything with me.”

“He won’t laugh at you,” Patton says and Virgil slides his arms up and crosses them so he can bury his chin in them like he doesn’t believe Patton at all. “From what you’ve told me, Logan is really nice isn’t he? And the other day didn’t you say that he went on a rant about Pluto being a planet? I think that’s just as silly as you walking into a door.”

Virgil hums to show he’s listening, even if he isn’t taking the words to heart as much as letting them filter through his ears. Patton licks the last of the chocolate muffin from his fingertips and blinks away the urge to hide away from the rest of the world when he spies the box for Trouble on the ground next to Virgil’s desk trash can.

Virgil follows his gaze to the box and he purses his lips, although Patton isn’t sure if its from the fact that he’s remembering that neither of them won last night, or if he’s thinking about odds of beating Logan again or if he, too, is thinking about ghostly fingers trying so hard to move playing pieces that they can no longer touch.

Patton rolls over and stares at Virgil’s ceiling instead, counting his breaths until he feels like the static between his ears isn’t going to overwhelm him.

“What game do you want to play?” Patton asks.

“I won’t win.”

“I didn’t ask what game you wanted to win,” Patton points out. “What game do you want to play against Logan?”

Virgil is quiet, but he sighs so heavily that Patton can see his bangs flutter out of the corner of his eyes.

“This is going to sound stupid,” Virgil says, and again Patton remembers that nothing Virgil ever says has ever once been stupid. “But I don’t want to play against him at all.”

Patton frowns, rolling his head to the side to take in Virgil’s gaze that is already looking at him. His dark eyes are there and the something in them that Patton doesn’t want to put a name to is there again, shining just like the rays of light between Virgil’s blinds.

“I mean I want to play a game with Logan, just not against Logan. It’s stupid, okay? I was just thinking about the cooperative games back at your house that we used to play with your dad and step mom-- you know like the Unlock , Escape-room-in-a-box games? Or maybe Flashpoint? Or Forbidden Island? I was just thinking how shit I am at making my own decisions in Pandemic and Logan is really good at strategy so I bet that working together we’d be able to beat any game.”

Patton breathes deeply, sharply, and tries to ignore the piercing pain in his chest at the mention of the games. Virgil winces like he wants to take the words right back out of the air and hide them somewhere where neither of them have to face them at all.

“I don’t…” Virgil says, “I don’t want to play against him and lose. I’d rather play with him and win. Again: it’s stupid.”

Patton closes his eyes, and sees the shelf his mom left him full of boardgames she picked out long before he was past chewing on building blocks, of him at eleven years old finally getting the courage to drag a kitchen chair to the case and pick out a game while Virgil stood by to make sure he didn’t fall and to remind him that it was okay if he didn’t didn’t feel strong enough to try, of the two of them sitting at the kitchen table with the game directions between them that don’t really make any sense because it there’s no directions on how to attack each other when his dad comes home early and freezes at the sight

He might not remember his mother’s face outside of photographs he doesn’t remember being taken, but he remembers clearly the softness of his father’s expression when he dropped into the seat next to them and asked if they knew how to play this one yet.

“It’s a cooperative game,” his dad said, with a voice shaking and eyes wet. “That means we all work together to get to the goal at the end. Each player is going to have a different superpower-ability-thing that they can do that will make it easier for us to win as a team.”

So no, Patton doesn’t think that it’s stupid at all. It’s hard to do things by themselves, it’s scary, it’s difficult, it’s frustrating. That’s why when Virgil is texting him that the world is ending because of a boy, Patton will always show up at his dorm with soup and cookies and a game for them to play together instead of telling him that he’s being dramatic and silly. That’s why when Patton is missing a woman who hasn’t been in his life for twelve years now, Virgil will always stay with him to remind him that he’s going to get through it, instead of telling him to suck it up.

It’s much easier to win when they’re on the same side.

And Virgil has only ever had fun when playing games that he wins, hasn’t he?

“Why don’t you?” Patton asks suddenly.

Virgil must have nodded off because he jerks suddenly when Patton speaks up, “huh?”

“Why don’t you play a cooperative game?” Patton asks. “What did Logan say specifically about the whole dating thing?”

Virgil rubs an eye and squints at him tiredly. “I told you, he said he would only date someone who beats him at a game. I don’t--”

“Did he say beats him, or beats the game with him?”

“Neither?” Virgil says. “He literally said to Janus very loudly, “I will only consider someone a viable romantic partner if they can win in a game with me.””

“In a game with me,” Patton repeats. “ In a game with me. Not in a game against me!”

It takes Virgil a long, breathless moment to comprehend it, but it’s clear the moment it hits him. Virgil jerks so hard that he tumbles off the bed entirely and to the ground in a fumbling of long limbs, blankets, dubiously cleaned clothes, and his computer-headphones combo. Patton yelps and leans over to check on him but Virgil doesn’t even look like he noticed.

“Holy Shit,” He says, “holy shit, Pat.”

“Language.”

“ HOLY SHIT!” Virgil yells, and then he laughs and covers his mouth like he’s trying to bottle up the sound. “Patton! Patton! He didn’t say against!”

Virgil’s eyes sparkle, the light through the window makes his dark hair shine and just looking at him Patton thinks he’s never once seen him so happy before, so delighted, so excited.

So full of hope.

The next thing he knows is that he’s sitting up and Virgil is wrapped around him in a hug so tight, so soft, so cool and wonderful that those pesky tears come right back to his eyes. Virgil hugs like he’s unafraid of anything for just this endless moment, like he’s never been unsure of physical touch before, like he’s done it a million times before and Patton shouldn’t feel his breath catch in his lungs lest he shatter this dream with an exhale.

He’s standing at the eye of the storm that is Virgil, and he’s never felt so safe before in his life.

“Thank you,” Virgil whispers, “I, uh, I’m sorry for the sudden hug--”

And then, of course, Remus’s music comes back with a vengeance that rattles the ceiling tiles overhead and makes Virgil hiss and break the hug. Patton thinks that he could forgive it, if it weren’t for the unmistakable sound Disney’s Mulan soundtrack also ringing in the air, like it was trying to be heard over the rap music. Dust sprinkles from the tiles overhead.

“I’m going to kill them both,” Virgil vows, but Patton is quicker. He lunges forward before he even knows what he’s doing and coils around Virgil as tightly as he can, and just hugs him, his best friend, the guy who’s always been there for him, and who deserved all the happiness that he could get.

“Pat?” Virgil says.

“If Logan doesn’t treat you right I’m going to make sure no one finds his body,” Patton says.

And Virgil’s laughter makes it sound like he doesn’t quite believe Patton, but that’s okay. Virgil is still looking for reasons to play a game if not to win, and Patton is still trying to find a game that makes him smile, and together they’re going to figure out how to get Virgil to win with Logan.

But for now the hug is good, and the company is nice, and they have the game Trouble packed away ready for the next time they want to play.

[sparkysparklightning]

hiya! check this out!

⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡

❌❌terfs, pedos, porn blogs, haters, DON’T INTERACT❌❌

Header Credit!

kit | twenty-one | bi | any pronouns (preference to she/her)

Main Blog ✨✨

I’m a Jason kin who writes fics and made this blog to shove all my demigod stuff into! 

fic/writing tag: #kit writes

rambles and/or incorrect quotes: #demidudes #my riordanverse rambles #sparkysparklightning

⚡ I am a multishipper so I’ll probably be reblogging/making content for more pairs than just their canonical ones!

✔ percabeth, reyna, theyna, valgrace, valdangelo, nico, fierrochase, crossovers, jason, the stolls, janus, hades, persephone, (and many more that I cannot remember rn lmao)

❌(keep in mind, these are my opinions): The Burning Maze, The Trials of Apollo (more or less), Piper McLean, jiper/jasiper, any blatantly pedophilic ships, 

⚡ send me your demigod thoughts!! I’d love to hear them!

current info:

⚡ my heroes of olympus rewrite/fixit/au featuring 'tratie as part of the Seven instead of percabeth' along with other canon divergences: THE PROPHECY OF HEROES

Two years have passed since the Battle of Manhattan that took many demigod lives, when the air starts to stir again in the godly world. But this time, more pieces are added to the puzzle. There is another place, like Camp Half-Blood, that seems more foe than friend; barred from each other for many centuries until a meddlesome plot to unify both sides brings the reluctant truth into light. But trust is not so easily gained, especially by two sides with a history of bitter enmity, and on the horizon, a threat much greater than Kronos could ever be dooms to swallow up the entire world in a wall of destruction. It’s up to seven demigods chosen for the mysterious newest Great Prophecy issued from their oracles two years ago, to stop certain destruction and prevent the end of the world from happening a second time. But will they join hands, or will the distrust and enmity passed down by their legacies get in the way?

⚡ my 'jason ends up in hotel valhalla' au featuring post tbm/mcga crossover, floor 19 shenanigans, and tjason: SON OF ROME

Jason Grace's story started off with a curveball. Dying wasn't precisely his end goal yet he knew it was the only way to be able to save his friends. But he didn't end up in the Underworld, he ended up somewhere totally different, and now he has to explore this new world, so alike his own but so different at the same time, while keeping a good pretense for his new hallmates. This proves to be quite difficult when a threat darker than anything he has seen looms in the distance and suspicion starts to leak through. How can Jason figure out who to trust if he's lying as well? or a 'jason ends up in hotel valhalla' au

[hongyueg]

When an Orc Teaches a Math Class

What happens when Bolg's father gets accepted as his high school's new math teacher? https://archiveofourown.org/works/31756993 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Bolg heard the news his father had been accepted as The Middle-earth Academy for Cooperation and Mutual Success’ new math teacher, two things popped into his mind. The first being that he would allow no one to learn the new math teacher was his father and the second being he was going to avoid the math department as much as possible when he arrived at The Middle-earth Academy for Cooperation and Mutual Success (or MACMutS as everybody called it) in the Fall for his second year of high school.

“I can’t believe it!” Azog, Bolg’s father, exclaimed in Orkish as he pointed at his computer screen (and, yes, Orcs did have internet) for the seventeenth time.

Bolg, who sat at the kitchen table, nodded. He stared through the entrance of their home at the mountains in the distance. The ridges’ dark colors were comforting like the soup his father made during the Winter months. All the Orcs in their commune always jostled over to their dwelling as soon as they smelled the aroma of Azog’s signature dish seeping out of the little hut. With his dad now working at MACMutS full-time, Bolg wondered how their comrades would fare without him.

“This is wonderful,” Azog babbled on. “I’m finally going to meet new people, make connections, and see the world!”

~~~

A month and eleven days later, Azog and Bolg were off to see the world, or rather off to travel by train for eight hours and seven minutes to get to Gondor from Gundabad. After a little hassle at the train station to get a taxi to Minas Tirith (the problem was that Orcs didn’t have a system based on currency, so it was a bit hard to convince a Human driver to take them for free. Azog eventually just gave the Human his phone number and promised to do car maintenance for no charge at any time. Bolg was a bit skeptical how this could happen since Azog didn’t own any equipment to do car repairs, but the driver accepted the deal, so Bolg stayed silent), they arrived just outside the school’s main gates.

“How did you get here last time?” Azog huffed as he pulled the last of the luggage out of the taxi and waved the driver goodbye. Azog had brought an extra luggage bag just for his cooking ingredients to his son’s disapproval.

Bolg scratched his pale bald head. He didn’t want to admit he had relied on a Dwarvish prince he had met on the train to pay for his fare. “Uh, I just gave the driver the rest of the snacks you had packed me.”

“This will need to change,” Azog declared. “I will speak to the administration and make sure they give Orc students a pass to get free taxi rides. This school is supposed to be the symbol of acceptance and how can it live up to that ideal when it’s a financial struggle for some of their students to even get here.”

Bolg had stopped listening to his father as he noticed a few other students, non-Orcs who were probably First Years, gaping in their direction. He could somewhat understand their astonishment. Orcs only left their secluded communities for political or educational reasons and it had been over three hundred years since any major force of Orcs had participated in the continent’s wars. Still, Orcs weren’t that rare. If anything, they were much more numerous than Elves. Maybe they come from rural communities. Wait, why am I making excuses for them? They shouldn’t be staring . He glared at them and they hastily turned their gazes away.

“Well, Bolg, I’ll let you go to your dorm room. It’s a shame that you aren’t in any of my classes, but I will certainly see you around!”

As he trudged away from his father, Bolg prayed they would never cross paths inside the school.

~~~

“Bolg, what do you think of the new math teacher?” Rosie Cotton, a Hobbit in his year and one of his new dorm hallmates, asked as they headed off to the cafeteria together. The height difference was considerable between the two of them and Bolg had to bend down to hear her. The good thing was Rosie usually just chattered on without waiting for Bolg to reply, so if he missed a few words here and there, it was rarely an issue.

Bolg squinted his eyes against the late Summer sun, which was still bright despite the fact it was nearly evening. Orc eyes aren’t meant for this much luminosity. A pang of homesickness shot through him as he missed the cool, dark mountains around Gundabad. “Yeah, I think it’s great the school is hiring an Orc to be on their faculty.” He felt appreciative that Orcs didn’t have last names. No one had to know that Azog was his father and he preferred not to answer questions about how Orcs were birthed.

“Me, too! The school has been pretty good about having a diverse set of teachers and administrators, so it’s about time they hired an Orc. Ooh, I heard from Fredegar Bolger…” And Rosie rambled on until they arrived at the dining commons and went their separate ways.

After Bolg had picked up a steaming bowl of rabbit soup, he found his way over to his friends. It had been a couple months since he had spoken to any of them. While he did have internet back home, the connection wasn’t strong enough for video chatting.

“Bolg,” Gothmog cried, slapping his fat peach-colored hand against Bolg’s back as Bolg slid down on the bench beside the Mordorian Orc. “Good to see you. I was worried that you were never going to show up.”

“What, Gothmog? I was just finishing unpacking.” Bolg glanced at the other people at the table. There was Yazneg, an Orc from Moria, Shagrat, a Black Uruk from Cirith Ungol, and three dwarves from the Lonely Mountain who were all related and named Bifur, Bofur, and Bumbur. Off at the edge of the table was their year’s loner, a Human named Aragorn. Rumor had it that Aragorn had been raised by Elves, but had been kicked out for undisclosed reasons. He currently lived as a nomad among the Rangers of the North. The theories for why the Elves supposedly shunned Aragorn were vast and Bolg, despite having sat at the same dining table as the boy everyday of the last school year, still had no knowledge of Aragorn’s true history.

Bolg only half-listened to his friends as he slurped his stew. Shagrat complained about the creepy giant spider that lived next to his commune’s settlement. The dwarfs discussed how the mining expenditures in the East were progressing. Not like the Orcs really cared as money meant little to them.

“Y’know that new math teacher?” Yazneg’s voice jolted through his ears. Bolg spit his stew back into his bowl.

The others, even Aragorn, stared at Bolg.

“You okay, buddy?” Bofur asked, his dark brown eyes brimming with worry.

Bolg took a steady breath and placed his bowl back down onto the table with a soft clink. “Y-yes. Um, what were you saying about the new math teacher, Yazneg?”

Yazneg frowned, but carried on. “I was just gonna say that when I mentioned his name to my commune, they said that he was originally from Moria, but moved to Gundabad when he was young. I just found it kinda strange. For you non-Orcs, it’s rare that one of us leaves the place where we’re from. Bolg, you’re from Gundabad. Do you know anything about Azog?”

Once again, all eyes were on him. Bolg chewed his lip. “Uh, I don’t think so.”

Everyone continued to peer at him until Gothmog broke the silence by bragging about a difficult wrestling tournament he had won over the Summer.

Bolg’s secret was safe.

~~~

At least that’s what he had thought. They had all finished eating and saying their goodbyes. Bolg had been heading over to catch up with Rosie who was exiting the dining hall by herself when he felt a firm hand grasp his wrist.

Tense, he twisted around to see Aragorn looking up at him with narrowed eyes. Bolg trembled and had to remind himself that he was a Gundabad Orc and Gundabad Orcs weren’t scared of anything. “Why didn’t you tell them that Azog is your father?” Aragorn asked in a low voice.

Bolg glanced around him to make sure there were no onlookers. Fortunately, most other students were too occupied catching up with their friends and eating to notice Bolg and Aragorn. “I-I...How did you know?”

Aragorn shrugged. “I’ve heard about your father before. As Yazneg says, it’s rare for an Orc to leave their commune.”

“You Rangers spy on us?”

“You’re not answering my question.” Aragorn released Bolg’s wrist.

Bolg rubbed it. Aragorn had been gripping his wrist tight. “Do I have to? You never tell anyone your history, so why should I tell you mine?”

The Human sighed. “Fair point. Okay, keep your secrets to yourself, but don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone else.” With that, Aragorn strode away.

~~~

Why did Bolg want to keep his father’s identity a secret? Aragorn’s question rattled Bolg’s brain for the rest of the night. Luckily, if his roommate Faramir noticed, he didn’t say anything as they both prepared for bed.

Bolg lay on his mattress, staring at the darkness glittering around him. He had chosen the bed farthest from the window because light and Orcs didn’t exactly mix, but the usual comfort gloom gave him wasn’t there.

He turned onto his side again, the frame creaking underneath him as he moved.

“Hey, Bolg, are you alright?” On the other side of the room, the lamp flicked on, spreading glaring light across the open space.

Bolg sat up and twisted around to see Faramir peering at him. The young Human’s long dark hair was a bit tussled from lying down and his gray eyes appeared concerned. Bolg didn’t know much about his roommate beyond the fact he was the Gondorian steward’s son. He had thought it was a bit strange that Faramir had chosen to stay on campus when he lived not too far away in a palace, but decided he wasn’t in a place to question a noble’s decision.

“Yeah, I-I’m fine,” Bolg stammered.

“Just wanted to make sure since you’ve moved around at least five times now.”

Nine, Bolg thought to himself. “Yeah, everything’s good. I’m just stressing about something stupid. Not something anybody would care to listen to.”

“Try me. I’ve been told I’m a good listener.” The Human gave a little smile.

Bolg had never talked to anybody about his feelings before. It wasn’t something accepted in Orkish culture. If you had an issue, you just complained about the person closest in proximity to you and then wrestled with them until you felt better. Bolg didn’t feel like wrestling with Faramir. “Um, well, it’s about a certain someone. I don’t want anyone knowing about my, uh, connection to them because it’s just so embarrassing and he’s just so embarrassing and he doesn’t exactly fit certain standards and I think everybody would think I’m weird for being connected to him and then it...I would be a mess…”

Bolg stared at the ground. He was so glad that Orcs didn’t blush or he would be bright red right now.

“You have a crush on someone?” Faramir asked, his eyebrows raised. “It’s fine if you do. Feeling embarrassed about crushes is normal and you never know, maybe he likes you back. If you want help reaching out to him, whoever he is, I can help out-”

“No,” Bolg interjected. Another wave of gratefulness for Orcs’ inability to blush sparked through him. “It’s not a crush. It’s my...father.” Getting that last word out felt like trying to push Mount Gundabad over a few inches.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Bolg turned his attention to a tiny moth fluttering by Faramir’s lamp. “He’s the new math teacher.”

“Azog? Oh, I have him.”

“I mean, he’s energetic and strong and cares a lot about education, but he’s a bit bizarre in terms of Orkish culture. He wants to explore the world and meet new people and...he has a kid.”

“Is having a kid a bad thing? Sorry, I don’t know much about Orkish culture.” Faramir gazed at the floor.

“Orcs don’t really have families. We’re kind of born the size of adults and just integrated into our communes immediately. I mean, we still mature over time like other species do, but we don’t have parents. The fact my dad decided to raise me on his own is strange and we keep it a secret in our commune to avoid being shamed by other Orcs.”

“Born the size of adults,” Faramir murmured.

“Don’t think about it too much.” Bolg rubbed his head. “Sorry to bother you with this. I should have kept it to myself.”

The Human glanced up at Bolg. “No, no. It’s alright. How can I support you?”

Bolg blinked at Faramir. “Do you think I should tell my friends?”

Faramir sighed. “It’s up to you to do what you think is best, but if they’re good friends, then I’m sure they’ll support you.”

~~~

Bolg prayed Faramir was right as he sat down at the dining table the next morning. He had arrived at the cafeteria on the earlier side, hoping that the quieter atmosphere would calm his nerves before he spoke to his friends.

“Bolg, you’re early!” A voice cried out behind him in heavily accented Orkish.

Bolg twisted around to see Gothmog striding toward him. They rarely spoke Orkish to one another since the Gundabad and Mordorian dialects were, for the most, mutually unintelligible.

“Yeah,” Bolg replied in Common Speech. He fiddled with the fork he was using to eat his breakfast patties.

Gothmog took a seat beside him. “The cooks are trying out this new soup. Apparently they got the recipe from the new math teacher. He even donated his ingredients to them. It’s a Winter soup, but technically can be made year-round.”

Sure enough, the distinct aroma of his father’s signature dish swarmed Bolg’s senses.

“Is that a tear? Orcs don’t cry, silly.”

Bolg turned away from his friend. More tears wracked though his body and hiccups escaped through his mouth. His stomach burned inside of him and he craved to crawl into a nice, dark hole.

Gothmog began slapping his back. “Uh, Bolg? You okay? Are you allergic to the soup? Do you want to wrestle?”

A chorus of footsteps sounded behind Bolg.  “What’s going on?” Came Bofur’s excited voice. Even more tears gushed from Bolg’s eyelids.

“Dunno,” He heard Yaznag say.

“I’ve never seen an Orc act like that,” blurted Shagrat. “Maybe he needs a good chokehold.”

“I don’t think that will help him,” Aragorn muttered.

Bolg shoved his platter of food away and pushed his face against the table's hard surface. Gothmog continued to clobber his back.

“Hey, Bolg, what’s going on? Are you alright?” Rosie’s breath tickled his arm. He hadn’t even heard her step by.

“Should we get a teacher?” Bumbur asked.

“Mister Azog, over here!” Bofur shouted. Bolg could hear what was most likely Bifur, Bofur’s mute cousin, jumping up and down to wave over the educator.

Heavy footsteps clomped in Bolg’s direction. “Hey, son, what’s going on?” Azog asked in Orkish.

“Wait, Mister Azog is your father?” Yazneg asked in Common Speech.

“Orcs don’t have fathers, silly,” Gothmog said in between wacks.

Strength surged through Bolg’s body and he sat up. Taking a deep breath, he wiped away his tears. With a single hand, he knocked Gothmog over onto the ground. Rosie, Bofur, and Bumbur all gasped. “It’s true,” Bolg said. He peered at his father who stood by the other side of the table. “The new math teacher is my father.”