#it was coming out around my midterms!! so i was trying to dial in my focus 💀

[chocosvt]

i don't see psycho appreciation posts? i was most excited to read your comments on it after jun dropped the addicting bomb 😭

THERES NO WAY YOU SAID THIS TO ME I JUST THREW UP!!

[coldfanbou]

New Hunger

I think Hanni's got an addictive personality in this fic. Let's see what happens. I'd like to thank @i-am-lifeform24 for the idea. maybe I make part 2 idk

Length: 2.6K

Hanni X Mreader

Hanni stared in disbelief at the bright red marking on her paper, “C.” Her heart dropped, and as soon as class was over, she went straight to her professor. “Miss Park! Why did I get a C on my assignment?” 

The older woman turned to Hanni, her mind returning to Hanni’s paper. “If I recall correctly…” Miss Park taps her cheek, considering how to phrase her answer, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She tells Hanni bluntly. “Hanni, be honest with me; you haven’t had sex before, right?”

“I-well, I…no.” She hangs her head, feeling embarrassed.

Miss Park takes a long breath and places her hand on Hanni’s shoulder. “Hanni, you understand how the body works, but you don’t understand the emotions behind it. My class is just as much about what our bodies do and how they interact as the emotions and sensations behind them. My suggestion to you is to have sex with someone. It will open your eyes to what I’m trying to teach, and if you want to, you can revise your paper and turn it in after our midterm.” Miss Park pats Hanni’s shoulder and smiles at the younger woman. “Sex is a great part of our lives, and you’re young. You should see what you’re missing out on. Find someone you trust.” She says before turning around and leaving Hanni in the classroom.

There’s a pit in Hanni’s stomach as she considers her professor’s words. “Is there really something I’m missing?” She asks herself before walking outside. She didn’t think there was anything she was missing out on. She looked at her paper again, the red C mocking her. Hanni considered who she should talk to when she remembered you were visiting the campus. She pulled out her phone and dialed your number, her heart beating quickly as the first and second rings passed. 

“Hello?”

“Hey! I know you’re visiting my campus. Are you busy?”

“No, not really. I found the esports club, and I’m in their club room if you want to come and find me.”

“Just meet me in the center quad.” She shouts, her annoyed tone coming through clearly.

“Sheesh, alright, ms. pushy.” You say before hanging up and leaving for the quad. You find Hanni waiting for you on one of the benches. When she spots you, she stands up and rushes over. “Hey, how have you been?” She says, all smiles.

You squint at her, “What do you want?” Hanni chuckled, “Hanni, I already know you want something. Out with it.”

Hanni purses her lips and digs the toe of her shoe into the ground. “It’s not something I can say out here; let’s go to my place,” Hanni says, taking your hand momentarily before letting it go out of nervousness. You try to make conversation with Hanni, but your efforts are in vain as she stays quiet throughout your walk to her room.

“Is something wrong?” you finally ask her. Hanni gives you a simple nod and looks through her bag, pulling out a key. 

“We’re here.” She says quietly, unlocking the door and heading inside. She shuts the door behind you and walks to her bed. Hanni’s space was small, with a little kitchen area by the entrance before you were immediately in her bedroom. You watch Hanni take a deep breath. “Okay, so this is what I need from you.” Hanni pauses and turns around, staring into your eyes, the brief silence deafening you both. As more seconds ticked by without a word, Hanni grew increasingly nervous before eventually blurting out what she needed to say.  “I need to have sex with you.” 

“You what?” You ask, your voice cracking as you wonder if you heard her right. 

“Please?” Hanni says, clasping her hands together. “I really need to pass a class, and you know I do my best work when I can get hands-on experience.” The desperation in her voice continues to rise. “Just once, that’s all I need, and we never have to do it again.”

You rub your temples, annoyed that you’re contemplating her wishes. “Okay, so this is for a class? How badly do you need to pass this class? A better question: why do you need to have sex?”

“Because my professor said I didn’t understand what she was trying to teach me, and I need to have it so I know better. I need this super badly. I held off on this class because I thought it would be easy and I could use it my last semester. My grades are perfect otherwise; I just need this. So, please?” Hanni grips your shirt, shaking it. “You’re the only one I trust.”

“Fuck, fine, I’ll help you out,” you tell her, not looking forward to being with her. “I can turn in my midterm before you have to finish yours, so let me finish what I have to, then we can meet.” 

Hanni wraps her arms around you, hugging you tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She repeats, crying into your chest.

“C’mon Hanni, stop crying, you’re ruining my shirt.” You whine as she holds onto you, rubbing her head into your chest. You crane your neck back and sigh, knowing there is nothing you can do until Hanni decides to let you go. Eventually, Hanni lets go of you and changes the topic of conversation, steering you toward what things have been like since you went your separate ways after high school. You wonder if this was really the time to have this conversation before you both settle into a routine. 

When you were about to leave, Hanni grabbed your shirt and pulled it back. “Hey, um, is this going to be your first time too?” 

“Yeah, it is. It’ll be the first time for both of us, so you better study up.” You tell her as you begin walking out. “I’ll text you the details when I finish my midterms. Don’t forget to respond so we can find a time that works.”

“Yeah,” Hanni sits in her room, feeling a little better about still not having sex yet. She lays back in her bed, considering what studying up would be. She pulls up her phone, her fingers tapping away at the screen, stopping herself just before clicking enter. Hanni’s cheeks turned red as she pressed enter; it was going to be her first time watching porn. The homepage showed her more than she expected: dozens of dirty titles and screenshots. The sight did turn her on, though; Hanni felt her body tingle when she looked at a woman in the throes of pleasure. At that moment, something clicked inside Hanni. Hanni tapped on the search bar, though, looking up “How to have sex.” and clicking on the first video. Hanni immersed herself in the video, taking in every bit of information the woman on the screen provided. One video turned into two, then three. The next thing Hanni knew, she was lying on her bed naked, her sheets soaked.

Hanni couldn’t wait to talk to Miss Park the next time she had class. She sat in her seat, rubbing her legs together the entire time. When class was over, she rushed to Miss Park. “Oh, Hanni, just the girl I wanted to see.” Miss Park said with a smile. “I got a few things for you,” she said, pulling out a bag. “After our last talk, I thought it would be good to help you on your little journey.” Miss Park smiles at Hanni as she hands over the bag. “I hope you enjoy them; now I’ve got to go. I look forward to your improvements.” 

Hanni opened her mouth to say something, but Miss Park was out the door before she could. Hanni looked into the bag, reaching in and pulling out a box. She immediately dropped it back in after seeing it was a dildo. Hanni looks at the door before looking back into the gift bag.  She wrapped the string around her hand, ensuring no one could look inside. She rushed to her dorm and sat on her bed, pulling out the toy and looking through the rest of the bag. It had lube and other toys. Hanni opened one of the boxes, pulling out the dildo. She placed it on her lap as she put the box to the side. Grabbing it by the shaft, Hanni couldn’t help but feel nervous. She stared at it, contemplating what she should do next. The toy taunted Hanni, pushing her to act on her feelings. 

She rejected it, putting away the toy and hiding everything inside her bag. Hanni took a deep breath, sitting on the edge of her bed, her mind filling with thoughts of the toys. She began to touch herself, feeling her lower half get wet the longer she thought about the toys. It was all she could think about that night until she got your message. “I’m done with my midterm. When did you want to meet up?”

“Tomorrow.” She texted back. Hanni’s night was spent finalizing the few details of her rendezvous. 

Two days passed before you were finally able to meet with Hanni. She was losing control of herself as time got closer. She spent her time watching porn and playing with herself. The thought of the toys was in the back of her mind until she felt that her fingers weren’t enough anymore. She went into the bag, pulling out the dildo and the lube. In her haze, Hanni poured too much lube onto the dildo. She ran her hand along the shaft, trying to coat it evenly. She laid back, raising her hips as one of the videos she had watched said to, and pushed the dildo against her folds, moving inside herself slowly. A low guttural moan slowly filled the room as Hanni felt the dildo fill her cunt, her body stretching slightly around it. She was desperate for more; the pleasure she felt was like nothing else. She sped up the process, ramming the rest of the dildo inside herself and cumming. Hanni’s body tensed, her back arching and toes curling before the tension suddenly released, and a wave of euphoric pleasure washed over her. She lay in bed for a moment, her chest heaving as she recovered from her climax. Her body continued to get hotter, though, craving more. In time she was fucking herself crazy, pushing every in of the dildo inside her before eventually switching to the vibrator. Hanni turned herself onto her stomach and raised her hips as she slid the toy in and out of her cunt. Her dripping sex wanted more.

You knocked on her door, waiting for her to open it, when you heard, “It’s open!” You step inside the room, your senses bombarded by the sight and sound of Hanni. Her ass is raised toward you as she moves the toy deeper into her cunt. 

 “What took you so long? I need you,” she whispers. You’d never seen her act like this in all your years of knowing Hanni.” Hanni turns herself over and spreads her legs for you; her breathing is heavy as she tries to speak. “C’mon, take your clothes off so we can get started.” You pause and look around the room, noticing the used toy laid out and the bottle of lube. You put together what happened quickly after reading the label. The lube was laced with aphrodisiacs, and Hanni must’ve used it without noticing. 

Hanni grew impatient as you were figuring out what was happening. She got off the bed, wrapped her arms around your neck, and pulled you into a kiss. Her warm lips melted into yours as she ran her hand to your bulge. You give in to Hanni, stripping down and pushing her onto the bed. Hanni keeps her hands around your cock. They were slick and slid up and down your shaft quickly, making you groan her name. Hanni grinned, hearing you call her name. “Feels good, right?” She said with a giggle. “I don’t think that I can wait thought,” Hanni pointed your cock toward her entrance and rubbed the tip against her folds. “Hmm, it feels different.” She placed your cock between her lips and held her legs apart, “I want you to do it. Fuck me.” Hanni felt dirty uttering those words to you, but it was what she truly wanted. 

You push inside Hanni, her warm insides snuggly holding your cock as you push deeper into her. Hanni’s light moans filled the room as she felt your cock move inside her. It felt different than when she used a toy; it was much better. She never wanted you to pull out and wrap her legs around your waist. “So deep,” Hanni mumbles as you begin thrusting into her. You grip Hanni’s waist thrusting wildly as you enjoy your first pussy. Hanni’s walls clamp down on your cock when you’re deeper inside her, giving you the motivation to try and go as deep as possible. You press your lips against hers as your hands dig into her skin.

“I didn’t know you were such a slut,” You groan, not knowing what you were saying, both your mind and Hanni being lost in a haze of pleasure. Hanni’s moans grow louder as she listens to your degrading comment. For a reason, she didn’t know, it turned her on. 

“I’m a big slut,” she whimpered, egging you on to say more things about her. You degrade Hanni further, mentioning how she clung to you like a fleshlight or how she moaned. Every comment earned you louder moans. It wasn’t long before you came inside her, but neither one of you was done yet. You pulled out of Hanni and flipped her over, placing one hand on her shoulder and wrapping her long hair around the other. You tugged on the hair as you slammed yourself back inside her cunt. “Yes!” Hanni screamed, loving the treatment you gave her. Hanni felt alive, understanding what Miss Park meant by emotions and sensations. You tugged on her hair, and Hanni tightened around your cock; she was getting close to her orgasm. You press harder and drive your cock into Hanni, struggling to hold your own climax. Close to your orgasm, your grip on Hanni’s shoulder tightens. You bury yourself inside Hanni, cumming inside her. Hanni melts as she feels your cock throb and your semen pour into her. She cums on you, and her body goes limp. She crashes onto her bed, and you fall on her, trapping her. Hanni moans softly, focusing on the warm feeling inside her and the throbbing of your cock. 

You roll off Hanni and pull out. The empty feeling she has after leaves her wanting more. Now, knowing what sex was like, Hanni was craving it; the tingling sensation that coursed through her body was addicting. She straddled you and slipped your cock back inside. “Let’s go again,” she whispered. You and Hanni continued for two more rounds before your bodies gave out on you. You left early in the morning, a little sore from your fun with Hanni.

Hanni strolled into class the next day, a new energy blossoming within her. Miss Park noticed and, before class started, sat beside Hanni. “Looks like someone had finally got some experience. Was it good?” Hanni gave Miss Park a nod and smiled at her. “You know, if you ever want to explore some more, I’d be willing to help you.” Miss Park placed her hands on Hanni’s thigh, giving it a slight squeeze. “I wouldn’t mind playing with you a little at one of my parties.” She whispered into Hanni’s ear. 

Hanni smiled at her and nodded. “I’d like that, Miss Park.”

[casspurrjoybell-32]

*Warning Adult Content*

IS IT POSSIBLE - Chapter 18

Len

Adyen seemed to be a lot better overall.

He was smiling more and he spaced out less.

We were also more public with affection... holding hands and sitting very close together.  

It should have made me happy and it did but a part of me was confused.

Adyen had never directly told me but I knew that he had problems with being open about his sexuality.

His hand would loosen when one of his track mates came into view but he would try to keep his hand still... still hold me.

I wondered when he had come to the decision that he wouldn't care anymore but even though we had grown closer, Adyen was still being private with some things... a lot of things.

To borrow his phrasing, sometimes I felt like I didn't get to know him.

I felt a bit shut out of his private life.

Sometimes I wonder if we'd get along if we didn't have this silly werewolf thing in common and it spirals into deep-seated anxiety.

I was heading in the direction of one of those now and needed to think of something else to distract me.    

"Who are you texting?" I asked, rolling on my side until I was staring at Adyen's phone.  

"I'll tell you later," Adyen mumbled his favorite new phrase before he clicked out of the chat screen and shoved his phone under a pillow.

We were both lying down sideways on his bed.

I've been coming to his room more regularly since that day I caught him talking to the biker out in the snow.    

I raised my head, pouting.

"There's a lot of things you're saving for later," I said, watching as Adyen gave me a brief smile before letting out a sigh.

I didn't want to show that I was a bit restless but I was.

I trusted that Adyen would tell me about whatever was going on sooner or later but the emotions I could sense from him made me curious.

Sometimes they were excited and other times they were dull and seemed stressed but not in a bad way.

It felt like he was stressed by learning something new but enjoyable. 

"Yeah," he said before looking away from me.

I guessed that was the end of the discussion.    

It was about six in the evening and I hadn't planned to head back home tonight.

The forecast said there would be cold rain and I, as usual, wasn't wearing my gloves.    

"How were your midterms?" Adyen asked me out of the blue.

I blinked, turning my head to look at him properly.  

"They were alright," I said and he nodded, giving me a weird look before leaning closer to me. 

"You know, I'm going to tell you everything eventually," he said and my eyelids fluttered down.

My face warmed up and I felt stupid for being so obvious about how I was feeling.  

"I'm just worried," I insisted.

"Leigh, Georgiou... they're all worried," I added, trying to make it seem like I wasn't the only one.

I didn't want to feel selfish with my anxiety around his emotions and safety.    

Adyen just smiled and turned away from me again.

He slept soon after and I laid next to him, watching his calm face and the fluttering of his eyes.

He had nice lashes.

I don't know if I mention that a lot and his lip his plump.

It looks like he's always pouting. 

I sighed, looking out into his bedroom and wondering why I couldn't sleep.

I was restless and so was my wolf.

It wanted assurance and all Adyen was giving me was smiles and 'soon'.

I needed someone to talk to but my roommates were clowns and would make a joke about everything, Leigh and Georgiou were aware of Adyen acting strange but I had omitted the part about the biker and I hadn't told my own parents or the whole pack back home that I had a mate.

My chest squeezed up as an option arose.

'No,' I told myself but I stared at my phone that was sitting on the bedside table anyway.

I needed someone to talk to and I could talk to Honon.

Our relationship was weird but he was the only other wolf I could think of.

The only other adult.    

"Fuck it," I whispered under my breath sitting up on Adyen's bed before reaching out for my phone.

I dialed Honon's number and for a few seconds, I hoped he wouldn't answer his phone.

If he ignored me, I would just crawl back into bed and pretend like the thought never popped into my head...

"Hello?" 

I blink at the sound of a female voice.  

"Hello?" she repeated and I stutter gibberish, realizing that I had been quiet on my head out of shock.

There's a sound from outside Adyen's door that makes me stiffen up, but it passes... probably some of his dorm-mates moving about.    

"Hello, I wanted to talk to my uncle," I said, before adding...

"Honon," like his name was a password I needed to get past her.  

"Honey, someone wants to talk you," I hear from the other end accompanied by the sound of a toddler's babbling.

My chest sinks with a mix of dread and curiosity.

That was Honon's child I assumed and the woman I was talking to must be the human he left his mate for.  

There's a muffled exchange of words until I hear a clear...

"Hello?" that was distinctively male. It was Honon's voice.    

"Hello," I said but remained quiet afterward.

Scolding myself for not thinking of what to say before I called him. 

"Hey, you rarely call, so this is a surprise. Is there anything I can do for you?" Honon asked from the other end.

I frowned a bit, noticing that he had picked up a city accent of some sort.

He has been in Toronto for over six years now, so I assume it makes sense. 

'What can he do for me?' I asked myself, trying to think of where to start with my thoughts.

I needed someone to listen to me but they couldn't do that if I didn't talk in the first place.    

"You know, when you call someone, you're supposed to say things... use words..."  

"I'm just nervous," I spoke up, cutting him off.

"I just. I just needed someone to talk to, so I thought of calling you."  

"Oh, I see."

I could hear some movement in the background.

"I'm glad you seem to think I'm worth asking advice from."

After what I did.

I know that we couldn't send silent messages over the line or in human form.

But I heard it. What Honon wanted to say.

I have never spoken to him about how he treated Ahote or how he had been shunned by the pack for it.

It was just something that happened and we both knew but I wanted to talk about that a bit today, amongst other things.    

"Yeah," I said, trying to laugh but it came off as forced, making the mood more awkward.  

"Is this some puberty thing?" Honon asked from the other end and I can hear the sound of his feet move through his home.

Was he creating a distance between him and his family so that he could talk to me about mating stuff?

"Is this about your mate?" he said in a muted voice, confirming my thoughts.

"Yes, I met my mate a few months ago," I explained, squinting at the wall of Adyen's room before looking to my side and staring at his head of curly hair.

It was flatted in areas that had made contact with the mattress.

His lips had also parted a bit, making him let out a snore.

I didn't mind. If anything, I thought it was cute.

That was one of the things I wanted to ask.

I adored and worried about Adyen so much but I've only known him for a handful of months.

The bond was as strong as my mother had described it.

How did Honon reject all that for a human?  

I nibbled the nail of my free hand's thumb.

"He's not a werewolf."

"He's not a werewolf?" Honon repeats my own words to me.    

"Well, not exactly," I started, itching a section of my scalp.

"It seems that he's recessive and he didn't know about it. You know, your daughter will probably be recessive too."

My thoughts are scattered by Honon seems to understand.

"Oh, I know," Honon said, his voice small.

"Your mate is a recessive wolf?"

I can sense a level of panic in his voice.

Was he thinking of his daughter?

Most recessives went about never knowing and it seemed like he didn't plan to tell his wife or daughter about himself at all.

Was he worried that his daughter might find out sometime in the distant future? 

"Have you told him?" Honon disrupts my thoughts with his words. 

"Yes, he knows," I mumble, feeling that he sounded oddly cold.    

"Don't you think it would have been better if you hadn't?" he asked, shocking me a bit.    

"What was I supposed to do, just pretend that he wasn't there? Pretend that I didn't feel what I feel?" I asked.    

"Bonds don't dictate love, Len, they're just directions. Shitty ones. You would know. Having a mate didn't stop you from crushing on Ahote."

My brows knitted into a frown.

I had called Honon to talk to him about my relationship problems but now he was laying in on something I had mentioned by the side.

This wasn't the discussion I had been hoping for.  

"Why are you projecting your fears on me? This isn't why I called you," I said, calling him out.

"I called you so that I could talk to you about Adyen for a bit and get things off my chest, not have you freak out on me," I added, suddenly feeling justified in my discomfort about him.    

The other side of the line was silent for a bit before there was a sigh.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Go on, tell me what you wanted to."  

"Do you love your wife?" I asked and he sighed.

"I thought you just complained about me going off-topic?"    

"No, it's a serious question. I..." I paused, not knowing where to go with my thoughts.

They were jumbled and it felt like I wanted to say ten different things at the same time.

"Can you care for someone when you keep things away from them?" I asked, remembering when I was too discreet with giving Adyen all the information.

I remembered how terrible he felt and I think of how terrible I was feeling now.    

"You can," Honon said, stopping at that.

"Are you keeping things from him?"  

"I was," I said.

"But now I've told him everything," I explained but frowned a bit.

"Well, not really everything..." I added, remembering all the minor information I was going to get to him eventually but not yet.

My eyes went wide and it watered a bit.

Yes, Adyen was hitting me with 'soon' and 'not yet' but I cared about him while I did the same and continue to do the same.

Shouldn't I trust that it was for the best, the way I felt I was and had been doing things for the best?  

"Thank you for lending me an ear, I'm going to hang up now," I said, hanging up before a confused Honon could ask me why.

I had needed an ear to bounce my thoughts off and he had served that purpose at least.    

I drop my phone on the bedside table before looking down at Adyen again.

He had cuddled into a ball.

I smiled at him, pulling his duvet over him before crawling up beside him.

His bed was small and lying down horizontally was a mess but I ignored how uncomfortable everything was.    

My wolf had calmed down and I could enjoy the sweet emotions that came with being near my mate.    

"I like you a lot," I whispered to his sleeping figure.

"I know I would like you a lot without the bond too," I added, kissing his forehead before going to sleep.

[4aloysius-porteu]

i am your ally || tsukishima kei.

pairing; tsukishima kei x f! reader

genre: oneshot, drama, flangst, a little comedy

word count: 5.6k

details: 3rd year Tsukishima, artist reader

warnings: reader going missing, verbal abuse, crushing of dreams, lots of sadness, heavy parental argument, everything that happens here hits home

synopsis: tsukishima didnt know what is the right thing to say after he heard of (y/n)’s situation, but the words that stumbled out from his mouth were a surprise, yet it blossomed to a meaningful talk that happens once in a blue moon.

(a/n): wrote in the middle of my depressing days to find a little comfort from this character that I love with all my heart. inspired by true situations irl; if you, my friend, is feeling down today, i hope reading this work of mine can help. i might make this into a full story if this got enough attention tho.

(Y/N) was nowhere to be found. 

It wasn't Tsukishima's habit to eavesdrop on other people's conversation, but he couldn't help but listen when he heard her name from her classmates. She was a consistent top student that will never neglect her studies, so it was unusual to know that she was absent today. He thought that maybe she got sick or she decided to go crazy and skip school. If it was the latter, he hoped that she knows what she's doing, because midterms are coming in 3 days, and he's not going to listen to her whines and begs to help her study for the tests.

And now he just happened to overhear that she was missing. 

He saw her parents walk out of the campus after talking to the vice-principal and to the teachers. Gossip filled the corridors and rooms. Tsukishima went back to his room, clearly annoyed with the unnecessary noise.

He listened to the lectures of each subject and continued to write down important points, but the thought of (Y/N) lingered in his head. What could've happened that led to her disappearance? Was she kidnapped? No, he just walked her home last night and she'll never leave her place past midnight. Kidnappers won't dare to make a move in daylight because of the town's high authority visibility. There's no way she'll be lost in an area she's very familiar with. 

She ran away from home. That is the only logical possibility he could come up with, but he couldn't think of an idea as to why. (Y/N), who loves to be cooped up in her room with music blaring in her earphones while drawing, left her home without a trace. Tsukishima was a little worried, but he won't let his face show whatever the hell he's feeling. 

His plays and blocks aren't exactly bad, but Yamaguchi could sense that Tsukishima was thinking of something other than the volleyball practice. He approached his friend who was resting on the floor, his long arms covering his curled up legs. 

"Tsukki, what's with that expression? Did you get a failing score in a quiz?" Yamaguchi started, in an attempt to lighten up the atmosphere. 

The blonde's eyes darted to him, "Like hell, I'm going to let that happen. What do you want?"

He shrugged, "Nothing, I just noticed that you were a little quieter and more passive today. Normally, you would've chewed the first years out with their simple blocking errors, but you didn't say a thing. You're scarier in their eyes when you're silent."

"I was tired. I'll only waste my voice pointing out something I did a million times." A sigh escaped his lips 

"Right..." Yamaguchi paused, "So, I assume you have heard?"

"Heard of what?"

"That (Y/N) is missing."

"Oh," A frown fell on his features. It wasn't his usual frown. People who really know him would notice that his eyes are full of worry. 

He sat beside Tsukishima before he spoke again. "I know you have ideas on places (Y/N) could've gone to."

"I do not know what you're talking about."

The latter chuckled, "Oh, humor me, Tsukki. If you're that worried, I can excuse you for today's practice. No problem."

"Does that mean that you aren't concerned?"

"I am concerned. I want to look for her as well, but I have to whip the other players into shape. I'm sorry if I couldn't accompany you right away."

Tsukishima stood up and sighed again, "You will excuse me, you said?"

"Yeah."

There were silence and the background noise of balls and shoes colliding on the floor. He wiped the sweat off his face before replying, "I'll be leaving the gym in a few minutes."

He changed his clothes and packed his things up, causing the team to exchange glances.

"Tsukki!" Yamaguchi called, throwing his friend's large jacket to him, which the other caught. "Take care! I hope you find (Y/N) and get her home safe."

"I wish. Then, I'll leave it to you, Captain."

The green-haired middle blocker's eyes teared up and sparkled as he beamed a smile back, "I got it!"

Tsukishima started to look for (Y/N) at the places she liked to go to; the art store, the Central Park, the kid's playground, the museum, and the prefectural library. But there was no sign of her anywhere. He looked at the nearby places to no avail. He walked on while dialing her number, but her phone is out of coverage area. He spent 3 more hours finding the girl and soon received a message from Yamaguchi, telling him that (Y/N) hasn't been found yet and that he joined the authorities to help them find her. 

He walked back to the direction of his home, panting softly. He had failed to find (Y/N), yet his brain won't stop thinking about her possible whereabouts. The cool breeze of winter hit Tsukishima's face and shivered at the contact. He had hoped again that she is inside of an establishment, safe from such cold weather.

Tsukishima's home has its lights out. Her mother was invited into her colleagues' reunion as said in her text, and both his father and brother are busy at work. He reached for his key in his pocket and was opening the door, not until he heard a loud sob from somewhere. Tsukishima looked around the place as the sobbing continued. He searched for the source and ended up in their backyard. He caught the sight of a small figure behind the bushes and went closer to confirm.

It was a cat. It had scurried away once he got close to it. Oh, how stupid he is to get his hopes up only to find a scared animal. But he was certain he heard a sob somewhere near. And cats aren't capable of making a sound like that. Or maybe he was only hearing things?

He dragged his feet to the main door to unlock it, but this time, there was a loud noise of scrubbing on the roof. What is it this time? He moved back and looked upon where it came from. 

To his surprise, it wasn't another cat but a person. Their legs were curled up, arms covered around them, with their chin on their knees. Tsukishima turned on his phone's flashlight and there she was. 

It was (Y/N). Her shoulders shook, either from the cold or trying her best not to cry out loud. 

"H-Help me."

He stared at the girl, confused and fighting back laughter because of how scared (Y/N) looked. "How the heck did you get in there?"

"I climbed that tree and jumped off to break in and hide in your room. Turned out that the windows are locked. I don't know how to jump back and I-I was too high from the ground. You know I'm scared of heights! Why did you lock the window?! Stupid!"

"Of course, I would lock the window for the security. And wow, aren't you the stupid one for knowing how to climb and jump up to my window and not knowing how to get down? Why did you climb if you are scared of heights? Such an idiot."

"Fine, fine. I am an idiot. Now, can you help me get off this roof?"

He crossed his arms and smirked, "No."

"Ugh! Please, Kei. I've been trapped here for hours. I am begging you to help me get down. Please?"

He sighed in defeat and raised his arms. "Here. Jump."

For seconds, (Y/N) didn't respond as she was having second thoughts about jumping.

"What? Do you expect me to get a ladder? I'm sorry, but it's in the basement, broken." He said in a mocking tone. "Don't you want to come down?"

"Can you catch me properly? Are your arms stable? Won't you fall on your ass?" (Y/N) interrogated.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, "Alright, stay there and freeze to death."

"No, wait! I was just asking! Come back! Don't leave meeee!"

The blonde looked up to her and raised his arms again, "Don't think. Trust me, I will catch you properly and you won't crash to the ground. You weigh like nothing anyway."

"Are you talking about yourself?" She retorted, pertaining to his weight.

"Can you please just jump?"

(Y/N) inhaled and went to the edge of the roof. It was a scary view for her, just looking down makes her dizzy, and want to throw up.  She thought he would have the largest frown on his face because of how irritatingly slow she was, but there was Tsukishima waiting for her with the calmest expression. She smiled a little.

"Here I go..."

She took off, closing her eyes, and swallowing her fears. The gravity pulled her feet down shortly after, and Tsukishima readied himself for the impact as he reached her waist. He held on to her lower torso while (Y/N) placed her arms around his shoulders tightly and legs on his waist. The athlete's balance slightly went off, so he took a step back to support both their weights. It was now steady. 

"I'm surprised you didn't lose your balance. Where's the weak boned beanpole 3 years ago?"

"I did for a second."

"Doesn't matter. You caught me. Thank you."

They had stayed in that way for a moment until Tsukishima spoke, "Do you plan to get off?"

"No. I'm tired."

"I am too." Yet she refused to let go.

He exhaled, carrying (Y/N) to the main entrance and finally unlocking the door. Her hoodie was cold and some parts are wet, but it didn't rain on that day. He took her in and placed her on the couch. Tsukishima went to his room, changed clothes, and brought a spare sweatshirt, handkerchief, and a towel. He went down but didn't find (Y/N) where he left her, so he walked to the kitchen counter and found the girl on the corner, shivering like a pup.

He tossed the clothing at her without further words. There was a note from her mom beside the curry in the table, saying she had eaten and she left rolls in the refrigerator. He was about to turn on the stove to reheat the food his mother left, but his eyes landed on (Y/N) who sat quietly, hugging the sweatshirt instead of wearing it. Her hair was disheveled, the sleeves and neck part of her hoodie was damp, her nose was red and her puffy, bloodshot eyes implied that she has been crying for who knows how long. He set the pan down to get her a glass of water. 

"Everyone was looking for you." Said Tsukishima.

"No one was really looking for me." (Y/N) replied, clearing her nose. 

"I didn't spend the last 3 hours tiring myself to scan the whole town for no reason." He sat beside her, handing the glass. "Care to spill the tea?"

(Y/N) drank first before speaking weakly, "I hate them. So much."

The male remained quiet, waiting for her to continue her dilemma.

"Remember when I told you and the class that I will be the most successful doctor in Japan after I finished my studies? It was a lie. It wasn't my dream to stay in a hospital and treat ill people, I only wanted to draw and paint. I didn't care if it never made them or anyone happy, I am happy doing it. And they are taking it away from me."

He knew from the start that her dream job as a doctor wasn't true. For years she stayed close to him as a friend or more, she won't blabber anything of the medical topic. She was terrified of syringes. He saw her reading an article about surgeries and like, but her focus was easily taken away.

She will get a pencil then start scribbling and drawing. Something that Tsukishima always sees her doing whenever she has a pen and paper, but she insists that it was a mere hobby. Her notebooks are well designed and organized, but the back is always full of artistic doodles instead of algebra solutions. She only has very few art materials yet she can make a portrait with only her fingers to shade. She makes digital art without a stylus. She would drag him to the museum after class to view some western and eastern paintings or any work of art while he admires the dinosaur fossils. For times she's watching an art tutorial and talk about art, draw and paint, she has those stupid sparkles in her eyes and a huge smile on her face. 

"You know Tsukishima, after I finish studying and became a doctor, I'll become an artist and if the time let's it, I'll open my own art gallery. That's my ultimate dream." She looked alive and delighted.

Very much the opposite of what she looks like right now. 

Even though she was a slave of art, as Tsukishima was a slave of his own interests, (Y/N) prioritized her studies so much. He understood why when he went to her house and met her parents before their study sessions. He had noticed everything but chose to stay quiet. 

"I-I was drawing last night. Dad entered my room but I didn't notice so he ripped the music away from my ears and yelled. He said that I would always lock myself in my room and draw every night. It was never-ending and irritates the shit out of him. He asked why would I do something so useless that isn't even connected to any academic subject. He was looking down on my art like he was looking at a piece of crap. He told me to stop and threatened me if I didn't. Why would I get punished for drawing? I couldn't get myself to stay silent so I retorted. If he doesn't want to see me drawing, then he shouldn't enter my room at all. He should stop meddling with my hobbies. His anger only went up."

(Y/N) stopped for a while to wipe her tears and snot with her sleeves but Tsukishima placed a handkerchief on her hands. She muttered her thanks and blew her nose and soon followed with a sneeze.

"Soon, it became a full-blown argument. He said that he was checking out if I was doing my projects, but oh he was so disappointed only to find his daughter drawing for nothing. What the heck? I gave them the best grades I could get, and part of it was because of you, Tsukishima, but they still aren't satisfied? I balanced drawing and academics, but they made it seem that all I was doing was my hobby, completely ignoring my efforts at school. I finished the school activities and I reviewed for midterms and all I want is to be left alone and draw. What, they want me to go crazy by studying every hour with things I won't even apply in real life?"

Her fake laughter echoed in the kitchen for seconds before her depressed tone took over again.

"Mom heard all the shouting and joined the argument. Of course, she sided with dad without listening to my feelings and there they ridiculed their youngest child's interests and talent. They told me that everything I do is bullshit and wrong, that I was useless, that I was the huge opposite of their expectations, and... and how come God gave them a joke. She said they raised me so that I could help them, not to do such useless things. It hurts to shout back but I did to explain why I'm so passionate about art in hopes that they will listen and understand but, I was so wrong. I was suddenly slapped..." She placed her hand to her left cheek, her lips quivered a little. 

"I-It stung so much. Mom complained about how the Internet generation is so rebellious and won't listen to the elders. They didn't raise and teach me to talk back at them, but here is their child being a bitch. They started comparing me to my elder siblings or relatives who focused on their studies and who are at the door of success. I know they only want me to achieve the best, but my success isn't up to them! It's on me!! And I've invested a lot for that! They shouted at me as mom pulled my hair. It was so loud I thought I was going deaf. Dad blamed the gadget's influence and my drawings. I have only drawn decent fanarts of fictional characters, people, and sceneries, but they believed that because of these, I turned into a mannerless bastard. So mom decided to get my phone and lessen my allowance so that I wouldn't buy any art materials that are a waste of fortune--"

She bit her lower lip that is trembling uncontrollably and her eyesight blurred as her fat tears got in the way.

"and... D-Dad... he... he... he tore m-my sketch pad apart..."

Tsukishima's eyes widened. (Y/N) brought that thing with her almost everywhere she went and it was filled with good drawings and art plans. She has a lot of them though, but Tsukishima could only imagine how she felt when her efforts were trampled over by someone important to her. 

(Y/N) broke down, bawled her eyes out, and shrieked hysterically. He looked at her with a heavy heart. He had seen her crying sometimes, be it because of a sad movie or empathy, but never like this. A depressed, emotional wreck. Her eyes were sore enough after a lot of hours, but she won't stop crying. It was heartbreaking to see and hear his significant other in this state, yet Tsukishima didn't know what is the right thing to say. 

But maybe there was no need to say anything at all.

Kei wrapped his arms around her weeping figure and pulled her towards him. Cry it out, pipsqueak. (Y/N) didn't expect this action, nonetheless cried in his shoulder He didn't care anymore if this meant he gets his clothes drenched in her snot and tears as long as she felt a little less lonely. He rubbed her back and hair in an attempt to comfort his lover. (Y/N)'s airways hurt, but she screamed the pain out, in hopes that the pain in her heart would vanish. Her weeping went on for long minutes until she choked in her own sobs that Tsukishima had to get her another glass of water.

"Tell me, Kei." She began, wiping her eyes, "Is there... something wrong with me? Is my dream really that insignificant?"

"There's nothing wrong with you. You followed your ideals. Anyone including me would've done the same." He answered beside her.

"I-It's realistic, right?"

"It is."

"Then... why did it turn out like this?" Her voice was cracking.

Tsukishima looked down, "The society is just very cruel."

"Yeah. It sure is. Such a cruel society to live with." 

(Y/N) let out a dejected sigh and leaned on Tsukki's shoulder. "I couldn't look at them without such overwhelming fear and hate anymore. I wonder if... they knew that I was doing this for them. I'd like to make them smile with something I've made myself. Once, I made each of them a portrait. A realistic one made from a pencil. I couldn't afford a material set that can be used to paint realistically, but I tried my best to impress them with a charcoal one. Oh, if only you saw their faces when I gave them the portraits. They returned a half-hearted smile. It wasn't the same kind of joy I see whenever I give them perfect scores on tests. I didn't spend 3 sleepless nights just to see their half happy, half unpleased reaction. I wish they could feel more proud of their daughter who worked hard for them... I wonder if they threw it away as he did on my sketch pad..." 

They let silence engulf the atmosphere for a while. (Y/N) had calmed down a little, despite shedding smaller tears from the side of her eyes. Tsukishima held the sweatshirt he gave her earlier to make her wear it on the top of her hoodie to lessen her shivering. He stared at her, while the other gazed down on the floor with dead eyes.

Tsukishima asked, "So, what are you going to do now?"

"What am I going to do now huh..." (Y/N) repeated. "I'll probably... put everything to an end."

"You know I won't let you."

"I'm not talking about my life, silly. I might stop drawing and all. I've lost it."

"Isn't your life and drawing one and the same? And I'm pretty sure you have that immense talent to continue."

"No... Besides, talent isn't a talent if it doesn't make anyone happy."

The blonde mentally scoffed. She just said that it makes her happy in the beginning.

"Oh? Fine, stop doing that one thing you put everything into. What would that girl you received a commission from would feel if she were to hear you though?"

(Y/N) was stunned. She had completely forgotten about the whole commission thing she opened in her social media accounts. Tsukishima accompanied (Y/N) on giving the commissioned charcoal portrait to a girl last 3 weeks ago. It was (Y/N)'s first commission for years she's making art. Someone liked her work for the first time and paid for it, and her client looks very contented and glad. The words she said filled her thoughts with inspiration.

"Wow, this is awesome! I'm so happy!! Thank you for making this, it was exactly what I've pictured on my mind! You're amazing! All the excitement I've bottled up for this day is so worth it," The girl, probably a little older than them paused and admired the painting she received from (Y/N).

"Would you ignore those words she said?"

 'Please don't stop drawing, I'll be looking forward to your future works!' 

A pang of guilt hit her chest. She wants to pursue art, but there are these shackles and chains on her limbs and around her neck that made it hard for her to move forward. She couldn't breathe. What happened yesterday night was too much. Her parents went overboard. 

"B-But—"

A monotone voice interrupted her, "Don't. Never stop striving for something you have been building for years. You might be defeated now, but surely, you will win some time. There's no way you'll stay in the lowest level of the ladder after I saw how hard you worked. You will go to nationals again, and I will continue to support you. I'll cheer for you and stay by your side! So please, do not stop! Let me see those beautiful blocks that you execute in the game once more! And I will watch you reach the top! Doesn't matter how many times, I'll never get weary of watching you do amazing things!"

She was silenced by that statement. She had definitely heard those before, but couldn't quite remember where. 

"Does the sentiment seem familiar to you? Those are the same words that came from your mouth when I was planning to quit volleyball after our huge loss to Date Tech last year. I am returning them back to you."

"Huh?" She replied with a meek voice.

"That time, you really did a good job meddling with my decisions. It annoyed me first, but what you had stated held a weight that I couldn't disregard. You gave me the small push I didn't know I needed. In the end, I'd like to pay you back." Tsukishima stated with a far away look in his eyes.

(Y/N) listened with watery eyes. This Tsukishima's side isn't definitely the one she gets to see every day so she couldn't feel anything but the warm, fuzzy feeling that is healing her heart. 

"It's probably selfish for me to say this but, don't you dare give up. I didn't stop. No matter how long and hard the game is, no matter how tired and discouraged I get, and no matter how many pessimistic thoughts clouded my head, I didn't stop chasing after a falling ball and thinking of another tactic to counter the enemy. I kept your words with me in court. It was you who told me not to in the first place, and I'm not going to forgive you if you ever dropped everything. I won't let the stupid, starry-eyed (Y/N) die today."

The girl beside her started sobbing. "But you told me once that my drawing are ugly."

"Oh. That. I... kind of remember that. I'm not sorry about what I said because I did it to provoke and rile you up. It was a lie though. As someone who always sees you drawing, I can't call your work ugly at all. Your art is... astounding. You make it look like it's so easy to do. I think you forgot next sentence after I told you that."

"What was the sentence after?"

Tsukishima sighed, "I told you to keep doing it, right?"

The sound of (Y/N) crying engulfed the kitchen, "Oh gosh, why did I forget that... I'm sorry, I'm so idiotic..."

The blonde brought her back to his arms, "Will you stop crying, you've been too hard on yourself today,"

(Y/N) hid her face on his chest, muffling her speech, "c-couldn't help it... my mind is such a mess... I do not know..." She paused, coughing. "It's no use if m-my parents don't acknowledge me..."

"Hundreds, or perhaps thousands of people who follow you on social media account recognize you. People in school recognizes you. I recognize you. I am your ally. Isn't that enough reason for you to get back on your feet? I will support you just like how you supported me. You have a lot of people who admire you, but I only have a few people and you. Yet your words are enough. I'm certain that soon, you will reach your parents' standards and get them to acknowledge you. It's not impossible."

(Y/N) fixed her tear-stained face before looking up to him, "You know what? Who are you? Is a good spirit possessing your body? The Kei I know will either stay quiet or laugh at me for being pathetic."

"I was trying to be nice for once and this is what I get?" He frowned.

(Y/N) chuckled and hugged Tsukishima, "I'm sorry. Everything you said meant the world to me. Thank you very much."

She relaxed against his lean body, "I have a question though..."

"What?"

"You literally had no business in my art, it was my own problem. Why are you doing this?"

"Why don't you ask yourself after you argued with me that night? Why did you have to butt in with my choices?"

"Because you like volleyball! You might look like that someone stole your dinosaur collection when you're at practice, but you're good at it and have a future in it! It is a part of you, and you're deciding to throw it away? Your potential is too big to be wasted and I refuse to let that happen." Her voice is a little louder now, but hoarse.

"There's your answer, little gremlin."

"How is that— Oh."

"But I'd like to add something."

"What is it?"

"You look better doing what you really like. It makes you look less like a hag."

It was silent after that. (Y/N) punched his arm. Tsukishima didn't even wince but asked, "What was that for?"

"The last statement was unnecessary, and the first one is sweet yet cringey." She criticized. 

"C'mon, I'm just a teenager. Aren't you the cringey one most of the times?"

She used the handkerchief to sniffle her runny nose away, "Why do you have a knack of returning everything I said to me?"

"I won't do it if it's not appropriate." Tsukishima placed his hands on her back and to her hair, "So, what are you going to do now, (Y/N)?"

"I'll think things through. My brain is still slightly messy, but I'll be fine, thanks to you. But Kei..."

He hummed as a response. "I don't want to go home. I want to run away."

"Not possible. You can't survive on your own. You're almost 18 and until now, you don't understand how a washing machine works with all your perfect scores in exams."

"This is just a thought. I didn't say I'll be alone. I'm taking you with me."

"I refuse."

"Why?"

"Couldn't you wait for more months until we graduate?"

(Y/N)'s eyebrows raised, "So basically, you're agreeing, but not this time?"

"No, but you'll be free of your parents' suffocating control. Who knows how huge is your potential by that time."

"How considerate of you." The girl smiled.

"Only this time. And no, we won't live in the same place in college. Not yet. Not until we finish our studies, have secured jobs, and get important things done." 

"Will you be playing volleyball at college?"

He lazily replied, "Probably."

"Don't give me such an ambiguous answer!"

"Probably yes." 

"Hmm. Fine by me. I'll continue to draw, then." (Y/N) rested her head near Tsukishima's neck. 

He smiled a little at her answer, "Another thing though. I don't think... you should leave things with your parents like that. There'll be a time where you have to face it."

"Yes, that sucks... I don't want to think about it but I'll have to go back eventually... When that confrontation happens, I'll try to calmly talk it out with them. I will never be certain if it will end well. But my hate and fear of them won't change."

"You can always run back here if it didn't end well."

"Kei, don't want to see their faces just yet. Can I stay here for a while?"

"You even bother to ask. You are welcome anytime in this household. Just enter the house in the front door, not in my window."

"Right... thank you."

"Oh, now it's my turn to ask. How did you get in there?"

(Y/N) sighed, "It was on 4:30pm. I was on the loose and I looked for a store where anyone can't recognize me so I can eat for lunch. But there's this creep who kept on following me—"

"Did he hurt you?" He abruptly questioned.

"No. I ran as fast as I could before he could even get close to me, but in the next block, there were the town authorities with my mom, and I knew they were looking for me, so I blended into the people with my hoodie on and made my way. I climbed the tree in panic that they'll find me and hid there. It took me hours to notice that your house is just next to it, so I decided to climb to your window. However, the window was locked, and I was stuck."

Tsukishima sighed in relief. "It was a miracle that a klutz like you didn't fell off the tree and surprisingly, no one found you."

"I was high in adrenaline when I climbed the tree. My blending and hiding skills are in ninja-tier now, I beat you."

"Whatever. What did you have for breakfast?"

"...a melon bread."

"Just that?"

"Just that." 

Tsukishima kissed her forehead before lifting her up with him. "Go change. Borrow any of my clothes. I'll reheat the food."

(Y/N) kissed his cheek, slowly got off him and went upstairs. Tsukishima opened his phone to text Yamaguchi about her situation and proceeded to reheat the spicy curry. 

"Wait, Kei! Is it okay for me to eat?" She shouted from upstairs.

"What kind of question is that? Of course you can." He shouted back.

"Your mom left that for you, for your dad and for your brother. I'd feel bad."

"My brother and dad will come home late and I'm sure they've eaten already. So is mom."

"Are you sure? I can replace the food." She said while going down the stairs.

"Oh, you can cook? I'm afraid you'll burn the whole kitchen." He mocked.

"At least not the whole house." (Y/N) laughed, "Just kidding, I have a tiny knowledge in cooking."

"You don't have to, I told you they already ate. I'll bring out the sushi mom made if you still want to eat."

"Alright. Thank you for the food."

Few hours later, Tsukishima's mom came home and took off her shoes. "I'm home."

As she was about to enter the living room, Akiteru greeted her and placed his finger in front of his lips, indicating her to keep quiet. She wondered what was going on and saw her youngest son and his girlfriend leaning on his shoulder, asleep on the couch in front of the TV. He signaled her to read the note Kei left on the table. 

To mom, dad, and brother,

Earlier in the morning, (Y/N) went missing and her parents and town authorities were looking for her. I found her on the way home, but it turns out that she ran away from her home because of an intense argument between her parents, and doesn't want to be found yet. Please let her stay here for a while. I'll do most of the household chores or any favor you ask me in return. 

Mom, I shared the curry and sushi rolls with her. I left for some for dad and brother. (Y/N) said it was very delicious. 

Love, 

Kei.

She smiled after reading the note and looked at the sleeping kids. She took notice of (Y/N)'s eyes and quickly understood the situation. Before she left to rest in her room, she looked for a spare blanket and laid it atop them to keep them warm. 

(Y/N) snuggled further to Tsukishima's arms, satisfied on how this night will end well, unlike yesterday's.

©4aloysius.porteu.2021. please do not repost, copy, or edit. plagiarism is punishable by law.

[writinginthesecrettrees]

drunk dial

For a long while there’s no speech, only heavy breathing, and Sam almost hangs up because he has better things to do than listen to some perv making crank calls, has a midterm to study for and a paper to outline and his roommate is out for the night so he can actually get some work done. Then, “Sssssssammyyyyyyyy,” slurred out in a voice that makes him ache with the familiarity. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy-boy.”

“Dean.”

It’s barely a whisper, forced past a sudden lump in his throat, but Dean hears it anyways. Chuckles low and deep and it turns into half a sob.

“Myyyyy Sammy. Are ya still, baby brother? Still my Sammy-boy?”

Sam wants to say yes but he’s not sure if it’s true, lives in a world so much larger than he’d dreamed possible when it was him and Dean (and sometimes Dad) crammed into motels and cars and never quite part of the world they fought to protect. Six months ago, four months ago, even three weeks ago he would have said always, said Dean was his first and only forever. That was before getting dragged to a party, getting tipsy and making out with another guy, waking up in Brady’s room to shy smiles on a face that doesn’t set his heart racing but is open and uncomplicated and makes him feel a little less lonely. And Dean had said no, refused to come with him to California, so even if Sam didn’t feel like it was over they were done. Finished. Broken.

“My sweet Sammy, pretty and perfect and mineallmine, but you’re not anymore.” A pause, and Sam can hear Dean swallowing. Can almost smell the beer over the phone. “Went away an’ left me aaaaaaaall alone, didn’t ya?”

You could have come, but the words stick in his throat and he doesn’t want to have that fight again, not when the sound of his name in Dean’s voice has torn open a barely-scabbed wound in his heart.

“Wanted to go with you. Almost followed you a hundred times. Think your school would’ve let me crash in your room? Think your roommate would’ve let me sleep in your bed?”

And oh, the picture that makes in Sam’s mind. Dean, with his larger-than-life energy filling this space, already cramped with Sam and Oliver. Dean crushed against him in the twin bed that Sam barely fits in alone, arm around Sam’s middle and whispering in his ear to stay quiet, don’t wanna wake your roommate up Sammy, here suck my fingers if you need something to help…

“Think about all the goddamn time, Sammy. How it could be. No one knows us, knows we’re brothers, an’ I could be outside your class waitin’ and grab you as you walk out the door. And I know you’re growing, getting so damn big, but I bet I could still pick you up. Get my hands under your ass, get your legs around me where they belong. Get you up against the wall an’ make you forget all about your fancy friends and professors and classes, ‘cause baby boy you fucking love grinding against me. An’ don’t even try and pretend that’s changed.”

Sam can’t pretend, never could, and he knows that Dean recognizes the whine he can’t hold back as he shoves his hand down his pajamas and grabs his dick.

“Touching yourself for me, baby boy?” Dean’s voice drops to the low register that has always been just between them, and Sam’s heart aches almost as much as it did when he got on the bus, watched Dean getting smaller as it drove away.

“Mhm” is all Sam can say though, soft and quiet and still hoping Dean won’t hear. His eyes won’t stay open, keep drifting shut to picture everything Dean’s saying while his thumb swipes over the head of his cock, gathers the precome and he lifts his hand to his face. Sucks his thumb clean and makes it noisy, gets a drawn out groan from the phone.

“Fuck, Sammy, are you tasting yourself for me? Taste so good, baby boy, god I can’t get enough of that. Wanna find you at that damn school and get on my knees in front of you, pull your pants down and suck you so good. Or maybe you want me to taste something else.”

Dean’s breathing harder now, almost gasping into the phone and Sam doesn’t even try to hide the needy “please” that comes out. Dean’s mouth is in his dreams, on his dick, his balls, his hole and Dean always dives in like Sam’s better than pie to him. 

“Get your hand off your dick Sammy. Wanna hear you finger yourself. Think you can still come like that for me?”

And of fucking course he can, can’t help it, has always come for Dean however Dean wanted it. Just Dean’s voice had him halfway there already, and the slight burn as he contorts himself around to push one spit-slick finger in his hole has him panting, gasping, moaning “so good” under his breath and Dean hears it.

“I know it, baby boy. Always feels so good to get inside you, makes me feel alive. Feels more like home than driving my baby, didja know that Sammy-boy? Fuck, think about me licking you open, getting you all sloppy wet with my tongue like you like. And if you beg me to go faster, I’ll just go slower ‘cause I know how to take care of ya, right Sammy? Better’n anyone?”

“Only you.” Sam’s thrusting his fingers faster, stretched out on three now and desperate to reach deeper, hit that spot that Dean could find blind and he’s almostalmost there.

“You better believe it’s only me,” Dean growls. “Mine. My Sammy. Fuck, baby, wanna get my fingers in there, pull you open so I can lick deep. Get you so open you think you’re gonna break, make you scream for me before I get my cock in you. Make you come for me until you’re so sensitive it hurts when I fuck you, know you like it like that.”

“Dean, please… I need…” Sam whines as he thrusts his fingers in hard, reaching, tries to buck his hips down to get deeper and ignores the neighbors pounding on the wall as his bed creaks against it to his rhythm.

“Need what, baby boy?”

“You, Dean, please god I just need you.”

“Fuck, Sammy.” Dean’s voice is wrecked, and when he says “Come for me, now,” Sam does, cries out his brother’s name as he explodes and vaguely recognizes the sound is Dean doing the same over the phone.

He winces as he pulls his fingers out of his sensitive hole, feels it twitching slightly at the movement and he wants to go to sleep still filled but the angle is awkward. 

“Suck ‘em clean for me, baby,” Dean’s voice gone hoarse and pleading. “My Sammy, my sweet filthy boy, do the dirtiest things for me and you love it don’t ya?”

And Sam’s deepest secret is that he’ll do anything Dean asks, so he does, sticks his fingers in his mouth and slurps loud around them, Dean’s moaning in his ear the only encouragement he needs to make it a show. “Miss you, D’n,” mumbled around a mouthful. 

“God, Sammy… miss you so damn much. Shoulda come with you, but dammit I can’t and—”

The line goes dead and Sam curses, tries to call back and gets dropped into voicemail. Tries again and the same thing happens, and eventually he stops trying, too tired to stay awake and there’s class in the morning that’s gonna come too soon so he sends a text before falling asleep.

-

Dean wakes up when sun lances through a crack in the curtains, stabs his eyes and makes his headache worse. He’s surrounded by beer cans and come is dried itchy on his chest and belly, phone dead in his hand.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck.”

He plugs the phone in before stumbling to the shower, stands under the pounding spray until he feels halfway alive again. Turns the phone on while toweling his hair dry, and finds twenty-three missed calls from Sam and a text:

Charge your damn phone. Jerk.

His heart aches a little less as he types out a reply.

Bitch.

[tae-cup]

Gouache on Calculators by Kim Taehyung | Calcu-LATER (1)

Pairing: Art Major!Kim Taehyung x Math Major!Reader, Jimin x reader-ish

Summary:  Math never fails you. The numbers might not always make sense, but you know there must be a solution. Everything fits together like a perfect puzzle, like your tidy life and solitary living…until Kim Taehyung spills paint all over your notebook. He, quite literally, trips into your life.

Genre: College AU, Fluff, Angst, Angst with happy ending, Light Topics, humor

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Uh, it’s not this dark i swear,  slight Internalized homophobia, Drinking, Cheating, uh uh uh it’s going to be a ride.

Word Count: 2.7k Words

A/N: Ah! I’m so excited to present this absolute mess of a story! Let me know your thoughts and if you’d like to be added to the taglist! Also also also, this chapter is short, but I promise the next one is a little over twice this length!

Other: 

Series List

Masterlist

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       Mr. Erich was a slow talker. You could almost understand why Jimin was falling asleep next to you. Almost. Jimin wasn’t someone you really considered a close friend, but then again, you didn’t have many close friends. 

      The teacher continued droning on about number theory. You placed your head down on the desk, but your hand continued writing your notes. Staying up late last night wasn’t the best idea, but you needed to write an essay on Anaxagoras, a greek philosopher. 

     You hated philosophy. But you loved your mother and your mother had urged you to take a class that didn’t only involve numbers. 

     Jimin was snoring peacefully and you glanced over at him. It wasn’t exactly your issue so you looked away and went back to following the lesson. A few minutes later, he jerked awake and groaned audibly.

      A few people in the seats around looked at him quizzically. You shrunk lower in your seat. You didn’t want to attend class, too many people and it made your heart race, but you needed to pass this class and so you, sadly, must attend.

        Many knew Jimin as the son and heir to BigHit, the large business conglomerate that had wealth that made even the 1% drool, but to you he was just that guy who fell asleep in Calculus and cheated off your notes. Objectively, this was annoying. Subjectively…

     You felt him staring out of the corner of your eye. He was looking pointedly at your notes. Subjectively, you didn’t care enough. If he didn’t pay attention in class, that was his problem and you didn’t feel one way or another. At the bottom of your notes, you wrote, Pay attention. 

He wrote that down too without a second thought. 

   You were busy. You were always busy. In fact, you had an extremely important Algebra assignment to do and you knew you could get it done as long as no one bothered you-

“Oh my god.” 

    A man with blonde hair and a light blue beret stood in front of you. In his hands was a tray of spilled over paints; paints that were now on you. You tilted your head. 

“Can you move?” You spoke up after a while. 

“I’m so sorry!” He seemed unfrozen and hurried after you as you brushed by. 

“Uh, can you go away?” 

“I know you’re probably really mad! Do you want money or something? I can buy you new clothes or-wait that sounds weird.” 

“Clothes?” You glanced down and then realized the state of your wardrobe. 

    You were splattered with red, green, and yellow paint. You then glanced at your notebooks, also, helpfully, coated in a thin layer of paint. More importantly, your beautiful TI-84 calculator was ruined. 

     You opened your mouth, furiously holding up your calculator, but the man continued rambling on. Annoying. But somewhat entertaining, you supposed. 

“You got paint on my-” 

“Let me take you out! Somewhere nice? I’ll buy you a coffee!” He tore off some notebook paper and scribbled some numbers down. You paused. What was he doing? 

“Besides, it’s not paint, it’s Gouache.” He announced proudly, shoving the paper into your already full arms. 

“But that- you still got-”

“Taehyung!” Jimin called from behind you. You turned and the man winced. “Oh, Taehyungie has never been too neat, sorry about him. Anyway, we gotta go, Tae. Yoongi just called and Jungkook set fire to the carpet again.” 

“He really needs to change his major to something a little less dangerous.” 

“What is this, the third time?”

“I don’t know, but we need to go, Tae-”

“What’s his major?” You questioned.

“Philosophy.” They both said in unison. 

“Anyway gotta go!” Taehyung grabbed Jimin’s hand and started speed walking away. 

“You got paint on my calcu-”

“Later!” Jimin shouted over his shoulder, his eyes lingered on you for a moment.

    Did you have something on your face? You swiped at your cheek and he grinned, turning back around and following Taehyung.

    Once they were out of sight, you juggled your notebooks around until you could successfully pick up the paper. 278-367-5433 ;). You scoffed at the numbers, something you did often, and crumpled it up. 

“Art majors. What a waste of trees” You muttered and trudged back to your dorm. 

 “I’m so stuck on this problem, Y/N, you’ve gotta help me.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you’re my friend?”

“I’m not your friend, Jimin.” You moved the phone to your other shoulder and continued working. 

“But-”

“Bye.” 

      You hung up and groaned, massaging your temple. Your room could be seen as lonely. Plain white paint sat on dull gray walls. There wasn’t a speck of trash or clothing littered on the floor. You lived an orderly life. Tidy. Your eyes strayed to your hamper. 

      Your clothes from earlier were spilling out of the top. A splash of color on a black and white canvas. You scrunched your nose and looked away in disgust. You had never understood the point of art. What did anyone ever see in it? It was meaningless. You looked back to your notes. 

      These numbers meant something. They meant the height of a ladder leaning against a building, the measurements of a bridge, and where Mary Jane would end up in 400 minutes if she’s going five miles an hour on a circular road. It was pretty deep. 

      You looked at your watch. Then you moved your attention to the window. Your dorm overlooked the sprawling center of campus. The place was a concrete playground, but with the extensive arts program, it was always covered in colorful murals and art pieces. 

       You didn’t have a roommate and you liked it that way. You had always preferred to be alone. Others called you anti-social, but, to put it another way, if there was an apocalypse and it was just you and another person alive in the entire world, you would probably leave them for dead. Life was simpler alone. 

       Besides, you wouldn’t have to deal with people chastising you about not picking up on “social cues” or whatever the hell those were. How were you supposed to know that when someone leans in real close, they want to kiss you? It seemed quite arbitrary in your mind. 

      Your phone was buzzing again. 

“What do you want?” 

“Please Y/N! This. Is. Really. Hard.” 

“Jimin, figure it out. How are you going to pass midterms if you can’t understand algebra?” 

“Ouch.”

“I mean that in the most sincere way.” You relented. 

“You’re so mean, Y/N.”

   Your eyebrows rose. That certainly wasn’t the first time you’d heard those words. 

“I’m honest. You could go ask the teacher or something.”

“He told me to ask you.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

You heard him let out a dry laugh on the other side and rustling of sheets. 

“You’re really good at math, Y/N.”

“I hate number theory.” You objected. 

“But that doesn’t mean you’re not good at it!” 

“Shut up. I’m going to hang up now.” 

“Wait no-”

Beep. 

     People were annoying. That’s what you had decided. You weren’t trying to stick out like a sore thumb, but getting in the flow of other people and understanding all the shit they wanted you to understand was hard. 

     You put your pencil back down onto the page and continued writing. You reached for your calculator, groaning when you realized the paint had covered the display. 

“Great. Just great.” 

      You set the calculator aside, feeling a little sentimental. After all, you’d had that thing since seventh grade. Your phone buzzed again. Jimin jesus chr-

“Yes?” You picked up. 

“What is this So ka toe ah everyone is telling me about.”

“How did you pass trig without sohcahtoa?” 

“Tell me!” 

“Ask Taehyung.”

“Taehyung is an art major and hasn’t had to be proficient in math since the fifth grade!” 

“Sin, cosine, tan. Bye.” 

Beep. 

     You massaged the crease between your eyebrows and your attention got caught by the darkened campus. The gross fluorescent campus lights lit up the concrete. Freshmen were running wild, happy with their newfound freedom, and seniors were leaving for clubs or parties. The lights in the dorm buildings across campus began turning on one by one. 

     You searched your pockets for the crumpled paper. When you didn’t find any, you made your way to your hamper and dug around the pockets of your paint smothered clothing. 

“Aha.” You unfolded the paper and dialed the number. You didn’t feel like talking, but Jimin was driving you up the wall. 

“Taehyung, right?” You said as he picked up. 

“Yeah? Changed your mind?”

“No. I’m going to make this short and sweet, tell Jimin to stop calling me for math help. Thanks.” You hung up and went back to your work. 

     So, technically, you were done with work, but being done with work meant that you were free and if you were free, that meant you had no excuse not to go out. And you needed an excuse to avoid people. You opened up your textbook and frowned at the various graphs and equations. You had already done all of them for fun this summer. 

“Hey, Y/N, a bunch of us in the dorm are going out, wanna come?” The hall monitor knocked on your door. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing your job?” You looked back with a confused expression. 

“Charming as ever I see.” She chuckled. 

“Come on, Jasmine, Y/N never wants to go out anyway.” Another girl shouted. 

“I know! I just wanted to be nice!” Jasmine shouted out, as if you weren’t right there. 

“What would be nice is if you left.” You said, your voice monotone and matter of fact. 

“Alright then. If you need anything, just text or call.”

“You won’t pick up anyway.” You whispered under your breath, but Jasmine was already gone. 

 “You forgot that this has to be positive, Jimin.” You leaned over him like an overbearing mother. 

“But that doesn’t make sense!”

“You’re dividing two negatives. They cancel out.” You explained, a frown twisting onto your face. 

       There was a long silence as you watched him scribble down the new numbers. The library was relatively quiet. The giggles of a group in the corner would pierce the peaceful ambience every now and then, but the librarian would always shush them and they’d die down. 

     Jimin cleared his throat, pulling your attention back to this study session. You moved across the table and sat at your seat again. You just sat and stared at him. He was intriguing. He made silly mistakes that he should honestly understand for being a junior in college. His eyes flicked up to you three times and back to his paper. 

“Well, this is awkward.” He said after a while. 

“Is it?” You shrugged and continued staring him in the eye. He shifted awkwardly and looked away. 

“Why are you staring at me?” He whispered. 

“Oh, do you want me to stop?” 

His mouth opened and closed then he looked back at his paper, his ears turning red. 

“Are you coming on to me?” He murmured. 

“What? No, why would I do that?” You said, disgusted, and returned to your work. 

       To be clear, you weren’t disgusted with him, but you were disgusted at the idea that you would come onto him. After all, you were just here for math and Jimin was just here because he needed help studying, obviously. He looked like you had just slapped him. You honestly didn’t see an issue. 

“You know, my parents are pretty traditional and they want me to bring a girl home this holiday season. You’re the only girl I’m really close friends with.” He began. You felt his eyes on you and you looked up. 

“Uh, alright? That sounds like a problem. Who are you going to take then?”

“You’re really dense, aren’t you?”

“I’m not dense.” You defended. “You need to expand your friend group.” 

“I was wondering if you could come along?”

“What?” Your furrowed your eyebrows. “Absolutely not.”

“It wouldn’t be anything romantic, just-” 

    A man with mint green hair and a slim build walked past and Jimin’s eyes followed him. You followed his line of sight. 

“....We can just go as friends, you know?” 

You nodded solemnly. “Just friends, Jimin.”

“You’ll go?”

“Only if you promise me it’s just friends because I really don’t want to have to deal with romance.” You huffed, picking up your pencil and jotting down numbers. “You already have my number, just send me the details.”

“Thank you!” 

      The librarian shot him a glare and he lowered his voice. 

“You’re a real lifesaver.” He whispered. 

“I know.” You narrowed your eyes and then began to pack up your things. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do. Bye.” 

“What, but we just-” 

“Yeah I know, but I’m sort of sick of talking to people and I helped you with your work so I’ve got to go work on Philosophy.” 

“Philosophy? I didn’t take you as a philosophy person.”

“Me neither.”

     Aha! You knew you recognized Taehyung from somewhere. You ran your finger over the screen. The list of student names in your philosophy class was displayed. 

“Kim Taehyung. KTaehyung24@WillowsUniversity.edu.” You murmured 

“Whatcha doing?” Jasmine leaned against your doorway. 

“Just...research.” You explained lamely. 

“I see.” The hall monitor came inside and sat on your bed. “You never go out, Y/N. I’m worried about you.” 

“Okay, and?” You glanced at her as she sat cross legged on the bed. Great. She’s wrinkling the sheets. 

“Well, as a friend-”

“We’re not friends.”

“-and hall monitor, I command that you go out this weekend. Do something with your college life. I think you might regret not doing anything fun later on.” She prodded softly. 

“This is fun.” You gestured to the scattered math homework pages across the desk. 

“Right… well, just keep it in mind.” She stood and moved to your door. 

“Jasmine?”

“Yeah?” She paused, turning to look at you. You read over your philosophy work and then your essay.

“You ever think that there are so many people in your life, but no one is really a part of it?”

“You’ve got to stop with the philosophy, Y/N. It feels weird coming from you.” She laughed.

       You didn’t find anything funny in that. She looked awkwardly from you to the door, expecting you to chuckle along, but you remained silent, blinking at her. She shivered and left without another word. 

      The second she was gone, you stood abruptly and smoothed out the bed sheets, but as you did that, more wrinkles appeared on the other side. You felt the anxiety pouring out of you and you rushed to smooth down the other side, but more and more wrinkles kept appearing like disgusting bugs that wouldn’t die. You let out a frustrated sigh and tore all the sheets off your bed. 

       You took the ruler off your desk and measured out the width and height, then calculated how much extra cloth is needed on both sides for it to be perfectly centered. Then you marked it off and remade the bed. You felt yourself calming as order was restored. 

    You thought back to Jasmine’s words. Go out? Absolutely not. Then you looked at the crumpled paper on your desk. 

“Fine, Jasmine.” You pursed your lips and dialed the number once more. 

“Y-ello?” Taehyung’s voice rumbled through the speaker. 

“I want a coffee, but I’d prefer to go somewhere quiet.”

“Straight to the point I see.”

“Polite niceties take up too much time. When are you available?” “Whenever you are, love.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright. Uh…” There was a long pause and you heard rustling in the background. “Sorry just grabbing a piece of paper.”

“Why are you apologizing? There’s nothing to apologize for.” You said quickly, eager to get this conversation over with. 

“I’m free this Saturday?” 

“Works for me.” You said. You didn’t need to check your calendar to know you had nothing to do. 

“Great see you then.” He said stiffly.

“Yup.”

“Uh...bye?”

“Alright.” 

Beep. 

      Now it was time to overthink the arrangement until Saturday.

Taglist: N/A

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Treat You Better

Warnings: non/dubcon sex, questionable relationship lines (kinda cuckold-ish).

This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Bucky wants what Peter has.

Note: Okay, so I mean, this fic doesn’t involve technical cheating but if you’re sensitive to it, I wouldn’t recommend reading. Also we got a very calculating Bucky and very clueless Peter. I hope y’all enjoy!

Let me know what you think!

You hated waiting. Worse, you hated waiting for Peter. Without fail he was always late. When you planned something, you always expected to do it at least a half hour later. Tonight, you had planned to go out for drinks after a long week apart. Classes and your respective obligations had kept you away from each other. Admittedly, his were more pressing.

Still, the semester started to drag by the more you were alone and you had fewer reprieves from the endless studying and inherent chaos of your dormitory. You had flagged the day in your phone and it had gotten you through the midterm stress.

But he was late. Not just a few minutes, but a whole hour. It didn’t matter, right? Drinks could wait. The bars would be open well past midnight. It was only...9:17! Mark that; an hour and fifteen minutes late.

You sighed and unlocked your phone as you leaned back on metal and leather chair. You re-read the text for dozenth time. ‘See ya at 8.’ He had sent you that. You had confirmed with a ‘can’t wait’ and heart emoji. He had sent you five hearts in return. Yet here you were, waiting on him.

You set your phone down a little harder than you intended. The spark of anger drew the eye of the only other person in the room. It was easy to forget Bucky, even when he was right beside you. He was quiet, unassuming. 

When you entered he had muttered a greeting and you had returned it. You asked him how he was; he shrugged and returned a courteous but unconcerned ‘you?’ You echoed his sentiment and began your vigil.

“Sorry…” You gave a meek smile. “I…”

“It’s fine,” He assured you. His facade didn’t crack as he went back to swiping back and forth on the tablet. He had been poring over a briefing since you arrived. It didn’t seem very brief. He yawned and shifted on the leather couch.

You leaned on your elbow and stared down at the small font of your textbook. Medieval and Renaissance Art: Themes and Narratives. You rubbed your eyes and tried not to yawn yourself. You had taken the book out about half an hour into your wait. Studying was preferable to staring at your lifeless phone.

You huffed again and tapped your fingers on the table. Where was he? There was only so much you could read about the Sistine Chapel before you found yourself staring out the window and plotting your fateful descent.

“Just call him,” Bucky’s voice surprised you. His arm was stretched across the couch as he looked over his shoulder. “Kid probably forgot...almost forgot his damn suit the last time we worked together.”

“Sounds like him,” You grumbled.

“Do it,” He said, “Really. I can’t take you moping over...whatever it is your reading.”

You lifted a brow and his lips curved slightly. He was amused with himself. You picked up your phone and stood. You waved it at him with a tilt of your head and turned away. You hit Peter’s picture and waited for it to dial.

It took two tries. He picked up as you expected to be forwarded again to his voicemail and you stuttered on your greeting. 

“Hey,” He answered nervously, “What’s up?”

“Um, I’m waiting...for our drinks,” You leaned on the table and tried to keep your voice down. “It’s almost 9:30.”

“Shit,” Peter cursed on the other end. You glanced over your shoulder at Bucky who was once again focused on his confidential files. “I’m so sorry, I thought I texted you.”

“Texted me?” You wondered.

“Yeah, uh, something came up,” The inflection made it sound more a question than a statement. “You know…business.” 

You nodded. You didn’t miss the crack in his voice or the poorly muffled whisper from Ned. When those two were together, it was rarely business.

“I came all the way down here, Peter,” You hissed, “Now I gotta take the subway back. At night. Thanks for the heads up.”

“I swear, I thought I hit send.” He explained thinly. You frowned.

“Sure,” You didn’t feel like arguing. Maybe you were just tired. Frustrated. It didn’t matter. “Fine, I’ll see you...Monday?”

“Tomorrow!” He said sharply, as if surprised. “Promise, babe.”

“Tomorrow,” You replied unconvinced. “Sure….love ya.”

“You too, babe.” He returned, “I...gotta go.”

The line died before you could give your own farewell. You shook your head and tucked your phone in your pocket. You turned and rounded the table to close your textbook. 

“You were right, he forgot,” You muttered as you shoved the book in your tote. “Good thing I didn’t sit here for an hour and a half waiting for nothing.” You said dryly. “Now that would be stupid.”

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky leaned forward and set down his tablet. You glanced over at him as you pulled on your canvas jacket. “Now, I don’t think I could forget something as important as you.”

“Please, don’t try to make it better,” You moaned, “Really. I’m just going to go home and write that stupid paper on Titian. What an exciting Friday night.”

“You want a ride?” He offered casually as he stood and stretched. He turned with his arms over his head, his lower stomach peeked out from beneath his tee. You tried not to notice the lines of his pelvis above his jeans. 

“I appreciate it but I can manage myself.” You slung your bag over your shoulder. “I got a pass.”

“Come on, let me drive you,” He insisted though his voice was as detached as ever. “I got nothing better to do.”

“I don’t know, you seemed pretty entranced,” You kidded.

“It’ll be a nice break,” He said, “And hey, a step up from the subway. Instead of a train full of strange men, you’ll only have to deal with one.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Alright, fine. You’ve twisted my arm.”

-

Bucky’s car was nice. You guessed it was a perk of working for Stark Industries. And saving the world. It was much preferable to the subway. You sank into the seat with your bag on your lap. You almost felt like a child as he turned the engine. 

“So, where am I going?” He unlocked the gps on his console and brought up the address bar, “Type it in, will ya?” He steered with one hand as he pulled out. “Not the greatest without this thing...as much I don’t trust robots.”

You squinted at him but shrugged off the comment. His metal hand would’ve made you think he had a natural kinship with more mechanical. And his demeanour. The street lights flashed through the windows and lit up the lines of his face as he drove out onto the street. You keyed in your address and turned to watch the city pass through your window.

“So...never asked but you study science or whatever, too?” He prompted. You looked to him slowly. You were almost stunned by the question. Not the content, merely the speaker. You almost preferred his disinterest. You guessed he was merely making small talk.

“No,” You laughed, “I suck at science. Art. Yeah, I know, I’ll make a great barista.”

“Art, eh?” He nodded. “I like art. God, that sounds like I’m stupid.” He chuckled. “You know, during the war, there was lots of stolen art. Some hidden away to prevent that. Some never found.” He cleared his throat as he turned the wheel. 

“We were on our way to Germany. We’d clear towns along the way. Some of them’d be blown out so bad you couldn’t step inside for fear of it all falling on your head.” His eyes searched the road as if he was seeing another city entirely. “Others, totally untouched. Towns just empty. The people fled to avoid the same carnage...or they were dragged out by their invaders.”

You nodded. You didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t ever spoken so much in your presence. Even with Peter around.

“Anyway, we found this one apartment. It must’ve been locked up for well over a year. Place was covered in dust but...paintings everywhere. On the couches, in the kitchen sink, just dozens of them. We had them taken back to headquarters...I knew this one CO though, had him send a Monet to my ma. She loved flowers, you know?”

“Monet?” You were stunned. You’d only ever seen the famous paintings in your textbooks and on the walls of museums. “Wow. I…”

“Don’t know if it ever got to her though,” He said. “I never did.”

You bit the inside of your lip. What could you say that wouldn’t seem entirely obtuse?

“Ah, don’t worry so much.” He shrugged. “Sorry, I get a bit heavy. That’s the past though…” He stopped at a light and looked over at you. “So, you’re an artist?”

“I guess,” You said. “I like to paint and my portfolio got me into the program so...for now, I am. Until I’m off into the world of corporate desk jobs and retail gigs.”

“Ah, I see why Peter likes you. You’re a hell of an optimist,” He joked as he hit the gas and looked back to the road.

Your phone vibrated and you reached into your pocket. “No use running from the…” Your screen lit up and you swiped up to view the snap. Your voice died as you watched the video in awe and anger. “I knew it!”

You hit lock and the screen went black. Your nostrils flared and you clamped your mouth shut in a scowl. You squeezed your phone and shook your head. Bucky’s eyes flicked to the rear view than you and back through the windscreen. He laughed again.

“What?” You couldn’t help the growl.

“You,” He smirked, “You’re...cute when you’re angry. Like a little chipmunk.” You frowned deeper. “I mean...you’re fiery. It’s...I always wondered how a girl like you got mixed up with the Spider-man but I’m starting to think you might be more formidable than him.” You narrowed your eyes and he peeked over at you again. “Look, it’s a compliment. I’m not very good at them but take it for what it’s worth.”

“Gee, thanks,” You crossed your arms over your tote, “I’m flattered.”

He pulled into your dormitory parking lot and brought the car to a stop as the gps announced your arrival. “Look, try not to stress about it. He’s young, stupid. You got your whole life to be mad at him.” He said. “Or to explore your options. Who knows?”

“My type of optimism,” You chided. You grabbed the handle and inched the door open. “Thanks. Really. You didn’t have to.”

“No problem. It gave me an excuse to get off the couch,” He leaned his arm against your seat, “Hit me up if he does it again. Can’t have a girl like you on the subway so late.”

You couldn’t help the smile and you opened the door all the way as you stepped out. “Thanks. Have a good night, Bucky.”

“You too, doll.” His vibranium fingers tightened on the wheel. “Take care of yourself. Don’t let the boy get you down.”

You closed the door and stepped back. He pulled out and around the lot. You watched him leave, his headlights disappeared into the city haze and you retreated to the gate of your dorm. What an odd night. Not exactly the end you were expecting.

-

Bucky lifted the bar, a small breath escaped him. The muscles in his right arm strained and a shock surged at the base of his vibranium arm. While he could lift the weight with his left arm alone, he worked to keep his right as strong as he could. He may have only one arm but he didn’t want to fight like it.

His time in the gym was his alone time. A sort of meditation. He could forget about everything and just be. His body was intuitive. He moved from machine to machine with ease. His body fell easily into the patterns; running, push-ups, lifting. 

He set down the bar and sat up as he rubbed his right hand. The metal of his left was warm. He stretched his vibranium fingers and watched the plates slide back into place. He moved his head from side to side to work out the kink along his shoulders. 

The door opened and closed. He was rarely caught off-guard but his head wasn’t as clear as usual. It hadn’t been lately. Two nights ago he had drove her home and ever since she hadn’t left his mind. When she got out of his car, he could still smell her. She smelled of strawberries. Good enough to eat.

He stood as he turned to the intruder. Peter smiled at him and Bucky had to keep from scowling. When he thought of her, he couldn’t help but think of the boy. He was a kid truly, not to see what he had right in front of him. It filled Bucky with resent. She was so sweet, so devoted to the flaky college kid, and Peter was entirely oblivious.

“Sorry, Mr. Bucky, I was just comin’ to train,” For god’s sake, the kid still called him mister.

He shook his head and shrugged as he dropped and began another set of push-ups. “Thought there was a gym at the school.” He grunted.

“Yeah…” Peter let his voice trail off as he set his gym bag on the bench. “It’s too crowded there.”

“Mmm,” Bucky lost count after ten. 

He couldn’t concentrate on the numbers as his mind strayed once more. As he lifted himself up and down, he couldn’t help but think of her. Picture her below him. He felt a stir in his shorts and held back a groan. Fuck. The things he’d do to her. 

She was so delicate. He could only imagine the ways he could break her with his iron touch. She’d wilt like a flow. The juices would flow from the sweet berry and fill his mouth. He sniffed and brought himself to a halt. 

He rolled onto his back and stretched out each leg. His cool down exercises would help him calm down. He was getting far too worked up over Peter’s girl. Yes, Peter’s girl. He shouldn’t have to remind himself of that.

He stood and stretched out his arms. “So, how’d your little date go with the girl?”

Peter looked at him curiously as he began to warm up. “How’d you know about that?” His voice was higher than usual.

“She was here all night waiting for you,” He replied, “Friday, that is.”

“Oh,” Peter blinked and frowned. “Well, I kinda forgot we were supposed to meet.”

“And yesterday?” Bucky prodded. He should back off. It wasn’t his business.

“I, uh...we saw a movie,” Peter squinted at him. “Why are you so concerned?”

“No reason. Drove the girl back to her dorm. She seemed down,” He tried to seem nonchalant but could barely ignored the thrill it sent up his spin. “Just...I dunno, she’s a special one. You should treat her like she is.”

“You drove her home?” Peter stopped his own stretches as the thoughts wrinkled along his forehead. “Why?”

“Didn’t want her to take the subway that late,” Bucky said coolly. “Not safe, ya know?”

“Ya,” Peter nodded and bent an arm behind his head. “I guess you’re right.”

Bucky finished up and grabbed his hoodie from the bench. He drained the last of his water and watched the kid as he began a set of sit-ups. He made it halfway to the door before he turned back. He neared the kid and stood over him. He looked down as Peter fell flat.

“What?” Peter asked.

“You really upset the girl,” Bucky said, “I doubt whatever you were doing with that friend of yours was worth it.”

“What do you care?” Peter leaned on his hands as he sat up. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Then start acting like it,” Bucky snapped.

“Hey,” Peter hopped up to his feet. He still had to look up at the super soldier. “I don’t appreciate you getting involved, Mister.”

“Mister?” Bucky scoffed. “Ah, kid, you need to grow up. Women get tired of boys. Quickly.”

“I’m not a boy,” Peter snarled. “You need to back off.”

“Tell your girl the same,” Bucky didn’t know why he said it. It just seemed right. A bit of revenge on her behalf. A little jealousy always put things into perspective. “She’s very talkative.” Bucky let his voice linger in the air. “...Very...friendly.”

“Leave her alone!” Bucky was surprised by the kid’s strength. He very nearly stepped back as Peter shoved him. 

“Oh don’t you worry. It was all innocent,” Bucky smirked. “She’s loyal, almost to a fault. But you’re pushing her to her limit. One of these days--”

“One of these days what?” Peter spat. “Why don’t you mind your own business, old man?”

“Key word being man,” Bucky countered. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Bucky patted his shoulder and backed away. He draped his hoodie over his shoulder as he pulled open the door and glanced at the kid as he stepped into the hall. Their eyes met in unspoken challenge. 

The door closed between them and Bucky chuckled. His chest fluttered wildly as he pictured her face. Imagined how her body would feel against his. He’d just have to wait until the kid slipped up again.

-

“How many times do I have to repeat myself until you hear me?” You pulled away from Peter. 

You had been entirely content until he spoiled it all. Nestled up together on the couch watching a movie on Netflix. The compound lounge was empty and peaceful. Or at least, it had been.

“I forgot,” Peter’s hand brushed your lower back as you stood and turned on him. “I’m sorry.”

“You forgot. Again. Big surprise. Anything to do with me, you always forget,” You evaded him as he rose and reached out to you. “Goddamn it, Peter. I told you about this two months ago. I’ve reminded you constantly and you just don’t even care.”

“I can tell Happy to reschedule the whole thing.” He pleaded as he followed you around the sofa.

“That’s not the point, Peter,” You growled and turned on him. He nearly tripped as you bore down on him, your finger in his face. “I’m tired of feeling like this. Ignored. A burden.”

“You’re not--”

“I am. Fuck, Pete, I don’t wanna be your biggest priority but I at least wanna be on the list,” You spat. “I mean, we both have our lives, our responsibilities. We knew that when we got into this but...you never treated my time like it was worth anything.” 

He tried to grab your hand and you shoved him away. His eyes rounded in hurt.

“Peter!” You exclaimed, exasperated, “Or should I call you the amazing Spider-man, hmm? Our greatest hero. You can’t do any wrong.”

“You can’t hold that against me,” Peter shook his head. 

“I don’t, Peter,” You lowered your voice. “I don’t expect you to drop everything for me, I just expect you to give me something. Anything.” You sighed and crossed your arms. “We’re on different roads, Peter. We can’t turn back now.”

“No, you...Please,” His face drained of colour. “You can’t mean it.”

“I can’t live like this. I can’t try anymore, not when you don’t.” You pressed your lips together and sniffed back your tears. “I might not be a hero but I can’t handle it all. School, you, work. I...You should enjoy it. College. We only get these years once and obviously I’m just an obstacle.”

“Don’t say that,” He neared and you hung your head. “I...can change.”

“People don’t change, Peter,” You let him hug you, his chin on your head. “Not for others. One day you’ll be ready for a relationship, I will too. But now…” You slowly drew away and hid your face. You grabbed your purse from the table. “I don’t think either of us are ready.”

“Please don’t leave,” Peter’s voice cracked as you pulled on your jacket. “Please…”

“Go save the world, Peter, it’s what your meant to do,” You opened the door and looked back at him. “But it’s not for me. This life...you’re much braver than me.”

You closed the door behind you. The hall was cold, it sent a shiver up your spine. Or was that the pit in your stomach. The twist of your insides as reality struck you across the face. It was over. Two years, done. Even if you had seen it coming, it still hurt. Inevitability was just as painful as chance.

The tears began to fall when you reached the elevator. You wiped your cheeks as you waited for the doors to ding. You were startled as a shadow appeared at the edge of your sight. You turned and brushed away the last of your tears with your sleeve. But it wasn’t Peter.

“Hey, you okay?” Bucky neared and you shied away. You sniffed again.

“I’m fine, I…” Your voice was nasally from crying. 

“What’s going on?” He asked kindly. He stared at you and his blue eyes sparkled. “What did he do?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” You looked past him. “It’s...stupid college kids, you know?”

“Youth is...dramatic,” Bucky said lightly. “Doesn’t mean you don’t have a right to feel the way you do.”

You looked at him. He wore a leather jacket over his tee and his usual combat boots. He was on his way out too. 

“What are you doing up?” You wondered. “It’s a bit late, isn’t it?”

“You telling me it’s late,” He scoffed as the elevator doors chimed and slid open. He waved you in ahead of him. “What about you, young lady? Out after dark?”

You laughed. “You got me,” You resigned. “I’m headed home. To sulk alone.”

He nodded and the elevator began its descent. You took out your phone and fiddled with it nervously. The silence that rose was tense. You were both thinking of what to say but neither could muster a word. You tucked your phone away and sighed as the elevator stopped.

“Hey,” He followed you out, “Wait, come on, it’s almost midnight. You need a ride?”

“I’ll be fine, really.” You assured him as he kept stride with you. “I’d hate to treat you like a chauffeur.”

“I don’t mind. Really.” He stepped ahead of you and blocked the door. “I wouldn’t feel right letting you take the subway this late. Alone.”

You squinted at him. Why did he care so much? While the gesture was nice, you weren’t so sure about his intent. Wait, this was Bucky. He was an Avenger. A hero just like Peter. Did you really prefer the underground creeps to him?

“I…” You bit your lip and peered through the glass doors on the other side of him. “...dunno.”

“Or maybe…” His lips twitched before he grasped his thought, “You wanna join me for a drink? I was just headed to this bar down the street. One drink in exchange for a ride. Fair trade, right?”

“A drink?” You raised a brow.

“Totally friendly, I promise. But you seem like you could use one,” He smiled, “I always heard it was bad to go to sleep angry.”

You stared at him as you thought. You dragged your tongue along your bottom lip as you weighed your options. You were on edge and you knew it would only get worse once you were home to stew in your self-pity.

“Alright, I suppose a drink is the least I can do,” You accepted. He turned and opened the door and waited for you to pass through. “But wait…” You stopped before the second door, “Should you be driving if you’re drinking?”

“Yeah, uh, my tolerance is...the serum kinda cancels out the alcohol.” He moved past you and grabbed the second door. 

“So you drink for the taste?” You stepped out onto the street and he followed. 

“It’s actually pretty sweet without the burn,” He shrugged. You walked side by side down the pavement. “And I like the bar. Small, quiet. As much as I hate crowds, it’s comforting, you know?”

“Ah,” You let him lead you to the corner and he stopped you at a small door under a plain wooden sign. “Oh, this place it cute.” You looked up at the simple moniker.

“Yeah, Peter said it was a hipster joint but I don’t really know what that means.” Bucky opened the door, once more gesturing you through. You frowned at the mention of your boyfriend. Ahem, ex-boyfriend. He noticed and winced. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine. It was my decision…” You shook off the sudden wave of gloom. “Look, let’s get that drink and forget about it. That’s all I wanna do.”

You entered and he followed closely behind. The bartender recognized him as you approached and Bucky greeted the woman as ‘Laura’. You smiled at her as she poured another customer’s drink. She turned to you as you dug out your wallet. 

“I’ll have a gin and soda,” You said above the low din, “A lime too, if you have it. And uh, whatever he drinks.”

“Actually, I’ll try that,” He intoned, “Sounds interesting.”

You waited for your drinks and handed over your cash. You left the change as a tip and Bucky led you to a table in the corner. He sat and you did the same, dribbling a little gin down your fingers. You sipped through the thin straw and shook the moisture from your hand.

“So, how’s school?” He asked before another deathly silence could rise. 

“Oh, it’s school,” You rolled your eyes, “Mostly papers and seminars. Nothing interesting. I mean, come on. You don’t wanna hear about the lameness that is the life of an art major.”

“Yeah? You’d be surprised how much paperwork is behind fighting the bad guys,” He replied, “Plus the mishap with Sam’s wings...that’s not going over well.”

“Mishap?” You prodded. “What exactly happened with the wings?”

“Well, airports don’t take well to unidentified air crafts in their zones,” Bucky chuckled, “We kind ran into some heat over Heathrow…”

-

One drink turned into two, which turned into a tequila shot and a third. Bucky was surprisingly good company. A nice distraction from the grief brewing at the back of your mind. You had thought of asking for that ride but the thought of being alone made you sick. Or was that the alcohol?

You giggled as you finished off your third gin and hid your mouth behind your hand as a belch threatened to rise. Bucky was entirely sober as he watched you lean back heavily in your chair. As a university student, you envied his tolerance.

“Another?” He offered as he looked to the bar.

“No, no,” You raised your hand, “No. I can’t handle anymore.”

“Lightweight,” He teased and you scowled. “There it is.”

“What?” You wiped the irritation from your face.

“That little furrow,” He pointed between his brows, “The chipmunk face.”

“Stop!” You whined and reached for your phone. 2:37 am. Holy shit! “Oh my god, it’s so late. Or early, I guess.”

“So it is,” He glanced over at your screen, “Last call already.”

“I should...go,” You stood with a wobble. You steadied yourself and untangled your purse from the back of the chair. 

“Yeah, we should probably head out,” He rose and stretched his arms and grabbed his leather jacket. 

“Urgh, I can’t wait to lay down,” You pulled on your canvas jacket as you followed him to the door. “What a long night?”

You yawned as you stumbled out onto the sidewalk. He was quick to catch you. His arm around your waist as he turned you in the right direction. “Careful,” He warned as he led you down the pavement. “Can’t have you messing up that pretty face of yours.”

Your cheeks burned and your lashes fluttered. You reached up to rub your neck as the heat spread. “Ha, you’re too sweet.”

“And you’re...drunk,” He chuckled as you leaned into him without thinking. He smelled of sandalwood and sweat. A hint of alcohol clung to him, too. “Come on, let’s get you back while you can still walk.”

“I’m not that bad,” You protested and elbowed him. 

“Sure,” He said dryly and you sneered at his doubt.

He turned you into Stark Tower, through the two glass doors, and towards the elevator. It wasn’t until you were in the rising box that you realized you were going in the wrong direction. 

“Wait…” You slurred as his arm slipped, “Why aren’t we...your car?”

He squeezed your ass and your squeaked in surprise. He turned to pin you against the elevator wall. His metal fingers pushed a stray hair back and you gasped. He leaned in as your heart hammered in your chest. 

“Bucky,” You grabbed his forearm as it snaked around your hip, his hand kneaded your ass hungrily.

“You’re so fucking sexy, you know that?” He pressed his lips to yours sloppily and crushed you against the wall. You froze as his metal hand drifted down and cupped your breast. He pulled away as the floors ticked closer to the top. “Peter’s a stupid boy...how could he ever let you go?”

“He...how do you know that?” You breathed.

“Not hard to guess,” He smirked, his arm once more around your waist as the elevator doors opened and he as good as dragged you out. “Don’t worry, baby, we’re gonna show him what he’s missing out on.”

“Bucky,” You said weakly. Your head spun and the warmth of his arm hypnotized you. You felt safe; wanted. “We shouldn’t…”

“It’s okay, baby,” He pulled you around the next corner, “It’s just a little bit of fun. I know you uni girls…”

Another corner and another. He spun you against a door and his mouth was on yours again. He turned the handle as he held your hip with one hand. He devoured you as he urged you backwards into the room and kicked the door closed behind him. You clung to him to keep from stumbling, your lips working against his.

He reached up to slide your jacket down your shoulders. You let him as a small voice told you not to. His touch was hot. Intoxicating. Your jacket fell to the floor with your purse. He bunched the hem of your shirt up with his fingers. Up along your stomach and chest. He pulled away as he tugged it over your head, his eyes intent on your lacy black bra.

“Jesus,” He whispered. 

Your mind was hazy, his broad shoulders blurred as he nudged you back. Your legs hit something and you fell onto the bed with a gasp. You felt him pull off your shoes, then your socks. His fingers worked deftly at the fly of your jeans as you lifted your head to watch him. This had to be a dream.

You giggled as he lifted your pelvis and glided your jeans down your legs. He stood and your vision cleared for a second as his eyes met yours. You glanced down at your body, the lacy bra and panties were all that were left to you.

“Stay there, baby,” He purred and you dropped your head. You couldn’t have moved if you tried.

You heard him moving around. You looked over as he emptied his pockets on the dresser and peeled off his leather jacket. He turned back to you and winked. His tongue poked out as he came nearer and pulled off his tee. He bent to unlace his boots and quickly kicked them off. He circled the bed as he undressed, watching you like a scavenger.

Your head lolled back and forth as you tried to keep track of him. The shadows blurred in your eyes and you closed them to still the ripple in your vision. You flinched when he touched you. His metal fingers were cold along your thighs as they crawled along the flesh. His other hand was warmer but rougher as it slid around your waist.

He lifted you and held you against him as he climbed up on the bed. He walked on his knees across the mattress and laid you down beneath him. His kiss was even more fervent than before. His tongue desperate as it slid past your lips. He ground his pelvis into you and you felt his erection through you sheer panties.

He parted and sat back on his heels. His hands explored your body as his eyes followed them. You looked down and gaped at his naked body. His cock was slightly curved but large. Your eyes rolled back as you wriggled beneath his touch.

"You're so precious, baby," He whispered as he reached around and popped open your bra with a flick. 

You pouted as he tugged your bra from your arms. You caught it and he pulled it away easily. It dropped over the side of the bed and you shivered at the touch of his fingers along your hips. He guided the lace down your thighs and past your feet. 

He tossed the panties away and bent over you. His lips trailed along your neck, shoulders, chest, and stomach. He hummed as the tip of his nose traced the line of your pelvis and you squirmed. His dark hair hung around his head and tickled you.

"Bucky," You breathed. "What are--" 

You gulped as he kissed just above your pussy. He pushed your legs apart and bent them over his shoulders. The muscles of his shoulders rippled against your calves as he bent closer. 

His slipped his tongue along the curve of your lips and pushed deeper. It was cool and sent a tingle along your thighs. You squeezed his head between your legs without thinking. His fingers danced along your ass and edged around your pussy.

He delved between your folds and you trilled. The sound was startling. Was it really you? His tongue moved from your clit to your entrance and back again. He swirled around your bud and suckled. He didn't let up, each flick of his tongue had you trembling.

You reached down to push away his head as the heat built. Instead your fingers buried in his dark hair and urged him deeper. He tickled your folds with his finger and circled your entrance. He pushed inside and you arched your back beneath him.

He drew his finger in and out before adding another. His mouth continued to play with your clit as he worked his hand. The pressure mounted and you moaned through your teeth.

His tongue and fingers moved faster. You could hear your wetness, feel it as he lapped it up. The knot unwound and you disassembled all at once. You whined as your orgasm radiated through you.

You twisted beneath him as he slowly parted from you. He looked down at you as you pressed your legs together and your hands fluttered over your torso. You closed your eyes and the after waves swept you away.

He chuckled and stroked his cock as he pulled your legs apart and dragged you closer. He rubbed his tip along your folds and it sent a shiver through you. You opened your eyes and watched as he pressed himself past your entrance. His head stretched you as he leaned over you.

He held himself up with his elbow beside your head as he slid into you. You gasped as he filled you to your limit. Your eyes went wide at the storm of lust and pain. He smiled down at your tortured delight.

"Yeah, baby," He pulled back slowly and eased back in. "You like that?"

You bit your lip and he cradled your head in his hand as he moved carefully. You shyly touched his hips; nudged him weakly as he worked against you.

"I can tell you like it." He whispered, "A girl like you needs a real man, eh?" He sped up just a little, "He can't fuck you like I can." He picked up again and you let out a mewl. "That's it, baby."

Your legs bent around him and your nails dug into his skin. Once more you felt the spring winding. His mouth smushed against yours and he nibbled your bottom lip as he parted and kissed along your cheek.

"Say my name, baby," His hips rose and fell in rhythm. "Say it."

"Bucky," You breathed.

"Again," He sped up.

"Bucky," You rasped as the heat licked at your skin.

"Louder," He urged as he rocked into you harder and harder. "Louder."

"Bucky," You raised your voice and he pushed himself up. 

He grasped your hips as he sat back, his thighs against yours. His flesh clapped loudly against yours as he crashed into you. "Keep going," He hissed.

"Bucky!" You exclaimed as the tide rose higher. "Oh, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky…"

You yiped as the swell burst and you came with a violent shudder. He kept going until you were weak and breathless. Your fingers knotted in your hair.

He slowed and lingered in you. He wiggled his hips and you twitched.

"Turn over, baby," He rubbed along the back of your thigh. "I wanna see that pretty little ass."

He pulled out of you and you trembled as you struggled to move. You rolled over and raised yourself up on your knees. Your arms shook as you struggled to stay up.

He slapped your ass and you nearly fell forward. He seized your hips again and pulled you back against him. He entered you in a single motion. Your pussy squelched around him and you moaned.

All pretense was gone. He pounded into you and you fell down to your elbows. His pelvis crashed against your ass and he bent over you to fondle your tits. You purred and pushed back into him, longing for more.

His metal hand went to your throat and he sat up. He took you with him, your back against his muscled torso. His grip tightened as he fucked you without pause. His other hand found your pussy and his fingers twirled around your clit.

"Are you gonna cum again, baby?" He growled in your ear. You nodded and his fingers slackened just a little. "Let me hear it." His breath was hot along your temple. "Let me hear you cum."

"Ah, ah, ah," You panted and closed your eyes as another orgasm broke through. "I'm cum--cumming."

You shook and he caressed you through your climax before dragging his wet fingers along your stomach. His metal hand choked you as his other hooked around your shoulder and he forced you down harder onto his cock.

"Fuck, baby, can I cum in you? I'm gonna cum," His lips brushed over your hair.

"N-n-no," You wheezed and clawed at his hand. "N-not inside."

"Inside?" He snarled and sank into you completely. His hips twitched and he gave several long thrusts. He came as you batted helplessly at his metal hand. "God, baby, you feel so good." 

He slowed and lowered your bodies together so that he was on top of you. He pushed inside as deep as he could and you cried out as he hit your cervix.

"You like it when I fill you up?" He ran his nose along your ear. "Hmm?"

You buried your face in the mattress and steadied your breath. He kissed the back of your head and pulled out of you carefully. You felt the stream of his cum and yours as it leaked between your thighs. You shook your head and the cloud grew thicker.

You rolled over as the bed shifted and you watched as Bucky's vague figure walked to the dresser. You sat up and squinted at him as he turned back with something in his hand. His phone was pointed at you as he neared.

"Bucky?" You blinked in confusion, "What--"

"Say hi," He smirked as he moved the lens up and down your body. Your mouth fell open as he turned the camera back on him. "Who's an old man now, Petey boy?"

[winifredsandersonsbitch]

“Working Girl”

Spike x Reader, BTVS

Warnings: spoilers, cursing, angst.

Set a few weeks after Joyce’s death. Reader has been picking up extra graveyard shifts and Spike catches them leaving the house at an ungodly hour.

You closed the door to the house quietly, work bag in hand, and locked up. You were certain that neither of your younger sisters had heard you leave, but you hovered on the porch for an extra minute just in case. Then you turned around and crashed straight into a certain vampire.

“Not as stealthy as you think, are you?” Spike asked, steadying you. “Where are you off to so late?”

You jerked backward, almost tripping over the step a second time. “Nowhere. What are you hiding?”

Spike tried to keep the flowers from your view, but you spotted the top of the bouquet peeking out from behind his back.

“Trying to win points with Buffy so she stops beating the shit out of you? Because if we’re being honest, I doubt she’ll let up. Having a walking, talking punching bag is too much fun.”

“I resent that.” Spike glowered at you and reached past you to place the flowers in front of the door. “Your mother was a nice lady. Not judgy like the rest of you. I’m paying my respects.”

“Pay your respects at the graveyard,” you said, pushing past him to your car. “You’re not welcome here.”

“Have none of you bloody noticed that I’ve been helping lately? You haven’t even had to pay me!”

“Excuse me while I nominate you for sainthood,” you snapped back. You unlocked your car door and turned to face him, gripping the handle so hard your knuckles turned white. “And get out of my driveway.”

“Look, I’m not trying to upset you, okay? I didn’t mean for anyone to see me come by.” He lowered his gaze, catching sight of your bag. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s what.”

You slid into the driver’s seat, turned your key in the ignition, and rolled your windows down. Not because you had anything else to say to Spike, but because driving with the wind whipping through your hair was one of the only real pleasures you had these days, and you’d be damned if you let him take it from you.

“No need to get testy, pet. Just wondering if you want backup!” he called as you pulled out.

“You wouldn’t last two minutes where I’m going.”

“Try me.”

You ignored him, leaving him alone under the streetlights as you sped toward the diner. You were going to be late.

—

You changed into your uniform and entered through the employee door with seconds to spare, stopping to wash your hands before you greeted the cook and your fellow server. You didn’t mind the company, even if Don and Betty could be a little coarse. They kept you from totally losing it from sleep deprivation and the unruly customers.

Normally, the night shift would be slow, but Sunnydale had more than its fair share of teenagers and vampires, and both frequented The Homestead late at night. While you weren’t totally comfortable with either demographic, although you spent plenty of time with them both, they usually treated you well enough while you were on shift.

The only patrons you really minded were the truckers.

Now, you didn’t like to stereotype, so you tried your best to get along with anyone who had been sat in your section. Some of the men got a little handsy after a few drinks and normally you shrugged it off as long as you got tipped, but tonight it was hard to keep your smile from slipping. Especially when a certain someone showed up at one of your tables.

“Did you follow me here?” you hissed as you set down his water, mindful of the other customers.

“Maybe.” He gave you a self-satisfied smirk you knew all too well. “Fast, aren’t I?”

“Unless you’re going to order something—”

Spike slapped the menu down on the table and you winced. If you didn’t get him out soon, Don and Betty would notice the familiarity and pester you for the rest of the night about him, like they did every time you saw someone you knew. Bless them, they still thought you were too good for this place and felt more shame than you did when someone from outside life saw you here.

“Blueberry pancakes would be great, thanks, love.”

Suppressing a scowl, you rang in the order and cycled through your other tables while you waited for it. The whole time, you were uncomfortably aware of his eyes on your back, or, more accurately, your ass.

“Why are you here?” he asked loudly the next time you came close. Betty glanced over and then away just as quickly. Yep, you’d be hearing about this later.

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Not to come off as a prat, but you look awful,” Spike continued, as if you hadn’t said anything. “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks. And I know your midterms are coming up and you have to watch Dawn when Buffy’s out. So why are you here?”

“Wow, stalk much?”

Spike bared his teeth in what might’ve been meant as a friendly grin and patted the seat next to him. “Come on, sweetheart. Pour your heart out.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m at work.” You looked over at the window to see your food cooling in plain view and your other customers trying to catch your eye. “I have to go.”

“If you stay, I’ll give you the biggest tip this place has ever seen,” Spike entreated. Your feet did still for a moment and you almost considered his offer, to your disgust.

Forcing yourself forward, you delivered all of the meals with an apology and a smile. When you got to Spike’s table, you dropped your eyes and only stilled long enough to ask if he needed anything else. Luckily, he had enough manners to let you off the hook. But when everyone else had cleared out and you were left to begin the cleaning for the next crew, he claimed a stool as you began wiping down the counter.

“I’m not trying to embarrass you, you know,” he said, leaning an elbow on the surface.

You knocked it off none-too-gently, scowling. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Don ceased his whistling in the back to listen in, and Spike eyed him warily, lowering his voice. “I just mean—don’t you have enough going on right now without this?”

“Enough? I have more than I could handle in a lifetime. But I don’t need you coming in here questioning me and my ability—”

“Love, calm down.” Spike reached out for your hand and then drew back, apparently thinking better of it. “I know you’re more than capable. I just don’t want to see you run yourself into the ground looking for a distraction.”

“A distraction?” Your laugh came out bitter and hurt and not your own. “I’m here because Mom’s dead and we have to pay the bills, not because I thought it would be fun to play the working woman. Buffy’s the Slayer and Dawn is... too little. So that leaves me. But don’t worry, Spike. I’ve had a job since I was fourteen. I know how to balance. You don’t have to worry about me ruining my fragile self esteem or my soft hands.”

At this, you took a long look at the hands in question, cracked from the heat of the grill and scrubbing at grime. You allowed yourself a moment of self indulgence, a mini daydream where you hit Spike square in the jaw and then walked out, but then you moved to clean the milkshake machine.

He was at a loss for words as he watched you scrub furiously at a chocolate syrup stain with tears pricking your eyes. He stayed quiet when you rotated to the tables and wrung out your towel, but then he rose. You were worried he was going to do something stupid like make some cutting remark you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself back or, worse, try to hug you, but he didn’t. He only grabbed a spare rag and joined you in silence.

You worked over the whole restaurant until the next shift arrived. Then you untied your apron and led Spike outside.

“Sun will be rising soon,” you said as he lit a cigarette and blew a thick cloud of smoke into the air.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to go?”

“Do you want me to?”

All night, you thought you had, but now you were grateful for the company. To not have your secret weigh so heavy on your heart.

“I’ll give you a ride back.”

He looked you over to see if you were joking and then clambered into your car before you could change your mind. You didn’t miss the quirk in his mouth when you rolled the windows all the way down or turned up the classic rock like you wanted to wake the neighbors. It felt good to be seen in these early hours, even though you were sure you smelled like fried food and you were aware that the bags under your eyes made you look a little ghoulish. Spike, you were positive, had seen worse.

He watched the change that came over you carefully as your drove off from work. Your shoulders squared themselves back, your chin lifted, and you breathed more easily. By the time you reached your street, you were even singing, although you made sure to dial it down before you reached the house.

It made him forget about the graveyard, even though he could see the first rays of sun begin to peek out from in between the trees.

“Uh, sweetheart,” he said finally, when you had turned the car off and unlocked his door. “Think you might’ve forgotten something.”

He raised his eyebrows pointedly, but you walked up the front steps anyway. When he didn’t follow, you sighed.

“Did you want to get burnt to a crisp today or what? Come on.”

When Spike’s forehead crinkled further, you grabbed his hand and pulled him along with you, making sure to formally invite him in.

“I figured you could benefit from sleeping in a real bed for once,” you said when you reached your bedroom, your cheeks beginning to redden for the first time. “It’s not like I’m using it. I have to leave for class in an hour.”

“Just like that?”

“It’s an early lab. I have time for a shower and breakfast, but yeah.” You drew the blinds for him and pointed to the bed. “Don’t do anything gross and don’t let Buffy or Dawn know you’re here.”

“When are you going to sleep?”

“When I get back.” You turned away to pick an outfit from your closet as Spike spread out on the bed. He picked at a thread in your pillow and then turned his attention to the piles of clothes you had yet to put away.

“Irregular sleep schedules aren’t good for humans, love,” Spike said, a little absentmindedly. His eyes were busy taking in everything about the space. He had never seen this much of it before. You had records packed into a crate under your bed, pictures strung up on the walls, paints and books and even a typewriter, none of which looked like they had been touched as of late.

“Neither is being homeless,” you quipped. “Which will definitely happen to us if no one’s making our payments on time.”

“You can’t keep this all going forever.”

His steady gaze made you squirm. You dropped your bra in your haste to get out of the room, and Spike took great pleasure in handing it to you just before you closed the bathroom door.

“It’s not forever,” you told him, resisting the urge to slam the door on his fingers. “I’m dropping next week.”

You shut the door gently before he could respond and turned on the shower. You stripped and left your clothes in a pile on the counter, ignoring Spike’s hammering on the wood. When you stepped in, you imagined the heat washing everything else away, but it was hard when he kept asking you questions through the door.

“You can’t drop out!” he was saying. “You’re the smart Summers.”

“I’m the booksmart Summers,” you corrected. You kept your voice low, not wanting to wake your sisters. “What good is that going to do me in a world of demons and bills? I need something that’s going to keep us fed now, not in four years.”

“Don’t you have a dad? Isn’t he sending you anything?”

You had to strain to hear Spike over the water and you only bothered because you were worried he might break down the door if you stopped responding.

“He’s still in Spain. And if we rely on his money, then we’re going to end up being disappointed sooner or later anyway. With his track record, I’m betting on sooner.”

Spike went quiet as you shampooed. You imagined him rifling through your underwear drawer or lifting up your mattress to try and find your diary, then shook the thoughts out. You conditioned, shaved your legs, and got dressed in the time it took him to get back his composure.

When you stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your dripping hair, he was waiting cross-legged in front of your bed, smoking furiously.

“Hey! You can’t do that in here, my sisters will know—”

“Why are you even finishing the week if you’re quitting anyway? At least stay and get some sleep. I’ll even tuck you in.”

He exhaled and smiled charmingly, the cat who got the canary, convinced he had you with his foolproof logic. You glared at him and stubbed his cig out, then tossed it in the trash.

“If all you’re going to do is challenge my life decisions, you can go back to your crypt. I don’t need any undead James Dean wannabe hanging around to criticize me.” You swiped your jacket off the chair beside him, kicking out when he tried to wrap a teasing hand around your ankle in an attempt to get you to lighten up. You caught a glimpse of him in your peripheral—hunched, guilty—and forced yourself to ease up.

“I like to learn,” you added quietly. “That’s the difference a week will make.”

Then you went downstairs to pour yourself some cereal.

—

When you came back from school, Spike was sitting up in your bed. He waited for you as you changed out of your jeans and then folded open the covers for you to slide in.

“I’ll take the floor if you want,” he said when you hesitated. “But you’re trembling, babe, you need to rest.”

He was right. You had almost fallen asleep in your last class three times, kept awake only by the snapping of the rubber band you kept on your wrist for those exact situations. You crawled in next to him.

Despite his decided coolness, it felt good to be close to someone. Especially someone who smelled so good. Almost like—

“Did you use my body wash?” you whispered, turning over to face him. If vampires could blush, Spike definitely did.

“Well, I... I wanted to be.... clean. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It suits you.”

Your laugh turned into a yawn and Spike wrapped an arm around you tentatively. You were so tired that you leaned into it without assessing any of the risks you were now used to calculating.

“Just sleep, love,” Spike whispered as your eyes closed. “Relax.”

You were pretty far gone when you felt his lips on your forehead and his breath against the shell of your ear. Almost too far to hear him making you a promise to get the money you needed.

If you had been more coherent and less exhausted, you might’ve warned him off it or told him it was your responsibility. As it was, you just tightened your hold on his t-shirt, as if to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

[jalapeno-princess]

Misunderstandings

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: You’re failing your marine biology class and your best friend Youngjae recommends you sign up for tutoring. When you walk in to the tutoring center and your eyes land on the handsome boy who claims to be your tutor, you grow excited to start your sessions but you don’t know whether it’s because you have hope to pass your class or because you get to spend time with Mark. As the weeks go by, you end up developing feelings for the older boy and little do you know, he ends up falling for you too.

A/N: My last day of class was yesterday and I wrote this story last week the day before my finals and I was failing my marine biology class (please do not sign up for marine biology unless you’re passionate about science because I did not understand a fucking thing but ya girl got a C GOD BLESS) the thought of Mark as a tutor makes me cry I would purposely fail a class just to have him tutor me

“Y/n, it’s really not that bad. A 64 is still passing. D’s get degrees—“ 

You yanked your quiz from your best friend’s hands and began to walk away out of frustration. You had taken your midterms just a few days ago and you‘ve been studying for all five of your classes for the last month. There was no problem with any of your four other classes. However, science was never your forte; specifically marine biology. 

When you were first signing up for classes, the idea of learning more about the ocean and marine animals intrigued you. Therefore, you didn’t hesitate to add Marine 465 to your schedule. Unfortunately, once you began the class you were ultimately regretting your decision. 

For the most part, you considered yourself to be pretty smart. Sure, some classes were easier than others but you always tried your best when it came to your education no matter how hard the subject was. You’d put in more time in studying and went the extra mile to make sure you succeeded no matter how difficult the class was. 

As soon as your professor started with his lectures, you felt extremely lost and no matter how hard you studied, you weren’t retaining any information. It was as if everything you learned about sea level rise, coral bleaching and erosion went through one ear and out the other. When you received the exam a few days prior, your heart immediately sank like it normally did whenever you’d take the first look at an exam and did not understand a single thing. 

You were sure you studied for this midterm the longest out of all your classes but no matter how hard you tried, you just weren’t meant to do well. You answered every single question to the best of your ability and you had a tiny bit of hope that you did decently; but when your professor passed back your graded tests right before ending class, you were on the verge of tears.

“Youngjae, I am a nursing major. I can’t get anything lower than an A. This is so disappointing. Might as well turn in my scrubs now and drop out of the program. There’s no use! Nothing is going to help me at this point. There’s only one more assignment and that’s the final exam. Even if I do well on my exam, the highest grade I’ll get is a B. A B isn’t good enough Jae. Fuck science. What does marine biology even have to do with nursing? I don’t recall having to give shots to sea turtles!” 

The older boy caught up to you and pulled you into his embrace in attempts to calm you down. After six years of friendship, he was completely aware of what a goal driven person you were. Whatever you set your mind to, you’d do anything in your power to achieve it. After taking a look at the grade you were given, Youngjae knew that chances of you getting an A were extremely slim; but it didn’t mean it was impossible. 

Your best friend saw you through both your highest and lowest points and he knew you could handle anything negative that life threw at you. Your marine biology class was no exception. 

“I really don’t know what to do other than withdrawal and retake it again next semester.” You released an exhausted sigh before taking a seat on the nearest bench. 

“Have you ever thought about tutoring? Oh come on, don’t give me that look. What? Is the great y/n y/l/n too good for tutoring? Even the smartest students ask for help sometimes y/n, it wouldn’t hurt for you to ask for help once in a while. Maybe you’ll have an easier time learning from someone one on one rather than when your professor teaches your entire class. I’ll even go with you if that’ll make you feel more comfortable.” 

You gave him a soft smile before ruffling his hair. “Fine. We’ll go tomorrow. But if one of those nerds wants to get smart with me, I won’t hesitate to throw hands.” Youngjae’s laughter engulfed throughout the front lawn as the two of you continued to make your way to your last class. 

The next day, you found yourself hiding in the library and began ignoring Youngjae’s calls and texts to find out where you were. Right after he dropped you off to your apartment the night before, you decided that you did not want to go along with having to seek help with your studies. To say you were a stubborn person was an understatement and you knew you were being childish trying to refuse Youngjae’s attempts at trying to help you with your grades; but you hated the thought of having to be tutored because it reminded you that maybe you weren’t necessarily great at everything as much as you wanted to be. 

Knowing how you could be, he knew exactly why you weren’t answering his calls and he was well aware that you were planning on running away from his recommendation. One thing Youngjae loved most about you was your confidence and how you had such a good head on your shoulders. It was also something he cared about the least seeing as how you refused help from others no matter how much you obviously needed it. He began to search for you throughout the entire campus and since he knew you like the back of his hand, it didn’t take him long to find you. 

When you felt an arm on your shoulder, you jumped in surprise but released a frustrated grunt when you realized who it was. “Youngjae—“ he shook his head before gathering up your things and reached for your hand. 

“You’re not getting out of this. Y/n, just because you’re receiving help from someone else, doesn’t mean you’re any less smarter than you are. Stop being so stubborn. The tutors are genuinely nice people and they just want to help you. If you keep this act up then just take the F already. I don’t know what else to do for you!” 

Seeing your best friend so upset over something that wasn’t even his fault made you feel like a terrible person. He was only trying to help you because he hated seeing you beat yourself up over something he knew you tried your best at. Which is why you pulled him in to your embrace and leaned your head on his shoulder while whispering countless apologies against the juncture of his neck and finally agreeing to receiving help from a tutor. 

You’ve never been to the tutoring center before because you instilled it in yourself that tutoring was the last thing you ever wanted to go through but you were desperate. 

“Hi, how can we help you today?” 

For a moment, you felt like a little kid. Since you only agreed to be there a few minutes ago, you didn’t really understand how the tutoring center worked. You turned around to Youngjae and gave him a knowing look to which he sighed.

“She’s not doing too well in her marine biology class and needs a tutor.” 

The girl at the counter nodded in understanding before taking a look at her computer. After a couple of seconds, she picked up her phone and dialed whom you assumed to be your tutor. 

“Mark will be here in a few minutes. Please sign in and have a seat over there.”

You did as you were told and sat down on one of the couches before beginning to pick at your nails nervously. Youngjae gently squeezed your thigh before gently shoving you. 

“Hey, it’s just tutoring. You’re acting as you’re going for a job interview or something. It’s going to be just fine.” 

You heard some sneakers against the ground and when you looked up, your eyes widened in shock. He wasn’t someone you’d expect to be a tutor. As much as you didn’t want to be stereotypical and assume that all tutors were someone who wore glasses and suspenders, that was your idea of what your tutor would look like. 

The boy standing in front of you was wearing converse, a pair of gray sweats and a flannel. His hair was dark brown with soft, fluffy curls and the toothy grin he flashed you made your cheeks warm. 

“Y/n? Hey, I’m Mark. Follow me.” 

Youngjae gave you a wink before shoving you towards the extremely good looking boy. 

“So, I was told you need some help in marine biology. Do you mind taking out some of your homework and maybe some of your notes so I can get an idea of what you might need help with?” 

You sat down at the table with all of his things and began to pull out everything he was asking for from your backpack. After you took out your work and handed it to him, he started to look over your papers and began writing something down. 

“These are really good notes, but I think you’re having a hard time with analyzing and understanding the material. That’s why I’m here.” 

For three hours, Mark tried his best in making the lessons easier for you to comprehend by drawing out some key terms that he thought would help you get an idea of marine life. Once he felt you had enough for the day, he handed you back your papers and gave you a soft smile. 

“Good work today. I’m sorry if you still are having a hard time understanding, but I’ll be glad to help you up until your finals. How does that sound?” 

The idea of spending more time with him sent a warm feeling to your tummy. Throughout your entire session, he was extremely patient with you and even threw in a couple of jokes to make the atmosphere more relaxing. He even let you take a couple breaks as the two of you began asking each other a couple of questions to become more familiar with one another. 

You found out he was an engineering major but he was minoring in marine biology. From the time he was younger, he was always fascinated with the ocean and wanted to find ways to help preserve it. Hearing him talk about how passionate he was in finding solutions for climate change and coral bleaching brought you in a daze. Before you could leave, you both exchanged numbers and planned another day to meet up again. 

Once you began making your way back to where Youngjae was, you could feel your heart rate increase at the thought of seeing Mark again. 

“So, how did it go?” You shrugged before motioning for him to get up. 

“It was okay. He’s nice and you can tell he’s very passionate about marine biology. But I just have a hard time grasping the information. I don’t know about this Jae. It’s useless. I don’t want to waste his time.” 

Youngjae grabbed your backpack and your books as the two of you began walking towards his car. If there was anything Youngjae hated, it was hearing you talk so negatively about yourself. 

“Y/n, you’re not wasting his time. He signed up to do this for a reason. You’re not going to retain all this information in one session. You’re going to have to meet up with him multiple times in order to complete understand everything your professor is teaching you. I wasn’t there to see how he goes about with teaching you, but I’m sure they don’t let just anybody become a tutor. Don’t give up before actually trying okay? He could be the reason you’ll get an A at the end of the semester so just hang in there.” 

You weren’t afraid of Mark not being able to help you raise your grade. It was obvious he knew what he was talking about. You were afraid of gaining feelings for him because you felt that he would only become a distraction. It was already hard enough for you to learn about marine life, what more if you were to develop a crush on the person whose supposed to be teaching it to you? 

Over the course of a month, you’d meet up with Mark on Monday’s, Wednesday’s and Friday’s from 2:30 to 5:00. It didn’t take you long to finally get the hang of understanding the lessons your professor would teach you in class and you were excited when you found yourself catching on to the information Mark was giving you. 

Unfortunately, your feelings for Mark only grew more and more with each and every session. You’d catch yourself stealing glances at him every so often and daydream about what it would be like to kiss his cute little heart shaped lips, to run your fingers through his curly locks, to hold his pretty hands and to be held by him. But it was dangerous to think like that. No matter how kind he was to you, he never showed any interest in you and you had to accept that all you’d ever be to him was just another person he’d tutor. 

There were a couple of times Mark attended class with you in order for him to find out why you were having such a hard time learning and the thought of him taking time out of his day just to sit in on your marine biology class made your heart flutter like a school girl. He only wants to see how the professor is teaching so that he can make the lessons simpler for you stop giving yourself false hope y/n. 

Finally, the day of your final exam came and you were extremely nervous to say the least. No matter how long you’ve been preparing for this, all the sleepless nights you’d stay up studying on top of your tutoring sessions with Mark; you didn’t think you were ready to take it. 

As you made your way in to the lecture hall, you could feel your palms getting sweaty as your heart rate began to increase and it wasn’t a good feeling. Right before class could start, you felt a vibration coming from your bag and when you checked your phone to see the notification, a huge smile rose on your face.

Mark🤓: Good luck today y/n. You’ll do great! I believe in you. Let’s meet up once you’re done with the exam. You got this!👍🏻

Most people would consider it such a simple text of encouragement, but to you it meant the world. He had faith in you and with that knowledge alone, a burst of confidence ran through your veins and as soon as your professor passed out the exams, you began answering every single question without hesitation. It felt as if Mark was right next to you, cheering you on and it was such an amazing feeling. 

Everything he’s been teaching you for the last two months just kept flowing through your mind and before you knew it, you were finished. You took a few moments to go over your test to make sure you answered them to the best of your knowledge and once you were done you handed in your exam and dialed Mark’s number. 

“Hey y/n! How did it go?” You hummed cheerfully as you made your way down the hall. 

“I’d like to think it went well, but we won’t know until next week. Where are you? I wanna treat you to lunch as a small thank you for all your help.” 

Although you couldn’t see him, you knew he was probably smirking at the idea of food. A lot of your sessions were held at the cafeteria and the coffee shop on campus because Mark loved to eat. His love for food was adorable, and so was he. Only then did it hit you that you would no longer be needed Mark’s help and you felt your chest getting heavy when you realized you wouldn’t get to see him anymore. Other than Youngjae, Mark was one of the only people who genuinely made you happy. In fact, he was one of your only sources of happiness and you wanted to be with him as much as you could. 

“I’m in the library, but I‘ll make my way to you so you don’t have to walk so far. Are you still in the science building?” You absentmindedly smiled knowing he wanted to make things easier for you by meeting you half way. 

“Yeah. I’ll be sitting by the front door. See you soon.” While you were waiting, you took out your phone and texted Youngjae that you were finished with the exam. He was quick to respond and asked you if you wanted to go out and celebrate to which you let him know that you were treating Mark to lunch. Knowing how your best friend could be and how he’s been teasing you about Mark ever since the day he began tutoring you, you weren’t surprised to read the messages he sent you.

🦦: Can I tag along? Or are you finally going tell lover boy how you feel about him? Come on y/n, it’s been months. The worst he can do is tell you he doesn’t feel the same and you can go back to being strangers. The y/n I know is an extremely courageous person who will do whatever she possibly can to get what she wants and a boy is no different.

🦦: But I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not looking. He gets all starry eyed and shit. As if the sun shines out of your ass.

🦦: make me proud y/n 😉

It didn’t take Youngjae long to realize you had feelings for Mark. You’ve never really had a crush before, so Youngjae knew there was meaning behind the blush on your cheeks and how flustered you’d get after every session with Mark. He was also quick to notice how you were always holding your phone as if you were waiting for a text from someone. When he confronted you about it, he was shocked when you didn’t try to lie about it and he was also secretly very excited. He’s been rooting for the two of you ever since Mark introduced himself for the first time two months ago. 

If Youngjae had it his way, he would’ve went up to Mark and confessed your feelings for him a long time ago, but he was never one to get involved in your personal life if you didn’t want him to.

“Hey, ready to go?” You nodded in agreement as he grabbed your books and slung your backpack over his shoulder like he normally did. It was little gestures like this that made you feel like he had reciprocated your feelings but then again, he was a gentleman to everyone. You’ve witnessed how he’d hold doors for everyone, how he always greeted someone he knew and how he’d always lend a hand if he felt like someone was in need. It was just who he was and you couldn’t confuse his acts of kindness for romantic feelings. 

The walk to his car was quiet, but it was a peaceful kind of silence. However, once he opened your door and you both got inside, he turned on the radio and began to sing along. He did this every time the two of you would go somewhere off campus. Mark was an actual ray of sunshine and sometimes he’d even get you to sing along. 

Sometimes, you’d find yourself dozing off at the thought of holding his hand that he wasn’t using to drive and leaving a kiss on his cheek at a stoplight. A lot of the times you would day dream, it would be made up scenarios of him and what it would be like to date him. You were suddenly broken out of your thoughts when he softly tapped on your thigh to let you know that you both arrived to the restaurant. 

Lunch was amazing. He made you go over the test questions and your responses for a small portion of it before beginning many conversations with you about anything your hearts desired. Conversation flowed smoothly between the both of you as if you had been friends for years and every time he laughed at something you had said, you could feel butterflies fill up the entirety of your tummy. Mark had such a distinct laugh and for someone who looked as manly and broad as he did, you wouldn’t expect such a adorable and extremely high pitched laugh to come out of him. It was your favorite sound and you were happy knowing you were the cause of it. 

To your dismay, your time together was soon coming to an end and you were surprised to find out that you’ve been at lunch with Mark for almost three hours. People weren’t kidding when they say time flies when you’re having fun. After you finished paying, you walked back to his car and he began to drive you back to your apartment. The confession was at the tip of your tongue. Youngjae’s words filled your mind. The worst he can do is tell you he doesn’t feel the same. 

As much as you wanted to know whether or not he harbored the same feelings for you, you didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself if you found out he didn’t see you in that way. 

“Hey, everything okay?” You looked at him in curiosity and gave him a fake smile. 

“I’m fine. Just nervous about what I got on the exam but I’ll be fine. Thanks for dropping me off.” 

He playfully pinched your cheek and made his way out of the car in order to open your door for you. Sometimes you hated how much of a gentleman he was, it only made your feelings for him grow stronger. 

“Of course! Thanks again for lunch. By the way, you have nothing to worry about y/n, I’m sure you did great. Don’t forget to text me as soon as you get the results. Until then, good luck with the rest of your exams. Have a nice rest of your day.” 

As you watched him drive away, you felt your heart sink. I like you. Why was it hard so hard to say those three words? Now you’d never know how he felt about you nor did you know when the next time you’d see him is. But if he liked you, wouldn’t he have made a move on you already? 

Exactly a week later, your professor emailed you and the rest of your class that grades were posted. Your fingers hovered over your log in but a part of you was hesitant to see what grade you were given. You were sure your heart was about to jump out of your chest and you had wished Youngjae was at your side when you were to find out the results. Or even better, Mark. 

You sent him a quick text to see where he was and what he was up to and he let you know that he was at his apartment. He asked if you wanted to go over causing heat to rise upon your cheeks. You’ve never been to his apartment before, so the idea excited you and you couldn’t wait to see him again. One week away from him was torture and you didn’t know how your life was going to be now that you no longer needed his help. He gave you the directions to his apartment and you quickly got ready so you could go and give him the news. The drive to his place felt like forever and you knew it was because you were on your way to see the boy who owned your heart. 

Once you parked your car and made your way up to his apartment, you could feel your palms getting sweaty and you soon grew nauseous. You giggled when you saw his doormat; of course he’d get one with marine animals on it. After taking a moment to breathe, you softly knocked on his door and waited for him to open it. 

As soon as he opened the door and you saw that he was only wearing basketball shorts you coughed up a bit and internally screamed at yourself for doing so. You knew Mark was built, but you didn’t think he was hiding a six pack and a very defined v-line under all of those flannels and sweatshirts. 

“Hey y/n! Sorry about the lack of clothing, I’m doing a load of laundry. Can I get you something to drink or eat?” You were still so focused on how attractive Mark was and how you were alone with him in his apartment to the point where you almost forgot the reason for being there. 

“No thank you. I um, I actually came here because I got the exam results and I didn’t want to look at them by myself so I thought I’d look at them with you. I’m sorry if I interrupted you.” He shook his head in disagreement before taking a seat next to you on his couch. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m never too busy for you and I wanted to know what you got! I’m not even the one who took the exam and I’ve been anticipating your grade the entire week. But I know it’s because I saw how much time and effort you put in studying for this exam. So let’s see what your score is.” 

He sent you a wink and you were sure you were now red as a tomato from both the gesture and his words. You took out your phone and logged in to your school account. After you pulled up your name, you immediately handed him the phone and covered your eyes. 

“You look at it, I can’t do it.” He giggled softly at your worried expression before scrolling through your phone. When you didn’t hear anything from him after a few moments, your heart began to sink. That was all until you were being lifted off of the couch and pulled in to Mark’s arms. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and spun you around. 

“Congratulations y/n! You got a 98! See, I told you there was nothing to worry about! I knew you had it in you. I’m so proud of you.” 

Right as you were about to respond, his lips were on yours. It was as if time stopped and the room began spinning. You could’ve sworn you were dreaming yet you found yourself deepening the kiss as your arms made their way around his neck. His lips tasted like a mixture of mangoes and Cheetos puffs; an odd combination but one that you were now in love with because it was unique, just like him. All too suddenly, he pulled away and placed you down while beginning to pace back and forth around his living room. 

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. That was so uncalled for I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me. Please don’t tell your boyfriend—“ 

You looked at him in confusion before asking him what he was talking about. “That guy you’re always with. The one who waits for you during our tutoring sessions. Is he not your boyfriend?” It all made sense now. The reason why Mark wasn’t taking things further in your relationship was because he thought Youngjae was your boyfriend. That took a weight off of your shoulders. 

“No. That’s my best friend Youngjae. He’s been telling me to confess my feelings to you for over a month now but I was afraid you didn’t like me. I’m hoping that kiss meant that you do or else I’ll be taking my leave now.” 

You began walking towards the door but you were soon colliding with his broad chest while his hands made their way down to your waist. 

“I like you a lot y/n. More than I’d like to admit if I’m being honest. I just assumed you and Youngjae were a couple when I first saw the two of you together. I realized I was developing feelings for you around our third meeting when you went in to detail about why you want to become a nurse. Seeing how wide your eyes got in excitement as you described your love for helping others made my heart combust. You’re so adorable, you know that? Extremely beautiful too. And as I got to see how dedicated you were to your studies and your education, it made me come to terms with my feelings and I finally accepted them even if I felt like it was wrong having a crush on you while thinking you had a boyfriend.” 

He stole one more kiss from the corner of your lips and placed some hair behind your ear. “I looked forward to every single tutoring session and I don’t know if you noticed, but I would throw in some topics that had nothing to do with what I was teaching you that day just to prolong our time together. You are the most unique and interesting person I’ve ever met. You do this thing with your nose when you’re deep in concentration and the image would never leave my mind. You’re an extraordinary person y/n and it would mean a lot to me if you agreed to being my girlfriend.” 

You grinned at his confession before nodding in agreement and reconnecting your lips together. 

“I’m really glad Youngjae forced me to get tutoring.” He snickered before bringing his fingers up to your face and tracing your features. 

“And I’m really glad you suck in marine biology—ow—what? I’m just being honest babe—stop that!” He pulled you on to his lap and placed his head on your shoulder. “Since were a couple now, can I use some pickup lines on you?” You playfully rolled your eyes before sarcastically groaning. 

“Are you an octopus? Because you octopi my thoughts.” 

You hid your face in his neck from embarrassment. “What? You have to be honest y/n, that one was cute. And it’s the truth! Okay fine, how about this one, let’s cuttle—don’t look at me like that, I thought that one was pretty clever. What about whale you be mine—“ 

You brought your hand up to his lips to prevent him from talking. This boy was honestly going to be the death of you. But you couldn’t wait to see what the future held for the two of you. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute because those pick up lines are terrible.” He let out a scoff before picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. 

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Let’s go baby, we have some celebrating to do.”

[punkiepunzyl]

BLADE TO THE PULSE-

RZ!Michael Myers x Reader

Chapter 1:

Volunteer Hours Be Damned

—————————————————

1.de·lu·sion·al

/dəˈlo͞oZH(ə)nəl/

adjective

* characterized by or holding idiosyncratic beliefs or impressions that are contradicted by reality or rational argument, typically as a symptom of mental disorder.

2.psy·chot·ic

/sīˈkädik/

adjective

* psychotic

relating to, denoting, or suffering from a psychosis.

———————————————————

The first is even worst than the second

Because the second has the gall to be cruel when venting

The first is idiotic at best and naive at worst-

At least with the second you know it's only a matter of time

Before they burst...

———————————————————

"Yeah Mom, I know...I won't-ok...l-love you too. B-." Dial tone followed the abrupt ending to a call that had barely begun. Sighing I glanced up at the neon clock that dimly illuminated my half of the dorm room that I shared with my roommate Kat.

3:49 A.M.

'Why do I want to be a veterinarian again?' Groaning I let my head flop against the clammy light oak wood desk that was provided by the college- and immediately regretted the decision to be so reckless with my body as the tender tissue of my forehead throbbed violently.

"Fucking midterms," I whimpered'"I should've planned better for this." It wasn't that I didn't know the material- I knew it very well- it was my fragile 3.65 GPA, that was hanging in the balance, along with all of my scholarships.

Now here I was at- I glanced back up at the clock-

3:56 A.M.

On a Sunday night.

Suddenly tears of frustration pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I quickly pressed the heels of palms against my lids, because if I started crying now- I wouldn't be able to stop.

I glared at three textbooks spread out on the desk, that were equally judging me in their own way.

"Fuck it."

Dejectedly I closed my books and put them away in my backpack and decided to get ready for bed.

Shuffling sleepily across the 625 sq foot room I trudged past the shared area in the room and noticed the tv was still on, and began rummaging around attempting to locate the remote to turn off the waste of electricity; when then news report for earlier that night began to replay:

"Tonight, the small town of Haddonfield holds vigil for Judith Myers birthday. Judith Myers was 17 years old when she was killed by her 10 year old brother Michael Myers. Some 15 years later the community is still on shock. Judy would've been 32 this year. Michael is now 25 years old and is being held at the Smith's Grove Sanitarium-where he will live out the rest of his lif-"

Losing interest I turned of the tv (I heard about Michael every damn day from my mother), I resumed my nightly ritual of showering- dealing with my hair and picking out my outfit for next the next morning. When I did finally make it to my bed- the fatigue I'd been so keenly keeping at bay, washed over me and gently suffocated be down into the world of sleep.

———————————————————

1 WEEK LATER

———————————————————

Midterms went by smoother than anticipated and I felt a weight lift of my chest, as I made my way around campus. My biology professor Mrs. Whelhers had asked to speak with me regarding a matter for my thesis. And lack of volunteer hours. I looked up at the cloudless sky and sun filled my already impaired vision as I sped walked to the labs, certain that someone was going to jump me for walking alone. My rather feverish anxiousness seemed to roll over me in waves and I clung tighter to my leather crossbody messenger bag that was already digging painfully into my shoulder- the strap taut with the weight of my textbooks.

Luckily I finished my journey completely unscathed- and made my way over to my professors office.

"Mrs.Whelers?" I quietly knocked on the door before calling out again. "It's (Y/N)! You said you needed to speak to me regarding my thesis! I can come back if n-"

Mid sentence the door swung open to reveal a very VERY hungover Mrs.Whelers. I simply stared at her, dumbfounded as I attempted to make sense of her disheveled appearance.

She had heavy purple bags under her eyes- which were rimmed a violent red around her amber irises. Her usually neat strawberry blonde hair looked it was attacked by birds on her way to work, and as for her clothes the were wrinkled. I'd spotted more than on fraying hem and food stain along her skirt and sleeves of her chiffon blouse.

"M-Mrs.Wheler? Are you all right?" I murmured then proceeded to reiterate

What I'd stupidly said a few moments before. "If now isn't a good time for you I would gladly come back another day."

But deep down I also knew that my thesis would be due within the next 5 months and therefore I really couldn't dodge around whatever necessary information she had for me. Especially if it had to do with my volunteering.

Instead the 60 year old woman shook her head and gestured for me to enter the office and waved with a shaky left hand- her wedding ring gleaming in the sunlight that lazily drifted through the tall windows in her office.

Mrs.Whelers began speaking as she sat down, but her words fell on distracted,deaf ears. I'd begun drinking the appearance of the office, all rich maple built in that showed hints of a reddish glow under their glossy finish. 

My professor sighed heavily and immediately I was snapped out of my little trance. My eyes blurred, suddenly watery and after blinking hard to avoid a wave of exhaustion- they refocused with the  precision of a camera lens behind my harsh prescription glasses. 

"I-I'm sorry, could you repeat that...I was a bit caught up in a thought." I mumbled embarrassed that I'd allowed myself to be distracted so easily. Mrs.Whelers looked me up and down cautiously, her eyes narrowing slightly as though she was trying to read the fine print on a document. I stared back at her sheepishly, eyes meeting hers then flitting away nervously. 

I've always been this way when it came to eye contact- skittish and desperate to get away from it. If someone stares at me for too long- I begin to sweat profusely, nausea washing over me like a tsunami...then suddenly my skin feels like its on fire and I'll attempt to find anything on my body to pick at; my face, my arms, my nails, and by the end of it all I'm covered in nicks and scars from my own impulsiveness.

"I was saying Ms.(Y/L/N), that the volunteer hours needed along side your associates thesis are incomplete. Failure to complete said volunteer hours will result in the inability to graduate this upcoming June with the rest of class. More importantly- you will have to redo this past semester, out of your own pocket, your scholarship won't cover you."

"But that'a completely unfair!" I began to protest jumping up almost instantaneously. "I couldn't find the proper volunteer work, every clinic in a 50 mile radius was full for the next THREE MONTHS! I tried every which way possible to squeeze in somewhere; no exceptions could be made!" 

"Unfortunately Ms.(Y/L/N) that isn't my problem- you either find a way to make up the time- in a way that would be approved by the school, or you don't graduate this June. That's final." 

I felt tears swell in my eyes and rushed to grab my bag; I had every intention to run out the door before Mrs.Whelers put a hand on my shoulder to stop me. 

"I didn't call you here to be the bearer of bad news, I wanted to talk about what options you may have; that have been pre-approved by the board..."

I sniffled sitting back down in the white leather arm chair that was seated in front of Mrs.Whelers’ desk. "You already spoke to the board?"

"Yes, they were quite curious as to why a student that has managed to be in the top of her class the past two years, hasn't completed something as simple as her volunteer hours. They realized rather quickly it must've had something to do with the availably of hours, and came up with another idea."

I glanced up at her curiously, "Which is?"

She began to pace around behind her desk as she spoke,"Well considering spring break begins at the end of this Friday- and you will be home for the next week-"

I opened my mouth to tell her there where no clinics back at home that did volunteer work for college students-but she waved a hand dismissively before I could.

"We at the board decided that we would like for you start a branch of animal therapy at Smith's Grove, we know your mother works- so she could be a guide to helping you with patients at first, but this could look really good for your transcripts. What do you think?"

I considered the offer momentarily- I knew getting Mother to agree wouldn't be an issue in the slightest- she’d been trying to get me to work with her at Smith’s for years...

“I could speak to her about it.” I said definitively then added “I’ll email you if she approves of the arrangement.” With a soft smile I moved once more to grab my messenger crossbody and sling it over my shoulder.

“Should your mother accept the boards offer for your volunteer hours I will message to board directly on your behalf, alright?” Mrs. Whelers said leading me to the door. As she opened it I nodded as I passed by- relieved that this problem would most likely have a solution and as long as I completed my 100 hours of volunteer work in the next week, my scholarship and graduation that lie a few months ahead will be safe...

“Have a good spring break (Y/N)!”

“You too Mrs.Whelers...”

Volunteer hours be damned...

***********************************************

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of Blade to the Pulse ☺️. I already have the next few chapters planned so expect an update within the next week or two...

[ddproductionsw77]

I’ll Still Love You

Fandom: IT (Muschietti Films)

Pairing(s): Reddie (Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak)

Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough, (Mentioned) Stanley Uris, Mike Hanlon

Rating: T (Heavily implied sexual content but nothing is actually written about it… Swearing, obviously)

Description: He was going to fail out of college. He just was. Apparently, he peaked intellectually in high school because how else could one explain a valedictorian failing a History quiz? He’d never fucking failed anything in his life... well, in school and now he was going to flunk out of NYU, his dream school. (Eddie is having a hard time adjusting to college life)

Author’s Note: This was inspired by my own total meltdown when I very first started college a couple years back, down to the calling my mother crying multiple times a week HOWEVER, I did know how to do my own laundry ;) PS sorry it took so long, I am having trouble getting back into the habit of writing again so new stories are coming, they will just take awhile.

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Eddie walked numbly back across campus, feeling like he might drop into fetal position or burst into tears at any moment. A lump had formed in the back of his throat about an hour ago and no matter how many time he swallowed, he couldn’t get rid of it.

He was going to fail out of college. He just was. Apparently, he peaked intellectually in high school because how else could one explain a valedictorian failing a History quiz? He’d never fucking failed anything in his life... well, in school and now he was going to flunk out of NYU, his dream school.

Why did he even fucking need history? He was going to be a nurse! Not a fucking museum coordinator! It was entirely unfair!

Reaching his resident hall, Eddie made his way to the stairs, climbing to the third floor and starting down the long hallway toward the end. He was going to fail history and that would just be the start because obviously he had always only been high school smart not college smart and it was only going to get worse. Soon the grades in his other courses would start coming back too. Fail, fail, fail!

Reaching his dorm, Eddie choked out a sob he’d been holding back since leaving the fucking sciences building — history wasn’t a fucking science... was it? Well how would he know? He was fucking failing it — and used his key to unlock the door.

Darting his eyes over to the other side of the room, he found it mercifully empty. Dropping his backpack to the floor uncharacteristically messily, Eddie crept into his bed and curled up beneath the covers as tears burned his eyes.

He’d made a mistake.

His mother was right, he should have never left Derry. He might as well pack it all up now and go home. He eventually would have to soon enough anyway, wouldn’t he?

Letting out a mournful moan, he remembered that he’d fucked Richie over as well, hadn’t he? He’d practically fucking forced his boyfriend to follow him to New York and now he couldn’t crack it and Richie... Richie was doing a million times better than him. Richie had already fucking joined a damn band with Mike and was as far as Eddie knew, was at least passing his courses even though he skipped half the time. And Richie hadn’t even wanted to come to New York!

Richie had wanted Los Angeles and Eddie hadn’t and now it was becoming incredibly fucking clear that Eddie should have just let his boyfriend go because apparently there was nothing for him here in New York.

Gipping his comforter, Eddie putted it up over his head and thought for one fleeing moment that he should call his mother. His mother had told him something like this would happen. She’d said he needed her, that he couldn’t succeed on his own, that he was setting himself up to fail by leaving her. Everything she’d said was coming true, wasn’t it?

Peeking out from the covers, he spied the phone sitting on his desk. All he had to do was get up, walk over to it and dial and he knew Sonia Kaspbrak would be there to take him back home to Derry within three or four hours but…

Richie.

Richie was here now. Here because Eddie had made him come and Richie wouldn’t stay if Eddie left and maybe Eddie was apparently an idiot when it came to history, but even he knew that Richie shouldn’t leave New York. He was doing too well here. Flourishing here. Eddie couldn’t ask him to give all that up, not after he’d already spent his budget of selfishness allowed in a relationship on getting Richie to NYU in the first place.

The door to the dorm opened as Eddie was still staring at the phone. He glanced over to see Bill, who was his roommate for the year — if he didn’t flunk out that is — striding in. He paused, looking over at Eddie with his eyebrows scrunched together. He reached over and flicked on the light.

Bill sighed, coming in and hanging up his backpack, “I—is there a reason your j—just sitting in the dark alone?”

Eddie groaned, falling back on his bed to stare at the ceiling, fighting back the fresh wave of tears springing to his eyes, “I’m failing history.”

“Okay?” He heard Bill say slowly, questioning, “So?”

“So?!” Eddie cried, sitting up and gaping at Bill, “So, I peaked in high school. I’m going to flunk out and get sent home!”

Bill quickly looked away and Eddie thought he even saw the other boy trying to hold back a laugh. He squawked in disbelief, slamming his hand down on his mattress, crying out, “Bill! This isn’t fucking funny!”

Bill nodded, turning back to him with a schooled expression, “E—Eddie, it’s not even midterms yet. You have p—plenty of time to bring the grade up. Why are you even worried?”

“You know what,” Eddie snapped, glaring at his long time friend, “Fuck you, Bill, that’s why. Leave me the fuck alone.”

He flipped him the bird before falling back on his bed and rolling away from Bill so his back was to him.

After a minute, he heard his roommate muttered, “Didn’t even make f—fucking sense.” Quickly followed by footsteps and the door to the dorm opening. Bill paused for a moment, calling over his shoulder, “I—I’m goin’ across the hall, okay?”

Eddie didn’t answer, burying his face in his comforter as tears pooled in his eyes. The dorm door closed again.

He knew he shouldn’t have be short with Bill, it was himself he was mad at, not his friend. Still, maybe some part of him was angry with Bill, with all the rest of them, even Richie… especially Richie. Why was moving away from home and starting over so fucking easy for all of them? Eddie had spent the last two weeks since term started constantly on the verge of a panic attack and they all seemed fine. Happy even.

New York had been Eddie’s first, hadn’t it? It had been his dream. He had wanted it, worked through all of high school for it both in school and at a job afterwards. He’d fought so hard for valedictorian because valedictorians got full fucking rides and he’d known that was the only way he could really swing NYU. And he’d worked just in case.

And in two weeks he’d managed to fuck it all up. He didn’t even understand how.

He’d studied for that History quiz. Sure, he hadn’t cancelled plans to watch Richie and Mike’s band rehearse to study but he had still studied. He’d even felt good about the damn thing before turning it in… He wondered if his professor had laughed at his confidence later, grading his failure.

There was a loud, hammering knock on his door and he startled.

Sitting up groggily, Eddie glanced at the window and noticed the sky was going dark. He realized, blinking slowly, that he must have fallen asleep. Looking over his shoulder at the door, he called, “Bill, I told you to leave me alone!”

The knocking continued without pause and Eddie groaned, pushing the covers off of himself completely and going to the door, throwing it open, “What do you—“ He stopped short, finding his boyfriend leaning against the door jam, inches from his face with his fist still in the air from his insistent knocking. “…Want?”

Narrowing his eyes, Eddie sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, “Should’ve known. Only you would be so fucking annoying.”

“Aww, you just say the sweetest things to me, Eds,” Richie shook his head, dropping his hand over his heart before pushing off the door jam and passing Eddie into the room, pecking his temple as he did.

Eddie turned to him, glowering, “I didn’t invite you in.”

“I’m like a vampire,” Richie shrugged, throwing himself down on Eddie’s uncharacteristically messy bed, “You only gotta make the mistake once and I’ll just keep comin’ back.” Leaning back on his arms, he cocked his head at his boyfriend, “You didn’t meet me in the dining hall for dinner.”

“I was tired,” Eddie shrugged, still standing back as he rolled his neck, “And not that hungry.”

Richie nodded, “And then when I went back to my dorm, Stanley had written a B in the corner of the whiteboard on our door.”

Eddie stared at him blankly, “What the fuck does that mean?”

Richie smirked, playfully raising his eyebrows suggestively, “It’s our code. When we got someone in the dorm and the other isn’t supposed to interrupt, we write B or E. Well, He writes B for Billiam and I write E for my Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie shook his head, “Well, I guess it’s classier than a fucking sock on the door.”

“That’s almost exactly what Stan said when I suggested we just do that,” Richie laughed and sat up, “My point is that if Bill’s in my room and you skipped dinner, that means you’re just sitting in here all alone. I came to keep you company.”

“Ever consider I just want to be left alone?” Eddie grumbled, going to sit at his desk.

Richie watched him, cocking an eyebrow, “Please, like your day doesn’t brighten every fucking time you see me, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that!” Eddie snapped and spun around in his chair to glare at his boyfriend, “And if I wanted to see you, I’d have met you at the dining hall.”

“Ouch…” Richie muttered, dropping his smirk, “Okay? Why are you pissed at me?”

“I’m not!” Eddie shook his head angrily and turned around again so his back was to his boyfriend, “I just— I told you, I wanted to be alone.”

“Okay but alone doesn’t usually count me, too,” He heard Richie argue and the sound of his mattress springs shifting as Richie stood up. He felt his shoulders slump and put his head down, pinching the bridge of his nose before whirling around.

“Rich! Wait!” He called out, dropping his hand.

Richie turned around and gave him a look. Eddie knew he didn’t like being sent away which was one of the reasons Eddie very rarely did, at least not for real. He got mad sometimes and he told Richie to fuck off sometimes but he never meant it… Usually he was just upset with himself, like now.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie sighed, shaking his head and looking at his feet, “I’m not pissed at you. I’m not… I just had a really shitty day and— and I’m failing history.”

He felt tears prickle in his eyes again and swallowed hard, cringing at himself. He could almost hear Henry Bowers voice in his head, mocking him. Girly boy gonna cry? You gonna cry, girly boy? Well, don’t get your fairy dust on me, freak.

He felt a hand run down his arm and watched Richie’s familiar fingers tangle together with his. Following the arm back to it’s source, he gave his boyfriend an embarrassed, bashful look and sighed, “I’m failing, Richie.”

His boyfriend sighed and gripped his hand tighter, “Get over here, Eds.”

He pulled Eddie to his feet and lead him to the bed, where Eddie fell into Richie’s arms. He hurried his face in Richie’s chest and breathed in that scent of nicotine, mints, and maybe just a touch of cologne—not particularly good cologne but still instantly Eddie’s favorite. The weight in his chest seemed to lighten there with his boyfriend on his bed, like breathing in Richie’s scent was some kind of natural inhaler to him, opening his lung back up.

“You’re not failing, Eddie,” He felt as much as he heard Richie mumble into his hair, “One bad grade, does not a failure make. Trust me, I know a thing or two about failing. You’re going to make it up.”

“It’s not like I thought it would be,” Eddie admitted, happy to still be face-to-chest with Richie and not have to look into his eyes.

“What’s not?” “New York,” He sighed, “College. Living on my own. Any of it. I just— I thought I’d be good at it and I’m just not.”

Richie sighed and moved down to that he was looking into Eddie eyes, their noses nearly brushing. He could feel Eddie’s warm breath on his lips. Blinking slowly, he reached down and laced his fingers with Eddie’s again, bringing them up to lay between their chests. He watched Eddie’s eyes fall to them and smiled just a bit to himself, “What the fuck do you mean, Eds? You’re doing fine.”

“Richie, I’ve called my mother three times this week and it’s Tuesday,” Eddie shook his head and closed his eyes, “I’m failing history even though I’ve been studying like crazy, I haven’t talked to a single person beside the Losers since we moved here and I’m running out of clothes because I can’t fucking figure out how to use the damn washing machine. I fucking suck at this and it seems so easy for you and Bill and everyone else! I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing,” Richie instantly argued, gripping Eddie’s hand more tightly and startling his boyfriend’s eyes back open, “Nothing is wrong with you. You got this, baby,” Eddie’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes flickered back up to meet Richies, “And you don’t need your crazy ass mother to make this work, okay? Cuz the Losers are here and I’m here… And I can teach you how to do your laundry.”

There was a moment where they were both quiet before both breaking into laughter together. Eddie pulled his hand away from Richie, hooking it around his boyfriend’s neck and pulling him forward for a long, deep kiss. Locking his fingers in Richie’s hair, he pulled himself forward with the only thought on him mind being to get closer. He felt Richie’s teeth brush, teasingly, over his lip before biting ever so lightly.

Gasping, he twisted around to straddle his boyfriend and pulled back to look down at the beautiful, perfect mess of a person below him. Fuck, no one else was every going to make him feel like Richie did. No one else was ever going to make his heart race like him or drive him insane like him or challenge him everyday to keep trying like him.

This was love.

This was the stuff that people more talented than he was wrote songs and poems and books about and it was everything to him in that moment. If there was a world where he had to live and function without this, without Richie... that would be one dark, dark place.

Still out of breathe, pupils blown and heart pounding, Eddie gripped his boyfriend’s shirt and barely whispered, “I love you. I really, really do.”

Richie looked up at him with an expression Eddie couldn’t quite place but supposed it could be filed somewhere under utter devotion and nodded, “I love you, too…” His lips curled into a smirk, “Any chance we can have sex before we do the laundry thing, though?”

Eddie laughed, looking away and shaking his head before meeting his boyfriend’s eyes again, lacing their hands back together on their side of Richie’s head, “I think the laundry can wait… Not like it’ll take that long.”

“Damn, that was cold,” Richie gasped in mock pain, squeezing Eddie’s hand tight before flipping them over so that he was on top, “I’ll show you how long it can take.” _____________________________________________________________________

Two hours later, a freshly showered Eddie and Richie made their way into the muggy laundry room on the ground floor of their resident hall. Richie was carrying Eddie’s hamper and trailing along after his boyfriend, who was carrying the detergent and fabric softener. Scanning his eyes over him, Richie sighed, “Maybe we don’t need to wash your clothes, Eds. I’d be okay if you just wore those shorts for the rest of ever.”

“Beep beep, Trashmouth,” Eddie rolled his eyes, peeking over his shoulder at he set his stuff down and made sure the room was entirely empty out of habit, “Besides, there is literally no way you are still horny after the last few hours.”

Richie grinned, setting down the hamper to wrap his hands around Eddie waist from behind, “Baby, I’m eighteen and a guy; I’m always horny.”

Eddie elbowed him, “Get off me, Perv. We have shit to do.”

“Fine!” Richie exclaimed dramatically as he stepped away, rubbing his ribs where Eddie had gotten him. “So, we need quarters.”

“No shit, huh,” Eddie said in a deadpanned voice.

Richie’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you wanted me to teach you how to be a grown ass man but—“

“I literally would never ask you to teach me that—“

“—If you’re all good in here, I’ll just head back to my dorm—”

“—I’m barely asking you to show me how to work these dumb machines—”

“—If it’s so dumb, then I’m sure you can figure it out—“

“—Stop being a dumbass, Richard—“

“—Richard?! Richard?! Fuck you, Edward!”

A buzzer sounded, startling both of them.

Sighing, Richie pulled a quarter from his pocket and flipped it to Eddie, who caught it. Glancing down at the coin, he gave him a begrudging smile, “Thanks, Richard.”

Richie rolled his eyes, a smile falling upon his lips as he moved forward to grab the hamper filled with clothes, “Okay, now pick a machine, Spaghetti Man.”

After they loaded the clothes, Richie fell into place behind Eddie with his hand on his hips as he murmured instructions in his ear. Eddie let him, half deciding it was probably all harmless anyway and half convincing himself that nobody else would be doing their laundry at 11 o’clock at night. Tangled up like that, Eddie put in the detergent and softener and set the machine to the right cycle.

Once the wash started up, he turned around to be nearly nose-to-nose with Richie, a pleased smile on his face, “I did it!”

“That you did, Eds, I told you that you didn’t need your hag of mom,” Richie grinned, leaning down to kiss his boyfriend.

Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck and kissed him back for a moment before pulling away and whispering, “Thank you… seriously.”

“It’s just part of the boyfriend job description, baby. All good."

“Still...” Eddie sighed, absentmindedly playing with Richie’s hair, “I’m still failing History.”

Richie rolled his eyes before ducking and kissing Eddie, hard and quick, effectively taking his breath away before pulling away, “Yeah, well, I’ll still love you if you have to retake dumbass History.”

“How noble of you,” Eddie’s lips twitched as he peered up into Richie’s eyes through his eyelashes. “Probably one of the things that make me like you so much... even though you’re fucking horny and annoying eighty perfect of the time.”

Ignoring him, Richie kissed him again, holding him against him.

[nikki-fucking-sixx]

Together Without You: Chapter Four

A/N: Hey guys! I am SO sorry this took so long to write. I had a bunch of midterms and then it was spring break and then I was in Spain and then coronavirus happened so life has been a shitshow and a half. BUT now I am back! I hope you all like this chapter :) 

You enter your apartment and feel that you never want to leave ever again. You thought you had some sort of direction to how Nikki would react to this. He was a rockstar for a living, guys like that don’t want kids. Guys like that just want to live the bachelor life until the end of their days. Yet, Nikki said the unthinkable, he wanted this baby. Your baby. His baby. 

You walk over to the couch and collapse. Everything inside of you just wanted time to stand still. You did not want life to move forward to the point where you would have a child with a man who you did not love. Being that girl always seemed second class to you. Something that you were above. Something that you laughed at when you saw girls your age with baby carriages. But here you were, about to be that girl you looked down upon. You sigh and lay down on your side, staring at the wall in front of you. How could you sit around for three days waiting for him to call? What if he doesn’t even call? You did give your phone number to Mick as he seemed to be most responsible out of the remaining three men. These thoughts rattled through your head at such a high of a velocity that you did not seem to notice Maria wander in.

“Long day at work?” She sits beside your horizontal body.

“One could say you,” You say, feeling like this has got to be some sort of cruel joke. 

“Wanna talk about it?” You look up at her, she’s looking at you with a concerned expression on her face.

“Maybe later.” She nodded at that and stared at the spot on the wall that caught your attention. 

“Well,” She looks back at you, “If you change your mind and want to talk, I am right down the hall.” 

“I know, Mom,” You say mockingly, not before feeling a sudden pang in your gut at your accidental choice of words.

“You know I’m always on your side (Y/N).” Now she was acting suspiciously. You slowly look up at her. “You should never have to feel like you cannot tell me something. I’m not going to judge you. I care about you a lot and I just want you to know that I am here for you.” She knew. 

“When did you find out?” Your voice putters out of you.

“Earlier today. Saw the positive pregnancy test and knew it couldn’t be mine.” She places a hand on your shoulder. 

“I should’ve hidden it better.” Maria snorts softly.

“Or maybe I should have been less nosy.” You smirk. She was the household’s busy body. You both were silent before Maria brought up what was truly on her mind. “So what’s the plan?” 

You sit up.

“That seems to be the million-dollar question.” You run a hand through your hair and let your palm fall into your lap. “He wants it for some fucking reason.” You were getting worked up.

“Do you want it?” 

“I have no fucking idea!” You almost screamed in frustration, a lump beginning to form in your throat. “This was never the plan, ever.” 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” You rested your head on her shoulder and held her tight. You both stayed in that position, quiet. You did not want to move from this comfort but you also did not want to be pitied any more than you already have been in the last few days. You pull away from your friend.

“I think I’m going to bed early tonight.” She nods. You get up, walk over to your bedroom, and lock the door. You collapse on top of the comforter. These next three days were going to be tedious. 

You spent those days doing everything but thinking of the life growing inside of you. You cleaned the whole apartment, worked doubles and slept. Your brain was constantly occupied, so when you finally got the phone call, it took you by surprise.

“Hello?

“Yeah, hi, I’m coming over.” You were caught off guard.

“Excuse me, but who is this?” 

“It’s Nikki. Where do you live?”

“627 Maple Street” You felt your voice soften slightly.

“Alright, be there in five.” And then you heard the dial tone. Well shit, guess he was coming over. As he said, he was there in five minutes. When you opened your front door, he looked as how he always did, stoned, pale and dangerous. He left his sunglasses on as he walked past you and sat on the couch. He leaned back into the cushions and took a cigarette out of his jacket pocket, lighting it with the lighter that had magically found its way to his other hand. He did look like a masterpiece of some sort, that bad boy that every girl wanted one night with just to prove that they could. Unfortunately, you could.

“So, what exactly is this conversation going to be?” You say as you sit on the couch as far away from him as humanly possible. He took a deep puff of his cigarette and seemed to stare off into nowhere. 

“You and the baby,” He said curtly, “And how I will support you both.” You did not like that phrasing at all.

“Well when you put it that way, it sounds like I’m going to be your fucking burden,” You let the anger come through into your voice. “Besides, I don’t even think I want this baby.” 

“No,” He looked over at you, “You are having this baby.”

“Why do you even want this?” Your confusion was beginning to get to the same level as your anger, “This is a baby you made with some random girl you met at a party. Why would you want this kid?” 

“Because it’s my chance to do something right for once,” His voice now was rising, “Do you know what it’s like to be a fuck up all your life? Your Dad leaves and wants nothing to do with you. Your Mom is a whore who wants you out of the house the second you turn fucking 15. They were a bunch of assholes who never forgot to remind me how much they didn’t want me and it made me do shitty things. Now this baby is the chance for me to do something good for once in my life like my dad and mom never did for me. I would love that kid unconditionally because that is what a kid deserves and what I want to do.” 

You sat there silently taking in all the words. This was so much more than you originally expected. Not only did he want this kid, but he also wanted to love it too. You stare at him as he takes another drag from his cigarette, letting out a frustrated huff of smoke.

“Nikki… I understand where you are coming from,” Well that was a shitty way to start that sentence, “But my life is also just starting. You may have millions of dollars and an established career, but I have none of that and a baby will just make it so I can never get anything remotely like that.” He sighed and put the cigarette out on your coffee table.

“I know I am asking a lot out of you, I’m aware of that.” He took his sunglasses off and you could see the exhaustion and sadness in his eyes, “And I know you don’t know me and you only know the side of me that parties. I can be more than that and I want to be.” He moved toward where you were sitting and suddenly pulled your hands into his. “I never beg, but please give this a chance.” Even when he touched your hands, you felt something that he didn’t. There was no way that you could say no.

“Fine.” You let your hands remain in his, “Let’s try this.” You saw the essence of a smile on his lips. It went away as quickly as it appeared.

“Ok,” He pulled away from you and put his sunglasses back on. “We have to figure out-”

“But,” You cut him off and he turned to you, “That does not mean I trust you. Nikki, I have heard about what you do and I know that you and your lifestyle are two things I am not familiar with. If you fuck over me or my child, we’re leaving.” He pursed his lips and avoided eye contact with you. He relit his next cigarette.

“I won’t-”

“I don’t know that Nikki.” He took in a deep drag.

“Fine,” He looked at the floor, “If I fuck up, you can leave.” 

“Good,” Although he was beautiful, he was like gasoline. Anything he does wrong could ignite something that would have God knows what kind of consequences. You could not help but stare at him as he lifted himself off your couch and began to make his way to your door.

“I have a doctor’s appointment scheduled for next week,” You said as he was halfway out the door, “You should come.” He looked back at you and nodded.

“I will,” And at that, he was gone again.

[almondharry]

the pages of summer

Prompt: Romance 101: Y/N is participating in a study abroad program for school when she meets Harry; who is in the same place writing his new album.

This is prompt 12 of @always-jackedup Sarah’s 25 days of summer challenge. This is my first time writing a y/n blurb! Here is what I came up with! Do give a click to the other prompts done by the talented authors who are apart of this!

word count: 9k

————

Studying abroad for a semester was Alice’s idea. She was the loud-mouthed girl who had taken the empty seat beside you in your freshman Intro to Asian Civilization course. You’ve been super glued at the hip for as long as you can remember; she’s the first number on your speed dial, the only one who can make sense of your nervous ramblings. The building blocks of this friendship stacked up one after the other, from stressing over impending midterms to complaining about shitty boys, and of course, empty tequila bottles.

She was the type of girl who thought going to the movies alone was embarrassing, so it wasn’t a surprise when she claimed she needed someone to go halfway across the world with.

“Think of it as a grad trip!” she exclaims with arms thrown in the air, her eyebrows almost touching her hairline.

The carpet on the floor is itchy against your bare thighs from where you’re sitting on her bedroom floor, legs pretzled. Your finger twirls the loose fray of your denim shorts.

Alice has a huge rectangular cardboard display in front of her, the type students used for science fairs, but without the flaps on the right and left. It’s no longer the plain white that you remember it being when she bought it from the dollar store years ago. Instead, it’s full of cut outs in all different shapes and sizes; you particularly like the tiny airplane stickers dotted at the right corner. Your eyes catch a magazine article clipping—Travel on a budget now!—and a picture of some exotic beach; the highly saturated water meant she pulled it off of google images. This moodboard has been a work in process for as long as can be.

Alice started it as a motivator to get her through the times where she desperately wanted to drop out of university. She’d always said that she would reward herself with a trip at the end of her studies.

“We’re not graduating for another semester, Alice.”

“So what? Let’s call it a pre-grad trip! We owe it to ourselves!” She gathers her pin straight hair an inch below the crown of her head before fastening the shiny black strands with an elastic from around her wrist. “You’ll be off to law school and I’ll be starting a full-time job. We can’t really push it to after graduation now, can we?”

A gust of air leaves your lungs in a sigh. She’s right, there is no denying it. Who knows what flexibility your schedules will allow if you delay this into the future. You recall back to the relentless hours you spent in preparations of your LSAT exams. You had deprived yourself from a social life for months, studying for the most important test in your life did take off some years of your life span. Now that your acceptance letter came in you think you can treat yourself to jetting away for a semester with a great friend. You’ve earned it, you tell yourself.

Alice is looking at you with expecting eyes. The anticipation that gleams in her eyes is childlike, the look is enormously similar to a little kid about to open a christmas present they’ve been yearning for.

As a smile slowly crawls on your lips, her eyes double with realization. You agree. The rate at which she jumps up and throws her lanky arms around your neck suggests someone lit a round of firecrackers under her. Her high pitched squeals leave your left ear ringing.

You roll your eyes and laugh into her bony shoulder. “Alright, alright! Let’s bring the globe.”

***

The reason why Alice and you get along so well is because you agree on the same things. You’ve decided to stray away from common study abroad places such as London, New York, Toronto, for your semester. You want to experience life somewhere completely different. Also the fact that those placements have already been snatched up by other students narrows down your pool of options by quite a bit.

You both settle on the city of Tariz. It is a secluded area with a decent population, not large enough to be a well known staple city, but enough to have a bustling sense of community. Their language is a mix of Turkish and broken English.

The brochure you are given and the exploratory google searches here and there only feed your excitement.

Most of the architecture of the city is ancient. High arches and intricate stones decorate multiple streets. The streets are more like tight valleys, the rusted bricked walls of neighboring houses and stores transport you into another time period completely. There is even a dated sculpture planted in the middle of the town circle, it’s details are so well preserved that it seems life like—you’re dying to feel the smooth stone under your fingertips.

Your laptop displays all the potential flight times and costs. With a tap of your finger, the plane ticket is confirmed.

***

The first words you learn are Kirree and Poffasa.

Kirree is local drink of Tariz. It’s a bitter coffee with a splash of milk and two drops of essence that smells like roses. You prefer to sweeten it with honey, rather than sugar. Poffasa translates to please. The combination of these words are used every time you step into the corner shop located on Cardin Street.

The bell clanks above you and signals the worker behind the counter of your arrival. A welcoming grin pulls at his lips, you’ve come in enough times for him to remember your name. He knows to talk to you with more hand gestures and use short words.

You found this family owned cafe on your second week here. It’s situated beside a book store and a florist. There is an open patio outside which you take advantage of every once in a while when the humidity won’t poof up your hair. When the wind blows your way, it carries a strong scent of light florals—it’s quite poetic. It’s also only a ten minute walk from the university you are taking your courses at and two streets down from the apartment Alice and you rent.

“Kirree?” The man behind the counter—Amjad—inquires with a raised brow.

“Poffasa.” You smile.

He taps your order into the system and you drop some copper coins in the cup of his palm. Amjad moves with ease behind the counter, his fancy coffee machine makes a churning sound as he holds the rim of a cup to its long narrow mouth. He stirs milk and essence in a way you’ve seen him do countless times. Although you miss seeing a Starbucks within every ten steps, you’re grateful that you are able to experience a sip of someone else’s culture.

Amjad passes you the drink, it’s a simple latte cup with a bleach white plate at the bottom. Another smile is exchanged between you two, this is usually where the conversation stops.

“Tib tu,” you say. It’s a casual thanks people say to one another, you had picked it up recently.

Amjad’s eyes brighten up instantly. His smile becomes impossibly wide in a way that tells you he’s proud of your slowly developing ability to communicate. You can’t hold a fluent conversation just yet, but enough to keep a casual one going.

“Tib tu!” He laughs and wipes the counter with the rag previously rested on his shoulder.

You are engrossed into your course review settled at a circular table. Your laptop informs you of the requirements for the essay due next week, you crack open the novel and highlight potential quotes to help support your thesis. It is a simple Wednesday afternoon, business is slow, which is ideal because it doesn’t interrupt your concentration.

Hours pass by and you bob your head every once in a while to the soft radio filling the small shop. Neon yellow ink bleeds over a particular line you find interesting when the bells above the door chime and bring in a gust of humid air. Your upper lip curls in disdain momentarily because of the thick sticky air cuts through the coolness of the AC. You lick the pad of your index finger and flip the page.

The steady thump of boots against the floor gets louder as the person nears the counter to your right. Amjad had ducked in the back a moment ago so the customer waits patiently. This would’ve been fine, but then they begin to whistle a tune under their breath. Your focus on the essay in front of you shatters like delicate china.

You look up to see the artist behind this pesky noise. From your position, you are granted the view of his side profile and your eyes widen gradually. Sharp jaw, wavy hair, high cheekbones. He is cute. Something about him screams so familiar; maybe it’s because he has the same build as your ex or maybe the tattoo on his arm is close to the one Alice has. Your brain tells you you’ve seen him before, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

Amjad comes out from behind swinging doors and your head drops back to your books.

“Zerki! Tim tu ga?”

“I’m sorry—English only.” It’s a British accent, the words are timid and he blends the first two together.

“Ah!” Amjad nods quickly with a wide, understanding smile. You can tell he is excited because this is a new customer. Although this cafe isn’t a tourist location, the university located near it brings in countless study abroad students. You assume he is another student somewhere from Britain.

Amjad swipes a plastic menu from behind him before placing it in front of the customer. You remember him showing you this on your first day here. The descriptions didn’t help much because it wasn’t in English, but the corresponding pictures did clarify some fog.

He puckers his lips and the deep frown between his brows is enough to say he hasn’t been in this city for more than a couple days. His index finger taps a picture and he looks up expectantly to Amjad. You pick up bits and pieces of the conversation. He is trying to ask a question about an ingredient, but Amjad thinks that’s what he wants to order. There is a lot of hand gestures and frowns and crumpled brows as they try to understand each other. This goes on for about five minutes until Amjad looks around the shop with a sigh. His eyes land on you and he instantly brightens up.

He calls your name and your head shoots up. “English? You English speak?”

You remember giving this information when telling Amjad what you’re studying in uni. Your eyes bounce back from the customer to Amjad before slowly nodding. He wants you to briefly translate something for him. The legs of your chair screech against the tiles as you get up and walk towards them.

When you come to stand beside the customer, you can smell the shampoo he uses. The citrus wafts into the air and when mixed with the smell of fresh brew, it is an odd yet pleasant scent. “What are you trying to ask?”

“I just want him to take the sweetener and milk out of this.” He points to the image on the laminated menu.

You raise a brow. “You sure? The Kirree is going to be really bitter, like worse than black coffee.”

“Yeah, that’s what I like.”

You give him an odd look but turn towards Amjad. “Kirree, na sarr, na dou.”

“Ah!” Amjad nods right away, plucking a cup from a tall stack before grabbing a marker. “Nama?”

You meet the green of his eyes. “He’s asking for your name.”

There is a pregnant pause in the air. It lasts long enough for you to second guess if you said your sentence loud enough. Then you see the beginnings of a smile ghosting his lips, the corners are upturned, but barely. Like he knows something you don’t.

He brings his index finger to rub horizontally below his nose. “It’s um, Harry.”

The scratchy sound of Amjad scribbling letters on the cup fills the silence. He turns his back to prepare the drink at the counter.

“Thank you,” Harry says.

“‘Course, it’s no problem.”

You occupy your previous spot and get lost in developing the arguments for your body paragraphs.

***

It’s childish. A part of you prides yourself on the fact that you are a regular at the cafe. You come here so often that you can find your way even if you were left blindfolded on the street. Amjad and you have gotten to know each other so well that he doesn’t have to ask for your order anymore. Hell, the table that you religiously sit at probably has your name neatly engraved on it. It is your quiet cafe.

Then you see Harry. You don’t think much of it when you see him after a week. Then he comes once again, four days later. Then again, two days after that. The days between his visits get shorter and shorter to the point that he is here everyday. You feel the crown that you’ve titled yourself with slowly slipping off your head.

He doesn’t make much noise because he reads—a lot. His designated place is at the table on the other end of the shop, you catch yourself stealing glimpses of him. Sure, it’s attractive that he’s a cute boy who likes to read, but what really gets you are his expressions when he finds a specific line or passage interesting. You’ve seen his brows draw in when he is upset. You know the two deep dimples that poke his cheeks when he finds something witty. You’ve witnessed his lips part slowly when he reads something poetic.

Right now, his chest vibrates and the corner of his eyes crinkle as he shakes his head. He is wearing a plain black sweater. A string of planets coloured in pink, blue and yellow, start from one shoulder and end at the other. You want to drag your finger over the knit material.

It’s slow. The swirls begin in the pit of your stomach and gradually increase in size. The last time you felt something develop this quickly was when you were in grade school, toes hidden in hot playground sand and eyes fixed on to your crush. You could’ve sworn he had an ever present halo hovering above his head. You still have one thing in common with your eight year old self, you both admire from afar and never build up the courage to go after what you really want. One sided pining and yearning is all you know.

Your attention gravitates towards the window when you become numb to the words on your laptop screen. You allow yourself these little breaks to lessen the stabbing strain your eyes develop. You lean back into the chair, from this angle you have a perfect view of the fountain outside. A butterfly flaps its wings insistently to keep its little body afloat, it circles the pointy tip of the structure. The water sparkles under the setting sun, it looks like a picture cut and pasted out of paradise. You wonder what it would be like to thread your fingers in its ripples rather than gripping a pen to your notepad.

You entertain this daydream for a moment longer. Then something pricks your skin, like a million tiny thumbtacks. The feeling of being observed passes over you; it’s silent and formless. You tear your eyes away from the scenery and your line of sight reflexively falls on soft green eyes. They are already focused on you, imploring and bated. A jet of warmth shoots down your spine.

You bite the inside of your cheek and deliberate looking away, but there is something magnetic about holding his stare. It’s playful, yet holds a pulling weight. He isn’t giving up either, hasn’t made one effort to try to blink away. It’s like you both hold one end of a rope, challenging tugs are given from each side to see who will break first.

A smile spreads across his lips, it’s slow like dripping molasses, and suddenly the butterfly isn’t circling the peak of the fountain. It has made a home in the pit of your stomach, thrashing wildly against your ribcage.

The bells clank above the door as a new customer walks in, and like a delicate twig under a heavy stomp, the moment is broken. It’s a middle aged woman with a toddler balanced on her hip. You blink away quickly and pretend to type a sentence on your keyboard. An Indian summer heat bites at your cheeks.

The sigh you release is deep rooted in your belly. The moment you shared was like clutching a fistful of sand. The grains quickly slipped from your hold and before you know it, you’re left with dry, empty hands.

***

A bead of sweat drips down the nape of your neck and trickles down your spine. Your cheeks are splotched red and baby hairs are matted to your forehead. The humidity levels are sky high today. The short walk from your lecture to the cafe is equivalent to a small marathon. You take a right at the intersection and the figure walking in front of you looks disgustingly familiar.

It’s Harry, and he is also walking towards the cafe.

He wears a simple black cotton t-shirt which shouldn’t make your heart skip like a stone over water, but it does. His shoulders slope in humble curves, but hold strength. The material moves with each step he takes and clings to his shoulder blades. Your mouth goes dry from the way his muscles flex under the fabric.

Your gaze flickers down to his left arm, it’s covered in detailed ink whereas his right arm is more sparse. A particular floral tattoo grabs your attention, the petals of the expansive rose begging to be traced. In his palm he clutches a worn leather journal, a long tie of the same material wraps around it multiple times. You’ve seen him spend hours with hunched shoulders and a pen pressed tightly to the papers, you wonder what secrets it wraps. In the same hand, he holds some sort of novel, you see a dog ear folded near the first few pages. You don’t have the opportunity to analyze a title because he is pulling the heavy glass door of the cafe.

The door doesn’t open fully, it stops awkwardly at a forty-five degree angle when he catches your image reflected in the glass. You don’t miss the slight jump of his brows when he first notices that it’s you.

He shuffles to the side with his fingers still wrapped around the handle of the door. With his movements, the door opens wider. The crisp, conditioned air flutters from inside the cafe and goosebumps pimple the skin on your forearms. It takes you a second to realize he is holding the door open expectantly.

“You first.” He cocks his head towards the shop.

You press your lips together to hide a budding smile.

It’s just a door, you tell yourself. People hold open doors for others all the time. It’s a common courtesy. Nothing extravagant. As you step in the space, you can’t help the warmth that slowly spreads in your chest—like a drop of watercolour staining a white sheet.

You don’t have time to overthink this simple act of kindness, you take in the shop you notice it is brimming with people. Kids and teens sip colourful refreshers and lemonades and almost everyone has an iced drink to combat the heatwave passing over today. As you notice most of the tables are being taken up, your eyes immediately pull towards your designated table. A relieved breath escapes your lips as you see that it is the only vacant spot. Your feet rush to it in a hurry and you drop your bag on the chair to stake claim.

You make eye contact with Amjad and gives you a nod, as if saying he’s already in the middle of preparing your drink. Harry is the second person in line and browses the pastry options while scratching the scruff on his face. You take this time to get situated by pulling out your agenda, laptop, and a textbook.

You’ve opened up your last draft and skim over some lines to jog your memory of what you left behind. You had grown accustomed to the quietness of the cafe, but today, the lack of it makes it harder for you to focus on the words in front of you.

The wave of light citrus in the air causes you to halt your typing. Your eyes catch the plaid printed trousers that taper in at the ankles from the corner of your eye. You lift your line of sight to see a simple blank shirt tucked in at the waist. Higher are the ringed fingers which grip two plates that are topped with Kirree cups. Finally, you look up to see it’s Harry, a journal and novel is tucked under his armpit.

His eyes are a muted green, framed with thick lashes. Reading glasses are perched on his head, they keep the few disobedient curls from sweeping over his forehead. You know he gets annoyed by them when he reads or writes, especially when they poke his left eye.

He releases his bottom lip from behind his teeth. “Amjad sent this over.” The Kirree in his right arm raises towards you.

You quickly reach forward to take hold of the plate, making extra sure you don’t let the steaming liquid trickle over the rim, or even worse, accidentally brush your skin against his. You’re positive the latter would leave a deeper burn. “Great, thank you. You didn’t have to bring it over.”

“S’alright. I was headed here anyway.”

You tilt your head to one side, silently urging him to continue.

He scratches the back of his neck, the curls at the nape of his neck shift. Harry’s neck cranes as he looks around the shop. His jawline sharpens when he looks completely to the left. Today everything is bustling. A kid pulls the hem of his mother’s dress with a deep frown to get her attention. Two little girls with matching pigtails fight over a specific coloured crayon two tables down from you. A group of students fill up the remaining tables; from their flashcards, it seems as though they’re conducting a study group. The whole town has chosen this cafe to seek refuge from the brutal heat.

The time he takes to analyze the buzzing environment, you press the rim of your drink to your lips.

“The only other empty chair is this one.” His eyes flicker to the simple white plastic from across you. The tips of his ears are impossibly red. “Mind if I sit?”

You almost choke on your sip, but you contain the liquid from spluttering out by downing the scalding gulp. “‘Course.” The urgency behind your immediate reply makes your face hot.

He lifts the chair slightly before pulling it from the table. The small courteous act of avoiding the ugly screech against the floor sends your heart flooring.

You think your heart would tire eventually, but the annoying thing continues to jackrabbit even after a solid ten minutes of him being seated across from you. Your palms are sweaty and your brain is firing up with a thousand different thoughts every second. How long had you wanted him to sit across from you? How long had you wanted him to exchange more than a smile with you? You’re getting words from him. He’s actually talking to you. It’s all a bit overwhelming.

Hours later, you’re fed up with the mundane reading. You had set a goal to read 800 pages, but you can make it barely through the 200 mark. It stares back at you from your laptop screen, challenging and daunting. A deep defeated sigh leaves your lips and your shoulders sink.

“What are you reading?” He asks, his eyes trained on the novel in front of him.

“It’s a reading for my modernism course. I rather individually pluck my eyelashes out.” He purses his lips to suppress a smile; A candlelight flame dances in your chest. You squint at the cover shielded behind his fingers, but you can’t quite make out the picture or title. “You?”

“Bukowski.”

Your lips part slowly. “Oh.” His eyes follow your movements when you raise a hand to gently tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “Sorry.”

“No, no it’s okay—it’s hard to see because the cover is well loved.”

“No, I meant I’m sorry that you have shit taste in books.”

His face is blank for a minute, not giving away anything as he mulls your words over in his head. Then the corners of his lips poke up. When you see the dimple is more prominent on his left cheek, you almost let a strangled, breathless Fuck slip out. “You think so?”

You scrunch your nose and nod.

“You should try something by Murakami.” Multiple titles run through your mind and you purse your lips as you mentally browse which one to offer. Something about recommending a book, a song, or another piece of art, can be so vulnerable because people only like things they can see themselves reflected in. You pray to whatever higher powers that exist that Harry won’t think twice about it. “Have you read Norwegian Wood?”

He wets his lips with his tongue. They become a vivid pink, like fresh peonies or a sickening sweet birthday cake frosting. “I’m afraid I have not.”

Your fingers dip into the slit of your bag and before you can register what is happening. Your copy of the novel is slightly curving at the corners and feels more weighted from when you first bought it. This is because countless sticky notes and page markers you’ve stuffed in between the front and back cover. You can’t believe you’re freely handing over your annotated book, it’s full of all your thoughts and views and it seems intimate to give him access to that. You think to take a moment to rip out all your work, but your arm is already extended and he clutches the other end of the book.

***

“He held a door for you,” Alice notes.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“He sat with you. For hours.”

“—Because the place was full.”

“You caught him staring at you! This sounds exactly like a dreamy movie!”

“It’s not, it’s just—” Your palm gestures vaguely in the air. You’re at a loss for words because if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t know what this is. What you do know, is the childlike glee you get around him and the stolen glances you pocket away and the shy smiles you exchange. “—Harry from the coffee shop.”

Alice stresses your name in a pointed tone. “Please.” She drags a tiny brush over the sparse area of her toe nail, the fushia pink compliments her newly tanned skin. The smell of polish and acetone is poignant in the living room. “We both know you’re clueless as can be about these things.”

Your jaw meets the floor as you prop up your weight on the cushion of the sofa. “Am not!”

“Are so!” Alice twists the cap on the nail polish tightly. She flips the small bottle and shakes it to insure it won’t drip. “You need people to literally spell out if they like you or not!”

“Being clear is a good thing!”

“But… where’s the romance in that?” You should’ve known telling Alice about Harry would get twisted into something. Alice is adamant that he has a thing for you, but you can’t connect the dots. You thought asking for an unbiased perspective on this situation would bring some clarity, but all Alice knows are the countless rom coms on Netflix and the wall full of cheesy lovey dovey novels she collects. “From where I see it, you both are longing from a distance. How long has this been going on for?”

“Like almost two months.”

Her eyes double in size. “Jesus!”

“I know, I know.” A palm comes to rub over your face to hide the red colouring your cheeks.

“Before we leave you need to do something about him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Find a moment, grab him by the shoulders and lay one on him. It’s not like he’ll see you again.”

You roll your eyes.

***

Harry doesn’t sit alone at his table like he previously used to do. After that day you gave him the novel, he has glued himself to the seat across from yours. It’s nice. You both work in amicable silence together with occasional conversation; you switch between your laptop and novel and he scribbles some words in his journal. It’s not a stream of consistent thought, the words are broken and spaced out and formatted differently. You assume he writes poetry.

It’s an unspoken rule that you’ve both made together. Every week you pick something new off the chalked menu items and alternate buying. Today you pick a slice of carrot cake. You remember him saying in passing that he was fond of it and wondered how different it would be from traditional American or European cake.

The plate sits dead center of the table, a fork at each end. You dig the metal to the pointy end of the cake and cup your palm underneath the utensil when you bring it to your mouth. Harry does the same except he doesn’t use his palm. It’s endearing that a crumb is stuck to the left corner of his top lip. You make deliberate eye contact while you both chew slowly. A rating becomes more clear in your mind as time passes and you see the same behind his eyes.

“Love it,” he concludes.

You continue chewing your bite for a little longer, he’s waiting, expecting to keep this conversation going. Harry scans your features as you derive your final thoughts. He doesn’t realize this, but his eyes have a weighted tenacity that you find yourself squirming under. It’s not uncomfortable, more so intense—He makes you feel like you’re an exceptionally important person. You run a tongue over your teeth before letting yourself speak.

“It’s good.”

“Just good?”

“Good,” you confirm.

He has gotten a sense of your rating scale without you defining it for him. He remembers the coconut slice was mind blowing. The strawberry was amazing. The peanut butter, nutella and banana was exceptional. He recalls you closing your eyes briefly because they rolled back in bliss. The indulgent moan you let slip through made his brain short circuit. The high points of his cheek were the same colour as the cherry drizzle that topped the rhubarb cake.

He digs his fork once more to grab another bite. You refrain.

A sweet smile dances on your face as you tuck your chin in the palm of you hand, your elbow anchors your weight on the table. You don’t know when to tell him that with each bite he takes, he adds on a couple more crumbs to his face. A part of you doesn’t want to tell him at all because it’s so adorable.

“What?” He prompts when he sees you observing him.

“You’ve...” You trail off, but then roll your eyes last minute, deciding not to let him in on it. It’s a miniscule thing. “Nevermind.”

“Now you’ve got to tell me.”

“It’s fine.”

The sinking feeling in his stomach knots his intestines together. A plunging fear of his identity being revealed is something he doesn’t know that he’s ready for. You had asked him what his name was for Amjad to write on the cup. You clearly didn’t know anything about him. He wanted to see how long the cloak of invisibility spell would last on him. There’s something about meeting someone without them having preconceived notions set about him. It’s rare and refreshing for him and he wants to prolong this with you. He gnaws at his lip momentarily, do you know?

“Did you google something?”

You splutter a confused laugh. “What?”

“It’s—I” He threads his fingers through his hair. A panic bounces in his eye. He knows the inevitable, you will find out sooner or later. Should he just tell you now? “Did you—”

Before he gets a chance to finish his sentence you crumple a napkin in your hand and lean slightly across the table.

He is taken aback by your sudden closeness, but relaxes his tense shoulders when the floral notes of your perfume floats around him.

You drag the napkin at the corner of his mouth and collect the persistent crumbs. You feel his eyes trained on one side of your face. There is a charged intimacy in the air that both of you don’t acknowledge. This innocent act speaks louder than any words between you two could. You tell yourself that maybe this feeling is one sided, a complete travesty, but then you see his adam’s apple rise and fall has he swallows a nervous gulp. It’s enough to let you know he feels it too. To keep yourself from doing something you might regret, you pour all your focus to the task at hand. This moment lasts for a couple seconds at most, but the fervor behind it could outlive even the oldest stars.

“There,” you say, your back meets your chair once again. “That was all.”

***

“How much have you gotten through?”

“I’m at the halfway mark. A few scenes have stuck out to me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Your eyes immediately flick up meet his. Curiosity and anticipation pull at each end of your lips to form a smile. Your wrist finishes jotting down the last of correction on your essay, the red pen in your grasp moves on autopilot because Harry has once again captured all your attention. He’s done it numerous times before, it’s just something he is good at. “Which ones?”

There is a soft grin on his lips. “When Toru lets go of the firefly on the roof.”

“Why did you like it?”

“It was such a simple act, but probably meant so much more.”

“You’re right, it did.” You nod. Red ink strikes out two sentences, but your ears are still perked up. “What else?”

“Naoko’s birthday.”

“Really?” The pitch of this word is higher than your previous ones, you’re surprised. You once had a conversation with someone who passionately claimed the scene should’ve been ripped out Norwegian Wood. You stop writing completely and give him your utmost undivided attention. You elbows press to the surface of the table as you lean it slightly and drop your volume to an octave lower. “Is it because they fucked?”

“Yeah,” he nods after a moment of contemplation. You shoot him a look, not because of his scene choice, but his lack of explanation, and he backtracks immediately. It would be awfully disheartening if that is all he had to say about that. “No, no, no. It’s not what you’re thinking. It was just so sad and lonely and—” He takes a deep breath and his nostrils flare. “I really felt for Naoko. It’s an oddly relatable thing—being in that state of mind, feeling that, all while giving yourself to someone. I don’t know, it’s just—”

His words hang in the air, but from the crumpled look on his face, you know exactly what he wants to communicate. The impervious silence between you two stays for a moment.

Talking about books with him was something you look forward to. He likes when you push him to read certain books. He admits once with a bashful look that he was intimidated by you. Your list of recommended books—it only went up to five, ink scratches on tissue you handed him one night before parting—made you seem very well read in his eyes. You dismissed it quickly with a wave.

A smile quirks your lips. “That was one of my favourites too.”

The praise balloons a feeling in your chest that would only contribute to one-sided feelings. You told him your list is no match to what is really out there; your goal isn’t to be a pretentious well-read girl, but it’s to find more titles that make you feel a spectrum of emotions.

He takes a minute to absorb your words. With an understanding nod he goes back to writing in his journal. You think you pick up on a musical note or chord, but you can’t be sure.

***

The blanket of humidity suffocating the town finally breaks on a Friday. In the wee hours of the early morning, you hear the clap of thunder rip through the clouds and pour down a bucket of water. It transitions into a romantic drizzle as noon rolls around.

It was one of those odd days where you are at the cafe before Harry. Your plain black umbrella sits in his chair, drops of water fall off the pointy tip and splatter against the floor.

“What’s this?” Harry grips the hooked handle of the umbrella as he lifts it up. The folded flaps of the fabric move like the arms of a ceiling fan before hitting against each other. “You’ve replaced me already?”

He has a pleased look on his face, clearly too proud of his joke.

You drop all traces of expression from your face and force your eyebrows to curl in a deep, confused frown. The slight tilt of your head to the left completes the faux look. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

He rolls his eyes, pinching his lips to on side in an effort to subdue the smile you both know is about to flourish. “Funny.”

You laugh under your breath. He wipes away the remaining droplets of water on the chair before taking his seat. Fingers comb back his hair, you notice it is a darker brown, a wet curl curves at the shell of his hair in a perfect swoop.

Like always, hours go by without you noticing. The sun has long bid its farewell. You’ve shared casual conversation, another slice of cake, and another book recommendation.

Amjad begins to flip the stools upside down on their respective table, the sound makes you look up. The lights are toned into a dim buttery yellow rather than the stark white you’re used to. He’s closing up for the night. It’s just you and Harry in the space, both of you begin to collect your belongings. You tuck your laptop into its sleeve before plucking your highlighter and pen into your bag. The novel you used is carefully bookmarked and pressed into your tote bag.

“Shit,” Harry hisses. Through the glass window you see the sky is an angry black, flashes of white remind you of when you had taken your high school graduation pictures. The rain is no longer a shy drizzle, it’s a wrath coming down so hard as though it seeks age old revenge.

You are thankful that you’ve brought your umbrella, but Harry can’t say the same for he is looking at the scene in front of you while scratching the back of his head. As he turns to you, you can see the same thought floating in his head.

“It’s alright, I’ve got one.” You wave the umbrella in your hand as you hike up the straps of your bag to your shoulder.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “We’re headed the same way anyways.” You know your stop comes before Harry’s, it’s only a short walk from the cafe, you plan to pass the umbrella to him so he can continue his path back home.

As you near the door, you call out a farewell to Amjad. “Ta ra!”

“Ta ra!”

The sound of rain drowns out the clanking of the bells as the door shuts behind you. You quickly press a hidden button and the metal arms of the umbrella spread wide open. You shelter yourself under it and shuffle so Harry has enough room under it.

“You’re good at it, you know?” He says as you both begin the trek. The raindrops make a muted pattering against the material of your umbrella.

You face him and raise a brow. “What?”

“Just—living here, communicating, and all that sort. I would’ve never guessed you weren’t from here until I heard you speak English.”

“Yeah?” You breath in the smell of fresh rain, the wind mists some water on your face and a calmness seeps into your bones.

Harry shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers, his shoulders cave inwards. “Would’ve probably just sat at my table like a fool and wonder why you come here so religiously.”

A smile pulls at your lips. “You would wonder about me?”

“Maybe.”

You laugh at his reluctance to say a proper yes. You know it’s a solid yes. Your eyes focus on the potholes in the sidewalk, rain water creates puddles and you strategically place your steps. “I would too—about you.”

“Now, you’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m serious.”

“Sure,” he hums.

A cool breeze circles the lonely streets, the thin hair on your arms stand up tall. The silence that makes itself prominent is comfortable. You decide this a perfect moment to tell him. You can’t begin to imagine the hurt on his face when he steps foot into the cafe and you’re not there. You’ve been practicing a speech in your bathroom mirror for two weeks now, trying all sorts of combinations to find the right words. Nothing has stuck so you bite the bullet and blurt the first thing that comes to mind.

“I’m going home.” Your heart is in your throat. Your voice is no where near bold and sure as you’d like it to be. It’s a timid whisper and you’re just thankful you haven't stuttered from the bundle of nerves in your gut.

He doesn’t reply immediately, you begin to ponder if the sound of rain submerged your sentence.

“We both are.” He gives you a weird look.

“No—I mean, I’m leaving Tariz. My semester here is ending, for the study abroad thing.”

Though the humidity in the air is long gone, you feel a thick heaviness in it.

“Oh.” The tone of the word suggests that he wasn’t expecting this. Harry scratches the back of his neck looking down at the pavement. “When’s your last day?”

The silence speaks for you.

His eyebrows jump. “Really?”

You roll your lips together before replying. “I’m afraid so.”

“Well, did you like it? The experience.”

You grin. Of course he could ask you this. You haven’t given much thought to this question up until now. You know when you go back home this will be the first thing people ask you, you take the opportunity as a way to practice an answer.

“Loved it,” you say without a shadow of doubt. “It went beyond my expectations.”

Harry gives your hand that fists the umbrella stem a push from below, urging you to raise it slightly higher. When you look up to see him, you realize the material grazes the top of his head. You mumble a quiet sorry before complying, he ignores your apology by prompting another question. “Favourite part?”

“There are loads. But the Kirree, the culture—”you take a brief pause, it builds the anticipation. “Amjad.”

“Amjad?”

“Amjad,” you confirm. It takes so much from you to not laugh at his ridiculous tone. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” The shrug of his shoulders is anything but casual. “I just thought, nevermind.”

You chuckle, shaking your head while trying to keep your smile at bay. “You’re so obvious.”

Wet hair strands glue to your face with the help of the rain. Your fingers peel them from your skin before tucking them behind your ear.

A deep sigh leaves him.

“I am, aren’t I?”

You both stop at the abandoned intersection. A red palm glows from the other side of the road, halting you from taking a step. You both could make a run for it because no cars are zooming the streets at this time, but you don’t. You feel the heat lift off Harry’s shoulder, there is something so intimate about being under the same umbrella on an empty street with him.

A sigh slips through your lips. You’re going to miss him the most. The routine, the secretive smiles, the tension. Alice’s words inject into your skin like a long needle. Do something.

“I liked meeting you too, for the record,” you say after a moment.

“Yeah?” His nose scrunches up as he looks to you. The traffic light above waves from the wind, a colourful glow lights up his profile emphasizing the sharp cut of his cheekbone and jaw. “It was good, seeing you every day at the cafe. Liked it—quite a lot actually.”

The sentence would’ve been fine as is, but the last four words he tacks on the end adds a double meaning. They put a tangible definition to the feeling that you both had been dancing around since day one. A painful silence settles between you two, it’s razor sharp and so prominent. You both know that it’s something you can’t avoid for any longer.

It’s a brush of fingers at first. Innocent enough to be an accident between strangers on the subway or two people walking in opposite directions on the same side walk. Then it happens again. This time his fingers slot between yours. The silver metal of his rings are frigid against your heated skin. You hope the relentless pattering of rain against pavement masks the boistourius thumping of your heart.

You think you’re imagining it all, but then he shifts his body towards you. His towering height looms over you and he leans in slightly. His breath is warm as it puffs on your cheek, a dizzying contrast against the cool drops of water that rest on your skin. Your lips slowly part in awe and his eyes immediately flicker to them.

The sharp tug he gives your hand is enough to pull you in a step closer, chests press against one another. The touch makes you tighten the grip on the handle of your umbrella, your knuckles become a snow white.

“This okay?” He asks softly. It’s a whisper, silvery and light, but flares a torrid heat in the pit of your stomach.

A stated latency is introduced into the wet atmosphere around you, it traps your bodies into a secluded bubble. His thumb brushes a long stroke from the diviot where your thumb and index meet all the way up to the tip of your pointer finger. The slow, tender pace of it almost makes you whimper.

Only when he sees your chin move in a nod does he press the tip of his nose to the skin of your cheek. You almost cry then. It’s a cruel, calculated torture for him to drag his nose from your cheek to your temple. Your fingers slip from his in favour to clutch the fabric of his sweater. You pull the threads closer to you, a silent plea to move his lips near yours. You feel his smile press against your temple. His palm rests on your hip then gradually slides to your lower back. Your lashes flutter momentarily before resting on your flaming cheeks.

His lips brush the smooth, thin skin of your eyelid twice, he plants a gentle kiss at the corner of your eye. He moves down to the apples of your cheek, the cupid bow of his lips lovingly traces the skin there. Your fingers crawl up from his chest and rest where his shoulder and neck meet. As he continues his innocent torment, the pad of your thumb traces the bump of his adam’s apple.

He brings his free hand to tilt your chin up, he aligns his forehead with yours. You both stay there for a moment while taking calming breaths. You notice his skin his warm under your fingertips and the rise and fall of his chest isn’t steady. You never put sugar in your Kirree, it’s always been honey for you. This is because the grains don’t fully dissolve and sit stubbornly at the bottom of your drink. As you crack your eyes slightly open, you see he has something golden on his lips. Shiny, sticky, inviting.

“Please,” you breathe.

His lips are warm, slick, and sweet against yours. You’d seen them quirked up in a smirk, in bashful smiles, in teasing grins. You wonder what they look like pressed so delicately against yours. The pads of his fingers dig into your flesh as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth. His tongue laps in just the right way—slow, with the tiniest bit of pressure. You cradle his cheek and follow the line of his jaw with your finger.

When you sigh into his mouth, he lets out a tremulous whimper. Harry was like a cup of freshly brewed coffee; scalding hot and tempting. The steam dancing above the rim would blister your mouth, but you took a sip of him anyway. You know when weighed, all the benefits surpass the costs. You’d rather feel him on the roof of your mouth all day than never at all.

His arms snake around your waist and hold you in place. Your lips part for the length of a blink, the glistening of his mouth is mesmerizing under the light of the lamp post hovering above. You can only draw half a breath before he’s leaning in once more. This time his lips are ferocious. The iron grip you have around the nape of his neck pulls tightly at the curls resting there.

Every nerve ending in your body is screaming, ablaze with the same intensity of molten lava. Your mind is swimming with too many emotions, you don’t begin to label what they are, it will be useless in your dazed state. Your palm presses flat against his chest, you feel his heart jackrabbit through his sweater. There is a tingling sensation in your palms that shoots sparks up your arms.

When you both finally pull away, he doesn’t let go of you. He keeps you close to resume his light brushes; his lips against your cheek, chin, temple. It’s when the tip of his nose bristles against the bridge of yours, your shoulders sag with a deep sigh.

“We...” the word wavers when you say it.

“Yeah?”

You gulp. “We missed our walking signal.”

The slow grin that crawls on his face says he is willing to miss a million more.

***

“Aww,” Alice coos towards her laptop screen. A dopey grin splits her face in half. It tells you she’s either looking at the current royal wedding pictures or reading another one of her romance novels. “That’s so cute, she must be so lucky.”

“What are you on about?” You inquire from your position on your bed. Although you had no complains while studying abroad, you firmly believe there is something so delicious about sleep in your own bed.

“I’m reading the Rolling Stone article about Harry Styles’ new album,” she says without turning back. He is her newest celeb obsession, you think it will pass over in a month. Alice has her laptop situated on your work desk that you’ve placed in the corner. From her position, her back hides the screen she is reading. “He said he wrote a song about a girl who he met in Tariz when working on his new album. Isn’t it crazy how small the world is, like we were there just last year.”

“We were,” you agree from behind a parted novel. It’s another Murakami novel. You woke up today and your fingers had a mind of their own when they plucked him off your reading shelf. Something in your bones was begging you to read it. “I’m glad you took me.”

Alice ignores what you say, she’s too busy gushing over the guy on her screen. She is speaking way too fast and going off in a million different tangents all fueled from her excitement. You think you hear her say something about psychedelics and sex. You shoot her a worried look and before you know it, she’s pushing the device onto your lap.

“Here, just look!”

The fans of the laptop start up and blow a gust of heat on your thighs. As you blink to the article pictures in front of you, your heart drops to your stomach.

“Alice,” you say breathlessly as if you’ve just seen a ghost. You blink quickly to help clear the image, maybe you’re seeing things. But the longer you stare at it, you become more and more sure of the face staring back at you.

“What?”

Sharp jaw, wavy hair, high cheekbones.

“Oh my God.” Your mouth is dry. “Oh my God.”

“What! What is it?”

You point an accusatory finger in the direction of the webpage. “It’s him! That’s him!”

Alice’s forehead wrinkles. “I don’t follow.”

“The guy I snogged from the cafe in Tariz!”

Her eyes become the size of Saturn. “No...”

“Yes...”

As the confirmation is uttered in the air, a stillness floods in. You both stare at each other, blinking slowly with blank faces. The suspended silence makes it harder for you to draw a breath. You see the gears turning and locking in place behind her eyes as she grasps onto this new piece of information.

The high pitch squeal that comes from her wind pipes can be easily mistaken for a hyena sound effect. “Fuck!”

“I’m—” Your face is burning and your palms have a sheet of sweat, but your neck and chest is like ice. You fan yourself with your palms. “—I think I’m having hot flashes.”

“I would too if I snogged Harry fucking Styles.”

Blood rushes to your face. “I didn’t know!”

“How did you not know?!”

“Because I live under a rock, you know this. I just thought he was another study abroad student like us!”

“This is so fucking funny.” Alice is howling with laughter. She clutches her stomach and leans forward without any shame. You can’t blame her though, if the tables were turned you doubt you’d react differently than her.

“Fuck, he wasn’t writing poetry.” The inside of your palm slaps your forehead. You feel a sharp throbbing pain pulse at your temples, so you clutch your head and clamp your eyes shut. “Those were probably songs, oh my God, I am so stupid!”

“Babes, babes.” Alice drags the pad of her thumb under her eyes to catch fallen tears. “We’re buying tickets.”

The pillow you throw at Alice lands with a loud smack.

“There is no fucking way I’m going to another study abroad thing with you—ever again.” Your arms limply flail about. “Look what this first one made me do.”

Alice scoffs. “You made out with a rockstar.”

The pointed look you shoot has enough strength to bring down civilizations. “Not the point.”

“Well, I wasn’t insinuating buying a ticket to another place.”

Your lips part with confusion. “Then what?”

“We’re going to catch his show.”

————

Don’t ask me where the city of Tariz is in the world, I made it up. Also all of the language is made up. So is the drink. Lol. Can you tell I didn’t want to do research? My mc is dumb, that scene in NW was ass. Anyway, let me know your thoughts? 

Thank you for amina @harrysdodgyankles for editing the moodboard

My wonderful betas are the best. Thank you so so so much to @drivingmekiwi @midnightcities @shelvesandwhelves @fireawaynjh

[flowerbeom]

Sweeter Than Pi | Mark Tuan

Mark Tuan x Fem!Reader

Genre: High School AU. Nerd Mark x Athlete Reader. Fluff. F2L.

Warnings: Some squishy ass, fluffy fluff. 

Words: 5.3k

Concept: Your place on the softball team rested on the back of you passing your General Maths midterm. Though Maths was always your worst subject, your genius best friend, Mark, could offer assistance in helping you study. If you could bring yourself and your heart to ask him... 

A/N: Happy Birthday almost twin @inkahgase! Fuck me, I’m sorry this took so long and that it is sooo long. I don’t know how to write short stories. I’m sorry. But I hope you enjoy soft, nerdy, cute AF Mark. Cause bro, this broke me...

“What was that?” Jackson slung the strap of his overfilled duffle onto his shoulder, rounding your desk to sit on the one beside you. Your voice continued to muffle into the pages of the textbook you were flattening your face into. 

Jackson, in all his measured audacity leant forward, flicking your ear as he ripped open the wrapper of a protein bar with his teeth. “Speak up woman.” 

“I failed!” The whining tone of your voice echoed around the empty classroom. You groaned as you tipped your head back over the chair, arms dangling pathetically beside you. You flailed your legs under the table, sliding down the chair a little more with every exasperated kick. 

“It’s just a mock quiz, it means nothing.” Jackson mumbled through chews. 

“Jack, if I failed the mock quiz it means I’m going to fail the mid-term.” Head still slung back over the chair.

“And?” Jackson barely audible, his mouth preoccupied with trying to tongue chunks of his white chocolate raspberry quest bar out of his molars. 

“And?! If I fail the midterm I’ll get kicked off the team!” Jaw dropped to allow for the extended grown to rumble out of your throat, you lifted your hands to card them frustratedly through your hair. 

Having had enough of your self-loathing, Jackson kicked the edge of your chair, knocking you sideways and out of your moaning. You snapped a hand down onto his ankle, steadying yourself from falling and pulling him off the edge of the table at the same time. Jackson broke his fall with a hand smacked against your forehead. Hands were thrown and insults were flying around until the commotion ended with your fingertips twisting the sensitive skin along his ribs. 

“Gah! God, okay okay!” Jackson shifted away, picking up his bag and moving to the door; pausing to see if you were following him. You were, albeit slowly, trudging to the door; dragging your equally overfilled duffle bag behind you. 

“Ever consider getting tutored?” His tone suggestive. 

“Can’t afford it.” Your tone defeated. 

“You really are stupid.” There was no fight in you left, rather acceptance and the vivid image of your softball uniform being stripped from you, leaving you standing in your underwear in the middle of the field. You shuddered at the thought. 

Approaching your lockers, you stood in a daze, fingers mindlessly rotating the dial on your padlock, not even sure if the combination was correct. Suddenly, and as softly as anyone could manage, you felt a shoulder nudge yours. It could only be one person, and you felt your body shrink into itself upon recognising the familiar smell of the fabric softener his mum used on his shirts. 

“Hey!” Effervescent, cheerful and light. You looked up to see Mark standing beside you, the glasses meant to be perched on his nose rather perpetually hovering above it as they were lifted by the plump in his cheeks made by the smile he could never control. Backpack full; books spilled out into his arms, one sleeve of his unzipped hoodie pushed up while the other dangled below his fingertips. The adorable nerd, Mark Tuan. 

You always felt yourself mirror the smile he effortlessly gave you, as if there was no other acceptable response to give him. No matter how grouchy or sullen you may have been, Mark was always this beaming beacon of joy, and it was impossible to resist getting pulled into the overwhelming happiness that seemed to radiate from him. 

If he was smiling, you were too. If he was laughing, you were too. If you were crying, he never had to do much to stop the tears from falling. It had been that way for years, having grown up beside him, literally. Neighbours since birth, playmates in preschool, deskmates in elementary school leading naturally to best friends in high school. You were inseparable, even when his interests leant towards equations and dabbling in applied physics at the college level while yours swung towards swinging bats at balls that soared past the car-park behind the field and making college scouts travel across the country to watch you play. But as thrilling as all that may be, Mark was the spark that lit your days ablaze. Though it was a shame you could never really tell him that. 

“Hey man.” Jackson reached over your head to knock knuckles with Mark; Jackson tipping his chin while Mark smiled even wider, again completely out of his control.  

Jackson, as he liked to remind you and Mark constantly, was the reason you and Mark stayed so close over the years. As your interests and hobbies split down the middle, Jackson provided the glue that held you together. While you and him bonded over a shared love of sports, he and Mark bonded over a shared love of video games. 

So, afternoons were spent waiting at the end of the pitch after softball practice for Jackson to finish soccer training. He’d jog to you, one arm shoved into the sleeve of a fresh t-shirt while the other had his jersey still hanging off the bend in his elbow. You’d walk home together - Jackson never failing to leave a trail of corn chip crumbs behind him and finally ending up on Mark’s couch; splitting your time doing homework together and watching him and Jackson take out Marakov soldiers in Modern Warfare 2. An unlikely trio, though it somehow worked. 

“Oi!” Jackson dug an elbow into the side of your arm, drawing a hiss to rattle the chemistry paper wedged between your teeth. “Ask Mark how his AP Calculus class was.” 

“It was really good, we started on fundamental theorems and.. “ 

Jackson tutted, making a sharp clicking noise with his tongue against his teeth; Mark’s grin dropping slightly at the corners. 

“No no, she has to ask you first.” You shot puzzled eyebrows in Jackson’s direction, shoving a textbook into your already full bag. 

“Why do I need to ask him?” The edges of the chemistry paper nipping against the corners of your lips as you spoke, Mark glanced around you to stare at the indiscernible look on Jackson’s face. 

“Ask him how his AP Calc class was.” Said sharply through gritted teeth. 

“Why?” You and Mark returned in unison, the word drawn out in confusion. 

“Just ask him how his AP Calc class was, goddamn it!” Slamming his locker door shut, Jackson’s eyes growled at you to turn around and do as instructed, but you weren’t one to back down. Ever. 

“Geez, why do I need to ask Mark how his AP Calc class was?! We all know it was ‘amazing’ and ‘interesting’ and that he’s still top of the class, so why are you being an ass!?” 

Tense pause. Loaded silence. Darting eyes. 

“OH MY GOD!” Dropping your bag to the floor, mouth gaping, your test paper billowed to the ground as you spun to face Mark - almost making him drop the books held precariously in his hands as you smacked your hands onto the sides of his arms. Jackson sighed from behind you, an unmistakable roll of his eyes evident in his exasperated breath. 

Mark’s eyes were blown wide, only to be magnified by the refraction of his lenses. You froze for a second, taken aback by the hint of rose tinting his cheeks and the way his lips rounded into a perfect circle of surprise and you wanted to melt into your sneakers but there were more pressing matters at hand. You made yourself believe that there was, no matter how furiously your heart was pounding in your chest. You sucked in a strengthening breath, his glittering eyes would not distract you now. 

“Mark, Mark! Oh my god, Mark!” Your fingers were digging into his biceps, the fullness of them surprising you.

“Yes?” Replying through a giggle, the smile he could never control once again taking over his expression. 

“Mark, can you tutor me?! I swear to god I will fail my Gen Math midterm if you don’t help me!” You were shaking him, wobbling his thin figure in the air as you continued to ramble. “I can’t fail Markie, I can’t get kicked off the team! Not before graduation! Please--” 

“Yes.” Sincere.

“Help me, please Mar--” Almost manic.

“Yes!” Heartwarmingly earnest. 

“--Kie, please! Wait, what?” Stupefied. 

Mark’s eyes folded as his smile widened, his arms tightening their hold on his books as he rocked back on his heels. “Of course I’ll tutor you, I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to ask!” 

“You and I both, dude.” Jackson smarted from behind you, his hand gripping onto the strap of your bag to lift you up after you had sunk to your knees from equal measures of shame and appreciation. Your eyes lifted to see Mark fumbling with his bag, one hand shoved into its depths. Taking his pile of books out of his other, Mark grinned so endearingly you swore you felt your heart bounce off your sternum. Fishing out his car keys, Mark gently took his books back into his slender hands.

“I’ll come round after you get home from practice. About six, right?” 

“Right.” Your hand lifted almost robotically to return the dazzling wave Mark gifted you as he skipped down the hallway. 

Mark’s ready eagerness to help you had made your heart swell with affection, and despite every desire to act on your feelings continued to tap away at your sanity, you knew better that someone like Mark was better off with someone who could actually challenge his mind. All you could do was beat him in a foot race. So you let Jackson cup your shoulder and drag you outside; critical paths and parabolas would have to wait, and it seemed trying to ease your heart would have to as well. 

As you wiped away a rogue bead of sweat that trickled down your temple, you asked yourself how someone could look so effortlessly perfect. Walking languidly along the footpath that lined your street, you stared at Mark as you approached your house. Sitting on the front steps of your deck, Mark cradled a text book in one hand; elbows leaning into his knees. From the curve of his wrist, your eyes trailed along the lines of his bare arms to the once, maybe twice, rolled up sleeves of his t-shirt. Your lips found themselves wedged between your teeth. 

Watching one delicate hand lift to push his glasses up his nose, you followed his fingers as they combed back his hair that always fell right back down to tickle his lashes. The setting sun sifted golden through his charcoal hair, as if it was made to reflect the light. And as you rounded your mailbox to walk up the paved path, Mark’s ear pricked to your footsteps and he greeted you how we always did; with one perfect smile and your knees went weak. 

Clutching onto the strap of your duffle bag, you pulled it tighter across your body as Mark rose onto his feet. You met him at the foot of the stairs, one step below the one he stood on. Mark clapped his textbook shut and slung his backpack onto his shoulder. 

“Ready?” You weren’t exactly sure what he was referring to, but if it was the hand that he reached out to gently sweep down your braid, you knew for sure it wasn’t that. He leant forward, glasses slipping down his nose as he tilted his face to look past your shaking eyes to what his fingers were doing. You could smell the eczema cream he rubbed into the back of his elbow as his index finger curled hair behind your ear. It felt like your entire body had broken out in hives, why was his face so close to yours?

“How many deep hits did you dive for? You have so much grass in your hair.” Mark knocked his knuckles into your shoulder, lightly pushing you back before he turned to step towards your front door. Following slowly behind him, you needed to catch your breath or else asking him to tutor would be a massive waste of time. You can’t tutor someone if they’re dead. 

“Come on, those quadratic equations aren’t going to solve themselves!” 

Mark stood there patiently, one hand deep in the back pocket of his jeans while the other held his textbook to his chest. Unlocking the door, you let it swing open before stepping through, Mark close behind you. 

“Bedroom?” Eyes shooting open, you whipped your head around to Mark’s innocent expression.

“Sorry, what? Bedroom, excuse me?” Blinking rapidly with every vowel, you watched Mark slowly tilt his head to the side; his puppy like eyes giving you puppy like confusion. 

“Want to study in your bedroom?” Not a completely outlandish question. Mark had been in your bedroom plenty of times over the course of your friendship. Sleepovers were a plenty and Jackson joined the fray once your duo became a trio. But it had been a while since it was just you and Mark. Alone. In your bedroom. So you deferred, you didn’t need the distraction; for he, in all his tall, slim, attractiveness was one giant distraction already. A disruption of the sweetest kind that you weren’t completely against but you really needed to study. 

“No.” Far too blunt to seem polite. You winced at the your own brashness. 

“No?” Mark’s body seemed to stutter, never having heard you be to short before. 

“Sorry! That sounded so mean! It’s just post-practice me talking.” You let your duffle bag crash to the floor, your hands quick to cup your cheeks to mask the red glow building under the skin. 

“So…?” 

“Dining table! Closer to the kitchen, closer to snacks!” Good save, you thought to yourself as you tapped your belly with one hand, the other resting on your hip. A bad impression of Jackson whenever he wanted to not so subtly tell you and Mark that he was hungry. Amused with the imitation, Mark hooked the straps of his backpack carefully on the back of one of the chairs bordering the dining table before taking out his notes and sitting down. His eyes glanced over to you expectantly. 

“Shall we get started then?” Timidly, you lowered into the seat next to him. Twirling a pen between his fingers like a poker player juggles a chip on their knuckles, Mark showed you nothing but honest determination as he displayed just how incredibly intelligent he was; yet it took a little longer for any of it to rub off on you. 

An hour had passed. Mark was nothing but sweet in his explanations and patient as you continued to endure this special form of torture. Math and Mark; one hard for your brain, the other excruciating on your heart. Every slight brush of his shoulder against yours as he leaned in to see your work sent shivers to crawl down your spine. Every time his hand would pull yours back so he could write the proper formula beside your incorrect answer made all the air block in your lungs. Mark was incredibly intelligent, but pretty dumb when it came to body language. And you were beyond thankful for that. 

Despite your body’s conflicting emotions between emotionally flustered and mentally confused, you had actually made progress. Whatever method Mark used to make you understand what your teachers had failed to teach you was proving a success. Question after question was solved correctly, Mark high-fiving you with the most genuine smile on his face with every tick he inked onto your page. However, expanding equations had shrunk your stomach - snack time was calling, and the time was now. 

“Super spicy or regular spicy?” Calling from the kitchen counter, two varieties of ramen held in each hand. 

“Can you just nuke me a plate of broccoli in the microwave? I’m trying to maintain my figure.” Mark bellowed from the dining table. Brows furrowing together, you threw your head over your shoulder catching Mark doubled over - body shaking with silent laughter upon seeing the look of perplexity on your face. 

“Regular spicy please, heavy on the cheese.” 

Once the narrow in your eyes had dropped and Mark heard the tap pour water into a pot, he turned back to the flat lay of books on the table. He was curious as to how you were doing so badly in class when you had made so much progress beside him. He always knew you were smart, and how focussed you could be - so he wanted to know what had stumped you so badly when it came to math. 

Slipping the textbook off the corner of your notebook, Mark began to thumb through the pages, searching for clues as to where the numbers stopped making sense in your mind. Page after page failed to reveal much; half written questions with notes sloppily taken in rushed handwriting that he knew wasn’t like you. 

Picking up the notebook, Mark closed it to gather the bottom corners under his thumb to start flicking through the pages rapidly. His eyes scanned the pages as they flew past, a chunk of blank pages ended with meticulously written words at the back of the notebook. Laying the notebook down, he smoothed out the spine so the pages stayed open on the table. Mark felt his lips carve a smile into his cheeks, his eyes following the intricate curves of your handwriting across the page. 

“Is this why you’re failing Gen Math?” A chuckle finished the question he threw behind him. 

“What?” Fumbling with a bag of shredded cheese as you answered him.

“Who’s got you so distracted in class?” 

“What are you talking about?” Rounding the counter with both bowls in hand, you froze one step away from the table; Mark’s index finger drawing an invisible line under the words who had written in the back of your notebook.

“I’m not being obtuse, but you’re acute guy.” You placed both bowls on the table, mainly because you’re hands had started to go numb.

“You are one well-defined function.” You lowered slowly into the seat next to Mark, fingertips clawing into your knees.

“Mark…” Voice shaky at best. 

“Oh this one is good. If I went binary, you’d be the one for me.” His soft laughter jiggled his glasses down his nose as your hand lifted to gently pull your notebook away from him. 

“Mark, stop please..” 

“Oh no, no this one’s my favourite.” Watching his finger hover below the last sentence on the page, you felt your body heating up from its core. Nervousness pulsated from the depth of your stomach and radiated through your skin. You saw his eyes crinkle at their corners, his ears twitching as he grinned. 

“You are sweeter than Pi.” He turned to you at that moment; cheeks plump, smile intoxicating. A wave of anxiety crashed over you. 

“No wonder you’re failing. Dude, seriously, who’s got you so distracted?!” Mark was asking you as if he really didn’t know; and a part of you wanted it to stay that way. You wanted to leave him in his naive innocence and continue on being brilliant, and wowing college mathematicians with his insight and natural numerical skill. You wanted him to find someone who would be just as excited about binomials and integrals as he was or at least someone who could understand them.

Mark lifted his arm to sling his elbow over the back of the chair. Combing back his hair with his other hand, he pushed up his glasses with his thumb before flicking you in the shoulder, and you knew it was because you looked like an idiot. Your face held no expression, your body was frozen in place. 

You knew pressure. You knew what it felt like having everything on the line. You knew what it meant to have both joy and sorrow rest in your hands. So in that moment, you would have gladly taken loaded bases, deep hit into left field, sun in your eyes as you lined up your mitt to take the last catch that would secure the last out to win the game. You would have gladly taken the chance to lose the championship over the way Mark was staring at you. Over the way his sparkling eyes were boring into you expectantly for an answer you weren’t sure he was ready for. Or more so, one you were about to give. Especially if it was the wrong one. 

“So, who is it?” But Mark always got the right answer. 

“You.”  

The pen Mark was twirling between fingers his crashed onto the table. An exaggeration, but everything seemed heightened after you somewhat easily confessed your feelings to Mark. Your hands had found themselves back on your knees, and your lips had found themselves between your teeth. Mark pulled his arm off the back of the chair and mirrored your stance, yet you noticed him swallow roughly. Your heart stammered at the sight. 

“We’re not even in the same class anymore..” You fought the urge to laugh, Mark’s charming naivety cutting through the tension in the air, his eyes twinkling in your direction. Lips parting to pull in a breath, you blew loose strands of hair off your forehead before letting your shoulders relax. Mark was doing it again, comforting you in his own special way. In the way only he could, even if he didn’t know he was doing it. 

“That’s the way it is, isn’t it? Love..” 

“You-you… love me?” Mark pushed up his glasses with both hands, swinging his legs around to face you; his knees merely grazing past like a single gentle flap of a butterfly’s wing. You sunk into your shoulders, there was no turning back now. 

“It’s funny right? How you stopped being in my classes years ago, but as soon as I look at an equation my mind flips and all I can think about is you. How funny is that?” Leaning forward to lean an elbow onto the table and your cheek into your hand; your eyes locked on Mark. He held your stare but you were caught in the unravelling of your own sanity to see how his eyes were flitting across your face. 

“Man it’s so funny. Mr. Grant stands at the chalkboard and starts drawing up some parabolic graph, and all it does is remind me of your smile. I open up my textbook and start reading about perfect angles and all that I can compute is the goddamn perfect angles of your cheekbones against your jaw.” You were laughing now, completely out of control. You weren’t even aware of what you were saying, the words simply falling out of your mouth. Blame it on dehydration, practice was gruelling; sure you could do that - but you simply kept talking. You weren’t even looking at Mark anymore.

“I try you know? I try really hard to study. And it’s only maths. I ace every other subject - I have no issue with Lit or History. Go, ask me anything about the Balkan War, I know it all. But Maths, phwoah..” Your head tipped back against the chair, your braid swinging behind it. 

“Maths, man I can’t even concentrate. All I see is your face in the numbers. All I can think about is your laugh when someone starts reciting algebra formulas. And when exams come around, I’m stumped.” Mark jumped in his seat when you shouted out a laugh. 

“I stare and stare at the exam paper and think about how you would solve every question and how quickly you would have done it. And once I’m thinking about you, that’s it. I’m gone.” Your rambling halted when Mark reached out his hand and placed it atop yours. Lowering your head back to level with his eyes, you saw the sheer shock in them. You swallowed dryly, the realisation of the utter madness you had spat out finally overwhelming you. Mark scooted forward in his chair, clearing his throat and lifting a shaking head to sweep his fringe off his eyes. 

“You know, Madison Kim asked me out in the same way.” Your hands went limp, the weight of your heart dropping into your stomach caused your shoulders to slump forward. You were an idiot. Literally, figuratively, emotionally. Of course Madison Kim would have asked him out the same way. She may be a genius, but she was an airy head girl, who in all honesty would be a fool to not ask out the gorgeous man who sat beside her in AP Calc every day. 

You shifted back in your seat, but Mark’s hand tightened around yours; your eyes darting up to find a softness in his eyes you had never seen before. In the entirety of your lives together, you had never seen that look, and it terrified you. 

“She asked me out with silly little mathematical pick up lines that she slipped into my textbook and I turned her down.” You could feel your teeth grind against each other. Your tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth as you swallowed down the saliva that had pooled beneath it. Mark scooted forward a bit more, taking your other hand in his. 

“Do you know why I turned her down?” A simple smile painted across his lips, his fingers curling around your palms. You shook your head, too afraid to speak; too afraid to let your stupidity form any more sentences than it already had. 

“Because she isn’t you.” A breath caught in your throat. Then swiftly gulped down with the lump that had clung to your tonsils. 

“Wh-what?” Mark sighed through his nostrils, a sweet tender exhale as his thumb drew circles into the back of your hand. 

“Since we’re confessing, I’ll go next.” Mark straightened, lifting his chin as if to give his valedictorian speech. “I never told you I love you because I never thought I was right for you. That I wasn’t the guy to make you happy.” 

Your chin dropped into your chest, eyes folding in amusement; your shoulders bouncing as you chuckled. 

“Now why would you think that?” Speaking into your stomach before looking up at him with a tilted head and an angled grin. Mark released his hold on one of your hands to hold his nape instead, fingers rubbing into the skin; a flush of embarrassment evident in the pink smoothing over his cheeks. 

“I don’t know.. I just thought that you’d prefer someone who could keep up with you. I can barely do a push up..” Timid and a little hushed; Mark darted his eyes around the room before slowly meeting your gaze. Like him, you straightened, shifted forward in your seat and retrieved his hand from his neck to lace your fingers between his. 

“Then I guess we’re both stupid.” Mark’s confused puppy expression returned to his face, and you suppressed a giggle to answer the question his eyes silently asked you. 

“I never told you I love you because I didn’t think I was smart enough for you. That sooner rather than later, you’d get bored of me..” The flush of pink that had filled his cheeks crept over yours; you bit down on your top lip. Mark stared at how your bottom lip plumped into a pout and felt his heart stutter at the sight.

“We’ve known each other our whole lives, you think I would’ve gotten bored of you by now.” 

“Hey!” Ducking but failing to dodge the sharp whack that your hand delivered on his arm, Mark grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him. Lifting his other hand, Mark hesitated for a second before reaching forward, gently cupping your cheek. You swore he could feel how hot you were, your cheeks burning so fiercely you were afraid his fingers would singe. But he didn’t pull away. He kept his hand tenderly pressed against your cheek and you began to drown in the smile he gave you. Another one of his perfect smiles. 

“Let’s not be stupid anymore, yeh?” Blinking softly, his bottom lip folded between his teeth as he awaited your answer. Leaning forward, closing the space between your faces, you took a moment to catch the glimmer in his eyes. Whether it was the light catching in his lenses or the spark they naturally held; you wanted to get lost in the magic of them. But he was waiting, and Mark always got the right answer. 

“Okay.”

His kiss was as tender as you imagined it to be. His lips were as soft as you had dreamt them to be and you could feel him smiling against yours. Breaking the kiss, Mark pulled back to rest his forehead against yours as he drew in a breath. You weren’t sure if you were breathing, but you could see his glasses begin to fog so you knew you must have been. 

Both sitting back, you stared at each other silently; your hands fitting perfectly in each other’s. Yet the gaze was fleeting, both you and Mark breaking into laughter; possibly from the haphazard confessions or your shared stupidity. Either way, the air was clear and the problem of your irrational hearts solved. Mark would have enjoyed that the most; solving a seemingly unquantifiable problem and the thought made you feel warm. 

“Now I’m even more screwed.” Mark hummed quizzically in response, reaching under his chair to pull it closer to yours; letting his thigh press against yours as he removed the space separating you.

“Now I really won’t be able to focus on Maths...” Mark laughed with his entire chest, head tipping back to let laughter tumblr out of his mouth, yet his hand never let go of yours. Finally regaining composure, Mark angled his body to face you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Reactively, and almost naturally, your arms weaved around his neck. A single giggle fluttered through his lips before he spoke.

“I guess I’m just going to have to tutor you every day until the numbers make sense.” 

Trying not to let any laughter flicker out, despite your heart racing in your chest; you thought that you could be a little bold. “Do I get a kiss for every answer I get right?” 

Mark edged forward, touching the tip of his nose against yours. 

“Of course.” Mark briskly pressed his lips against yours as a full stop to his statement. Giggling as he pulled away, his arms slid off your waist to turn you back towards your notes. 

“Come on, you have three more equations to solve then we’re done, and we still have to eat. I’m starving!” Flailing in your chair in protest, Mark silenced your whining with another kiss planted onto your cheek. 

“I’m not going to go any easier on you cause we’re dating now.” You couldn’t help but feel your heart swell. Picking up your pen, you slid over your notebook that was still in front of Mark. Turning back to the page you were on, you gave Mark one last narrow-eyed look. 

“A kiss for every correct answer, remember.” You nodded in agreement. He was a brilliant tutor after all. And a cute one at that. Because he was Mark Tuan, the adorable nerd. Mark Tuan, your adorable nerd. 

[eyebrowluv]

Tall Blonde with One Sugar 2/?

“No, no, it’s okay,” Erwin sighed. “He has Alzheimer’s. I took a couple years after undergrad to take care of him. I wanted to be there for him. He made me promise I would go back to school for my Master’s while he still had his facilities. I took care of him as long as I could, but his condition deteriorated to the point that only medical professionals could care for him. I stayed around and visited him in the nursing home for awhile, but he doesn’t remember me, and it just upsets him every time I go. The last time I saw him, he got so upset that they had to strap him to a bed and sedate him. So, I just call the nurse for updates. I haven’t talked to him since I came back to school. He’s happier that way.”

“Erwin…”

“So,” Erwin sniffles and swallowed heavily. “As you can imagine, my father is not in the mental or financial state to assist me. It’s fine. I’m an adult, and things won’t always be so hard.” He turned to Levi with that same smile, the one that shone so bright that you could almost ignore the way it never quite made it his eyes.

“If you need help-“

“Nope, I’m good. I’ve already imposed on you more than I should. Have a good night, Levi. Thank you again for the ride.” The blond didn’t hesitate in opening the door this time, and rushed into the building.

“Fuck, he’s going to be the death of me.”

——

“Where is it?” Levi blew a strand of hair from his eyes as he sat back on his heels. “It’s got to be here somewhere.” He looked around his bedroom in defeat before standing.

“The office,” he announced to the empty room before rushing out. He flung open the closet in the guest room turned office and saw the plain white box sitting in the corner.

“There you are, you fucker.” Levi lifted the box and shook it just make sure. Yes, this was it. He hurriedly opened the box and pulled out the GR1 backpack inside. He had gotten it for an ex as a birthday present, but they broke up before Levi could gift it to him. He was too lazy to return it, and was glad he was. Not even Erwin could destroy this thing. His search of the office continued. Until he found the bag containing his old laptop. The battery was likely dead, but it was only a couple of years old, and definitely in better shape than that brick Erwin was toting about.

Levi gathered his bounty and made his way out of his apartment and across the hall. He knocked on Erwin’s apartment door, and was surprised to find neither Erwin or his roommate.

“Hi, you must be Levi.” The person that stood in front of Levi looked almost maniacal with glee.

“Hange, I don’t think it’s going to come on. It’s broken beyond repair.” Erwin’s voice sounded from deeper in the apartment.

“Come in. I’m trying to save his laptop.” Hange motioned for Levi to follow, and led him into the apartment.

“Who was at the door?” Erwin was seated on the floor in front of the coffee table, pieces of his broken laptop spread on its surface. He looked up. “Levi? Is there something wrong?”

“Yes. It disturbs me that you think you can actually salvage that thing. Here.” Levi held out the backpack.

“What’s this?” Erwin took the proffered bag.

“What does it look like? It’s a backpack, you idiot.”

“I know that, but why?” The blond studied the dark gray nylon in his hands, noting the weight.

“You need one, don’t you? I don’t use it, so there you go...a new backpack.”

“Levi, really, I couldn’t,” Erwin protested, unzipping the bag to look inside. “You forgot that your laptop was in here.”

“No, I didn’t. I got a new laptop this year, so this one is just taking up space and collecting dust.”

“Levi, this is too much. I really can’t-“

“Nonsense. You can and you will. I don’t use them or need them, you do. It’s really quite simple. You don’t have a say because I don’t trust your judgment.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You say thank you, Levi.” Levi crossed his arms, and Erwin looked at him with shining blue eyes.

“Thank you, Levi.”

“Good boy. Now I’ll leave you two to it.” Levi turned to leave before noticing something was...off. “Where’s Nigel and Mary?”

“Nile and Marie are spending the weekend at Marie’s. Her roommate went away for the weekend.”

“Good news for you. Have fun, kids.” With that, Levi let himself out.

——

“Are you freaking kidding me right now?” Hange squealed.

“I’m not sure what just happened.”

“You never told me your neighbor looked like that.”

“Like what?”

“Erwin, come on now. He may not have much in the way of personality, but the man is hot.”

“I’ve not noticed.” Erwin blushed.

“Liar,” Hange accused. “I suppose you didn’t notice how he just gave you a $300 backpack? Or how about the state-of-the-art, top of the line laptop?”

“I’m sure that he just expects me to borrow them. I’ll give them back when I have enough money to replace them.”Erwin’s protests sounded weak even to his own ears. “Besides, it’s not like he went out and bought them just for me.”

“Yeah, you’re in denial.”

“About what, exactly?”

“Nothing. I think it will be more fun to sit back and watch you try to figure it out yourself.”

——

“Erwin, you made it back,” Nile said suspiciously just a mere two weeks later. “I feel like I never see you anymore, buddy.”

“Yeah, you’re creeping me out,” Erwin said as he tied off his shoes.

“Nice backpack. You steal it or something? I know you can’t afford that brand.” Nile chuckled, letting Erwin know he was only joking.

“No, you dick, Levi’s letting me borrow it.” Erwin eyed his roommate suspiciously. Nile was going out of his way to be more friendly than usual and Marie was unusually absent in the apartment. “What are you up to?”

“Erwin, you wound me. Maybe I just wanted to hang out with my roommate on his one evening off from work.”

“We both know that’s a lie. Did you and Marie break up?”

“No, we’re doing better than ever, thank you. She’ll be over a little later. But I did need to talk to you about something.”

“You know, you could have just texted me while I was still on campus. I would have either stayed there or went home with Hange. Or you could just stay in your bedroom for once and I’ll put my headphones in and act like you two aren’t here.” Erwin was clearly exasperated.

“No, it’s not that. Though it would be nice if you can find somewhere else to hang out when Marie gets here. I hope you understood, a girl likes a little privacy.”

“Nile...the point. Get to the point of this conversation,” Erwin grit out between clenched teeth.

“I’m moving out. Marie and I have decided to get an apartment together. We were going to wait until next semester, but the apartment we want opened up and we will have to move in by next week or be put on a waitlist. You understand don’t you?”

���You’re unbelievable. I can’t afford this apartment alone. I can’t afford the penalty for breaking the lease. When we decided to become roommates, that was the deal. We wouldn’t break the lease.”

“I’m sorry Erwin, but your financial problems aren’t my responsibility. I’m sure you’ll find another roommate in no time.”

“I begged you to find something cheaper with a shorter lease, but you just had to have this place. Now I’m just going to be stuck paying your half or a penalty because the only brain you have is in your dick!” Erwin took a calming breath. “There’s no way I’ll be able to find a roommate in the middle of the semester.”

“It will be fine. You always worry too much.” Nile shrugged. “Now I have to get ready. Marie will be here any second.”

“You know what, Nile? Fuck you.” Erwin grabbed his shoes and keys and slammed the door on the way out. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing Hange.

“What did he do this time?” Hange asked in way of greeting.

“I’ve been sexiled again.” Erwin answered tersely.

“I can come get you in a couple of hours. I’m going in for my lab midterm right now.”

“No, that’s okay. I completely forgot. I’ll just go for a walk or something. Thanks though, Hange.”

“Hey, whatever it is, I’ll help you all I can.”

“I know. Thanks.” Erwin disconnected the call and sat down on the steps to put on his shoes.

“And wouldn’t you know, the apartment just opened up and we’re moving in next week!” Erwin heard Marie’s excited chatter as she climbed the stairs. “I can’t wait, Mom.”

She walked past Erwin, her only acknowledgment being her annoyed sigh as she walked around him.

“Yeah, I can see why you were heartbroken over that one,” Levi deadpanned. Erwin grinned despite himself.

“Yeah, she’s...something,” was all Erwin was able to say. Politely.

“So, I take it that she’s not moving in with a different boy toy, but that pube-faced idiot you live with.”

“You would be correct.” Erwin stood time to make way for Levi, who had his arms full of groceries. “Here, let me help you with that,” he offered, taking several bags from the older man.

“Has your financial situation changed?”

“Nope, but I’m not his responsibility. I have some money in savings that I can live off of for a couple of months until I can find another roommate.”

“It’s in the middle of the semester,” Levi reminded him.

“I’m trying to be positive, Levi.”

“Well, I’m positive that Nigel is a dick. Come on, help me put the groceries away and I’ll make you dinner.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Erwin, I’m not asking. You will sit down and eat a descent meal. Don’t think I don’t know that you live off store brand canned soup and ramen. Now haul your ass.”

“Yes, sir.” Erwin followed Levi into his apartment. “Thank you, Levi. I promise I’ll start doing better. I mean, it really can’t get much worse.”

“You can’t be serious,” Erwin’s co-worker, Moses, groaned as they watched Keith Shadis have a complete meltdown during his press conference.

“Did he just say he is pulling his campaign?” Erwin was hoping he heard wrong.

“Yup. The asshole has no consideration for all the people he just unemployed.” Moses just shook his head and walked away. Erwin started making mental calculations in his head. He felt sick to his stomach. He fought back tears as he numbly swiped through help wanted ads on his phone during his bus ride home.

Not that home was much better. He tiredly drug himself through the door to the empty apartment. Most of the furniture was Nile’s. The only furniture left in the living room was the worn out coffee table and a cheap table lamp. Hange’s partner, Moblit, gave him a couple of cushions to sit on, for which he was grateful.

His bedroom was equally as spartan, with just a small card table serving as a desk and a futon pad on the floor. He didn’t bother to turn on the light as he laid his backpack on the floor. He stripped out his suit, not bothering to hang it up as was his usual habit. He laid down and curled into a small ball and told himself that everything would be better in the morning.

Even if he didn’t believe it.

——

“You could always try camming,” Hange suggested around a mouthful of pizza.

“Excuse me, what?” Erwin choked.

“You know, be an online camboy. Get paid to get off. You get enough money to pay your bills and you get the side benefit of stress relief.”

“Um, no, just no. I’m big and awkward. I feel too self conscious just having sex when the only one watching is my partner. I can’t imagine that anyone would want to pay to watch as I try to figure out the best angle to keep my hands or feet from looking too big. Besides, I don’t have much of a voyeurism kink.”

“Erwin, seriously. You spend a lot of time at the gym and you’re practically a god among men. I think plenty of people would pay to watch, right Moblit?”

“Leave me out of this,” Moblit squeaked with a blush. “If he’s not comfortable, there’s no point of pressing the issue.”

“Thank you, Moblit. I’m glad there is someone willing to defend my virtue.”

“Please, like you don’t go full-on slut for that hot doctor neighbor of yours. I’d bet he would watch your cam show.” Hange wiggles their brows.

“I’m not a full-on slut for anything. I’ll leave that role to Marie. And I told you, Levi has no interest in me, we’re just neighbors. We barely speak. Furthermore, I maintain that I’m awkward as hell at sex, and nobody wants to see that. It’s not sexy, I’m not sexy, and I have no desire to be a camboy.”

“I could point out all the flaws in your argument, but I chose to focus on the fact that you just roasted Marie like a pro, so I’ll let it slide.” Hange scooted a plate of pizza toward Erwin.

“No, thank you,” he said as he scooted it back.

“You can’t tell me you’re not hungry. I’ve seen you skipping meals,” Hange scolded.

“I can’t afford to contribute. I’ll eat some soup when I get home.” Erwin looked back down at his textbook, ignoring the glare from his best friend.

“I wasn’t asking you to contribute, I was asking you to eat. I don’t care about the 2 bucks for your portion of the pizza, Erwin. I care that you have budgeted yourself into a hunger strike. Eat the damn pizza.”

“Hange-“

“Eat the pizza, Erwin. I will not take no for an answer.” This time it was Moblit who was doing the scolding.

“Okay, but I’m keeping track. As soon as I can, I’m paying you back. I have an interview tomorrow at the fish market. They need help unloading the fish. It’s early morning before class starts so I can probably make it work.”

“Early morning? You have classes starting at 8 am. It would have to be pretty damn early,” Hange said with a frown.

“I would have to be there by 3:30. I would get off at 7, which gives me just enough time to get to campus.”

“But buses don’t run that early, Erwin. How are you going to get to work?” Moblit asked, concerned.

“I’ll have to walk. It’s only about a 45 minute walk. I’ll be able to catch the bus back to campus. I’ll shower at the gym before my first class. No big deal. But, I’ll have to get the job first.”

“Erwin, come on, there’s bound to be something better than flinging fish in the middle of the night.”

“Hange-“ Erwin was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He excused himself and went to the kitchen to take the call. When he returned, his face was pale and ashen.

“Erwin?”

“Hange, can you take me home? I need to pack a bag and look up some flights.”

“Of course. What’s wrong?”

“That was the nursing home. My dad...he’s gone.”

——

“Levi, you cannot skip out on these fundraisers. They are for the remodel and equipment for the Trauma Division. You know, your division,” Petra scolded into his ear. Levi sighed into the phone.

“As I am aware. Why can’t it be something simple? Fill out a form or some shit? What you have concocted is a series of highly social events. I loathe being social. In fact, I’m so incredibly terrible at being social that I would probably scare away more sponsors rather than winning them over.”

“If you would bring a date, you would have a social buffer. Just make sure you pick someone pretty, good with people and can carry a conversation. You will barely have to open your mouth. Your date would do all the hard work. You know…the dreaded small talk.”

“I would rather take a beating than engage in small talk,” Levi growled through clenched teeth.

“As I am aware,” Petra sighed. “However, you are still required to attend. So, get some suits dry cleaned, find a person who can actually tolerate your grumpy ass, and suck it up buttercup. The first event is in two weeks. Surely even you can find a date by then.”

“But Petra-“

“No arguing your way out of this, Levi. See you soon.” With that, the line disconnected, leaving Levi a little agitated. He always hated it when Petra got the last word, but he did have to admit that she was right. He needed to be at these fundraisers to represent the hospital, and they so desperately needed the money.

He was contemplating who he could tolerate enough to accompany him to these events when he heard a pounding on his neighbor’s door. He hadn’t seen the tall blonde since the roommate moved out about a month prior. He had assumed everything was okay, but now…

“Erwin! I know you’re home. Open the damn door.”

Levi left the relative quiet of his apartment to see Erwin’s friend, Hange trying to beat down the door. He opened his mouth to admonish them for the noise, but Hange turned to him with a desperate look.

“Please tell me you have a spare key. He won’t open the door. I’m worried about him.”

“I don’t.” Levi walked over. “Erwin? Open the door, please. Your friend is annoying me.” When he received no answer, he tried the doorknob, which turned with ease.

“Oh, I guess I couldn’t see the forest for the trees,” Hange murmured.

[nazariolahela]

Best Beloved: Chapter 4

A/N: Hey y'all! This is a PM AU I’ve been working on. It’s a bit different than my previous fic series and I’m really excited to try something new. I hope y’all enjoy it. This story is told in dual first-person narrative, from Kaia (F!MC) and Damien’s POV. The first half of this story takes place during Kaia’s freshman year and Damien’s senior year of college. The second half is two years after Kaia graduates. There will be sprinklings of canon in this fic, but we’ll try to step out of the box for the most part. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback, and/or if you would like to be tagged.

Catch up here

Series Tags: @burnsoslow​ @lady-calypso​ @irishwhiskys-blog​

Synopsis: What happens when you find yourself crushing on your best friend? For years, Damien and Kaia have been best friends, while secretly harboring feelings for one another. Everything changes one night after a little too much alcohol and years of pent up feelings. Can they control their emotions and salvage their friendship, or will the feelings they hold for one another destroy everything they have?

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: Damien struggles with the state of his relationship and Kaia meets Hayden.

Damien

I sat at my cubicle on a Thursday afternoon, putting the finishing touches on the report I needed to write up for my internship. I had landed a Securities and Intelligence Analysis Internship with a local security agency. My duties included collecting, processing, and analyzing, intelligence, and providing assistance to the senior analysts within the agency. If everything went well, they mentioned offering me the opportunity to join the agency full-time. To be honest, though, I had bigger dreams.

I was proofreading my report when my phone went off. I looked at the screen and saw Alana’s name flash across it. I sighed and dragged my hand down my face. She had been blowing up my phone all day with text messages. After the frat party last weekend, we got into an argument about how I “disappeared on her” after our makeout session in the bathroom. I didn’t intend to, but when she stormed off and I lost her in the crowd, I didn’t make much of an effort to go look for her.

I felt like our relationship was going in a different direction than I was hoping. You could blame it on our busy schedules, and her turning down my proposal left a sour taste in my mouth. But as much as I wanted to deny it, I felt like Kaia coming back into my life had a lot to do with it. Feelings I didn’t know I had crept up on me every time she was around. Her touch, the sound of her laugh, and the sweet smell of her shampoo stirred up all these emotions in me. I needed to get them in check before I did something I’d regret.

My phone buzzed again and I groaned and dropped my head to my desk. I should have called her back and smooth things over, but I had to get this report done before I left today. I picked up the phone, and stared at it for a moment, then clicked the lock button and slipped in in my pocket.

A moment later, the research analyst I was paired up with rounded the corner of the cube farm and called out as he approached me. “Nazario. Do you have that research portfolio on current conflicts and security threats?”

I reached into my desk drawer and pulled out the manila envelope, handing it to him. He took the files and peered over my shoulder at my laptop.

“Thanks, man. Looks good so far. When you’re done with this, can you compile the materials from the counterterrorism report?”

“Sure thing, Agent McDaniels. I’ll have that to you shortly.”

He nodded and clapped me on the shoulder before walking off. I signed off on my report and hit “send” then leaned back in my chair with a smile on my face. This internship was easier than I thought it would be.

My phone buzzed in my pocket again. I groaned and pulled it out to see another missed call from Alana. I locked my computer and got up from my desk then made my way into the break room. Tapping my phone against my palm, I took a deep breath and dialed her number. She answered on the first ring.

“What?” she snapped.

“Baby, come on-”

“Don’t ‘baby, come on’ me, Damien. I’ve been trying to reach you all day! I’m sick of you always bailing on me all the damn time. First, you ditch me to go meet with your advisor. Then, you disappear during the frat party last week. And yesterday you fucking bailed on our date to go visit your mom. I know you have shit going on, but so do I. And I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a little reliability from my boyfriend.”

I groaned. We had planned to spend the afternoon together after classes, but Mom called yesterday morning, asking if I was able to come home and help her with something. And like the good son I am, I emailed my professors that I’d be absent, hopped in my car, and made the hour drive home. Now, I had to face the consequences. As much as I hated to admit it, I’d been kind of a lousy boyfriend lately. I wasn’t doing it on purpose, but with everything going on this year, I had to prioritize.  “I know, Alana. I’m sorry.”

“Are you fucking someone else?” she accused.

“What?”

“You heard me. What about that freshman you’ve been hanging around the last few weeks?” she spit out, the venom in her voice leaking through the phone.

Was she serious? I never told her about me and Kaia, so I don’t know where she even got the idea from. Just because Kaia and I had history, didn’t mean that I wanted to sleep with her. Okay, maybe I did, but I sure as shit didn’t act like it around my girlfriend. I dragged my hand down my face, sighing deeply. “Who? Kaia? She’s an old friend from home. I don’t even like her like that.” Lie. “Why would you think that?”

“It would make sense. Look, I know our relationship isn’t perfect, but if you have feelings for someone else, the least you could do is let me know so I’m not wasting my time.”

I yanked the phone away from my ear and mouthed several curse words. After all that we had been through, she had the audacity to say that to me? I pressed the phone back to my ear.  “Excuse me? Did you forget that I fucking PROPOSED to you? And you have the nerve to say I’m wasting your time! What the fuck, Alana?” I growled.

She went quiet on the other end and I had to check to see if she had hung up on me. After several beats, she spoke up. “It’s just...fuck, Damien. I feel like you never want to be around me anymore. Especially since you started hanging around with that Kaia girl. Plus, we're both always so busy, it’s like our relationship got put on the backburner.”

“Alana. If I didn’t want to be with you anymore, I wouldn’t be with you. I get why you’re upset. I do, but you have to understand that I have a life outside of this relationship. This internship is important to me. And my mom’s been having a hard time since my dad passed. I’m sorry for bailing on you, but you can’t go around accusing me of cheating on you every time. This relationship is never going to work if you do.”

“Well, what do you expect me to think, Damien? This new girl pops up out of nowhere, and all of a sudden you’re spending all this time with her,” she huffed.

“We have one class together, Alana. That’s it. We don’t go out to eat or spend time together on the weekends. Other than the frat party, the only time I’ve hung out with her was during our study groups. I’ve had female friends for almost our entire relationship and you’ve never batted an eye over it. Why is this one any different just because I’ve known her since we were kids?”

She sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about this over the phone.”

“I’m at work right now, but I can come over later if you want me to,” I said, tugging at the knot of my tie.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Damien. I just need time to myself right now. I feel like you’ve been smothering me lately, and I can’t deal with this.”

Jesus, this woman was making my head spin. “I don’t understand. First, you say I’m neglecting you, and now you say I’m smothering you. Which is it?”

“It’s...it’s complicated, Damien. I just don’t know if this relationship is worth it anymore.”

“Babe, what are you saying? Are you saying you want to take a break from us?” My chest tightened as I struggled to say the words.

She paused for what felt like an eternity before answering. “I don’t know, Damien. I’ll call you in a few days,” she said, before hanging up the phone.

I stared at the screen, anger coursing through my veins. I fell back against the refrigerator, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes. My department supervisor entered the break room and saw me leaning against the fridge.

“Hey! Everything alright in here?” she asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, just dealing with some personal stuff. It’s taken care of though,” I replied. I slipped the phone in my pocket and made my way back to my desk. I sat down in my chair, powered up my laptop and opened my school email. I noticed two new emails: one from my advisor and another from Kaia. Jesus, talk about shit timing.

I sighed and opened the one from my professor. It was an outline of the things I needed to do to complete the first half of my internship. I skimmed through it, taking note of all the important parts, then replied that I would have it to her by midterms.

I closed out the email from my professor and hovered the mouse over the one from Kaia. I wasn’t sure if opening it was such a good idea, but a voice told me to do it anyway. I opened up the email and started reading.

Hey Dames!

Here are the notes from yesterday’s lecture. I highlighted everything Prof. Ross said would be on the test. Let me know if you need anything else. :)

- K.

P.S. Hope your mom is doing okay. Tell her hi for me next time you talk to her! 

Of course. I had texted her on the way to Mom’s asking her to take notes for me in class. Sure, I could have asked anyone else in that class, but let’s be real. I wasn’t going to. Any excuse to talk to her, I snatched it up like a dog with a bone. Her email was innocent enough, but just seeing her name pop up on the screen made my heart beat faster. I swallowed the lump in my throat and closed out the email. That must be why Alana was so upset. I sighed deeply and got to work on my next task. After about thirty minutes of struggling to stay focused, I powered down my laptop and walked over to my supervisor’s office.

“Hey! I have an assignment due tomorrow that I need to finish up. Do you mind if I take off?”

She looked up from her computer and nodded. “Sure thing. Just let me sign off on your timesheet and you can be on your way.” I handed her the sheet required for my internship credit hours and she initialed the document, then handed it back to me. “We’ll see you next week,” she replied, then went back to her computer.

I walked back to my desk, packed up my things and headed out. When I got to my car, I dumped my bag in the backseat, then climbed in the driver’s side. Pulling out my phone, I contemplated texting Alana. But after the conversation we had earlier, I decided to let her have her space. She would reach out to me when she was ready to talk. Until then, I had to be patient. Against my better judgment, I texted Kaia.

My breath caught in my throat. Yep, she was definitely flirting with me. Good lords, this girl was going to be the death of me. I’d been fighting feelings for her since my sophomore year of high school. It was easier back then because she was so young, but now that she was older, I was having a hard time keeping my emotions and my dick in check. If I didn’t get this sorted out soon, I was going to completely fuck up both of my relationships. I shook my head, put the car in drive, and headed back to the dorms.

***

Kaia

Sloane, Nadia and I sat in the library Monday afternoon, studying for our Comp class exam. Even though we were only a couple of weeks into the semester, our professor decided this morning that we needed to have a pop quiz on Wednesday and told us to be prepared.

“Ugh, this stuff is so confusing and not at all pertinent to my degree. What is an independent clause anyway?” Nadia whined, holding her phone in one hand.

Sloane leaned over and tapped Nadia’s note sheet. “It’s a clause that has a subject and a verb and can stand alone. Didn’t you learn this stuff in high school?”

“Psh probably. What does that even mean?”

I sighed. “It’s a complete sentence. You’d know that if you were actually reviewing your notes and not texting Steve.”

Nadia rolled her eyes and went back to her phone. “I wish we all had this class together so I could just cheat off your papers.”

Sloane snorted and I rolled my eyes, throwing a ball of wadded up paper at her. “Shut up and study.”

Nadia laughed and grabbed her highlighter, highlighting some sentences on her study guide. “Prepositional phrases are going to be the death of me.”

Ugh, this was so reminiscent of high school. I love my cousin, but she can be a bit flighty. “I’m going to be the death of you if you don’t study your notes, Miss Art Major. Just because this class isn’t,” I held up my index and middle fingers, making air quotes “pertinent to your degree, doesn’t mean you can slack off and not study. What’s going to happen when Steve gets drafted to the NFL and he dumps you for someone smart?”

“Steve would never do that. I’m too cute,” she gasped. Sloane chuckled and went back to her notes.

Ten minutes later, Nadia looked up from her study guide. “So, you guys going to Homecoming?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” I sighed, not looking up as I turned a page in my book.

“I don’t know, it might be kind of fun,” Sloane said, looking up from her study guide.

A grin spread across Nadia’s face. “I agree, Sloane. Plus, there’s so much to do! There’s the parade, the game, the dance. And Delta Sigma Phi is having another party!”

“They have parties every weekend.”

“Not like this,” Nadia retorted. “This one is supposed to be huge.”

I shook my head and went back to studying my notes. The idea of homecoming made me cringe. I only had bad memories of going. Most recently, my junior year. The game was a total blowout (the other team kicked our asses 55-0) and my boyfriend ditched me at the dance for the Homecoming Queen. I didn’t even bother going my senior year because I knew it was going to be a suckfest.

An hour and several chapters into our composition textbooks, Nadia groaned and smacked her head on the table. “I’m hungry, you guys. I say we take a break. My brain hurts.”

I pressed my forefingers to my temple and sighed. Sloane dropped her pencil on the table and removed her glasses, rubbing her eyes. “For once, I agree with Nadia. We could use a coffee break. I’m kind of going cross-eyed over here from reading and re-reading these notes.”

“Fine. I’ll go grab coffee. Who wants what?”

“Ooh. Get me a Strawberry Passion Fruit Boba Tea, please!” Nadia said. “And a banana muffin.”

“I’ll take the caramel almond latte,” Sloane replied.  I nodded and grabbed my purse, making my way to the campus coffee shop. Whoever designed this college to put a coffee shop in the library is a motherloving genius. When I arrived, there was only one person in line in front of me. I perused the menu, trying to decide which caffeinated beverage would give me the boost I needed to power through the last leg of our study session.

When it was my turn, I approached the counter and put in Sloane and Nadia’s orders. The barista asked me if that would be all, and I replied there would be one more drink, but that I was still deciding.

“You should try the Cinnamon Roll mocha. It’s indescribable,” a deep voice behind me suggested. I whipped around and came face-to-face with a tall man with warm brown eyes and jet black hair. His soft pink lips were curled into a friendly smile. It was crazy how suspiciously attractive he was. Was every guy at this school an undercover model or something? He looked familiar and I studied his face, trying to figure out where I knew him from.

“How do you know I’ll like it?” I asked him.

“You seem like the type of girl that likes sweet things,” he winked.

I blushed then turned back to the barista. “I’ll take that.” She nodded and got to work making my drinks. I turned back to the mysterious stranger. “If I don’t like this drink, you have to buy me a new one.”

“That won’t be necessary, because you’ll like it,” he laughed.

I moved over to wait for my drinks as he ordered his. I smirked when I heard him also order the Cinnamon Roll mocha. Okay, guy. I see what you’re up to. As we waited for our drinks, he moved over and grabbed a stirring straw, sticking one end in his mouth. My eyes were automatically drawn to the movement as his tongue swirled around the tip of the straw. He noticed me watching and winked. 

I cleared my throat. “So...um. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look really familiar.”

“I should. We’re in the same College Algebra class.”

I paused, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

“Yeah, you sit in the second row. Let’s just say, I may have checked you out once or twice. No big deal. And since I helped you out with your drink order, you can help me out by telling me your name.”  

I laughed. “It’s Kaia. I knew you looked familiar. And thanks for the suggestion, I guess. We’ll see how you did here in a minute.” He extended his hand and I took it, feeling his warm hand squeeze mine.

“Hi, Kaia. I’m Hayden. And trust me on this. You’re going to be so blown away by this drink, you’ll offer up your firstborn for another one.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed a stack of napkins as the barista called my name and slid the tray with my drinks across the counter. I moved to collect them along with Nadia’s muffin. Hayden watched me intently as I picked up the cup marked “CR” and took a tentative sip. When the coffee hit my tongue, my tastebuds were transformed to a new world. He must have seen it by the look on my face because a huge grin spread across his.

“What did I tell you? You love it, don’t you?”

“Okay, okay. You were right on that one. Any more life-changing advice you want to give me?”

“You got something… right…” He reached over and wiped a dribble of the coffee from my chin with his thumb, then brought it to his mouth, sucking the liquid off. My breath caught in my throat at the contact. I quickly composed myself and grabbed my items. As I juggled the drink tray with shaking hands, Hayden swooped in and took it from me.

“Need a little help with that?” he asked.

“Thanks. We’re just sitting over here,” I replied, guiding him over to where Sloane and Nadia were chatting. Nadia’s eyes lit up when she saw us approaching.

“Ooh! Coffee and eye candy,” she squealed, leaping from her seat to take the tray from his hand. “Who is this tall drink of water, Kaia?”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” I eyed her incredulously.

She sat down and handed Slone her drink before taking a sip of her own. “Hey! You can look at the menu as long as you don’t order anything from it. I’m Nadia. And you are?”

I shot her a glare. “Nadia, this is Hayden. He's in my algebra class. Hayden, this is my cousin Nadia and my friend Sloane.” He leaned over the table and shook each of their hands.

“You’re in my American Government class. Do you want to sit with us?” Sloane asked, taking a sip from her coffee.

Hayden looked around the library, like he was waiting for someone, then back to me. “Oh, I don’t want to impose. Looks like you ladies have your own study group going on.”

“Nonsense. Come, have a seat next to my extremely beautiful and extremely single cousin,” Nadia insisted, motioning for Hayden to take the chair next to mine.

“Nadia!” I snapped.

He grinned and sat down, raking his eyes over my body. I blushed as I took the seat next to him. He tugged his backpack from his shoulders and dug around, pulling out a spiral notebook. He then leaned over to see what we were studying. “Well, I don’t have Comp homework, but I guess I can work on my algebra homework.”

I glanced at his notebook and nodded. “I can help you with that when we’re done here.”

He smiled, sending the butterflies in my stomach into overdrive. He had a nice smile. Sloane looked up from her notes and addressed Hayden. “So, what are you majoring in?”

He paused and took a sip of his coffee, eyeing the three of us, then swallowed. “I’m actually majoring in photography.”

“Wow! A fellow art major! How exciting,” Nadia said, extending her hand for a high-five. Hayden laughed and slapped his palm against hers.

“Photography, huh? That sounds exciting! How’d you get into that field?” I asked.

“I joined Yearbook my sophomore year of high school and took pictures for the club, and I just kind of fell in love with it. I started taking pictures for fun and ended placing second in my state’s high school photography competition.”

I placed my elbows on the table and rested my chin in my hands. Listening to him talk about his love for photography made me smile. I wish I was half as passionate about anything as he was about photography.

The four of us settled into a comfortable conversation, neglecting our studying. We talked about our favorite (and not so favorite) professors, which classes we were looking forward to taking the next four years, and which spot in the student union was best for people-watching. We learned that Nadia and Hayden also shared two classes and the same advisor. Another hour had passed when my stomach growled and I looked at my phone to see the time was 5:30 p.m.

“Holy shit, it’s dinner time. You guys wanna go grab a bite?”

“I can’t. Steve gets done with football practice soon, so we’re going out after,” Nadia said.

“I’d love to, but I have a ton of homework I need to get done for my Spanish comp class. Maybe another time.” Sloane said.

I debated texting Damien to ask if he was free, but he sounded really weird when I spoke to him a few days ago, so I let it go. I shrugged and started gathering up my books. Nadia left first, with Sloane taking off shortly after, leaving Hayden and me by ourselves. He shoved the last of his things in his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, then followed me out of the library. We walked through the courtyard toward the dorms, surveying the sun as it slowly set behind the horizon. He stopped walking then turned to me.

“I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward, but would you want to go get a bite to eat sometime?”

I stared down at my shoes, kicking a stray pebble on the pavement. He seemed nice enough. But why was I so hesitant to say yes? I shifted on my feet and looked up at him. “Oh...um...I don’t know.”

He frowned. “Hey, no big deal. I get it. Just thought I’d shoot my shot.”

“No. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I’m not ready to date yet. I guess I’m still adjusting to the new school year. But if you’re ever up for another study group, let me know.”

He smiled, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Do you want me to walk you to your dorm?”

“Nah. I think I’m okay. I’ll see you in class.”

“You too,” he replied and winked as he made his way to the dorms. I watched him walk away as I stood in the middle of the courtyard. What was wrong with me? This extremely good-looking and nice guy just asked me out, and I shot him down. It’s not like I already had a boyfriend, so why was I acting like a scared little bitch? I briefly considered chasing him down and saying, ‘lol j/k let’s go out sometime,’ but something held me in place. I just couldn’t figure out what it was.