#just wait until you go to check what tabs i have open in class with your weird omnicient spy computer program 1984 ass shit

[pisshandkerchief]

are you about to copypaste the entirety of the first book of my chemical romance fanfiction unholyverse by critically acclaimed author bexless into your email so you can read it on your school chromebook or are you normal 

[lawva-girl]

Historically.. We don't mix. pt. 2

Law x fem!Reader, College AU

Pt. 1

Notes: Sorry i took forever, i kinda forgot i even posted this... HERES PT 2!!! let me know about any ponderances or possibly any errors... i dont have a beta reader or anything.. ALSO i could not come up with a nickname for reader..... so in the chat rooms i put "Y:" for "You". PLEASE tell me suggestions i will go back and fix it :D

WC: 2526

Back at the dorm that Law and Bepo shared, there was no chatter. Law was simply laying in bed with his laptop open to 5 tabs, one for each of the classes he was taking. He was taking all history classes this semester, since his counselor told him to. He would definitely miss the bio information but he did like history. Scrolling through each class, he breezed through all of the syllabus quizzes. Once he felt satisfied, it was onto checking his email, with one catching his attention. 

“DIRE!! MAKE AN APPOINTMENT OR TEXT ME ITS EMERGENT!” The email title felt like a scam but he knew it was not, in fact it was a daily burden. The man who had sent it, his counselor and adoptive father, always communicated like this. After opening the email, he found himself irritated again, Cora had only wanted to remind him that classes start today. 

“How would I not know?” Law muttered to himself. Reading through the email, then deciding he had been too neglectful of the man Law opened up their chat.

L: I know it was the first day, I got to my first two classes on time.  C: Good!!! I miss you! <3  C: Any new friends?!  C: Do you like your professors?? I hand picked them :D  L: Hand picked? You are making me socialize on purpose.  C: Not true! Nico Robin is the smartest! She already had her masters by the time most have an associates!  L: The classes are fine. Bepo made a friend, her name is Perona. C: Oh! Mihawk’s kid! Good to know she’s here! Is his step-daughter here too? Maybe y/n?  L: Yes.  C: Oh! I heard she’s similar to you! Maybe you two can be friends or something?  L: How long did you have to think to come up with this plan of yours?  C: No idea what you are talking about…. L: Cora.  C: … C: Anyways, have you gotten all the textbooks you need?  C: I want to make sure you find them all!  C: It's my job, you know.  L: I still have two more classes to go to tomorrow, but i’ll be fine.  L: Thanks.  C: Anything for you! We should meet for lunch soon! I can make you salmon rice balls! Like when you were still a baby… remember? You loved my cooking! L: I did not. You should not be in a kitchen alone, Ill meet you on friday at 11.  L: Don’t start until i'm there. Please.  C: Okay !!!!! C: I'll see you then law! C: Cant wait ! C: Sleep tight <3<3<3 

Law closed his laptop, relaxing his shoulders. He glanced over and Bepo was already asleep. He kicked off his blanket and got up to go to the bathroom. After he finished his business, washing his hands like any good bio major, he strolled to the microwave area. He had only wanted water but he saw the picture of him holding a letter, standing next to Cora. Staring at it, he wondered why the giant had wanted him to socialize so much. It’s not like he never sees human faces, or stays inside all day everyday. He just liked being alone when he could, no one to ask him stupid questions. 

After finishing his water, Law went back to bed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two went through the rest of the week, meeting each other an embarrassing amount of times. Neither one had any reason to talk to the other, so they didn’t. Until Wednesday rolled around, and they were back in Nico Robin’s class. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Someone has it out for me. I know it for sure” You wrote in your journal, along with the date and class name. Looking at Law, like you had these past two days, made you realize it more. 

“I have pissed off whatever god actually exists and they want me to repent. There is no way that all four of my classes are naturally shared with Trafalgar.” You finish scribbling away in your journal, just in time. 

“Okay, pass forward the paper I handed out to you. This was just a fun assignment to see what areas we, as a class, are most interested in.” She spoke smoothly, with an even tone. It was almost like she didn’t care, or like she had done this 20 times. 

You heard some of your classmates groan and while you agreed, you thought it was inappropriate to voice that. Tapping a pen on the paper of your journal idly, you waited for more instructions. Even though your classmates weren't raised well, your father had done a fine job with you. You were nice, respectful, studious. Sure you are shy but it's not like it mattered. 

Why speak to people and risk being embarrassed if they don’t want to talk to you? 

“Okay, as I said before this class is based in groups and communication. Please tell one person about what you studied for this assignment.” Robin had said before sitting at her desk with a book in hand. 

Suddenly everyone was talking but you and one other person. 

“My assignment is on the Five years war. I chose it because of a coin flip, I found the sources in the library database.” Already you were irritated. Another interaction with the man who had no manners. 

“Hello. That is how you start a conversation, who raised you? Anyways, my assignment is on the First Crusade. I chose it because it was the first war I thought of-” “Really? The first? Liar.” He interrupted you, of course a man like him would. 

You squinted at him, before responding with “Not lying, I was watching a documentary on the pope a day before class, which made me think of all the holy wars. It's not polite to interrupt people.” 

“Okay. I think we have discussed enough.” “Fine.” You scoffed at him mentally, before turning back to face the front of the room. 

“Okay now, I want someone to tell me about their partner's work! This is worth participation, as a friendly reminder.” She smiled eerily 

You did not raise your hand, in fact you looked away. If you were called on you would end up having to lie, since stupid Trafalgar didn’t tell you anything about his assignment. 

“Okay, randomly generated, we will have Mr. Trafalgar, Mr. Reyes, and Ms. Churchill. In that order please.” “My partner researched the First Crusade, she told me that she learned about the context of the war. Specifically Pope Urban the second’s motivations for launching the crusade, who was mainly following the lead of the Byzantine emperor. She also learned about the cost of the war, not only economically but also what it did for the Pope’s approval rating.” Incredible. He pulled all that from his ass? Wasn’t he a double major? How long ago did he even learn that? How was he able to say it so confidently? He is actually smart?! Hold on, he could’ve seen the same documentary you did and just so happened to remember important stuff. But even then, he didn’t even hesitate, he was so confident, even with a professor like Nico Robin. 

“Very good, point earned. Mr. Reyes?”

As he relaxed into his chair, you couldn’t help but stare. His hair was sticking out, a bit unruly from his beanie. It was white with weird black spots on it, maybe a statement about faux animal fur? Could he be vegetarian or something? Maybe he likes to hunt? His sideburns went right into his weird facial hair, “should be shaved” was scribbled into your journal, along with “spots?” and of course “T is smart?”. You saw his black hair under his beanie and thought of your father, who would never slouch like the man in front of you was. 

“Okay good to hear. This wraps up our class for today, I’ll see you all on monday.” 

You started gathering your things, excited to go back to Perona. She promised she would have your favorite food ready for you as soon as your class ended. It was a little weird, but you two always were close. 

“Are you always the last to leave?” The sudden voice pulled you from your thoughts, and made you drop your pencil case. No pencils escaped but the case clunked right under whoever had just shocked you. Law, with no expression on his face, immediately thought of his giant  adoptive father; who was extremely clumsy.  

“No. Are you stalking me? I feel like the campus police or a trusted adult should know about this.” You looked up at him, not reaching for your case at all. 

“I’m not, somehow, we have the exact same class schedule. With the exception of my online class.” “That's crazy buddy… Will you grab my case?”

“You can’t get it yourself?” He scoffed and folded his arms. 

“I think the reason why I dropped it should be the one to get it for me, no?” You thought he looked childish, folding his arms like he just got told to go to his room. 

“Fine.” He reached down, grabbing the case and placing it on your desk, “even though you were closer to the floor… I'm sorry.” He looked away as he said it. Once again you thought he was childish. 

You found yourself staring again. This time you noticed his hands, the word ‘death’ tattooed on his fingers, and the heart on the back of his hand. Shocked to say the least.

“Holy shit.” Huh? You said that outloud? Maybe you weren’t nice. 

You looked up to see Law’s face, somewhere between shock and disgust.

“Oh uh.. I meant, holy shit your tattoos are cool. They look like they hurt.” Maybe you saved it, you really did mean it in admiration. 

“It was painful, but worth it. Bearable at times.” He looked at his hand and held it up between the two of you. Shocked that he held it up for display, you raised your eyebrows. Staring at the tattoo, you were about to reach out and hold his hand closer so you could get a better look at the line work. Then your thoughts were interrupted.

“I know we aren’t on the best terms, but you heard the professor. I think it would be a good idea to bite the bullet and partner up.” He said it so matter-of-factly you almost agreed without realizing you were lost. 

“Huh? Partner?” you blinked up at him. “Of course you weren’t paying attention. The collaborative presentation that you and another student must present on the 18th?” He sounded annoyed, but his face wasn’t telling. 

“Yes! Sorry I got lost in my thoughts, we might as well partner up. I don’t have anyone else in mind, so I can stick with you.” You finished packing, finally, and stood up. Swinging your bag onto your back, you held out your hand towards him. 

“Okay… What is that for?” He nodded down to your hand. 

“Give me your phone. I’ll put my email in. We can make a google slide and share it that way.” 

He paused, with a semi frown on his face then gave up. He put his phone in your hand, and watched intently as you typed in something. Then you returned his phone, much to his delight. 

“Bye then. Just do 5 slides on the First Crusade or whatever other war the pope has started.” He put both of his hands in his pocket as he casually strolled out, leaving you to the room. 

“Hey! We should at least pretend you won't be a dick this whole time! Don’t boss me around!” You realized that you had said that just a bit too loud for the circumstances. Maybe you weren’t nice. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y: Okay! I just left class, do you have my salmon nigiri?  Y: You won't believe how good I was today. P: WHST  P: who are you?  P: The y/n i know would never ever say that.  P: Yes i do have it ready :) Y: I had to partner up with Him :/  Y: The strength  Y: Also he has finger tattoos?  Y: What the fuck.  P: You didn’t see them before?  Y: Sir traffy has been through it P: I wonder if hes like some ex-gang member? P: That is such a gang member thing to get tattooed P: Why aren’t you responding?  P: Helllllooooooo  P: y/n P: y/n P: ….

“Rona! You are literally crazy. I was walking over here, that's why I wasn’t responding.” You closed the door behind you, making sure to lock it. 

“Anyways! I’ve never seen you have such a strong reaction! To a guy no less, did he like to recite everything in the declaration of independence?” Perona called out to you while you entered and took off your shoes.

You walked over to the kitchen, where she wasdoing some dishes. Tossing your bag on the couch, then taking a seat at the bar that was connected to the kitchen. “If he did that I would’ve proposed on the spot… He just is kinda smart? It’s freaky! One second he’s brushing me off and not wanting to talk to me at all, the next he's explaining the cause of the First Crusade? Well… Kinda.” Perona turned with two plates in hand, and took a seat next to you. She placed the plate of sushi in front of you, “Well honestly i'm not surprised… Bepo says he is always studying.” 

“You talk about him with Bepo? Perona…” you made a disappointed face at her as you pulled your plate closer to you. “Noooo it’s all kosher! Bepo just offers up info about everyone he knows. I think he just doesn’t have a filter or whatever.”

“Yeah…” you took a piece of nigiri and dipped it, then ate it. As you chewed and swallowed you thought of your dad, “Do you think your dad would come visit us here?” 

“Hmmm only if your dad forced him to. I can picture it now ‘don’t you miss our girls?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Then lets go! You pay and ill bring the beer!’ ‘beer isn’t allowed on a plane shanks’ or something like that…” Perona tried her best but didn’t really get the overall attitude of your dads. You decided not to comment and just take another bite. 

“Do I get to know why you asked?” Perona said, food in her mouth.

“Traffy, as you call him, has hair as dark as Mihawk’s. It made me think of him today…”

“Sigmund Frued would have a lot to say to you right now.” “No he wouldn't, he’s dead.” 

“Not for long…” “What the fuck?” You both burst out in laughter at the same time, something you had only ever done with your sister. 

After dinner it was off to bed, except you weren’t actually sleeping. Your laptop was open on your lap, on the google slides page. The document was created, named, and shared to Traffy. It wasn’t the most well-mannered thing, but you decided that nicknames meant you’re friends. Your sister desperately wanted you to have friends, and this would make her think you had them. You didn’t like the deception, if you could call it that, but it's not like you were gonna go out and get real friends. 

You started typing away, filling out 3 slides with information and pictures before deciding to get actual sleep. 

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

How to get Ink on Tapas

A guide for my fellow S-Class Heroine brainrotters 🫡 but which also applies for other series.

❗❗Permanently unlock chapters/episodes for (hopefully mostly) free❗❗

---

Fortune Cookie Ink

The Ink you get this way lasts ONE WEEK.

First, you'll want to get very familiar with the Inbox button which you can access on the bottom panel ①

Next, click the "Claim" (or "Get", idk) button near the top for the Fortune Cookie. This refreshes every Monday 00:00 PT.

---

Reading Missions

The Ink you get this way lasts ONE DAY.

You'll want to open the messages tab ① once a day, optimally at around 11AM PT (there's probably a range of timings, but I haven't bothered to figure it out)

② Click one of the events that are still ongoing. This should bring you to either the promo page or the series page itself.

③ Check the details of the reading mission.

In this case, I need to read 7 episodes within 1.5 days.

Chaps that are unlocked via WUF (Wait Until Free) are counted as well. (Orange WUFs refresh once every 24hrs and the blue ones once every 3hrs.) So my plan is to open the first 5 chapters, which are automatically free, and use WUF for 2 more chapters.

(BTW, you don't actually have to spend time reading the whole chapter or even scrolling to the end. Just let the chapter load and you're free to leave. Just make sure the chapters are greyed out in the series page like Chapter 6 here. Chapter 6 has been considered Read. Chapster 1-5 have not.)

Because this is an orange WUF series, I can only unlock one WUF episode once every 24hrs. So if you start the mission after 05/04/2024 00:00 you're screwed basically. This is why I tend to open my app around the time when the missions refresh (11:00 PT) so I have more leeway to unlock the 2nd WUF episode.

You do need to get a little used to the terminology Tapas uses. There are some reading missions which you can't fulfil without spending Ink. Here's an example:

Only 24hrs are given to unlock 2 episodes of <The Resourceful Little Consort>, and this series is a 24hr WUF series.

Also note the fine text:

Episodes unlocked prior to the start of the event are ineligible

UNLOCK (not Read) episodes -> this means that reading any of the first few episodes that are permanently free do not count, unlike for the first example, <I've Been Proposed to By a Villain>

So this reading mission is a bust, basically.

---

Checking Ink Expiry

① Click More ② Click Ink Shop

③ Click the (?) at the top right

④ Click transaction history

The page should look like this.

I haven't actually figured out what time exactly the ink will expire. I think it's 24hrs from when you were first awarded it and not 00:00 hours/midnight.

Also, Tapas likes to say you need to check your Inbox to "claim" the Ink, but you. you don't. It's credited to your account instantly. I think the countdown starts from the instant you open the last chapter needed to finish the mission.

---

That's all the tips I have, I think. Go forth my lieges !!

If you're coming here for some series other than the Perks of Being an S-Class Heroine, please do me a solid and check that out too, thanks. We have a very humorous girlboss female lead and an extremely wet sad and soggy perpetual regression male lead who's also really strong and has so much agency in the story and who is full of so many interesting contradictions and-- Wait actually let me just plug my propaganda post here.

Remember to turn on 1-Tap to get that 10% off when unlocking episodes. And then turn it back off so you don't accidentally spend Ink you don't intend to. (Although this is only an issue if you've bought Ink that you're trying to save. If you're perpetually running on only free Ink then you probably won't accumulate enough Ink for this tip to be useful.)

[samcscreams]

Chads homework Crisis

It’s about 7:30 on a Thursday. Sams just getting home from work to an empty apartment. Tara and Mindy have their film studies class tonight which goes until about 9:30. Sam isn’t too keen on a night class but it was the only film class with two vacancies. As Sam was getting out of her work clothes and into something more comfortable she’s startled by panicked knocking at the front door. “Sam, Sam, Sam. Oh please be home” she heard Chad say from the other side. Her heart dropped why would Chad be freaking out at their door. Her mind immediately goes to worst case scenarios involving Tara. She opens the door quick as if she’s now in a panic. “What. What happened. Is someone hurt?” She said wide eyed looking at Chad as he hurries inside. He turns to look back at her confused he says “what no. I need your help. I know I normally go to Tara or Mindy with this but they have class and you’re the only other person I trust.” He said sheepishly. Sam sensed his embarrassment. “Hey it’s okay what can I help with?” She asked calming down. “Well I have this paper due. And I pretty much have it done but well you’re the only one who’s available and actually knows I’m dyslexic so I was wondering if you could help me finish it.” He said with a dopey grin. Sam thought to herself for a moment. I mean ya she’s helped him before but it was with minor stuff. she would spell a word for him or read something to see if it makes sense. Shes never actually sat down with him to fix his papers. Tara and Mindy were always around to do so. I mean she only has a high school diploma what if she can’t help him enough to pass. An expression of worry crossed her face. “Hey if it’s too much of an ask I can just try it myself. Don’t worry about me” Chad said as he headed for the door. Sam grabbed his arm before he could even take a step. “Oh no we’re doing this. And we are gonna get you that A” she said as all her doubt turned to determination. “Fuck ya” he said. They both sat at the dining room table. Notes and paper covering every inch of the table. Lap top open with a million tabs and it’s already on a charger. 9:45 hits and Tara comes back from class. “Sam I’m home” she says as she walks through the door and stumbles upon Sam and Chad super focused on a lap top screen. “Um hello?” Tara says again as she didn’t get a response the first time. “Oh sorry hi. wait what time is it? I didn’t make dinner yet. How was class?” Sam said in a fluster looking around for her phone. “No worries I ate before class. What are you two doing?” Tara asked extremely confused. “Paper” Chad said as he finally broke concentration from the laptop. “Ahh I see I’ll let you get back to it then” Tara said as she walked to her room. Chad looked to Sam who was already back at it. “Maybe we should ask her for—“ Sam cut him off before he could finish “No we got this” Sam said as she gave Chad a look that sent chills through his spine. They spent hours checking sources and proper MLA formats. Reading the paper back and forth to each other to make sure it made sense. Around 3am though blood shot eyes and shaky hands Chad looked to Sam. “I think this might be the best paper ever written” he said. “It fucking better be.” Sam added before putting her head down on the table and passing out. Chad walked to the couch and crashed.

In the morning Tara walked back out into the living room to see Sam still alseep at the table and Chad sprawled out on the couch. Knowing both of there schedules she grabbed a pot lid and wooden spoon. She bangs them together “Wakey wakey we got places to go and people to see” both Sam and Chad jump to there feet “What the fuck Tara” said Chad as he try’s to rub the sleep from his eyes. Sam glares at Tara but doesn’t say anything as she technically wasn’t in the wrong. However as Sam realizes the time she looks to Chad. “Chad your paper. your class is at 10” she exclaimed. The clock read 9:45. Chad scrambles to check his phone which had died in the night. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He said as he ran around the apartment collecting all his things. Sam helped as best she could. And before anyone could saying anything else he was gone. “Thanks for the wake up call. Even though…” Sam said gesturing to the pot and spoon still in Tara’s hand. “You’re welcome” Tara said with a shit eating grin.

About a week and a half pass. Mindy, Anika, Tara and Sam are at the apartment watching a movie. When Chad busts through the front door. “SAM, SAM, SAM!” He says trying to catch his breath. He looks as if he ran all the way there. “Whoa there big guy” Anika says as she goes to pause the movie. Sam gets up and walks towards Chad who is now on the floor digging through his back pack. As she gets closer he hold a paper in his hands as if he was presenting her with an Award. She grabbed the paper from his hands and she scanned it over. In big bold red pen read A+ 100%. “You got an A!” She beamed at him. “Oh no no no. WE got an A” he said as he went in for a hug but then hesitated knowing Sam isn’t too big on physical touch from anyone, but Tara. Sam however was to happy to care she met Chad half way for the biggest celebratory hug in the world. Just then Mindy walks over and snatched the A+ paper from Sam’s hand. “My brother got an 100% on a paper? In college? Oh my god it must be the end of the world” she said being extremely over dramatic. Chad snatched the paper back “ya with no thanks to you” he said giving her a little shove. “I have the perfect spot for that.” Sam said as she grabbed the paper and headed towards the kitchen. “Ta Da” she sings as she backs away from the fridge with Chads paper hanging proudly as a parent would hang their child’s drawings. “Aww that’s so cute” Tara added “Wow what an honor.” Said Chad as he walked closer to the fridge. “ I just want to thank my mom and dad for giving me this opportunity. And most importantly Sam for sticking it out through the night.” he says as if he’s giving an award acceptance speech. “Well it looks as though you don’t need us anymore” Tara said “Yep I don’t need either of you anymore. I got Sam for every assignment now” Chad said happily as he puts his arm around her. Sams eyes widen realizing what she’s gotten herself into. “Haha have fun with that” Tara teases as she and Mindy walk back to the living room. Chad looks confused and turns to Sam. “What” he says looking at Sam. She sighs taking pity on him “Nothing buddy come on” she says as she walks Chad to the couch to finish the movie.

Disclaimer* I am also actually dyslexic. So if anything is spelled wrong or if I have poor grammar, Cut me some slack plz. But anyway hope you enjoyed this!

[quinnharperwrites]

Isles of Blirrosia: Chapter 4

Note: Ehehe. AP classes are starting to AP (ifykyk). I don't really have much of an excuse other than writers block. Here's the part of Chapter 4 I'm happy with though. IDK if the rest of it will be done next Sunday, or the Sunday after :/.

Taglist: @anonymousfoz, @kaiarchives, @awleeofficial, @immortaladrien

Let me know if you would like to be added!

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

Saffron could faintly hear the rustling leaves from the trees outside. How peaceful. The wind didn’t usually start blowing on this side until the evening. 

She snuggled her head into her pillow. If only she could stay like this forever, or even for just one day. In the background, she could hear the familiar sounds of screeching tires and the city hustle-bustle. She cracked one eye open to look at the window. The sky was getting darker, but she could still see the light of the sun. It should be set in a few hours.

Wait…what?!

She jolted up from her bed and immediately leaned over to her bedside table for her phone, only to discover its absence.

“Oh, no. Where is it, where is it?”

After groggily groping around the bed and floor for an embarrassing amount of time, she found it under her bed (she didn’t even want to think about how it got there) and checked the time.

5:54. 5:54? Already?!

A wave of guilt washed Saffron over from head to toe. There was no point in showing up to the lecture now. She had missed her emotional control class. She always did her best to make that class because she felt bad for Professor Harley; no one showed up to his class on Mondays because most of them had a conflicting class specific to their aptitude—the rest usually didn’t show up. Aura manipulation is a pretty rare aptitude, so there wasn’t a teacher to instruct her. Her parents managed to find a private tutor a couple of years back who had an aptitude that enhanced his knowledge, so he was able to help her. She sees him about once or twice a week now, as opposed to every day like she did while growing up.

This day was like a roller coaster, but at least Saffron could see that the end was soon.

Saffron clambered back onto her bed and opened the news app. She didn’t want to go to the library and work on the project, but at least she could do this to pass the time. She clicked the ‘Hero Society’ tab, and after scrolling through a few headlines, she was starting to wish that she hadn’t.

Sensation Defeats an Amateur Villain at the Rosia Central City Bank! 

Ace of Spades Releases his Custom Deck of Cards!

Water Jelly Surprises a Third-Grade Class on a Field Trip!

Saffron Solis Nearly DESTROYS a Mango Nectar Billboard! 

Ginger Solis Spotted With Flowers! Has she Finally Rebounded from her Break-up?

Saffron checked the last two authors, and she wasn’t surprised by the names. Amelia Roberts of the Morning Star Chronicles and Larry McCarten of the Rosia Daily Express. Two rival reporters from two of the most successful news companies in all of Blirrosia.

Ms. Roberts was known for her extreme curiosity, but the way she satisfied it was pretty nosy. She seemed to have it out for Saffron, and everyone involved knew why. 

When Saffron was in middle school, she caught Amelia staking out in a car outside the school like a weirdo, probably to get some pictures, judging by the size of her camera. Don’t ask her why, but Saffron decided it would be a good idea to listen to Lai when she said to mimic the auras of a handful of her classmates and creepily surround Ms. Roberts’ car. She had been looking down at something on her phone, but Saffron knew the moment she saw the auras from her scream. After that, the prank went horribly. Ms. Roberts had jumped up and hit her head on the roof of her car before passing out. At first, Saffron was worried that it was from the impact, but she later found out it was from the shock. Saffron’s parents had to reimburse her and were surprisingly able to convince her not to sue; Saffron had been suspended for a week for using her powers without permission. 

After the altercation, Saffron’s name was perpetually on the news. First, it was about the incident. But after Ms. Roberts returned to her job, she would watch like a hawk for any time Saffron screwed up, then blow it out of proportion. Saffron had no clue how she still had her job, but by now, she’s learned to deal with it.

Larry McCarten on the other hand? He was a real piece of work. Despite the denials, he was a prominent member of the Anti-Hero Movement. Saffron thought that it couldn’t get much worse than Amelia Roberts, but for the past two or three years, Mr. McCarten proved her wrong. If Ms. Roberts was nosy, Larry McCarten was downright invasive. He was close to crossing the line to stalker behavior. He was constantly writing about scandals—most of them untrue. But Saffron hated him for personal reasons.

She was about to skim through the article written about her when she received a call. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw her best friend's caller ID pop up on her screen.

“Hey! How was your class?”

“I didn’t go.”

“Wha–? But you never miss class. We need to attend as many as we can so we can be the best! What happened?”

She let out a shaky breath. “Lai, you won’t even believe what happened today.”

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

[poisonouswritings]

Rant below:

(TLDR; One of my classes had a two part final exam, I did both parts and triple-checked they were submitted, I log on yesterday and it says one half wasn't even started and says I'm un-enrolled from the class. Today (20th) is the day the teacher is inputting final grades. I've emailed the teacher and am waiting for a response and am going to throw myself down a set of stairs.)

I am soooo fucking exhausted. I had this class, right? And I joined late. Within the allotted time (three weeks from the start of the semester) but late. And because I joined late, there were three assignments that I had missed. I did them and submitted them within the first week of being in the class. Emailed the teacher and she said she would add them in. Because of the way the categories were weighted, one singular 1.0 point assignment made up 30% of my total grade (because it was the only assignment in that category). And she just never fucking added it in. I emailed her at least five times about it. Nothing. She still hasn't added it in and we're technically done with the class now. That means that even though I was getting ≈90% on every single thing I was submitting, I was barely at a C because of that one category. And then she finally added something else to that category that was worth way more points, and my grade finally went from like a 72% to a 94% and it was like. Okay. Fine. You still didn't add the original three assignments that I repeatedly emailed you about, but fine. Whatever. I'll drop it.

Our final was online. Opened on Wednesday the 14th, closed Monday the 19th at 10PM. There were two parts. I finished them both on Wednesday at around 6 and 7 PM respectively. I triple-checked they were both submitted. I went to the completed assessments tab (this was in a separate site that we used specifically for tests, not the main grade site) and they both showed up but said the grades were unavailable until Monday the 19th after 10PM. Okay. Fine. I checked again on Friday the 16th and Sunday the 18th, thinking that maybe if everyone finished early the grades would release sooner. Didn't happen. Both assignments showed up as completed, but I couldn't see the grades. That's fine.

Yesterday (the 19th), I had a final in the morning/afternoon. My last final, specifically. And then I went to the airport to pick my sister up because she's coming to visit for Christmas. I get home at around 11:30 PM. I decide I'm gonna go check on my final grade because I'm curious as to what I got. I log onto the testing site and it says one half of the test wasn't even started.

Um. What the fuck.

I immediately try to go to the completed assessments tab where it fucking said I had finished them both on Wednesday, and I get a 'You Are No Longer Enrolled In This Course' message (meaning the course has been closed for access).

Um. What the fuck.

I try to go back onto my dashboard to where it says the test wasn't even started. I get the same not-enrolled message.

Um. What the fuck.

So at this point it's 11:49 PM and I'm emailing my teacher and on the verge of a panic attack because I have put soooo much fucking work into this stupid fucking class all semester. I did that fucking exam. But guess what? If this situation doesn't get fixed, and she just marks it as incomplete (just like with the first three fucking assignments), my grade goes from a 96% to a fucking 78% because of the way the columns are weighted.

I'm. Just. So fucking exhausted. I feel painfully burnt out. What's the point of trying if I'm just gonna get dicked over again and again? It's barely 7AM so I obviously haven't received a response yet. She said in an announcement earlier on Monday that she's finalizing grades today (the 20th). And I'm fucking terrified that she's just going to ignore my emails like she did at the beginning of the semester. I'm fully prepared to escalate this to the damn department heads if I have to, but I am just,,,, so. tired.

[aaaaatillathenun]

What the fuck is wrong with today? Did I just wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Is it cosmic?

It started so good. I woke up 45 minutes before my alarm and I was excited to get some “extra sleep”.

There was a big asshole truck driving on the way to work. Like I understand you want some small dick compensation but like at least be able to handle it if you feel the need to get one. This guy kept driving on the line and making me feel unsafe when I tried to pass him.

Then I did my stupid little one hour of work and I discovered that the fucking travel office changed the layout of the travel system we use without telling anyone. A couple weeks after they changed they layout of their website without telling anyone. I fucking hate the travel office. Someone I support has a report pending from a trip he took in April. That’s a whole different fiscal year, shouldn’t there be some consequences for your poor time management? I fucking. Hate. The. Travel. Office.

Then for my fucking class the lab manager didn’t come to open the door to the computer lab the class was in until 25 minutes after it started. Absolute waste of everyone’s time. Everyone was there at 8 in the goddamn morning for a class and your website and door both say that you’ll be there at 8. Where’s the communication? Absolutely fuming. I had to very consciously restrain myself from yelling at him, because honestly fuck that dude. I hope the professor chews him out. I should tell the professor that tbh.

The class was stupid as it always was. CliftonStrengths is a scam.

Then I got lost in the building like a chump trying to get out and I got pissed. I think you’re supposed to exit on the second floor, but how the hell am I supposed to know that? The star on the elevator was next to the first floor.

And its difficult to ride my bike when I’m hauling all the shit around to refill my snack drawer in an extra bag and all the fucking freshmen dont know how to walk on the sidewalks so bikes can get by.

My advising session was actually p good not gonna lie. Someone with the same advisor told me that she didn’t like the advisor bc she was so direct, but idk what she was on bc that was a great advisor and a person I get along with and would like to get the point of view more

Then back at work the fucking fire alarm went off. It was so fucking loud where I was and then we all had to hang out outside for twenty minutes until the firefighters came. And no one knows still if it was a drill or not but idek if it matters bc the “floor safety officers” were so bad at their job and didn’t really know what to do.

Then I found out that one of the systems we use wasn’t set up properly for me and I talked to my supervisor about it to try and get her to fix it. THEN I found out that I had actually been looking in the wrong place for a fucking year and it WAS set up correctly.

Also I checked my bank account and the term tuition has not been taken out of my bank account even though I have the payment confirmation. So I’ll wait for another like week and then check again.

I also realized that I forgot to pay rent and utilities for October. I need to let my roommate know that I’ll be renewing for another 6 months. However part of this non payment is bc she didn’t put any of the utilities i to tricount so idk what I owe her. I’ll get the check when I get home today tho. Hopefully she’ll let me waive the three day late fee because she also didn’t do anything for the utilities.

I hate when my job makes me feel like a travel agent and reimbursement machine but when it’s anything else I’m so out of my depth because all I ever do is travel shit.

Lets see how the rest of this shit day will go. I still have an hour and a half left of work plus I said I would show my face at a social event for my volunteer club, but that’s ok bc the new officers will be picking up the tab so I get a free drink or 2. But then I have a bunch of readings to do tonight.

Why the fuck did i decide that working and going to grad school at the same time and also living so far from everything was a good idea.

[lovetorn]

couple's costume [roommate!dream au]

Roommate!Dream x Fem!Reader

summary: u and dream go as ron and or hermione for halloween

w/c: 0.5k+

warnings: none

a/n: halloween is here!!! here is a cute little blurb about going in a couples costume w r!dream :)

—

“Hey, Y/n?” Dream’s voice drifts through the apartment, and you slide one side of your headphones over your ear.

“Yeah?” You’re focused on this final paper for one of your classes and don’t really pay attention to what Dream’s saying until you hear the word ‘couple’. “What?”

The blonde pops his head into your room with a look on his face like he’s waiting for an answer. “Couple costume?” Dream asks again. You shake your head in disbelief.

“What? For what?” Your heart is racing far more quickly than it should be and you start to get worried when you can hear your heartbeat over the music that’s flowing through your headphones.

Dream rolled his eyes, a boyish grin on his lips as he steps into your room. “Halloween? I think we should go together, in matching costumes.”

Your lips part and you nod slightly, still surprised by his words. “Uh, yeah, totally, what costumes are you thinking?” You take your headphones off completely and place them on your desk.

Your roommate plops himself on the edge of your bed and faces you. He shrugs before he answers. “Shaggy and Velma, Ron and Hermione, Pam and Jim, Joe and Laurie, any other ideas?”

His response shocks you, to say the least. They’re all friends-to-lov— “I thought you meant like, I don’t know, Sponge-bob and Patrick, M&Ms, peanut butter and jelly, not like actual couples.”

Dream’s eyes widen in alarm and his cheeks glow a bright red, and then he’s standing up again. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t know, I—I just assumed that that’s what a couples costume was,” He rubs the back of his neck and you can’t help but glance at his bicep and the way his t-shirt stains around the muscle.

“Dream, it’s fine. We could go as like Hermione and Ron? That would be so cute,” You smile softly at him and turn back to your laptop, pulling up a new tab. “We could wear like actual robes and have wands and stuff, it’ll be so fun!” Out of the corner of your eye, you see Dream nod and noticeably relax.

—

You could almost squeal in excitement as you take in your costume in the mirror. It’s perfect. “Dream?” You yell. “Are you nearly ready?”

You walk out of your room and make your way to his, standing next to his bedroom door. You check the time on your phone and roll your eyes. Guess you’ll be fashionably late.

Then, his bedroom door swings open and you burst out laughing. “You look amazing!” You say between laughs. As Dream was supposed to be Ron, he used orange hairspray to get the classic Weasley look. And boy, did it work.

A grin breaks out across Dream’s face and he laughs along with you. “It’s pretty good, isn’t it?” He giggles, running a hand over his now-orange hair.

His Gryffindor robes swish around and you nod before reaching up to brush a stray strand from his eyes. “Well, come on then, Mr Weasley, let’s get to this party.” You wrap your hand around his elbow and grab your wands from the counter, handing one to Dream.

Dream smirks and acknowledges your teased hair. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Granger.”

[celestialrry]

I wish you would write a fic where...

the main character is the daughter of a really important producer harry is working with and he has a major crush on her but 1) he doesn’t want her dad to feel like he’s taking advantage of her 2) she has a rule of not dating musicians

too young

OOOOOOHHHHHH

HIIII GUYS..... i started school again and honestly for the longest time i've had no inspiration to write but then i got this ask!!! (thank you for your patience anon ily) and was like i love this prompt but then i wrote the first part and had no idea how to continue it,,, but I finally finished it!! ε(♡'-')з (this is me giving you all my love and affection for sticking with me) 

(NOT EDITED)

2k

warnings: alcohol consumption

Harry was in a dilemma.

Usually, he could sweep all his issues under the rug, save them for another day, but this one... he couldn't do that. Not because he didn't want to, but because this problem was more than just a dust bunny on his hardwood floor.

Y/N was the problem.

Or to be more precise, his feelings for Y/N were the problem.

Harry had confidence when it came to his crushes. He was smooth, flirty, and snagged almost every single person he's caught feelings for.

But not Y/N.

No, she was almost unreachable, for quite a few reasons.

One, the only reason he knew her, met her, was through a producer he had been working with the past few months. Arlo was massive in the industry and Harry was flattered when Arlo approached him with interest in collaborating. And only a month into working together, he met Y/N.

Harry's head snapped towards the door that had just burst open, a girl barging into the studio that he had never seen before. She was gorgeous, he had to admit, but he couldn't ignore her blatant disrespect for coming in and making a scene while he, Arlo, and a few of his bandmates were working annoyed him to no end.

"Dad! Oh my god, you will not believe what just happened, I was on my way over here and I fucking bumped into Zach," The girl began ranting, approaching Arlo and huffing as she stood next to Arlo's chair. "Of all fucking people I could see just walking down the street, it had to be him. The world is against me today I swear. Anyways, I brought that drum pad you wanted."

She dug into her big brown bag that was slung over her shoulder and pulled out the music board, placing it on the table in front of Arlo.

"Where'd you see him, Y/N? We're about to go on break and I can leave and go kick his ass in," Arlo checked his watch. "7 minutes."

Y/N, Harry now knew her as, sighed and crossed her arms. "He's long gone by now, think he shit his pants when he saw me walking near him."

"Atta girl, thanks for bringing my board too," Arlo smiled up at her from his chair. He then turned to see Harry, and Mitch staring at the two of them. "Oh sorry guys, this is my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, this is Harry and Mitch."

She turned to look at them and smiled wide. "Nice to meet you!"

"You too." They both said in unison, looking at each other with a smile, before focusing back on Y/N.

"We'll be done soon, if you wanna go out and get lunch." Arlo said, turning back to his daughter.

"Sounds good, just text me," Y/N replied, giving him a smile before turning back to the boys. "Nice meeting you guys, again."

And before they could even respond she was gone.

Two, Y/N was younger than him. 6 years younger to be exact. It didn't seem like much, but when put into perspective, she was 21, only just being legally allowed to drink in the States, and Harry was 27. Practically 30, if you ask him, and he was positive Arlo would have his head if he found out Harry liked his daughter. 

And three, she doesn't date the people her dad works with. 

He had found this out one night when he, Arlo, Y/N, Mitch, and a couple other writers were hanging out at the studio, drinking some wine (she had even exclaimed that this would be her first time drinking red, and Harry was yet again reminded of her age) and chatting after a long day of working. 

Harry and Mitch were laughing with Arlo about the first time they met Y/N, and her comments about this “Zach�� guy. 

“He’s my ex, and had worked with my dad on one shitty song that never got far because he’s just so-- music is just not his thing, to put it nicely. But he was an absolute asshole and after him I made rule to never date anyone Dad works with. It would just go terribly.” She explained, letting Arlo take a few more jabs at the guy before stopping him.

So yeah, Harry was in a dilemma. 

In all the time he’d known Y/N, he just kept falling for her. She was kind, funny, beautiful, lit up any room she walked into, and treated Harry like fine porcelain. 

She was just fucking perfect. 

｡:°ஐ

Y/N had probably been in a lot of worse positions than the predicament she was in now.

For example, that time her dad walked in on her and her ex making out in the studio, or her 21st birthday when she got completely wasted and almost got into the wrong car instead of her uber, and the next day found out that the man driving that car was actually a convicted criminal.

So there’s worse things that could happen than her liking Harry.

But it doesn't mean it wasn’t bad.

The thing is, Y/N didn’t fall for anyone easily. Her one and only ex Zach treated her like a queen until he could officially claim her as his. The flowers he gave her before every date remained at the shop and the consistent compliments turned into insults and muttered claims of discontentment. 

Hence why he was her ex. It took Y/N quite a long time to work up the courage to end things with him. He was her first kiss, first time, and first boyfriend. She was yet to find her first love, she never really loved Zach. The way he used to treat her in the beginning, she thinks she loved, but him? No, she would never call him her first love. 

So when Y/N’s time crush on Harry began to develop into real feelings in such a short span of time, it terrified her. She had really never felt this way about someone before; butterflies would erupt in her stomach every time he shot her a smile and her mind would erupt into pure chaos when his body brushed up against her own. 

So yeah, it could be worse, but it certainly wasn't good.

｡:°ஐ

Y/N enjoyed spending time at the studio with her dad, and surprisingly, spending time with her dad’s “co-workers”. Even though she didn't usually hang out with the pop stars and spent time mostly with the backing band/producers (they were usually 50 year old men, but they were pretty nice) she enjoyed herself fully, having lunch breaks and talking about where their children when to school and whatnot. 

Sometimes though, every blue moon, Y/N would hang out with a super star her dad was working with. Usually when most stars are at the studio all they did was record, which was understandable, but she never had the chance to meet a lot of them.

With Harry though, everything was different. It wasn’t just lunches at the studio, or dinner at someone’s house, no, tonight they were going out to a bar. 

It was completely unexpected too, they had just wrapped up a song, and Harry, being in a particularly good mood had yelled out about going to a bar to celebrate. Of course, Y/N ignored his shout, knowing she wasn’t invited, and after Arlo had said something about “not being able to party as much as I used to”, she gave her dad a hug good night and waved a little goodbye to the band. 

“Wait!” Harry had exclaimed, chasing after her in the hallway. “Where are y’going?”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she looked behind her before looking back at Harry. “I was just gonna head back home.”

Harry’s head tilted, and looked at her questionably. “Y’not comin’ to the bar with us?” He practically pouted.

Her brows shot up in surprise. “Oh! I- yeah I’ll go out with you guys.”

Which lead her here, decently tipsy, and sitting in a booth between Harry and Sarah, laughing at a story Adam had been telling. Every now and then she would glance over to Harry just to find his gaze already on her.

Her heart fluttered every time, and if Harry’s cheeks weren’t already flushed from the alcohol, Y/N would have noticed him blush every time they locked eyes as well. 

“M’gonna get another drink, does anyone want anything?” Y/N piped up, a resounding chorus of “no, thank you’s” answering her question. Except for Harry who spoke softly, “A beer? Go ahead and put it on my tab.”

She shook her head at him as he stood up to let her out of the maroon leather booth. “Can’t make you pay for that, I offered.” She said, standing to lock eyes with him yet again. 

“Nope,” He grinned. “You can, and you will.”

“But-”

“No buts.” He chuckled, giving her a dimpled smile.

Accepting her defeat she nodded and squeezed his arm with a murmured “Thank you.” before making her way to the bar.

Harry sat back down again, eyes trailing her figure as she walked away before looking back at the table to be met with knowing eyes. 

“What is it?” He asked, glancing around at everyone.

“You’re whipped, mate.” Charlotte grinned, everyone else nodding in agreement.

“What?! I am not.” Harry pouted, eyes flicking over to Y/N, who was making her way to the table, one drink in each hand, before back to everyone else. 

“She’s really sweet H, you should go for it.” Mitch said.

Harry shook his head, eyes now on Mitch. “I’m not interested in her like that, she’s way too young for me, anyways.”

Just then did he hear the soft hit of his beer and her cosmo land on the table. His gaze trailed up her hands to see Y/N’s shattered face. “Here.” She practically whispered to him.

“I just remembered I have an early class tomorrow, so I should go, but thank you guys for inviting me out.” Y/N explained in lighting speed as she leaned over Harry to grab her purse and toss is over her shoulder. 

Words of confusion were tossed around the table but she was already booking it out of there, leaving Harry just as devastated as she was.

“I think she heard you, H.” Sarah said, frowning. 

Harry let out a muttered “Fuck!” before taking out large bills from his wallet and tossing it on the table. “For my tab, m’sorry, I gotta go.” And he left just as fast as Y/N did, weaving through the tables and people before bursting out the door to see her standing on the street, arm wrapped around her waist and another holding her phone.

“Y/N!”

Her head whipped around to see Harry bustling towards her and she quickly wiped her eye as he approached.

“Wait, don't go,” He said, struggling to find the words. “We all want you to stay, I want you to stay.”

“I have to get to class Harry, plus, I’m too young to be staying out this late anyways.” She grimaced at her own words. 

He sighed, eyes flickering from her own to her lips then back again. “I-fuck, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

This time, she fully turned to face him, brows knitted in distress. “Then how did you mean it? Because honestly I don’t think there is another way to mean it.”

This was his only chance, Harry knew it. 

“I just, I tried for so long to tell myself it was wrong to feel this way about you because you’re so much younger than me, and m’pretty sure your father would have my head if he knew but m’fucking infatuated with you, Y/N. M’so sorry I said that earlier, age is my only excuse for not asking you out and it’s not a good enough excuse anymore.”

With this her mouth was gaped like a fish, and her face was akin to a deer caught in headlights. In a flash her arms were wrapped around his neck and he was holding her waist, reveling in her touch. 

“Oh, Harry,” She pulled away. “I really like you too.” And with that she pressed a swift kiss to his cheek, leaving him a blushing mess. 

“Good, thats... thats good.” He stammered.

“So,” she nudged his arm. “Y’gonna ask me out now?”

[songbirdstyles]

when the levee breaks

summary: you’re a waitress and harry is being stood up.

warnings: brief smut, angst, fluff, love at first sight <3 kind of

song inspo.: when the levee breaks - led zeppelin

word count: 9.5k

There’s always a particular vibe you get from people going on first dates.

It’s an easy one to notice and you and your coworkers love pointing it out - it’s an air of hope and romance, people arriving dressed their very best yet still holding some sort of awkwardness. It’s sweet, actually, and quite adorable and they’re always the nicest to you, needing to impress their date and make sure they know that they’re respectful. It’s the same reason they leave such a hefty tip - likely wanting to show they’re, at the very least, wealthy enough to tip 20% on a $100 tab and not have it hurt their pockets, or to prove that they respect waitresses enough to help you pay your rent. They’re always the tables you’re desperate to serve, not only for the tip they leave you but because you love getting a clue as to how the date goes, and most times it’s good. Once, you’d heard the guy’s date inquire about kids before their meals came, and they’d left barely minutes after paying their bill. Another time, a couple had arrived at 6 and hadn’t left until 11 on a Thursday night - nearly two hours after closing, and you’d nearly had to shoo them out the door when they weren’t going fast enough.

It varies often, but still - first date couples are your favourite, and when you see him walk up to the host stand, you know he’s another one.

The uncomfortableness is what tips you off, fiddling with one of the numerous rings on his finger as he leans back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting behind an elderly couple hoping to grab a table outdoors for some drinks. He’s dressed well, tucking a loose curl behind his ear and rolling up his sleeves and when he makes it up he’s confirming a reservation f’two, under th’name Harry Styles, please. And the girl at the host stand - the youngest host your boss has hired, you reckon, though you’d need to fact check it to be sure - picks up her pen and crosses his name out in the reservation book, a thick line running through his information and phone number before she’s grabbing a stack of menus (specials, wine, beer, and general, respectively) and telling him to follow me this way, sir as she leads him outside.

Well, you don’t see exactly where Brianna takes him before you remember the four waters that table 306 had asked for, and it’s not like you to get distracted like that by a customer - you’ve been a waitress for nearly three years since starting college and yet, no patron has ever caught your eye like Mr. Harry Styles. It’s a damn paradox, really - you only see attractive guys like him when they’re on dates and, by that point, they’re spoken for. There’s no room for you to mosey in and you wouldn’t do that to another girl, anyway, but still. You suppose it doesn’t matter (he looks wealthy enough to leave a good tip with or without a date, truthfully) but it still has you sighing as you grab four glasses, scooping ice into them and beginning to fill them with water.

Distraction is a bad look on a waitress, your manager had told you the last time you’d gotten distracted by a pretty girl and nearly dropped the plate of pasta you were holding. It makes your smile seem forced. And that was the first month you’d started working, before you’d realized that most customers treated the staff like objects to use to make themselves look or feel better - you’d seldom had to use her advice since then. But there’s a first - or second - time for everything, isn’t there? And he is your second time.

 --

 After you’ve delivered your waters, though, you’re made uncomfortably aware of the fact that Brianna had, indeed, seated Harry in your section. And it isn’t a bad thing, per se, except he is the most attractive man you’ve ever met and you can only imagine what his date is going to look like when they show up - probably dressed to the nines like he is, just a tad too fancy for an establishment like this and you’re sure you’ll feel insecure in your work-issued shirt and jeans but you suppose there’s nothing to do about it.

You try not to make it too obvious as you fix your hair, tying your ponytail higher up onto your head because it had been slipping down and you’re really not a huge fan of low ponytails. Normally you don’t mind but - sometimes the circumstances change. 

He’s at table 305, leaning over his phone, fingers drumming against the table when you walk over to him, clutching two coasters in your hands and he looks up at you with a smile as you approach. And it’s easy - giving the same introductory speech you’ve given thousands of times before, telling him your name and how I’m going to be taking care of you tonight. “Can I get you started with something to drink?” you question, eyes flickering inconspicuously to the empty seat across from him. He’d pulled it out slightly, angling it out towards the sidewalk in clear anticipation of when his date enters so she can gracefully sit down without having to make a fuss about pulling the chair out - so he’s a gentleman, and it only worsens your moral dilemma at the situation. 

“I’ll jus’ have a water, f’now,” he responds, smiling up at you and you nod, reaching down to rest one coaster in front of him and the other in front of the other seat. “M’waiting f’someone - then I’ll get somethin’ else.”

“Sounds good,” you tell him, giving him a smile as if you had no idea he was waiting for someone when, in fact, you’d known the second he walked through the doors. Quickly your eyes dart up and down the sidewalk, checking to see if anyone’s walking with their sights set on your restaurant but there’s nobody - perhaps she’s late, or he’s early, but it’s not your place to speculate anyway. “I’ll be right out with that.”

And so you make your way back inside - you have to stop at table 303 because their daughter, so small her legs barely hang off the seat she’s sitting in, has finished her Coke and wants another and you take their dish of risotto balls with you, practically licked clean (in your opinion, they’re the best appetizers on the menu, and you’ve tried just about everything.) 301 got up, leaving nearly half a plate of polpo sitting there and a full untouched bottle of wine and you can recall them specifically declining your request to take their plates earlier, claiming they were still picking at it and clearly they changed their mind - but Brianna’s rushing out to clean everything up before you tell her to, and that’s good of her. She’s new - it’s always good to see the new workers doing well. You’ll tell your manager the next time you see her, you reckon, though you hope it’s not too soon. And then 306 waves you down, seconds away from screaming for you to notice them because the man wants some red pepper flakes to sprinkle onto his pizza and it all stacks up in your mind, but you just smile and nod and turn to rush inside before anyone else can flag you down.

You don’t notice Harry’s eyes on you, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

One Coke and one dish of red pepper flakes later and you’re returning to Harry’s table, resting his drink on his coaster. It’s barely been two minutes since he last requested the water and his initial look of hope and excitement hasn’t faded, even when his eyes flicker down to his phone as though to check for a notification when he thanks you for the water.

Oh, well. Dates are late all the time, and you don’t have time to ponder on it as 304 noisily stacks their plates on top of each other, and you swoop over to grab them before taking them inside. No, it certainly isn’t your place to wonder about the status of his date because you know that you’ve been late to dates too many times than you should’ve, what with classes and work and everything else you have to do in life. You barely have time to date anymore - when you’re not studying so late you can barely keep your eyes open you’re picking up shifts, working your ass off for a paycheck that goes straight to your landlord. You hardly even hang out with your friends anymore and you’re not sure if it’s a healthy sacrifice, giving up your friends to work and study and get far less sleep than the average 22 year old but you don’t quite have a choice, do you?

Maybe his date is in the same situation - you can’t fault her for it. It certainly makes her more relatable to you.

 --

 It’s been fifteen minutes and Harry still sits on his own, nails tapping against his phone screen, turning his head to glance up and down the sidewalk like you had before but there’s no one there to join him. Part of you feels bad as you rest a plate of mozzarella agnolotti in front of the two men at 302 and they dig into it like fucking heathens who haven’t eaten in months, and when you tell them to enjoy they call out thank you with their mouths full, bits of food flying onto the table, and you feel bad for when one of the hostesses has to clean it later.

It’s times like this that you’re thankful to be a waitress and not a host. Those times are few and far between, but they still come.

303 got their entrees and 304 has their check and you don’t have an excuse not to stop back at Harry’s table, even if feeling his eyes on you has your stomach turning and your face heating. Hopefully he can’t notice (and you have gotten fairly skilled at hiding your emotions with a wide smile that’s just about as fake as they come) and your prayers seem to answer themselves when you walk to his table, ducking beneath the umbrella that hangs above the two-top and meeting his eyes.

“You want a refill on that water?” You ask, motioning with a nod down towards his half-empty glass. It’s certainly not low enough to warrant bringing out the water pitcher but you’ll deal with the hassle - going table to table asking if they need refills and all the other shit you have to do because it seems discriminatory when you only offer it to one table. 

He looks up at his glass, tilting his head and screwing up his eyes as though he really needs time to decide whether he needs more water before shaking his head, curls flopping in front of his face as he pulls his glass closer to him. “S’alright.”

“Is your date running late?” And the second the words are out of your mouth you want to smack yourself - you know it’s unprofessional to comment like that especially when it’s that fucking obvious that you’re right. You may as well have asked him if the sky is blue, or if the time really is 6:15. Irrefutable facts are embarrassing to state aloud, especially when it would get you a stern talking to if your manager were to overhear.

But Harry doesn’t seem bothered by it, nor does he seem fazed by your sudden expression like you’d just bit into a lemon. In fact, he takes the comment in stride, resting his palms on the tabletop as he squints up at you - the sun shines behind you and you’re sure it’s in his eyes, and the fact that he took the sunny seat just adds another reason to consider him perfect. “Yeah, she is,” he confesses, twiddling with his rings again, and it’s nearly impossible not to drop your gaze to his fingers and watch him go. “But - y’know - she’s a nurse, an’ all that. Probably just had t’work late an’ forgot t’text. S’alright.”

You’re not sure what to say to that and for a second you stand there in silence as Harry taps his phone, surely checking to see if he’d received a text that hadn’t lit up his phone with the notification but there’s nothing except for the lockscreen - a blurry shot of a black and white cat, face close to the camera and tongue sticking out just so. Instead you clear your throat before saying, “I’ll go grab you some olives.”

“Olives?”

“Yeah - we give everyone assorted olives.” And suddenly, it sounds stupid, like giving your customers olives is something embarrassing when, in fact, it’s customary, but Harry’s looking at you with a certain curiosity, eyes bemused as if you’re entertaining him. “They’re actually quite good. I’m sure you’d like them.”

(In truth, you tried the olives once and had hated them, but you tell your customers that every single thing your restaurant offers is your favourite and the olives are no exception.)

“Oh.” Harry shrugs, then, leaning back in his seat as you duck back out from under his umbrella. “Well, if y’say so, m’sure I’ll like ‘em.”

You smile in agreement and there’s nothing left to add so you head towards the door, wiping your palms on your apron the second you’re inside. You’re sure you’ve had that exact conversation about olives of all things with ten other customers since you’ve worked here but it feels so different with him and it nearly scares you. There’s no reason you should feel so conflicted about a patron on a date who you’ve never met nor seen before but you suppose some things truly are unexplainable.

306 is ready for their check and as you grab a ramekin full of assorted olives you call to ask Brianna to print it out - there’s nobody at the door, anyway, and you need to find an empty dish for the olives, anyway. When you’ve got that and stashed the check in your apron you head back out and Harry���s sitting craning his neck glancing down the sidewalk and you hope, for his sake, that he’s right and she just got caught up at work. (And, for your own very selfish sake, you hope she doesn’t come.)

“I’ve got some olives for you,” you tell him, resting the two ramekins on the table in front of him and he glances down at them with an air of disgust that you most certainly relate to, and your face nearly splits open in a grin. “Well, they’re complimentary, anyway, so if you don’t like them, it’s not too big of a deal.”

“They look divine,” he says, and you know he’s lying but it still makes you smile. “I’ll tell y’how they are.”

“I’ll be waiting,” and that sounds like such a schoolgirl crush response and your face briefly tightens in a cringe before you walk off to 306, pulling their check out and depositing it on their table. None of them even drank their waters that they requested - assholes.

 --

 Holy shit.

You’re really feeling for Harry, now. There’s a new young couple sitting at 301 (certainly not on a first date, you’ll add), holding hands across the table and giggling loudly and they don’t break eye contact even when they place their wine order, and when your eyes flicker over to where Harry’s sitting he’s watching them with an expression that looks just a little like envy. The men at 302 lean over and share a kiss over their pasta and you wish it were socially acceptable to ask every single couple not to fucking look at each other until his date arrives because you can tell it’s killing him - and suddenly, you’re wishing you hadn’t manifested his date not showing up. You’d rather feel the slight tinge of jealousy at watching him woo a girl than feel your stomach turn with every minute that passes without someone taking a seat across from him.

You can practically see the hope leaving his body as a half hour goes by since he’d arrived and he’s still sitting alone, tapping his nails against the condensation that had formed against his glass of water, feet tapping the sidewalk beneath him. The olives sit untouched in their ramekin except for one lonely green out that sits, half eaten, in the empty one you’d given him and after you’ve finished grating parmesan cheese over 301’s calamari and bruschetta, you wrap the cheese back up in its napkin before making your way over to him, ducking beneath the umbrella and sending him a smile that he reciprocates, albeit smaller than it had been before.

“Do you want to put in an appetizer to be here when she arrives?” you ask, pulling your pad and pen out of your apron and watching as he glances down at the menu he clutches in his hands. You know what the answer’s going to be before you’ve even asked the question but it’s unbearable watching him sit doing nothing, and you’re sure he’s hungry. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to eat before a date though you’re not totally positive what kind of guy would - anyway, it’s easy realize he’s yearning for food by the way he’d been sucking on his straw just moments before when you’d been taking 301’s appetizer order, even though all that’s left in his glass are a few measly ice cubes.

“S’fine,” he insists. “I don’t want t’order somethin’ and then have her not like it - y’know?” And he trails his finger along the appetizer section of the menu as if to showcase the amount of options, chest rising and falling in a sigh. You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile as you shut your notepad and slide it and your pen into your apron, smoothing your palms over the front of it again.

“Yeah, I know.”

Then he pushes the olives away from him, ramekins sliding against the tabletop and you grin as you look down at them before glancing back up at him, raising your eyebrows with mock surprise. “I guess you didn’t like the olives, then.”

Harry shakes his head, bringing a hand up to wipe his hair out of his eyes and you almost want to recommend that he put his hair in a ponytail (it seems to get in the way of a lot of stuff for him) but, truthfully, you love seeing his hair down. It looks so soft and luscious and you’re sure it smells spectacular, though you’ll never truly know. “I hated them,” he confesses, and you miss the way his lips turn into a smile as you giggle, sticking the full ramekin into the empty one to make it easier to carry. “D’you seriously like ‘em? They’re horrid.”

You’re supposed to say yes, but you can’t lie to him - not when he’s already having a rough night. “I don’t like them, either,” you agree, scrunching your nose as you look down at the variously coloured olives in your hands. “But, according to my manager, I love everything at this restaurant.”

He laughs at that - a genuine one, too, tossing his head back so his hair falls off his shoulders and you can’t stop yourself from laughing along with him. He’s contagious in every sense of the word and you’ve never met anyone like that - you’re smiling with him and feeling your heart break for him all at the same time and you’re not sure you’ve ever experienced it before. “Well, s’good t’know,” Harry says when he’s stopped laughing, swirling his straw around his glass so the ice cubes clink together. “I’ll take your advice wit’ a grain f’salt, shouldn’t I.”

“I’ll be honest with you,” you insist. “You’re special.” Your tone is teasing and to anyone listening in it’s clearly a joke but you gnaw on your tongue after the words are out anyway - he just smiles down at the table, scratching the surface with his nails.

“M’glad.” And your eyes scan the rest of your tables on instinct - 306 is up and there’s a stack of plates at 303 that you need to bring inside, but if it were up to you, you’d spend the rest of your day ducked into Harry’s umbrella, listening to him speak. But - well - you’re not being paid to talk to a pretty boy, most unfortunately, and you step out from under his covering to check out your other tables when - “Wait!”

You turn back around and Harry’s leaning back, holding his hand over his eyes to look at you and you take a step back over to him, bending down ever so slightly so you can hear him over the shitty music your boss insists on playing too loud to your outdoor guests. “Could I have a coke, please?” he questions, and you nod. “Thanks.”

Your other tables can wait - you scurry back inside, heading to the service station because you’d rather die than make him wait an extra second longer for his coke. Lauren - the other waitress on duty tonight - stands unwrapping a cheesecake to prepare for one of her tables and she looks at you with an arched eyebrow. “Who were you talking to?”

You shrug and you hope it isn’t painfully clear how your heartbeat thumps against your chest like a damn drum. “Just the guy at 305.”

“Oh.” Lauren pauses where she’s mixing the tupperware container of homemade whip cream to place on the cheesecake as you fill your glass with ice. “What’s his deal?”

“I think he’s being stood up,” you tell her.

 --

 Your suspicion is confirmed the next time you drop by Harry’s table, when he’s chugged his entire Coke and the rest of his water and he simply sits there, scrolling on his phone, and it’s like you can see how his battery has drained.

“Hey,” you call, voice soft as though you’re talking to a child, but you need to assess how upset he is about the situation before speaking in any other manner. You’d made the mistake before, started chatting too cheerfully to a lady being stood up and she’d shouted at you, called you a wench and a bastard and all other sorts of names you couldn’t recall before storming out, leaving a $20 for her three glasses of wine.

It’s always better to be safe than sorry.

“Has she texted you?” you ask, motioning down towards his phone. It’s certainly not allowed to speak to customers in such a casual manner about things other than the menu and whether they’d like to split the check but nobody’s around to reprimand you for bending the rules a bit - why not? 

He shakes his head - it’s what you’d expected but your heart still aches for him and you wish you could reach out, perhaps give him a hug if he’d want it or listen to him rant about the situation. Anything to make him feel better. “S’okay,” he insists, and to his defense he can play the part well. Doesn’t seem entirely too torn up about it and he’s looking at you like you’re a friend rather than his waitress and it makes you feel comfortable. “But - f’you don’t mind - can I order an appetizer now?” You smile, already fishing for your notepad and your pen (a sparkly black one, just for the sake of being fun.) You’re glad he’s getting something and if his date happens to show up, she’d ought to eat whatever he chooses simply as an apology for being over a goddamn hour late. “Sure.”

“What’s your favorite?”

The question takes you by surprise but you regain composure quickly, feeling your face and neck heat up because Harry’s staring at you as though you’re some sort of God - like you hold the answer to the meaning of life instead of the best thing on the menu and it makes you feel good. Appreciated. “I love the risotto balls,” you admit, shifting to stand next to him so you can trace your finger along the menu in his hands, pointing to the very first appetizer listed on the page. “And the shrimp and broccoli rabe is delicious.”

“I hope you’re not lying t’me.”

“I told you,” you begin, meeting his small smile with a wider one of your own and it achieves its desired effect - his spreads wider, and you wonder if he thinks that you’re as contagious as you consider him to be. “I’ll never lie to you.”

“And why’s that?”

He’s full of questions. “Because you’re a nice customer.” It’s sort of the truth, though you think you’d scare him away if you told him the full entire truth is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve laid eyes on in your life. “When some customers are assholes, I tell them to get the vongole - it’s horrible.”

He raises his eyebrows at that with another grin, resting his menu down on the table and gazing up at you with his full attention. “Well, I trust you. I’ll get the risotto balls, in tha’ case. An’ then - whenever she gets here, I’ll get something else.”

You murmur sounds good and you don’t have to write it down in your notepad to remember it. You’d nearly gotten carried away with the conversation, nearly forgotten that he’s being fucking stood up and probably doesn’t want you to flirt with him like an idiot because you’re sure acting like one. God, no other waitresses act like this with their customers and you really, truly never have before - yet it’s something about him. You can’t fucking help yourself.

You take his Coke to refill it - he doesn’t ask and you won’t charge him for it. He simply deserves it, and you think that’s reason enough to bring the glass back inside, fill it to the top with soda and deliver it back on top of his coaster the next time you go outside to make your rounds. Harry’s appreciative, naturally, and has no reason to question why you gave him another drink to begin with. For all he knows, your restaurant has free refills, and you’ll let him think that. There’s no reason to make him pay for another drink - he’s having a bad enough day already - even though, when you’d glanced down at the watch adorning his wrist as you’d given him his drink and seen that it’s Gucci. 

No amount of money can buy a first date, you suppose, and you hate yourself for thinking it. You’d give him a first date. A million, in fact. And it’ll never happen but you can certainly dream, and you hope it doesn’t show in your eyes as the men at 302 order a panna cotta and cheesecake for dessert - 301 is digging into their pizza, looking so hopelessly in love with each other, and you catch Harry looking at them again.

The risotto balls are ready for him when you’ve delivered the desserts to 302, and you grab the plate and a block of parmesan and head right out to him. His eyes are on you the moment you step out the door, gaze looking ravenous and he’s most certainly just excited for his appetizer but you still let his watchful eye make your stomach turn.

No parmesan cheese for him - well, that’s fine. You tuck the block under your arm and tell him to enjoy, and he tells you he most certainly will before digging in and it only confirms your suspicion that he was fucking starving. In fact, by the time you’ve finished chatting to 304 about how delicious their gamberetti pizza was, one of the balls on the plate is gone and he’s staring at the second one like a man dying of hunger, but he doesn’t touch it. Surely waiting for his date to arrive to feast on it while he can talk about how nervous he was that she wasn’t going to show up that he was even entertaining the flirtatious waitress.

Gentleman.

 --

 The next twenty minutes are a blur - 304 is up and two tables in Lauren’s section are, too, and you don’t have much else to do so you help Brianna clear and wipe and set them all. By the time you’ve finished and returned the hostess’s grateful smile 302 wants more drinks and a chocolate mousse to split, and you pick up their empty panna cotta and cheesecake dishes and rush them back inside. 301 decides they want their check and they look like they’ve gotten into some sort or argument and you’re almost glad - though you’re sure they’ll be too angry to leave a good tip, you’ll take it if it means it may make Harry feel a bit better about being alone.

It’s 8:15 PM the next time you risk a glance at your phone. Only forty five minutes until you close and there haven’t been any new table sat for the better half of twenty minutes and you pray it stays that way - or, at the very least, they go to Lauren’s section instead of yours. Brianna is clearing 301 (they got up and left in a hurry and, as you’d expected, your tip is a few measly dollars) and your other tables have no need for your assistance yet so you make a beeline to Harry’s table the second you get outside and he’s watching you, sad smile toying at the corner of his lips.

“How were the risotto balls?” you inquire, drumming your fingers against his table. It’s a silly question because anyone with eyes can see how he’d gobbled half of the appetizer up, the other still untouched in their bowl of sauce, ricotta lazily tossed on top of it. You’re sure it’s cold now but you don’t quite mind them when they’re chilly - may even taste better than having them sizzling hot. “Looks like you liked them.”

He nods, pushing the plate away from him as though he can’t stand to be near it. “It’s really good,” Harry tells you and pats himself firmly on the stomach twice to prove it. It’s a silly motion that brings a smile to your lips anyway and you really, truly can’t help it. “M’gonna save the other one f’when she gets here.”

Hope is a good thing to have, you decide, and he’s clearly still holding onto it. You’d never been stood up before but you’re sure you’d have given up on the idea of a first date long before he had and you applaud him internally for that - he’s patient and kind and understanding, you decide. Much more tolerant than anyone else you know would be in this sort of situation and it only adds to the growing desire you have for him, but you push it down - for the sake of professionalism. “Well, that’s nice,” you tell him and he smiles, the expression tight and complimentary. “Can I get you anything else?”

“M’good,” Harry says, “but - can y’show me where the bathroom is inside?” He motions with one swirling finger to the empty glasses in front of him and his grin looks rather embarrassed when he looks back up to you. “Think I drank m’drinks a bit too fast.”

You laugh out loud at that and if he notices that your giggling goes on for just a beat longer than  appropriate, he doesn’t acknowledge it and wow, don’t you feel like a damn schoolgirl with a crush. Laughing at his joke-that-wasn’t-a-joke and feeling your face burn up when you look at him and having your stomach turn when he stands up to follow you into the restaurant and holy hell, he’s tall. You feel embarrassed walking in with him behind you because you’re not sure what he’s looking at, and what if you have a stain on your jeans? Or the back of your shirt? He’s dressed so nice and your face is fucking flaming and you avoid eye contact with Lauren as you point him towards the restroom.

“Thanks, love,” he says, voice thick and heavy as he maneuvers through the indoor tables to get to the restroom and you send him off with a small wave - just a jerk of your hand - and the second he’s out of sight you wipe your palms on your apron again.

Lauren’s making a cappuccino and so you flock over to her, naturally. You can tell she just redid her ponytail because it sits higher on her head and you think you should do that too, so you pull your black scrunchie out of your hair and work on assembling it into a better ponytail.

“That’s the guy from 305, isn’t it?” she questions.

“The guy I took to the bathroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh - yeah.” You swallow, bending down to glance into the metal of the espresso machine to see your blurred reflection, making sure your ponytail is as smooth as possible before tying it up. “Yeah, that’s him. He’s nice.”

She hums softly, grabbing a small spoon and stirring the coffee once then twice before resting it inside the cup, already reaching for another cup to begin another. “Are you sure he’s being stood up?”

You scrunch up your nose, leaning back against the counter and tilting your head in slight confusion. “I’m pretty positive - he’s been here for, like, an hour and 15 minutes waiting for a girl and he’s still hopeful that she’s going to come.” And then you sigh, the noise overly dramatic and your coworker rolls her eyes. “Why?”

“He was checking you out, babe.”

You raise your eyebrows, head turning to the side so fast you swear you nearly get whiplash as you stare at Lauren. She simply stands, making her cappuccino as if she hadn’t just blew you away with her observation and you’re sure it meant nothing but it still has your heart thumping violently against your chest and you exhale. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Girl, I was watching - he was. His eyes never left your ass. He almost ran into the door, too.”

“You’re lying.” “Why would I lie? He’s cute, isn’t he? Aren’t you happy?”

“Laur, he’s being stood up. I know he is. He’s not focusing on my ass - he’s probably crying in the bathroom right now.”

She laughs at that, hooking her finger in the handles of the two cappuccinos, steam billowing from both of them like a fire. “Well, maybe he is being stood up, but - I swear to god - he’s into you.” And then she’s walking back down the aisle between tables to reach the front of the restaurant, headed out the door without another glance as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you and you stare after her, mouth agape and palms sweating and you wipe them on your apron once more.

 --

 Harry returns to his seat and, for a while, you don’t check on him.

He seems fine, anyway. Decently enough. Sure, his drinks are still empty  in front of him and he leaves that one risotto ball alone and, every so often, he glances up and down the sidewalk before bringing his gaze back down to his phone but it doesn’t quite look like he needs anything.

Anyway, it’s 8:30. Even if she shows up they wouldn’t be able to stay very long and, no matter what, he deserves a fulfilling first date. Maybe she did get caught at work and, when he leaves, they’ll laugh about it. Reschedule it for a different day where he picks her up from her house, and then who knows? Maybe they’ll go ice skating or see a movie. And this entire situation will be something they’ll laugh out and forget and they’ll probably get fucking married, with your luck.

You’d be happy for him, of course. And even though you’ll likely never speak to him again after he leaves for the night, you do want the best for him, though you think the best for him would be you and not some girl who stood him up with no text.

303 is gone after spending entirely too long sitting and chatting and you wave them off with a goodbye and a bright smile, grabbing their check just as Brianna runs out to begin clearing it off. Full glasses of water are dumped into the plants and you help her bring them inside before going to deposit the check - it’s a nice tip and you’re thankful. They’d been a kind enough table but sometimes those are the type to screw you over with the tip and you’re beyond glad they hadn’t - you’ve had a strange enough night without the added weight of no tip.

You head back outside with 302’s check and drop it at their table, returning their grateful smile with one of your own. There’s nowhere else to go or visit besides 305 and so you head over to him, ducking underneath his umbrella for what seems like the thousandth time that day and it’s then that you can see his face, ever so slightly crestfallen as he stares at his phone and your heart just about drops into your ass, and without a second thought you pull out the empty seat across from him and sit.

“What’s wrong?” you ask and you’re fairly certain you already know, but there’s no shame in inquiring further - his phone is clutched in his hand and he looks up at you before clearing his throat and that’s enough confirmation for you.

“She’s out wit’ her friends - they’re at a bar.” And, as if to prove it to you, he slides his phone across the table to you and you crane your neck to glance down at the screen and it’s an Instagram story - a boomerang of four girls clinking their drinks together, and you scrunch your nose. “She’s the one on the right.”

The one on the right is decently pretty - blonde hair straightened and falling down her back, drink spilling over the edges of her glass when she clicks it too enthusiastically with her friends. Her dress is tight and sparkly and nearly overpowers the entire story and you can already make your mind up about how you feel about her and, needless to say, it isn’t good.

“Oh.” You watch the boomerang for another couple of seconds before pushing his phone back over to him and he gives you a tight lipped grin. “I’m sorry, Harry. That really sucks.”

“S’alright.” He shrugs and you can tell it isn’t alright but you don’t say anything else until he adds, “I wasn’t tha’ into her, anyway. M’friend wanted to set us up. I guess she wasn’t really into it but - I wasn’t either. S’all fair.”

Your heart hurts for him - she wasn’t into it but you know he was and before you can think to stop yourself you reach over, resting your hand over his and holy shit. You shouldn’t do that. He can lie and say he doesn’t mind but you know he does and you’re still his fucking waitress - you shouldn’t touch him like you’ve known him any longer than two hours. Just as you go to pull away with a frenzied apology he’s turning his hand around so your palms are pressed together and then he squeezes your hand with a soft sigh and you’re nearly paralyzed at the motion.

It can’t be more than a few seconds that you two sit like that, his hand tight around yours and you can hardly breathe, heart thumping in your chest before he says, “What time d’you close?”

“Uh -” you clear your throat just as he releases your hand and you withdraw it immediately - your hands are sweating and you press them on the table. “We close at 9, but - I only have one more table, and they’re about to leave … so …”

“What else d’you have t’do?”

“All my closing stuff,” you begin, sticking up your fingers as you list each one. “I need to roll silverware, get ice, put the glasses away, take the trash from the bathroom. And then I’ll probably get something to eat.”

Harry nods, gazing almost wistfully into the night as though he’s some sort of philosopher and you lean in, waiting to hear whatever he has to say next - “Could y’eat with me when y’get your food? If y’don’t mind.” And it takes you a moment to react as he adds, “S’just - you’re nice t’talk to, an’ all tha’. But y’don’t have to.”

You swallow thickly, already feeling your stomach flipping and your knee jiggling and you nod - first a quick jerk of your head, up and down, and then faster. 302 is arranging their stuff to leave, grabbing their boxes and shoving their credit cards into their pockets and you wish you could tell them to get the hell out because you can’t start closing until they leave and now you really have a motivation to leave. “Yeah. That - that sounds good.”

It sounds more than good, in fact, and you don’t even care if you’re some sort of rebound to him in this moment - you’ll take it. You’ll eat your dinner with him and then whatever comes after - you don’t care. You just want tonight, or, at the very least, right now, and anything after that is simply a bonus and you’ll deal with it later because he wants to eat with you. He wants to hang out with you. He likes you, and maybe even in that way, too.

You’re standing up uncomfortably fast, nearly tripping over the seat you’d inhabited as you rub your palms together. “Well - um. My other table is getting ready to leave, so I’m gonna - gonna start doing my stuff.”

“Sounds good,” and he’s so casual with it that it sends heat blazing up your cheeks, and you turn to head back inside with a newly found skip in your step that’s too full of joy to be embarrassing.

Brianna’s already begun the silverware when you get inside - with only 2 tables left, there’s no need for her to stay, but you tell her that you’ll roll if she does the other closing duties and she accepts because she’s horrific at rolling silverware. They’re always loose and lumpy and too big or too small and none of you want to tell her because it’s easier to just make pretend like it’s your favorite closing duty to do - well, whatever. She’s gone downstairs to get a bucket of ice before she can ponder on your insistence and you settle in your seat, grabbing a knife and two forks and resting them in the middle of your linen to begin to roll.

You have the motion down nearly to an instinct and it gives you time to glance outside. Through the windows you can see just the side profile of Harry’s face, only slightly illuminated by his phone screen as his lips wrap around his straw, surely sucking on the dissolved ice cubes in one of his glasses and it makes your heart beat faster in your chest - you nearly drop a fork when you go to begin a new roll.

 --

 Your pasta is ready entirely too soon.

You’re finished rolling silverware and the ice is filled and the bathrooms are stocked and clean but you hadn’t emotionally prepared yourself enough to eat with him. But your fettuccine sits, steaming on the counter ready for you to pick up and you stab the ticket once you’ve confirmed it’s yours, grabbing the burning hot plate with your one hand and grabbing a spoon with the other.

You can still see Harry’s side profile when you peer out the window and he’s glancing around, eyes darting from the sidewalk to the door as though he’s waiting for you and you know you can’t keep him alone for another second, so you inhale a deep sigh and walk out the door, pasta in hand.

He just about perks up when he sees you, back straightening and dropping his phone onto the table. You swear he’s about to get up and pull the chair out for you, too, but you beat him to it - duck underneath the umbrella and rest your plate on the table, slipping into your chair with ease and a soft cough into your fist.

(You’re not sick - not in the slightest. It just alleviates your stress, you suppose. Eliminates some awkward silence.)

“Hey,” Harry says, elbows resting on the table so he can look at you in full and you can already feel your body flaming as you pick up your spoon, sifting it through the thick pasta on your plate. Alfredo - God, it’s your favorite. You’ve been trying to branch out and try more things on the menu but it always takes you back to your damn fettuccine alfredo. “I hope this isn’t weird.”

“It’s not weird,” you insist, collecting a spoonful of pasta and bringing it to your mouth. The smell is intoxicating and you pause when the spoon is just an inch from your mouth. “I’m sure you had a rough night.”

He shrugs, leaning back in his seat as you take a bite, chewing slowly and thoughtfully as though you’re pondering something important. “It wasn’t too rough,” he tells you, and you raise your eyebrows. “It would’ve been bad - but you helped.”

“Really?”

“Sure y’did.” You take another spoonful of fettuccine as he continues. “It sucks t’be stood up, but you were nice.”

“I could tell you were upset.”

“An’ you couldn’t tell you were makin’ it better?”

You think for a moment - think back on the countless interactions you’d had with the near-stranger sitting across from you, pulling the plate with one lone risotto ball over to him - and then shake your head. “I just thought you were being sweet.”

He laughs, reaching for his abandoned fork resting on the side of the plate and cutting in to the second risotto ball - you can tell how much he’d been longing to eat it simply from the expression on his face when he takes the first bite - with a shrug. “Sure I was,” and you laugh at that, ripping the piece of bread on the side of your plate and half and dipping it in the sauce, “but you must’ve realized I like you - didn’t you?”

“Well, I did think it was curious that you held my hand.”

“Y’did it first.”

“Well, the technicalities don’t matter.”

It brings a grin to your face to hear Harry laugh at you, curls flopping in his face, crossing his arms over his chest as he chews on a particularly large bite of his risotto ball. Your pasta is already nearly gone (you’d vastly underestimated how hungry you were) and you scrape the sides of the plate with your bread, collecting all of the excess sauce on the dough. “Was feeling a bit guilty,” you confess, drumming your fingertips on the tabletop, and he tilts his head at you, “‘cause I was starting to feel a bit thankful you got stood up.”

For a moment you wonder if you’d said the wrong thing - if you’ve ruined this entire thing before it’s even started, because it’s an uncomfortably real risk -, but then he’s reaching out to rest his hand overtop of yours and your body overflows with relief. “I agree,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand, and you swallow. “Y’had me prayin’ she wasn’t going to show up.”

You smile, looking down at the table and your empty plate and his half eaten risotto ball that he’s already taking another bite of and it all seems so surreal - like you’re going to wake up in your bed an hour before your shift starts, cursing yourself out for creating such an immersive reality - but nothing about his touch on yours is fake. It’s all so spectacular - so real - and you exhale. “We’re closing in 5 minutes,” you tell him, and his eyebrows scrunch together like he’s seen something he regrets. “Reckon we should take this someplace else?” “Someplace else?”

Your stomach flips and you wonder for what feels like the millionth time this evening if you’d made a mistake - read him wrong - took things too far. It’s an unfortunate habit you have and you certainly wouldn’t be shocked if you’ve put your foot in it this early into the relationship - you’ll regret it, but you regret a lot of things. In a couple of weeks, you’ll forget about it, won’t you? You’ve done it before. But you simply shrug, motioning with your free hand to the empty tables among you both. “I live - um - a couple blocks up the road. If you want to come over. And - it’s fine if you don’t - just putting it out there.”

Harry stares at you, expression nearly blank, for a beat too long and you shift in your seat - but then there’s a smile stretching across his face, and he pushes his half-eaten risotto ball in towards the center of the table. “That sounds perfect,” he tells you, and your heart thumps in your chest once more.

 --

 For the record, you hadn’t anticipated having anyone over to your apartment tonight, and it shows.

There’s dirty dishes from the previous two days piled in the sink, shoes strewn all over the entryway and when you peer your head into the sitting room, your pajamas are strewn over the couch next the wine stain you’d spent hours trying to scrub out. Your face burns as you turn the lights on and Harry steps inside, head turning left and right as he examines your living space and you wish you’d cleaned up after yourself before you left for work - you’ve been meaning to do the dishes - why hadn’t you done them?

“It’s - um - not much,” you begin, shutting and locking the door firmly behind you and motioning with your arms to the entirety of your apartment. “And it’s kind of dirty. I just didn’t expect anyone to come here, or I would’ve fixed it up a bit.”

He smiles, peering at the photos adorning your walls. “Don’ worry ‘bout it,” he insists, bringing his finger up to trail along the high school graduation photo you’d taken with all of your friends until he spots you, smack in the middle, holding up your diploma with a wide grin - you don’t speak to half of the people in that photo anymore, but you love it. Love reminiscing on a time before college and work and rent, where you could just relax with your friends. “Y’look awfully pretty in this photo.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, clasping your hands behind your back as you watch Harry examine each photo. None of them are interesting enough to warrant his level of attention and you’re sure he’s simply trying to be polite but you still appreciate it - it’s nice to imagine that he has that much interest in a photo your mother had taken of you and your dog on a hike. “Do you want me to - to pour some wine or something?”

“That’s alright,” he says, turning around to face you and you glance up at him with a soft smile as he rests his hand on your shoulder, fingertips trailing up and down your arm and sending goosebumps popping up over your skin. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt like this about a boy and it’s making you fucking crazy, torn between wanting to wrap your arms around him or have him bend you over the counter - you can’t quite decide. 

“Alright.” You roll on the balls of your feet as Harry steps into your kitchen, leaning against the counter with an air of casual arrogance and adoration as he stares down at you. You pad into the kitchen behind him and press your palms to the countertop, lifting yourself up to sit beside him, and you hum softly. “Well - we could talk, then.”

“Y’wanna talk?”

“I wanna do whatever you wanna do,” you confess, and it’s the truth.

He hums at that, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth and you watch him, breath caught in your throat, as he pushes himself from the counter, doing nearly a full spin before landing directly in front of you and your knees part to allow him in between them like an instinct - your face heats as he pushes himself closer to you, thighs closing around his waist. “Y’seem nervous,” he says, palms pressing to the counter on either side of your body and you inhale a shaky breath, shaking your head.

“I’m not nervous,” you tell him, even if it’s a little white lie. “I just haven’t done this in a while -” and that isn’t a lie in the slightest.

“Ah,” and then Harry nods like some sort of therapist, hands already dropping to your waist, fingertips scratching at zipper of your jeans as if testing the waters. “An’ you’re sure y’want this?”

“I’m positive - please, Harry, I really want this. Wanted this from - from the second I saw you.”

It’s all the approval he needs, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans with ease and you loop your arms around his neck, using him as leverage to lift your hips up and he pulls your jeans off and down your thighs, leaving them bunched up by your knees. The next step is your panties, so damp you can tell he feels it through the fabric when he pressed his fingers against you and your hips jerk into his hands, dropping your head into his shoulder as he exhales.

“I’ll go slow,” he tells you, voice low and raspy and you’re not sure if he’s trying to make it sound like that or if it just naturally happens - well, you can’t decide which one is hotter, truthfully. “Jus’ wanna make y’feel good, love.”

“Mhm,” you nod, gnawing on your bottom lip as Harry hooks two fingers in the crotch part of your panties, pulling them to the side and the cold air of your apartment hits your cunt in a way that has your breathing picking up and he pauses, fingers so dangerously close to where you need them. You know he’s going to ask if you’re okay - if you want him to stop - and you don’t, not by a fucking long shot, and you push your hips into his hand as way of answering his unasked question.

Harry takes the hint, of course. He isn’t stupid.

Two fingers circle your clit, spreading your moisture along the sensitive nub like he’s been wanting to do it all fucking night - there’s some sort of desperation to his movements that has your legs tightening around him, head burying further into his shoulder, and his free arm hooks around one of your thighs, hoisting it further up his waist. His breathing is hot against your head as his digits slide up and down your folds and you’re not sure if he’s attempting to tease you or not but, no matter, it’s working. You’re ready to get on your knees and beg for him if you need to, but just as the thought crosses your mind, his fingers dip down to slide in between your folds.

A soft moan emits from your throat as his hand smooths up and down your thigh, fingers dipping just barely into your cunt before pulling out - and he does it a few times, giving you a bit of what you want and then tearing it away and you whine, thrusting your hips into his hands and Harry presses a kiss to the side of your head before sliding his fingers inside of you. Two to start, just to ease you in, pushing them in slow and steady until you can feel his cool rings pressed against your pussy and you throw your head back with a moan.

He pauses, lip still between his teeth as he stares at you, your chest heaving beneath him and body fucking quivering in his gasp. “Tell me how it feels,” he breathes, tongue darting out to lick at his lips, and you swallow your desperate whine for him to move.

“Feels so good,” you murmur, smoothing your hands up and down his neck as he stares at you as though daring you to break his gaze. “Please, Har -”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me - with your fingers, Har, please - make me feel so good -” and just to top off your request you lean in, crashing your lips so violently against his that your teeth clash and tongues collide, and you can taste everything you’d served him that evening and holy hell it tastes delicious. Perhaps it’s just him, dropping your thigh against the table so he can grab onto the back of your neck and keep your face attached to his, lips parted and wild and dominant as he pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in with a newfound vigor -

The levee breaks, then, with your lips mashed together, and you’re more than thankful for it.

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

The Stars Were Bright Above | Peter Parker

✦ pairing — Peter Parker x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 12k

✦ fake dating AU

✦ summary — in an attempt to make your best friend Harry jealous, you accept to fake date Peter who needs to cover up his big secret.

✦ request — I just read your Harry series and I was wondering if you could do something similar where reader is in love with Harry and she fake dates Peter and falls for him?

✦ warnings — angst, family issues, mentions of food and alcohol, language, reader and Peter are in college, brief depictions of anxiety, sexually suggestive content, drama between friends, fluff.

✦ author's note — whew, this one was supposed to be a quick one shot that’d help me get back into writing after days with a horrible migraine and then I completely lost control of it. I managed to find a compromise in 12k words after an excruciating editing process. Hope it’s coherent and that you like it!

════════════════════════

“I would love to stop and chat,” you told Peter as you looked for your keys, “but I’m in a hurry.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

If only you could find the stupid keys first! Oh, well, you’d check your backpack once you were in the parking lot.

Peter could have used the time it took you to cross campus to tell you whatever it was he wanted to say. Instead, he fiddled with the straps of his backpack and walked beside you in complete silence.

“I need a favor,” he finally said when you stopped in front of your car. As though it hadn’t been obvious.

“Peter,” you sighed, trying to hold your open backpack against your knee. A horrible idea, really. “My mom will kill me if I’m late for lunch.”

He took your backpack in his hands and held it for you. “I... it’s embarrassing.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“It can’t wait!”

His tone made you lift your head. “Are you alright? Is your aunt sick or something?”

He shook his head. “It’s about May in a way... oh, that rhymed.”

“Focus.”

“Right, right. Uhmmm she thought I was hiding something from her—“

You interrupted, “Were you?”

“Kind of,” he admitted. “So I told her I have a girlfriend.”

“I didn’t know you were dating anybody.”

“I’m not.”

“So why did you—“ You groaned. “Oh my God, you’re an idiot.”

“I deserve that one.”

“You want me to convince Gwen?”

“Gwen? Why would—“ He shook his head. Avoiding your eyes, he said, “I told her it was you.”

“And she believed you?”

“I’m as shocked as you are!”

“So you want me to lie to your aunt and tell her I’m dating you.” You closed your backpack, having had no luck finding your keys.

“More or less.” Peter continued holding your backpack, patiently waiting for you to retrieve it. “I was thinking more along the lines of lying to everybody and tell them we’re dating.”

You brought a hand to your hair, lightly gripping it for a moment. “I’m not a good actress.”

“I think your keys are in your hoodie.”

You palmed the front pocket where the sound of metal against metal let you know he was right. Introducing your hand, you withdrew the keys. “How did you know?”

“I heard them.”

“You have amazing hearing.” You reached over to take your backpack.

He handed it to you. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

You unlocked the car and opened the back door on the driver’s side. Leaving your backpack onto the backseat, you heard Peter ask, “So... are you helping me?”

Standing straight, you turned to peer at him. You had to squint as the sun hit your face. “Can we talk later or tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Text me. Please.”

Peter had always been considerate with you and this time was no different. He patted your back before walking away on the opposite direction.

You bit your bottom lip. “Hey.”

Peter turned around. “Mmh?”

“Want me to drop you off?”

“Sure.”

It was nice to have some company in the car after a pretty lonely day. Gwen was nowhere to be seen and you didn’t share classes with Mary Jane. You had other friends, but they didn’t make you feel complete like Gwen, Mary Jane, Flash, Peter, and Harry did.

Harry...

You couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “Did you tell Harry?”

He didn’t sound surprised. “I was waiting for your answer. I told May she was the first person to know.”

You hummed. “What would I have to do?”

“She’ll want to confirm it’s true so you’d have dinner with us and then we would act like a couple in front of everybody.”

“Like a couple?”

“Just holding hands and hugging,” he clarified. “Maybe the occasional kiss on the cheek to throw people off their rhythm. Oh, and pet names!”

“You’ve got everything planned, huh.”

“My life depends on this,” he said dramatically.

“Do I get to know your secret if I say yes?”

He considered your question for a moment. “Eventually.”

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. “When should I come over for dinner?”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Probably this weekend. I’ll ask May and text you.”

“Cool. I’ll talk to you later, then.”

He nodded. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

You pulled over a few blocks from your family home to put on some makeup, that way you would avoid the chastising that came every time your mom saw the bags under your eyes.

Wondering if Peter could tell the reason behind your helpfulness, you got rid of your hoodie and slipped a sweater on.

Doing this every time you visited after school was tiring, but it was better than putting up with meaningless fights.

Your mom was losing her patience when you arrived, you could see it on her face. She glared at you as you approached her to kiss her cheek. This and the fact that you couldn’t stand pretending so many aspects of your personality, were what lead you to choose to live on your own.

She hadn’t been too happy about it, but she was busy with the family business, her social life, and your sister to complain. Your dad always did what any of you wanted, mostly to make you three shut up.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! Peter needed help with something.”

You sat down next to your sister who lifted an eyebrow.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately,” your mom suspiciously pointed out.

Oh, so she was keeping tabs on what you did on your free time...

The truth was there had never been anything between you and Peter.

You met him on his first day of college. He was the new kid everybody was intrigued by. Harry hated him at first and although you didn’t, you didn’t speak to him until Harry decided to stop being an asshole.

Now Harry was too busy with Liz, his gorgeous girlfriend, to care about you, his best friend.

It hurt, it really did. You befriended Harry when you were kids and had been inseparable up until now. Of course you had to put up with his weird flings, but he had never cast you aside for them.

You had harbored hope that he was secretly into you, but the less he spoke to you the more you realized he hadn’t found the one until he met Liz. That hurt even more — you were supposed to be the one.

Everything had played out in your mind from the moment you realized you had a crush on him. You would start dating in high school or college, get married, have kids, be a happy family...

But ever since he left you by yourself at a party when he was supposed to be your ride, you realized he hadn’t cared as much as you did.

Peter walked you to your apartment that night and made sure you drank plenty of water. He didn’t have to do it, Gwen and Mary Jane had already offered to do it themselves, but for some reason he felt like it.

You took a sip of water, realizing your mom and your sister were waiting for an answer. “He’s nice,” you opted for saying.

“Nice, eh,” you sister teased you.

“Yeah, nice. Is there a problem with that?”

You knew that attitude would only make them believe they were right in their assumptions. It was what Peter needed from you either way.

Truthfully, Peter wasn’t always nice, but you knew he tried.

“Are we waiting for dad?” you asked.

Your mom nodded. “He’ll be home any moment now.”

Your mom never complained when your dad was late, or when he was too busy to come home for lunch. You were used to it, she was biased in his favor — she had been since you were a child.

You checked your phone to keep yourself entertained. The Notification Center showed multiple badges, but the messages one caught your eye immediately.

Gwen💛: Missed you today.

You unlocked your phone to reply that you had missed her too when another text came in.

Pete: May said it would be cool if the three of us had dinner on Saturday.

You answered Peter first.

Sounds good to me. Just tell me what should I bring.

Your presence is more than enough, you’re our guest.

You huffed a laugh as you typed. Look at you trying to be cute.

I’ll have you know I’m extremely cute all the time.

Yeah, yeah. Should I bring dessert?

You don’t have to bring anything if you don’t want to.

I will strangle you the moment I see you, Peter.

Just say yes or no.

Maybe.

I hate you.

That’s not the proper way to treat your boyfriend :(

You could picture the glint in his eyes as he tried not to laugh.

You went along with it. I’m sorry, babe :(

I forgive you because I’m a nice boyfriend.

Won’t happen again. <3

Now let’s hope we can talk like that in person.

Are you daring me to sweet talk you in person?

Yes.

Your mom called your name. “Your dad asked you a question.”

You lifted your head. “Mmh?”

“No, no, continue texting,” he said sarcastically, “I have all day.”

You quickly typed TTYL and locked your phone. “Sorry.”

Your dad shook his head. “You and Harry always do this.”

“I wasn’t texting Harry,” you felt the need to explain. Harry didn’t deserve credit for this. “What did you want to ask?”

“I asked,” he remarked the word. “If you would be busy this weekend. Your sister won’t be.”

“I— uhmmm... I’m having dinner with Peter and his aunt on Saturday.” You saw your sister purse her lips beside you. “Did you need anything?”

“To spend time with my family.”

“I guess I can come over on Sunday or Saturday morning.”

“I was thinking about going out of town for the weekend,” he clarified.

“The three of you can go if you don’t want to wait another week,” you assured them. “I already told Peter I would have dinner with him and his aunt so I can’t cancel. I also have projects to do.”

════════════════════════

You rested your head on Gwen’s shoulder as both of you waited for Mary Jane in the cafeteria. They never made you feel like a third wheel even though they were dating so you never avoided spending time with them.

Mary Jane arrived accompanied by Peter. He looked extremely serious but he didn’t say anything as he stood across the table, staring at you like a child scared of saying what they had been up to. She elbowed him on the side before sitting down.

Peter got closer to you. “Can we talk?” he asked. “It’s important.”

You nodded, lifting your head off Gwen’s shoulder. As you stood up, you felt her hand squeeze yours which prompted you to turn and look at her.

She gave you a playful look that made you realize she wanted to know every detail once you were done. As your eyes crossed Mary Jane’s, you saw a similar sentiment in them.

“I’ll be right back,” you told them to pacify them.

He guided you to an empty area which wasn’t such an easy task. You ended up resting your shoulder against the wall, facing Peter while he looked around.

His eyes landed on you as he spoke in a hushed voice. “Can we start today?”

You mirrored his tone. “Fake dating?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay...”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“Well, you’re changing the plan,” you explained. You hated changing plans, even more so when you weren’t sure you were the right person to execute them.

“I know. Just a day earlier, though.” He unashamedly pouted.

“Okay,” you said, this time sure. “Any particular reason?”

“There’s this freshman who thinks I flirt with her just because I’m nice to her and she’s creeping me out. I feel like she follows me around.”

You sighed. “She just has a crush on you, don’t be a baby.”

“Please?”

“I already said yes, you baby.”

“You kinda like calling me baby, don’t you?”

You playfully shoved him “You’re so annoying.” However, before he could leave to do whatever it was he did in his free periods, you grabbed him by the wrist. “Does Mary Jane know about your plan?”

“No. Why?”

“You arrived together.”

“Ah. No.” He shook his head. “I was looking for you and asked her if she had seen you.”

“Makes sense.”

“Yeah...”

You shifted on your feet. “So what now?”

“Do you have class next period?”

“Sadly.”

He chuckled. “I’ll walk you to class.”

“Wanna hang out with us for a little bit?”

“I gotta talk to Flash.”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “Gonna ask him out too?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m never telling you who I find attractive ever again.”

“Good. Don’t wanna make your girlfriend jealous — do you, babe?”

Peter leaned over. His breath fanned on your face as he said, “Don’t worry, baby, I only have eyes for you.” He then kissed your cheek. “I’ll be right back. Wait for me with Gwen and Mary Jane.”

You nodded, hoping you didn’t look as stunted as you felt.

Both your friends stared at you, desperate to hear an explanation. You understood why, but you were still trying to come up with an excuse as to why you were so flustered over a kiss on the cheek.

You checked your phone, but there was nothing worthy of your attention.

Mary Jane spoke first, “What did Peter need?”

“We are a thing now.”

Gwen hummed. “But what did he need?”

“Permission to make it public.”

Mary Jane scratched her cheek. “Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

“You think he’d be a bad boyfriend?”

“I think you shouldn’t use him to make Harry notice you.”

That was harsh. Perhaps you deserved the reminder that Harry couldn’t care less about you, and perhaps you also deserved to feel bad for trying to use Peter against him — you would’ve preferred if the reminder didn’t come from your best friend.

“I’m not,” you partially lied. “I genuinely like Peter.”

True to his word, Peter walked you to class. You didn’t hold hands, it didn’t feel right, but he sweetly told you that he’d be waiting for you after your last class.

You saw Harry across the hallway, talking to Liz and one of her friends. For a second you thought he would walk towards you, the way he held your gaze had been almost cruel.

But he didn’t, he just gave you a nod and walked in the opposite direction, hand in hand with Liz.

You had better things to worry about. Your classes, your family’s expectations, helping Peter — reciprocal things to an extent. So why couldn’t you just get over the fact that Harry didn’t care about you?

Somebody poked you on the arm with their finger. Turning to the side, you found Flash who shot you a smile.

“What’s up?” you greeted him.

“We have a project to finish.”

You cursed under your breath. “Are you free on Sunday?”

“Nope.”

“Tomorrow?”

He tilted his head. “Yeah. I’ll drop by your place.”

“At what time?”

“Like 2 or 3 in the afternoon. Don’t wanna wake you up by mistake again.”

Peter laughed behind you, having caught that last part.

You ignored Peter. “I have something to do after 5. Why don’t you come over early? I promise I’ll be awake.”

Flash shared a look with Peter and then patted your shoulder. “Cool. See you tomorrow, sleeping beauty.”

Peter snickered, standing beside you now.

“Stop laughing.”

“I just can’t believe you’re that grumpy in the mornings.” He started walking towards the exit.

You walked beside him. “You don’t know the whole story.”

He opened the door for you and then followed your steps. “You can tell it tomorrow at dinner.”

Craning your neck go look at him, you asked, “You want your aunt to laugh at me?”

“I’ll defend you.”

You suddenly remembered that you didn’t know what you were supposed to do or say in front of his aunt. You had met her before, but that fact made this situation even more bizarre.

You tried to start with an easy question, “Should I wear a dress for tomorrow?”

“You can wear whatever you want,” he assured you.

Well, that wasn’t helpful at all.

════════════════════════

You checked the time on your phone and realized you had a message from Flash. He was on his way.

Looking around your bedroom, your eyes fell on the bed where a pile of clothes laid. The sight stressed you out, and even more the fact that you didn’t seem to be able to set your mind on an outfit.

You anxiously waited for Flash at the door, pulling it open the moment you were aware of his presence on the other side.

He lifted both eyebrows. You usually took your sweet time to answer the door.

“We sh—“

You interrupted him. “I need your help with something else first.”

Flash softly dropped the materials he had been carrying onto the couch as he gave you a skeptic look. “I’m not disposing of a body for you.”

You took him by the wrist, dragging him to your bedroom. It wasn’t an abnormal occurrence by any means, he honestly should have had expected it.

“God, not again.” He sighed as his eyes fell on the pairs of shoes scattered around the room.

“Come on, just tell me if I should wear that skirt.” You pointed at the black skirt on top of the mountain of clothing. “Or jeans.”

He opened his arms, unsure as to what to tell you as his hands stayed in an awkward angle.

“What would you want me to wear if I were meeting your family?” you encouraged him to help you.

He cocked his head, looking at you through his lashes. “A straight jacket.”

“Please take this seriously.”

Inhaling deeply, he set his eyes on the pile of clothes. “Is the skirt more comfortable than the jeans?”

“I’m not thinking about comfort.”

“Well, you should. You know May will make you squirm with her questions.”

“No skirt, then.”

“It’s just dinner,” Flash reminded you, “wear something casual.”

”Yeah,” you sighed, “just dinner.”

What an easy thing to say. You knew so few details that you might as well make a fool of yourself in front of May.

Flash ignored your semblance even though you knew he took note of it. He reached his hand into one of the bags he had been carrying then handed you a paper bag. “I brought breakfast.”

“Why didn’t you say so when you arrived?”

He glared at you. “Why don’t you get us something to drink instead?”

You ate breakfast sat on the living room floor while discussing your project. Flash wasn’t the most responsible person ever, but he was by far the best partner you ever had for a project.

However, his comment from earlier made you wonder something. Unable to hold it anymore, you asked, “How did you even know about the dinner?”

“Peter told me,” he answered simply.

“He did?”

“Why are you so shocked?”

You shrugged. “I thought we would wait a little bit longer.”

“Yeah, but it was bound to happen.”

“Don’t,” you warned him.

“Why not? I told you you’d end up having a crush on him.”

“Flaaaaaaaash!”

You hated to prove him right and although this was different, you wouldn’t lie and say Peter wasn’t attractive or crush material.

“Peter’s cool.”

“You don’t have to convince me, I’m already dating him.”

“I’m just pointing out that he’s an upgrade.”

There it was.

Flash took a dislike towards Harry when Harry started dating Liz which was normal because she was his ex, but it turned into vitriol really quickly.

Both Flash and Harry put Peter in an awkward situation the first few months. Now you didn’t know much about it — Harry complained about it with you at first, but he stopped.

“It’s different.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

You frowned, looking into your half-empty cup of coffee.

“I can see through you.”

“Mary Jane told you her theory, didn’t she?”

“She thinks the same?” You nodded. He pensively hummed. “She didn’t tell me, to be honest. I’m only trying to look out for you and Peter.”

“I like him, I don’t know why you think I don’t.”

Flash didn’t spare you as he reminded you, “Because you said the same about your ex.”

“Yeah and look how that went!”

“(Name).”

“What?”

“Stop comparing guys you like to Harry and I promise you things will go well.”

He really could see right through you.

“I’ll stop. I promise.” Not knowing why, you added, “It’s not even that hard, Peter is... Peter. You know what I mean? Like how can you compare him to other people or other people to him?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

Oh no. “Do you like him?” you blurted.

Flash laughed softly. “Not in that way, no.”

“You sure? I don’t want things to be weird.”

“Peter might be handsome and cool,” he admitted, “but we wouldn’t work as a couple.”

“You think Peter and I would?” you incredulously asked.

“You will, yeah.”

You were truly nervous now. Not because of May’s potential questions or because you would have to lie — actually, you didn’t know where the nerves were coming from.

You just knew that Flash’s words resonated with you. He went from hating Peter to being his close friend which in your eyes meant he knew Peter better than anyone.

Did Flash know what Peter was hiding? Perhaps that was what he was alluding to when he assured you Peter and you would work as a couple.

The day went by extremely quickly. You weren’t mentally ready when Flash left or when you were on your way to Peter’s for that matter.

Peter was waiting for you in the lobby with hands in his pockets and shifty eyes.

“Is she like mad or something?” you asked instead of greeting him. You were ten minutes early so tardiness couldn’t be the issue.

He made a face, jerking his head as he gazed at you. He looked confused. “She’s just worried.”

What if she got angry at you when you hadn’t done anything? Peter told you to act normal, but normal you wasn’t madly in love with him.

As you approached the apartment, you found yourself thinking you were either going to ruin this or find out you deserved an academy award.

Peter opened the door and allowed you to come in first. May smiled at you before giving you a side hug in greeting.

“I brought dessert,” you told her as you parted from her.

“Oh, honey, you didn’t have to.”

Okay. Not angry yet.

She placed the dessert onto the table and motioned for you and Peter to sit.

Peter and you grabbed the chair at the same time. He opened his eyes wide, making you withdraw your hands immediately. He took the chair out for you.

Peter could be polite when he wanted, but you were getting worried. Since when did he treat the people he dated like this?

Nonetheless, you sat down.

May didn’t waste time and touched the subject pretty quickly. The moment she served dinner, she said, “I thought Peter was messing with me at first.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he defended himself.

“Sure you wouldn’t,” she said sardonically.

“I thought he was messing with me when he asked me out, so I get it.”

Peter looked at you in shock and you unconsciously smiled at him.

May cooed. “I don’t understand why you two hid your relationship for months when you’re so cute together.”

“I didn’t want it to be awkward with our friends,” you quickly lied. “What if it didn’t work out or something?”

Your answer would have made sense if your relationship with Peter was real and that would be your strategy from now on. He couldn’t have a secret that would need you to lie that often.

May was so happy with your answers that the conversation deviated from you and Peter to everything but your love life.

You felt a little silly now, having expected the worst when Peter had already told you she was just worried.

He walked you to your car at the end of the night, something you guessed would become a common occurrence.

Things had gone well with May so you had no reason to think things wouldn’t go well with your friends.

You gnawed on the inside of your bottom lip. “Are things going to be awkward now?”

“Between us?”

You nodded. “I mean... saying shit is one thing, but you know...” God, you felt awkward already.

Peter frowned for a moment. “Give me your hand.”

Shifting on your feet, you asked, “You want your hand to be under mine or on top?”

“I don’t mind. You choose.”

You slid your arm under his, opening your palm but not touching him yet. He took the initiative and pressed his hand against yours.

“Is this okay?” he softly asked.

“Yes.”

He intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing a little bit. You huffed a laugh.

“This too?”

You nodded.

“Well, that’s the only thing that’ll change between us. We already hug pretty often.”

Oh, Peter gave the best hugs. Although Gwen was a close second, you preferred his because he was always warm. He also smelled good, but you had to give it to Gwen and admit she did too.

“I’ll see you on Monday, then, boyfriend.”

“Drive safe, girlfriend.” Before you could say anything, he added, “Text me when you get home.” Yet he didn’t let go of your hand immediately.

════════════════════════

Harry didn’t take the news of your relationship with Peter that well. The moment he saw you holding hands, he made his way towards you.

Peter squeezed your hand, easing your nerves. He was there, nothing could go wrong with Peter there.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Harry drily asked you.

“In twenty minutes or so,” you softly answered.

“Well, can I talk to you?”

You turned to Peter, hoping he’d save you from an awkward conversation. Sure, you wanted a reaction from Harry, but not an angry one!

“It’s okay, baby.” Peter kissed your hair as he let go of your hand. “I’ll see you later.”

With a shaky sigh, you motioned Harry to lead the way.

He immediately asked, “Why Peter?”

You stuttered. “I... things just happened.”

“Did they have to happen with my other best friend?”

In a twisted way, they had to. But you couldn’t possibly tell him that. “You didn’t care when Gwen had a crush on him, why is this any different?”

His eyes sharpened. “It just is.”

Many things just were. That didn’t mean anything. You wished you had the courage to reply.

As always, you gave him the upper hand and allowed him to make another question. “It’s not serious, right?”

What were you supposed to say? The thing that’d make him angry or the thing that’d pacify him? How selfish of you to be thinking about making Harry jealous when Peter needed this to be believable.

“It’s too soon to know.”

Harry hummed, softly nodding. “I’ll walk you to your class.”

You frowned. He had never done something like that.

“You’re coming to my birthday party, right?”

You almost tripped as you answered, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Cool. I’ll see you there.”

Thirteen-year-old you was right when she thought boys were confusing, but Harry surely took the cake. You assumed he’d ask you to hang out more often given his reaction, but there he was telling you —on a Monday— that he’d see you on Saturday.

Harry’s attitude soured your entire morning. If classes were already unbearable, he made you want to skip each one of them. Your friends noticed, but nobody said anything.

What a horrible morning and what a horrible week it would be until his stupid birthday party rolled around and you’d have to see him show his girlfriend off.

Your friends decided to go to the coffee shop near campus after class and although you weren’t in the mood for socializing, you would rather suck it up than be by yourself.

Besides, coffee shops were always a good place to do homework and you had quite a few projects accumulated.

Peter rested his head on your shoulder in the same way you always rested yours on Gwen’s. You threw your arm around his shoulders as you rested your eyes.

“Are you getting sleepy?” you whispered in case he was.

“No,” he mumbled. “But I don’t wanna move.”

“I have to pick up my sister from the mall in a couple of hours so you’ll have to.”

He whined.

“Who would’ve thought Peter would be a clingy boyfriend,” Gwen teased.

“Literally anybody who has ever seen him drunk,” Flash continued teasing him.

Peter was red. He shifted, trying to hide his face on your shoulder.

In all honesty, you didn’t mind if he was clingy or not. You had been told you were a little too effusive when it came to affection so you had a soft spot for people who were similar in any way.

You withdrew your arm from his shoulders in order to continue typing on your computer.

Peter went back to his previous position, facing your computer too. “You made a typo,” he told you. “Third line on the second paragraph.”

Mary Jane arrived late and she seemed to be in a bad mood so Gwen made up an excuse in front of your friend group as though she knew something you didn’t —she probably did— and took her home.

Looking at the time, you realized it was time for you to get going too so you started to put your things away.

‘I’m leaving with Flash,” Peter reminded you. “Text me or call me if you need me. I might not answer quickly because we’ll be playing video games but just try for a second time, okay?”

“Okay.”

He kissed your forehead. ”Drive carefully.”

You hummed. “Have fun, Pete.”

“You too, baby.”

Your mom didn’t give you many details when she asked you to pick your sister up. You didn’t even know with which friends she was hanging out with or why they were at the mall on a Monday and not somewhere more fun.

There you were, judging her like you hadn’t followed Harry like a puppy when you were her age.

She texted you that she was on her way to the entrance you were waiting at, telling you she had been all the way across.

It was probably a lie, but you’d let it slide.

Your sister tugged the door open and got into the car in silence, putting her cellphone away as she got comfortable.

“Did you have fun?”

She nodded and smiled at you.

You snickered and poked her cheek. “You have dried lipgloss all over your mouth.”

Your sister bashfully looked down.

You handed her a tissue. “Hey, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

She stayed silent for a small moment before worriedly asking, “Are you telling mom and dad?”

“No. But I’d like to know who it was.”

She whined. “Do I really have to tell you?”

You tried to put yourself in her shoes. You didn’t know how embarrassing it would have been for you to talk about your first kiss —or kisses— with a family member because nobody really cared when you started dating classmates.

But it didn’t sound fun so instead, you asked, “Are they your age?”

“Yup ”

“You promise?”

Realizing the question was serious, she nodded for emphasis. “Yes.”

“Cool. That’s all that matters.”

Your dad was home so you were forced to stay for dinner which again, was better than being on your own.

You couldn’t wait to either get together with Harry or over him. As things were going, you could only admit it would be the latter.

“Did your friend have a good birthday?”

Your sister looked at you before answering. “Yeah, we saw a movie.”

“What was the movie about?”

Your dad really tried to get along with both of you, you had to give him that. He was bad at it most of the time, but he tried.

Your phone started ringing. As you stared at the screen, you frowned. Unknown numbers rarely called you.

Hesitant, you answered, “Hello?”

“Hi, (Name),” May tried to speak sweetly. The moment you heard her voice, you stood up from your seat on the couch and left the living room. “Peter isn’t answering his phone, can you put him on the line for me?”

You walked into the adjacent studio, weirded out by her request. “He told you he’d be with me?”

“Isn’t he?”

“He is,” you said hurriedly, “I was just curious.”

“Can I talk to him now?” May laughed nervously.

“He went out to buy food and left his phone here. I’ll tell him to call you as soon as he’s back.”

“Thank you.”

You texted him multiple times as soon as May hung up.

May called. Where are you?

She sounded worried.

I had to lie and say you had gone out to buy food and forgot your phone in case she asks.

Hey.

Pete?

Dude, you’re scaring me.

PETER

Come on

Istg I will lose my shit if you’re messing with me

It’s not funny

You made your way towards the bathroom, needing to splash some water onto your face or something. Anything.

He couldn’t be so immersed in a video game as to not answer multiple calls or texts.

Why would Peter tell May he was with you when he could easily tell her he was with Flash? Was he not at Flash’s anymore?

Perhaps Flash would reply!

You texted him and called him dozens of times before giving up. You didn’t want to think the worst, maybe they were out buying something, but they could be in danger too.

Your hands started shaking pretty quickly when the idea of something happening to him overpowered your thoughts.

You needed to get out of that bathroom and back to the living room where a distraction could meet your anxiety before you went crazy.

So you splashed your face and bolted.

Back in the living room, you caught pieces of your dad’s conversation with your sister. He was boring her with business talk.

You had been in her place many times, and although his tone was more lighthearted with her because the expectations to follow in his footsteps were on you, it was clear he was trying to get her interested in things she didn’t even understand.

Your phone dinged. You immediately looked down.

Pete❤️: I’m okay

What the fuck, Peter?

Where were you?

Busy, sorry.

Did you call May?

Yeah.

Ok.

You didn’t know what else to say. ‘I had a shitty day and you almost gave me a panic attack’ didn’t sound appropriate. It would be truthful, but you couldn’t do that to him.

Where are you?

At my parents’.

He didn’t reply anymore so you locked the device and rested your head on the arm of the couch.

What a fucking day. If your week would be half as exhausting, you were ready to give up on the entire month in advance.

Remembering you were meant to ask if Mary Jane was okay, you unlocked your cellphone again.

As you finished typing your message to Gwen, one from Peter came through.

Can you come out for a few minutes?

Yeah. Give me a moment.

You took a deep breath, fixing your outfit as you slipped your phone into your pocket. You rounded the couch as you attempted to take the path towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” your sister asked.

“Outside. I need to give something to Peter.”

“Don’t take too long,” your dad told you.

You said a meek yes as if you were going to listen to him when you needed to inspect Peter from head to toe just to make sure he was truly okay.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak as Peter slowly approached you. To his credit, he looked fine so he hadn’t lied.

He spoke first, as he should have, “Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” you mumbled.

He gave you a look.

Clearing your throat, you opened your arms only to slap your hands against your thighs in defeat. “You had me worried sick.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you going to tell me where were you?”

“I can’t.”

You scoffed. “So I have to cover for you without even knowing what the hell I’m covering?”

He whispered your name, placing his hand on your cheek as he tried to make you look at him.

You closed your eyes. “I don’t mind lying for you,” you softly said, meaning it like you had never meant anything else in your entire life. “But don’t I deserve to know why I’m lying?”

He brought you onto his chest, holding you tight against him. “You do deserve to know,” he admitted. “And I’ll tell you everything, but not tonight.”

You were scared to ask why.

════════════════════════

Peter draped his arm over your shoulder, holding you close to him as the two of you stood with your group of friends.

You hadn’t been in that place in a long time but still remembered where every room was. You also knew in which one Harry would fuck Liz at the end of the night.

You took a sip of alcohol. It didn’t taste like much — a bad sign.

Your eyes fell on the beer pong table. A guy you didn’t recognize and Harry were playing against Mary Jane and Flash. That was a bad sign too.

“I’m gonna refill my cup,” you whispered in Peter’s ear, “do you want me to refill yours?”

He shook his head. “I’ve still got plenty.”

It took you a moment to move and he didn’t make a sign to having found it weird.

The kitchen was quieter, not by much but the change was nice. Something you had always disliked about Harry was his taste in music.

You crashed against a thin body.

Liz took you by the waist and you awkwardly placed your hand on her hip, each of you steadying the other. “Sorry,” both of you apologized at the same time.

“I was distracted,” you insisted.

She took her hands off you and you did the same. Liz extended her hand so she could refill your cup for you.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said as she refilled your cup. “Harry thought you wouldn’t come.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “You know how he is.”

You didn’t. Not anymore. You took your cup from her, thanking her before bringing it to your lips.

“Well, we’re all here,” you said in pretended optimism. “And we’re all having fun.”

She smiled, looking as pretty as ever. “Damn right we are!”

You went back to Peter while Liz took off to talk to some of her friends. Once again, he threw his arm over your shoulders, hand almost brushing your chest as it dangled.

Mary Jane was back, bored of playing. Flash asked Peter to team up with him. Peter removed his arm from you, telling you he’d be back.

You focused on Peter as he rolled his sleeves on his way to the table.

Feeling something move in your pocket, you took your cellphone out. Your dad was calling.

“I need to take this call,” you told your friends.

The air was cold in comparison to the inside of the house. You let your dad call again and answered the phone, already expecting some kind of bad news.

To his credit, he sounded disappointed while telling you the plans the family had made for the next day were cancelled. He said your mom was upset.

As a child you often heard excuses for his absence. He was busy, his success depended on sacrifices, he tried his best so you and your sister could have everything you wanted.

Harry always told you to be grateful that you had loving parents. You weren’t sure you had the same definition of love.

You still assured your dad you weren’t angry and promised to spend the day with your mom and sister. His silence as an answer to your offer was a reminder that he didn’t believe you were capable of fixing meaningful problems.

You didn’t show how much it hurt you, there was no point. He meant well, your mom and sister did too.

Leaving the party sounded appealing, but your friends didn’t deserve it. You sucked it up and went back to the house.

Peter and Flash were bumping fists when you approached the area. They had won the game.

You went directly to the couch, not in the mood for dancing. Peter walked towards you, fixing his hair.

Sitting down, he twisted his upper body. “Is everything okay?”

“My dad just cancelled tomorrow’s family plans and said mom’s kinda upset.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Neither am I.” You changed the subject, “I’m surprised you won that game, though.”

“You don’t have faith in me?”

You swiped your tongue across your bottom lip. “I never said that. But you have to admit you’ve never been one for taking part in games. Last time I saw you play something, you got your ass handed to you by Flash.” Twisting your mouth, you tilted your head. He looked down. “You’ve never played sports, right?”

He didn’t answer.

You insisted, “Right?”

He hummed, nodding at the same time as though it made any sense.

“Were you even listening?”

“No,” he quickly admitted. “Can I kiss you?”

Oh. He had been looking down at your mouth.

He caught you off guard. You couldn’t say no, though, you didn’t want to say no. “Yes,” you answered him.

He started slow and sweet, with his hand on your cheek as the other rested on his lap. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, so you just closed your eyes and kissed him back, following his rhythm.

He slowly build the kiss up, sucking your bottom lip between his. Gripping the front of his sweatshirt, you boldly bit down his bottom lip in return.

Peter wrapped his free arm around you then he brought you closer, flush against him. His tongue tried to pry your mouth open in the exact moment you were about to do the same. Your tongues clashed together and instead of turning it all awkward, it only prompted you to grab him by the hair.

Peter hummed on your mouth and continued kissing you. Now he had both hands on your body, holding you tightly by the waist.

Maybe you could take him to another room, maybe you could feel his hands on you without the burden of your clothes.

His vice grip on you made you feel like floating and you suddenly wondered why you hadn’t made out with Peter before. It didn’t have to be anything serious, it didn’t have to go past messing around.

He was attractive, so were you. Why hadn’t you seen it before? Why had you denied yourself this when he was so good at kissing and his touch was so rough you were sure he would leave marks? And you wanted him to do it, you wanted him to let himself loose on you.

Fuck, you were getting horny over your fake boyfriend.

And as if he knew exactly what was going on inside your hazy mind, he attached his lips to your neck. It was over, you were done — it would be a failure if you didn’t manage to take him to a private room or back to your apartment.

Resting a hand on his thigh as you pushed yourself over, you felt the vibration of his throat as he whimpered while you kissed him.

Something buzzed under your hand, prompting both of you to part. Panting, you stared at each other for a moment. His hair was a mess and he had never looked prettier.

He withdrew a hand from your body to take his cellphone out. You knew the mood had completely been killed when he sighed and locked the device.

“I need to do something,” he announced as he stood up. “I’ll be back.”

What? You didn’t have a chance to react, he just left you there, hot and bothered.

════════════════════════

You padded your way toward the kitchen for the second time since you had gone to bed. Sleep wasn’t necessarily elusive that night, but you found yourself waking up every hour.

Turning the lights on, you looked at the time. Almost 4:00 am. You filled a glass with water and slowly drank it.

You knew the tough day you had with your family was still doing a number on you even though you had left early, you also knew you should have been used to it by now.

Tapping against glass took you out of your mind, bringing you goosebumps. As the sound continued, you realized it was coming from the living room.

You considered going back to your room and locking yourself up which sounded safer, but curiosity overpowered logic.

A figure loomed over the windowpane. You wondered if your mind was tricking you — you lived in the fifth floor.

The figure became clearer as you got closer to the window. You let out a relieved sigh. Spider-Man waved. You tilted your head — why would Spider-Man want to visit you?

Maybe he was hurt and needed help.

You opened the window. “Can I help you?”

He nodded upward, letting you know he needed to come in. You let him, moving to the side.

He took the liberty to close the window once he was inside. You stood before him, assuming he would verbally tell you what he needed.

He wasn’t hurt from what you could see. He walked just fine, his breath wasn’t ragged... You were more confused now.

Reaching to the back of his head, Spider-Man took the mask off. Brown eyes bore into yours.

“You wanted to know what I was hiding...” Peter trailed off.

“You’re joking.”

He stepped closer to you. “I’m not.”

He had to. His sense of humor wouldn’t match a joke like this, but he had to.

The suit didn’t look like a cheap costume, but there had to be another explanation. Yes, it made sense — every time he disappeared out of nowhere and worried you sick, those days he sported black eyes or cuts on his face... but you didn’t want this to be the truth.

You dragged your finger down his arm to feel the texture of the suit.

Peter took a deep breath.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“It’s okay, baby,” he huskily said. When he got no answer, Peter added, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you baby.”

You inhaled deeply. “I get it, you’re getting used to it.”

He hummed, eyes on you as he sighed.

You placed your hand on his bicep. “Are you okay, Pete? I’m not going to tell anybody if that’s what worries you.”

His hands found their place on your waist. You leaned closer, seeking his warmth. Peter opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it.

He leaned in and kissed you, tentative as he gave you time to push him off you. But you didn’t, why would you?

You ran your hand through his hair as you kissed him back, already familiar with the shape of his lips and the warmth of his mouth.

He pushed you onto the wall as he shoved his tongue inside your mouth. His kiss became sloppy while his hands started wandering down.

He gripped your thighs, bringing your legs up so you’d wrap them around his waist. Both of you ground against the other, sloppily kissing. You could hear the sound your mouths were making and feel his hot breath on your face.

He was driving you crazy.

Peter didn’t stop there. Giving you room to breathe, he lowered his mouth to your neck where he took his time to find your sweet spot.

You felt his fingers up your thigh, where he played with the edge of your sleeping shorts.

He kissed, sucked, and licked his way up to your ear. “Is this okay?”

You hummed against his mouth before kissing him again pawing at his suit, desperate to feel his skin under your fingertips. Frustrated, you broke the kiss. “How do you even take this thing off?”

He chuckled and gave you another kiss. “I’ll teach you.”

“Are you gonna strip for me?” you joked. Why were you making jokes right now?

Peter tilted his head. “Is that what you want?”

The idea wasn’t bad at all, yet you answered truthfully, “I just want to touch you.”

He didn’t deny you anything that morning. You couldn’t remember the last time you enjoyed yourself that much with a sexual partner.

You didn’t leave an inch of his body untouched, relishing in his reactions. He wasn’t ashamed to tell you if he liked something, or to ask you to touch him firmly.

Peter didn’t hold back either. All he wanted was you and you weren’t complaining. He gripped you tightly and sucked on your skin as much as he was able to.

There would be bruises on you by the next day, and there would be scratches on him if his powers didn’t heal him quickly.

You liked this side of him, the side that fucked you into the mattress and groaned above you. He wasn’t scared of breaking you or hurting you — for a moment you wondered how it would feel if he did it.

He came on your belly then cleaned you up afterwards which was more than appreciated. You weren’t even sure you could speak properly when he asked if you needed water.

He brought you a glass either way, of course he did.

The sun was up when you were done, too tired to move and too spent to complain. Peter was back on the bed, warm body pressed against yours.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” you tiredly answered. “I’m good.”

He held you tighter, laying his head on your chest.

You lazily dragged your fingers down his spine. “Is everything okay?”

“It was a long night,” he told you in a low voice.

You chose to believe he had visited because he thought you could provide him comfort, and you also decided that you always could — that you were okay with doing so. Even if most things about your relationship were fake, this one didn’t have to be.

════════════════════════

Peter and you never talked about it, and although you would have liked to hear the reasons behind his actions that night, you didn’t need to because it continued happening.

Having sex made pretending easier. He always had an arm around you or a hand on your body around your friends and by now you not only were used to his touch but sought it.

You often woke up next to him, sometimes clothed and sometimes naked. He always woke up before you, but he never left immediately. You wanted to know why.

Flash had been right to assume you’d develop a crush on Peter and now you had a sinking feeling that it wasn’t just a crush anymore.

You worried about him and wanted to be around him every second of every day, you liked hearing him tell you about his classes and his day — you liked that he always asked about yours, that he was willing to drop things for you because you would drop everything to be there for him.

Covering for him became a reflex. You had an inkling that May knew you were lying sometimes, but she never said anything according to Peter.

Your friends were happy with the development of your relationship which would have been lovely if this was real. But now you worried that the supposed breakup would disrupt your friend group.

It was hard not to think about it. The day would surely come and you’d be by yourself most of the time again. As if that was the only problem.

And problems continued rolling onto you. The last person you expected to see was at your door.

Harry gave you a smoldering look as you stood speechless. “Are you letting me in?”

You did.

He sat down on the couch, making himself at home even though he had barely visited your apartment.

“I thought you were sick,” he said in reference to the fact that you cancelled plans with your friends the day before.

“I was busy.”

Disgust contorted his face as his eyes fell on your neck. “Busy fucking my best friend?”

You flinched at his tone.

“I should’ve known you were only spending time with him because you wanted to get him into your bed.”

He said it as though you were the type of person to fuck anybody you met, as though you hadn’t rejected people because they weren’t him specifically.

“Believe it or not,” you coldly lied, “I started dating him months and not days before your birthday. You would’ve known about it if you talked to me.”

“Rubbing it on my face, aren’t you? Do you know how embarrassing it was to hear you were making out with him at my house after I told my friends multiple times that you were off limits?” He was seething, expelling droplets of saliva as he reproached you.

“Why would you do that in the first place? You knew I’d end up dating somebody who goes to the same school as us.”

“Why would you go for my best friend specifically? Don’t you care about my relationship with him?”

“Is this what our friendship has come to be? A reproaching fest?”

“You’re the one who crossed the line.”

“Harry, you didn’t have a problem when half our friend group drooled over him!”

“Because that’s different. I know Peter, he’s not right for you.”

You incredulously scoffed. “Funny how you’re the only one who says that.”

“I’ve never been wrong about the guys you’ve dated.”

Well, you couldn’t argue against that. But Flash was right, those guys hadn’t been the problem — the fact that you compared them to Harry was.

“Let time prove either of us right.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“What?”

“You promised nobody would ever be more important than me.”

You both promised a lot of things as kids... that you would never bring dates to an event you could attend together, that you would attend the same college, that you would be part of the same friend group your entire lives, that you would tell each other everything...

“I’m not saying Pete is more important than you, I’m j—“

“Break up with him, then.”

“You’re making it sound like I have to choose between you and him.”

“Because you have to.” When he didn’t get an answer, he added. “I’ll give you time to think it through.”

You wanted to do anything but think. You wanted to have your best friend back — you didn’t care if he was jealous anymore, you never should have. You weren’t Liz, it was okay, he liked her and you liked somebody else.

“Harry, come on...”

But Harry walked himself out and forced your words to die in your throat.

You never thought he would be as angry as you wanted him to be. You got your anger and your jealousy and your dilemma. He had it all clear, you were the idiot who had to get into this mess.

A shower and a portion of your comfort food later, you decided that you couldn’t be inside your head right now and left your apartment.

It was drizzling. Such a perfect weather to be inside doing everything or nothing alike.

You loved being by yourself at your place. The plan for the day had been just that. But as always, Harry made you change them.

Chastising yourself for forgetting your phone at home, you knocked on the door in front of you.

The door opened and you were greeted with a smile.

You wished you could’ve smiled back. “Hi, May, is Peter home?”

She motioned for you to come in. “He’s in his room. Do you want something to drink?”

“Not now, thank you.”

You knocked on his door, hoping he would answer before May could tell something was wrong with you.

Peter yelled for you to come in. You were an idiot, he probably had heard you talking to his aunt.

Pushing the door open, you stuck your head in. “It’s me,” you softly said just to make sure you had his permission to come in.

“Come in, baby.”

God, not that pet name. Not now.

You closed the door behind you before facing him. He was sat at his desk, writing something down on a notebook as he looked at the computer screen.

Approaching him, you leaned in to see what he was doing. You didn’t understand much of it, science was his thing.

He rotated the chair to face you. “What’s up? You didn’t text me...”

“Forgot my phone at home.”

Peter frowned and dropped his pen on top of the notebook before standing up to move towards his bed. “Are you alright?”

Did you look that bad? You weren’t wearing makeup, but he had seen your bare face plenty of times to be weirded out.

“Can I have a hug?”

Now sat on the bed, Peter opened his arms and legs so you’d make yourself at home between them.

And you did. You hugged yourself to him as tightly as you could, afraid he would let go at any moment.

He didn’t let go, you should have known he wouldn’t — your mind was playing tricks with you, that was it.

“What happened? Why are you upset?”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him. Not yet, not when you were scared he would cut you off from his life just because Harry thought it was for the best.

“Had a long day yesterday and didn’t want to be alone today,” you mumbled.

“Why don’t we watch a movie?” he offered. “I’ll let you pick which one we watch while I go get some snacks.”

You whined. “I don’t wanna move.”

“It’s just like ten minutes. We’ll cuddle the entire runtime.”

“You promise?”

He kissed your forehead. “I promise.”

It amazed you how easy it was to trust him, to like him, to want to be with him no matter the moment or the activity.

It took you longer to pick a movie than it took him to come back. You didn’t want any snacks, but you still took them because you didn’t want him to worry too much.

You would worry on your own later.

Peter hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. His hands rested on your belly as he watched the movie, giving you butterflies every time he laughed against your skin.

How were you supposed to give this up when it felt so good?

════════════════════════

Mary Jane sat across from you, playing with the glass between her hands. She was listening to you, but by the way she was tapping her fingers against the glass, she was dying to interrupt.

You went on and on because you still couldn’t believe Harry would make you choose between him and somebody else. It didn’t even make sense when he had thrown you and Peter to the side when he started dating Liz.

When her time came, Mary Jane spoke, “You shouldn’t care about what Harry says.”

“I care more about the fact that I ran to Peter like a fucking idiot.”

“He’s your boyfriend.”

You knew she was trying to be the voice of reason, but no, he wasn’t. That made it worse. “But doesn’t it make it look like I already chose?”

“Kinda,” she conceded. “But that’s not a bad thing necessarily.”

“Harry and I grew up together.”

“And Peter fucks you stupid. They have different roles in your life.”

You remained silent. Your cup was already empty and you didn’t need more caffeine. In fact, a soothing tea would have been a better choice — you needed to drive after this once your sister was done with her friends.

“Do you still like Harry or something? I will kill you if you say yes.”

You got that from her tone, she didn’t have to tell you. “I don’t know.”

“But you like Peter more... Right?”

“Yeah, I do.” Maybe liking was selling it short at this point.

Peter didn’t make you choose, and if anything between you were real he wouldn’t make you choose either. You were so sure that you would’ve bet your own life on it.

That fact was a problem. Why couldn’t Harry be like Peter?

“Maybe I need another opinion,” you mused out loud.

“Gwen will tell you the same.”

“What about Flash? Maybe if he had all the details...”

“Flash will try to convince you to kill Harry in his sleep.”

“You think so?” Of course he would, but you were desperate.

“He’s team Peter all the way. Honestly, I would think they have something going on if Peter wasn’t so into you.”

You avoided looking at her. “What should I do?”

“What do you want?”

“Just... I don’t know. About what? From what?”

“Do you want to choose?”

“No.”

“You could choose neither of them.”

“But—“ You shook your head.

“No, say it.”

“I can’t.”

Mary Jane wouldn’t pressure you to talk, she wasn’t that kind of person.

“At least tell Peter about it before Harry does,” she advised.

“I’ll tell him once I’m done here.”

It was late when your sister met you at your table. Mary Jane had left two hours earlier and you had even entertained yourself looking around a few stores and come back.

You drove in silence, allowing her to talk if she wanted to. Maybe asking something would’ve been better, but you didn’t have the energy to find out who your sister was dating or why she had decided to hide it.

Enough was already on your plate, and you needed to trust her, unlike your parents.

Stopping the car, you waited for her to get inside. Your mom hurried outside the moment she opened the door and walked towards your car.

She made you a sign with her hand, asking you to roll the window down.

With a sigh, you indulged her.

“Dinner tomorrow,” she drily told you. “You should bring Peter, I think it’s time your dad meets him.”

“Mom, I’m not marrying him or something like that.”

“I don’t care. Bring him.”

Great. Another fucking problem you had to deal with now. Your dad had always been clear on the type of person he wanted for you and Peter was not it. A shame, really.

“I’ll ask if he isn’t busy,” you compromised.

She looked happy with that. Your mom wished you a good night and turned around. You watched her get inside the house, wondering if she truly wanted you there the next day or not. You never knew with her.

You didn’t get to talk to Peter that night. Instead of telling him you wanted to see him so you could talk in person, you told him your parents wanted to have dinner with him.

Peter said yes immediately and asked about the dress code. God, you didn’t even want to think about clothes.

And with good reason — it wasn’t fair that everything suited him. There was no color or style Peter couldn’t pull off.

But it was probably for the best, he’d make a good impression that way.

You wanted your dad to like him and your sister to trust him and your mom to laugh at his lame jokes. You wanted them to see the person you desperately wanted to be in your life until your last day alive.

Truthfully, you didn’t care if he had feelings for you like you did for him. You enjoyed being around him, his friendship was enough.

The surprise the two of you got when Norman and Harry stood up to greet you was extremely hard to hide.

Norman gave you and Peter a warm smile. “I told Harry to bring his girlfriend, but he didn’t listen to me.”

You shifted on your feet, using Peter as leverage to ground yourself by squeezing his fingers between yours.

Your mom smiled tightly. “Next time it will be.”

Much like Flash did with you, Norman talked wonders about Peter to your parents.

You avoided looking at Harry with the pretense of being polite by gazing at whoever was speaking. Such gesture didn’t sit well with him and he showed it by standing up and walking towards you.

Harry inhaled deeply. “Can we talk in private?”

Unconsciously, you turned to look at Peter. He patted your thigh in encouragement.

“Sure,” you feigned enthusiasm.

You walked across the house in silence, wishing he would tell you to forget about what he said before.

Harry stared at you as you looked around the backyard. Not only were you avoiding speaking first, but you were confused as to when the lighting fixtures had been changed.

The spot you were awkwardly standing at had witnessed many secrets being exchanged between you. Perhaps it would be witness and accomplice of your fallout too.

“So you’ve made your choice.”

“Harry...”

His furious eyes bored into yours. “Why the fuck did you bring him?”

“I wanted to,” you confessed. “Mom told me I should and I agreed.”

“We never bring dates tho dinners like these. We promised,” he reminded you.

“He’s not just a date, this is different.”

“I didn’t invite Liz because I keep my promises.”

“You didn’t invite Liz because you didn’t want to.” You hated that he couldn’t own up to his mistakes with her when he loved her so much. “Stop holding a stupid promise I made when I was six against me.”

“You wouldn’t have liked it if I brought her here while you were single.”

“You stopped talking to me the moment you started dating her. I would’ve expected it.”

“So you went and tricked my best friend into a relationship.”

Was that he thought about you? That you manipulated or forced people to be around you?

“Your best friend? You barely talk to him anymore, Harry. And don’t you dare tell me it’s Liz’s fault.”

He ignored your first comment. “Now I will get in trouble with her for not taking her here if she sees pictures.”

“Call her and tell her the truth. Or blame me, I don’t care.”

“It is your fault,” he bitingly said, “you brought him to something special for us.”

“I didn’t even know you’d be here! And honestly, you should be happy for me.”

“I would be if he wasn’t my best friend.”

“Again with that...” You sighed, hoping you could find the right words. “I don’t want to choose, Harry, and it fucking hurts that you from all people are putting me in this situation God knows why.”

“I’ve told you before, it’s because Peter is—“

You interrupted him, “Peter being your best friend doesn’t matter, he’s not going to drop you like you dropped us.”

“I know I dropped you for a while, but Liz needed my attention.”

You didn’t blame him for focusing more on her, or for wanting to spend most of his time with her, but you knew for a fact that Liz made time for her friends; Harry could’ve done the same.

You started tearing up There was the problem, Harry couldn’t make time for you or Peter or Gwen even when he was free.

Harry stammered, but not a single word came out of his mouth after that. It only made you cry harder. Did he not care even a little bit?

“I’ll give you a moment alone,” he finally mumbled.

You walked further down the backyard, cursing yourself for crying and for wearing uncomfortable shoes. You were supposed to look pretty and taller, not to ruin your makeup and walk around furniture and plants.

You sat on the couch before deciding to lay down on your side. You used to do that when you were a kid too. You’d wait for the pool to be ready in that position and you would lay on your back when you wanted your mom to ask if something was wrong.

Right now, you weren’t sure what you wanted. You definitely didn’t want to talk to whoever the approaching steps belonged to.

You still looked up as a figure stood before you.

Peter crouched down and reached over to wipe your tears. The gesture made more tears come out.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, placing a hand on your waist and slipping his other hand to your back to make you sit up. He sat down beside you. “Come here.”

Peter brought you closer, making you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I don’t understand why he’s making me choose between you and him,” you lamented.

“He is?”

Fuck. You had assumed Harry had told him and that was why he was there. “I didn’t know how to tell you...”

Humming, he rubbed your arm up and down. “You can tell him the truth if you want.”

You lifted your head off his shoulder, searching for his eyes. He didn’t seem to mean it in a bad way. You shook your head.

“Are you sure? I can tell him if you want.”

“It would be pointless.”

“I don’t like seeing you cry.”

“We should change the subject then.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I just...” Peter pursed his lips, second-guessing his next words. “It pains me to see you upset.”

“Peter,” you pleaded, “don’t do this to me.”

“Don’t do what?”

“You’re making everything more difficult than it already was.”

He slanted his head, taken aback. “Because I care about you?”

“Because I think I’m in love with you.”

Peter blinked rapidly before his eyes started dancing all over your face as though he was waiting for you to say something else.

But you didn’t have much to say anymore. All your cards were on the table. Although you had to admit his lack of response would drive you insane if he continued looking at you like that.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you lied. “I’m okay with being just friends. I just thought you should know.”

“No, no, no.” He shook his head, taking himself out of his self-absorption. “I feel the same, I promise! But... I don’t want to ruin your friendship with Harry.”

“So you’re making me choose too?”

“No. I just don’t want you to regret being in a real relationship with me because you lost your best friend.”

“It wouldn’t be your fault.”

“Yeah, you’re right...” Peter looked up at the sky and huffed a laugh.

You mirrored his movement. The sky was clear, allowing you the privilege to gaze at the stars.

“Remember that night I walked you to your place and we stopped in the middle of the street to look at the stars?”

You giggled. You had been on the verge of crying that night after Harry ditched you for Liz if it hadn’t been because Gwen distracted you. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Should I have kissed you that night?”

You weren’t sure, it was hard to know if you would’ve kissed back or not. You wanted to believe you wouldn’t have, but who knew. “Does it matter?”

“No.” Peter twisted his body and cupped your cheek so you’d look at him. You softly smiled at him and he gave you a small kiss. “Not anymore.”

[writingsbychlo]

sun in the shadows (03)

word count; 12,706

summary; trying to make some headway on the study leads to an interesting revelation, and progress in your friendship with noah.

notes; if this part is a little sucky, I apologise. it was a last minute addition that I created because I realised I wanted to include some extras.

warnings; brief mentions of panic attacks/anxiety, but it’s very mild.

The weather was improving, the drizzle of the winter and the grey skies overhead were getting lighter, the showers of rain were getting less frequent and the winter was moving on. Spring was making itself known, bulbs of daffodils were finally taking root in the soil, and green was sprouting from the earth that had been frozen over and dead only a couple of weeks ago. The watery floors were drying up, limited ice was fading away, and graduation was sitting right on the horizon for you all.

Your fingers flexed around the strap of your bag, rooting through the contents to find a place to slip your file inside, all your notes for the class you’d be having were inside, and there was a blank page for your next session waiting to be filled out. Once it had its place, albeit getting a little bit crumbled against the other content, you removed your wallet, a few coins jingling in the bottom, and you hoped it was enough for two coffees.

There was a coffee stand not too far away, and you were hoping an extra shot of coffee before you went in might get your brain working a little faster. Only a couple of feet ahead of you was a face you recognised, a dark jumper to match dark denim jeans, a pair of boots for motorbike riding that were beginning to scuff along the edges and the toes. He was hanging over his money, a brown bag holding a pretzel and a tall cup, the tell-tale tag of a teabag hanging over the edge, and he walked away.

Joining the back of the line, you watched him go, sitting not far across the quarter with his headphones on, settling on one of the recently repainted memorial benches. He pulled the tab on eh coffee back, opening it up and a cloud of steam left the drink, curling up into the air that still held a slight chill, drifting away to disappear as he blew against the surface of the drink. In his other hand was his phone, scrolling aimlessly on it as a way to keep himself disconnected from everyone else around him and prompt nobody else to join him. His bag was out on the bench too, pushed a short distance from his body in an attempt to take up the rest of the space to deter company.

Ordering a simple set of black coffees, and finding you had just enough change for a muffin too, you waited patiently for your order, an assortment of condiments and the double-chocolate treat you’d paid for being handed to you first. There was a grinding, the slight screech of the machine as it crushed the beans to create two black coffees for you, plastic lids sealed on and two cardboard jackets fastened around them.

Balancing the load between them all, you headed over to him, using your knee to nudge the bag up the bench until it bumped his leg, and he jerked slightly, looking up to see you. Offering him a beam, his narrowed eyes lightened a little, and he sighed. Putting down his phone and moving his bag to the floor, he lifted the headphones away from his ears, and let them hang around his neck. Sitting yourself down, he slumped back into the wood, and you scooted up to sit closer to him, placing the spare coffee you’d bought for Stiles on the floor away from your feet.

“Hey, Noah!” He gave a short nod, still a little uncomfortable, and he turned to face you more. “So, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“How did you know I was here?”

You shrugged, opening up the bag of extras and searching through for a couple of sweetener packets, and a wooden stirrer. “I didn’t. I was just gonna’ grab a coffee before class and head to my hall early, because, y’know, studying at home is distracting.” Your hand waved off the statement, finding the packets you wanted, and clutching your cup between your knees for stability. “So, anyway I was going to text you when I got there, but then I saw you, so I figured I’d come and say ‘hey’!”

“Right.”

“So, hey!” You waved a little before taking the top from your coffee, and leaving it on the bench beside yourself. “I ask once again, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“Well, since I am the most popular guy at this college, I’m pretty busy.” He smiled a little at his own joke, particularly when you gave him a laugh, and your brow raised.

“Oh, he’s got jokes today, huh? I like it, I can roll with that.” Tipping the sugar into the cup, you added a couple of packets, before stirring it slowly. “I take it you’re free, then. I was hoping we could squeeze in some study stuff this afternoon. I have a class in a couple of minutes, but I wanted to see if you were free?”

“Well, I’m free all day. I had a six AM class.” His face screwed up at the idea, and you could feel his pain, having spent the entirety of your sophomore year with a teacher who held lectures at six AM so she could avoid her morning sickness before class, and rush home for it afterwards. Professor Anderson going off on her maternity leave was the best thing that had happened to your education that year.

“Great, I’ll sort it with Stiles, and we’ll text you the details.”

“Sounds like a thrill. I can hardly wait.” He smiles, the sarcasm just like his brothers as it came through, and you repaid him for the joke with a chuckle. While the two of you had made progress, you could tell he was still a little unsure around you. You were polar opposites and he didn’t take well to that, the atmosphere that you brought with you could be a little too much for him to handle sometimes, you couldn’t stop the guilt that was eating at you a little. “What’s wrong? You’ve got a look on your face like you want to talk about things. Just warning you, I’m not good at that heart-to-heart stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve witnessed that.”

“Shut it.” He teased, sticking his tongue out at you childishly, and you grinned cheesily in reply to him. “You can tell me, though. Can’t promise I’ll help, but..”

“It’s nothing weighing me down. I just wanted to apologise. I clearly interrupted your free time. You got yourself a little pretzel to eat in silence, and everything.” He offers you a blank look at your slight dig, and you only winked, waving the muffin in a bag that you’d bought, and taking a sip of your coffee once the lid was sealed back on. “People usually like it when I stop by to see them, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay, really.” His words were strained, the response bringing you no relief as he forced them out, and your frown remained. “I’m serious, okay? It’s alright.”

You were trying your best but learning the lines with Noah was different to you. Upon starting college you’d been thrown in at the deep end of socialisation and a whole world you’d never quite had access to before. Coming from a smaller town that had always limited your expectations was tough, and you’d taken it differently from the way Noah had. You’d had so many experiences, becoming legal to drink and venturing beyond your comfort zone, truly leaving home and facing the idea of having your life laid out before you, the first time truly having your heartbroken, and being too far to simply collapse into the arms of your mom or dad for support when things got messed up.

“When does your class start?” You jumped, lost in your thoughts as you slumped back into the bench, and you sat up straight again, turning to find that Noah was already looking at you, eyes scanning over you slowly. It was a good reminder, time had been slipping away from you and in the ease of his peaceful and quiet company, you could have sat there for hours.

Checking your watch, you sighed, lifting your bag strap back up onto your shoulder more securely, and packing everything you had with you inside, leaving you to hold a coffee cup in each hand. “In about ten minutes.”

“How about I walk you?” He picked up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder, and you nodded, a warmer feeling at his offer blooming where cold guilt had been. Standing up and making sure not to spill any of the scalding coffee onto your hand. Peering around the busy campus quarters that was more filled now than it had been for months, the lighter weather tempting groups to come out of their dormitories and the cafés to gather outside instead.

He fell into step beside you, toes scuffing occasionally on the slightly uneven stonework of the quad, before it fell away into smooth concrete pathways on the way to your lecture. The grass alongside each path was growing greener, dull colour fading away into something brighter. Paper crinkled beside you, the cup of tea in his hands being finished and the cardboard cup was crushed between string fingers, knuckles even paler than usual as he crumpled it up, and as you approach the closest bin, it was disposed of.

Your fingers flexed around your coffee cup, almost having forgotten that it was there as the heat from the two began to fade away a little. Taking a sip, the refreshing burst of sweetened caffeine was like a spark to your system, and you revelled in it. “How do you take your coffee?”

You lower the cup from your lips, swallowing your mouthful, and you couldn't stop the rise of your brows once you turned to look at him. “Creamer, usually. I like a caramel flavoured one. But, since I’m not big on creamer in packets or from street vendors, this one just has sweeteners.”

“Cool.” He nodded, and your lips pressed together tightly to try and contain the smile you wanted to let free, silence forming between you both for a moment, a further gathering of steps as the two of you went on, your building coming into sight again. “Did you watch the news last night?”

“Is this small talk?”

“It’s an attempt at small talk.” He winced, and you chuckled, a small smile on his features as the fear of judgement or humiliation washed away, and he gave a sigh.

“Okay, let's try this.” Your mind spun, searching for a track of something to talk about, and a thought clicked into space. “If you could watch one genre of movies for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Comedy. Like, comedy-action. You know, ones like ‘Jumanji’ or something?” He was quick with it, certain about his answer, and you nodded.

“Yeah? That was quick. How come you’re so sure?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, one hand coming up to hold his bag strap, swinging it to the side to be able to get inside, and fish out the paper bag with a pretzel inside. “I guess I just think they’re good for you. Good for the soul. They have action and it keeps you a little on the edge of your seat, but it’s funny. It's easy-going, when you’ve got anxiety, or you’re having a bad day, or you just want background noise, they’re perfect.”

“Alright. Fair enough. Okay, tricky one.” his eyes narrowed a little, but an amused look passed over his features while he waited. “If you had to choose specifically between comedy and action, which is it?”

“It’s got to be action. Because comedy usually means Adam Sandler or Seth Rogen, and some of their comedies are good, but some are jus-” He paused, jaw dropping a little, and his hand came out, pausing in front of your to bring you to a halt too. A smile curled on your lips, and he looked shocked. “Holy shit, you’re good!”

“Ask a basic question that people are passionate about, it always leads to more options, and everyone always wants to talk about something fun.” His head shook slowly, as though he was in disbelief, and you took a dramatic bow, trying not to spill the coffees in your hands as you giggled. “Give it a go, I bet you can do it.”

The paper in his hands crinkled, your footsteps taking up again, and the two of you were making your way towards the building once again. Taking a bite from his pretzel, a piece torn away with his teeth, he thought it over. “Does your family have any secret or ‘famous’ recipes?”

“Oh, that’s a good one. Kudos to you, Noah.”

“Thank you. I thought about it for, like, eight whole seconds.” He grinned, the joke moving away from you both as you left it behind, and you thought about his question.

“Maybe it’s not my family recipe, just a personal one, but I’m great at making lasagne.” He scoffed, and you nudged him with your elbow. “I’m serious! I make a great lasagne!”

“You don’t seem like a cook to me, is all! You seem like the sort of person who’d manage to burn a pit of water.”

“You can’t burn water, an.. oh, I just got it. You jerk.” It was a joke, your nose screwing up as you stuck your tongue out at him, thanking him a second later as he held the door open for him. The bright lights of the outside changed to artificial lights in the halls, not as much coming through the windows as trees outside managed to cast shade into the building. “Well, I can cook. I love to cook, and I’m good at it. Especially lasagne. My family are generally the only ones who have ever had it, and thanks to that insult, you’ll never have it.”

“Oh, woah, no! You have to let me try it now. Prove me wrong, or I’ll be forced to believe you’re bluffing.”

“You’re sneaky.” You scoffed, students filling the hall and filtering in from different sides of the building, lectures in different halls all waiting to take place, and you stepped to the side of the corridor once your doorway was within reach. “If you’re lucky.”

“I’m betting on that.”

Glancing back, Stiles was already inside, as expected. Stiles Stilinski had never once been on time, he was either twenty minutes early or twenty minutes late, and since he’d spent the night with Derek, who was an early bird, you’d figured which one today would be. His head was slumped on his hm half-asleep and on the verge of drooling as he sat there, and you chuckled, turning to Noah. “Thanks for walking me. Also, thanks for small-talking with me.”

“Thanks for the advice on small talk.”

“I’m gonna’ head inside, but, I’ll see you later, okay?” He nodded, confirming the times with you, and lingering a moment longer. It was quiet, but not so tense, and he rolled on the balls of his fete, the half-eaten pretzel in his hands was seemingly abandoned as one hand tucked into his jeans pockets, the other hanging limply while holding the delicacy by his side.

“Thanks for sitting with me. This wasn’t so bad. It was almost fun.”

“You know, one day, you’re gonna’ tell me you had fun with me. I look forward to that day.” He smirked, your head tipping to the side at the expression.

“If you’re lucky.” He was repeating your own words back to you, and you beamed at the chance. Backing away from him slightly, you fixed him with the cheekiest glance you could as you walked through the doorway.

“I’m betting on it.”

You could hear his laugh once you were gone, into the classroom and beginning to take the steps up to a seat beside Stiles that he’d reserved for you, his bag sitting on it. He’d already gotten his equipment out, notepads and pencil laid out in a somewhat organised mess on top of the desk.

Placing the two coffees down, you moved Stiles bag to the floor, tucking it behind his chair and a soft snore made itself known from him, the boy not doing well with early mornings but he never had, not once in your years of knowing him had he handled it very well, so it was no surprise.

“Opening up your bag, you dropped your notebook down onto the surface with a loud ‘slapping’ sound, and he jerked upwards, flailing as he did, and almost knocking the coffees over. Blinking quickly and shaking sleep away, he looked around, eyes wide as he finally focused on you.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that.” He chastised you, leaning back in his seat and holding a hand over his heart. “I was dreaming about high school, I thought you were my lacrosse Coach waking me up for falling asleep in class again.”

“Maybe I am.” You winked, slamming a hand down on the counter. “Drop and give me twenty, Stilinski! Right now!”

“Don’t do that, it’s eerily accurate.” He cringed, shuddering a little, before a wide smile replaced the horrified expression that had morphed, and you pushed a coffee over to him. “You brought me a coffee?”

“Yes, I did. It’s bribery.”

“Oh? What am I being bribed for?” He was curious, rooting through the bag of condiments for it and taking the plastic lid from the cup, steam curling out into the air. Taking an ungodly and certainly unhealthy amount of sweetener and sugar packets to load into his coffee.

“Your free time this afternoon. I’m thinking about getting some of my study done, I can get all the work for the next couple of sessions sorted now, but how do you feel about being asked some later?” He tipped them in, a drop of coffee flying up over the edge and landing on the desk as he stirred his drink with vigour, that same hyper excitement that he always had.

“Can’t I just fill them out now?”

“It’d be better if I could get your responses with Noah.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and making a scene of it, but there was a smile that told you he already agreed.

“You should have brought me two coffees, but fine.”

You let out a victorious ‘aha!’, and shook the little brown paper bag that was still sitting on your half of the desk at him. “I also brought you half of a muffin!”

“Only half of a muffin?”

“Well, it was none, but since I didn’t eat it yet and I’d feel bad eating it in front of you, I decided to share it.” You tore it in half, pushing half across the scratched and vandalised wooden surface to him. Crumbs were left along the surface, and Stiles pressed the pad of his finger along them to gather them all up.

“Oh, right. Well, in that case, what I meant was; wow, a full half of a muffin!” He cheered, much more enthusiasm, and you nodded.

“Much better.” At the front of the classroom, your tutor entered, door slamming behind him as he kicked the wedge out from underneath, and his case was placed down on the desk. The room began a hushed quiet, save for the loud slurping of Stiles with his coffee beside you.

“You know,” Your best friend didn’t understand the concept of a whisper, everything he did was more like a dramatic stage whisper on a Broadway show, and a few dirty looks were sent his way. The professor was used to this, a year of experience and advice from previous tutors guiding him to ignore Stiles’ fidgeting and chatter. “You’re going to have to convince Noah to do this.”

Slumping down in your seat a little more, you turned your head to him, nibbling on your half of the muffin. “I already did.”

“What?” This time he was hushed, the man standing at the front near his desk, trying his best to give extra advice to everyone and answer any common questions that he’d been emailed. You’d have to catch the after-class notes in your emails. “When d’you do that?”

“This morning before class. I saw him while getting coffee for you and we walked over.”

Stiles huffed, his brows being pulled together slightly. “Okay. Damn, he was my last free shot at getting the afternoon off.” You grinned, pinching at your friend’s cheek, and he smacked your hand away. “Quit it, I’ve told you not to do that before.”

“In case I pinch your moles off?”

“That's where my power is. My funny is in my moles.” He hissed, only making you laugh more, and you covered your mouth with your hand over his silly superstitions.

“Whatever, freak.”

“Hoe.” He snarked back, and you grinned, punching at his shoulder as best you could from this angle, and he reached up a hand to rub at it. “So, if we’re doing this, I at least want to do it at my place. I’m going out this evening, I gotta’ be ready. Derek’s sisters are coming up to visit.”

“It won’t take long, don’t worry.” He hummed, pulling out his phone and keeping it ducked from view. He was texting his brother, letting him know to be ready, and at what time your class would be ending, giving him a little time to prepare. Opening your book up and flicking to the page you had marked, it was a journal written about the study of the ways that twins raised in different households could grow up similarly, and you were hoping to adopt some of the content for your study.

“So, what’ve you got done so far?”

Stile sighed, flicking open his notebook, and you were shocked by the fact that he was already at the end of it. There were pieces of paper stuck in, a list of book references on one of the tabs down the side of a page, and only a few blank pages left at the back.

“Oh, wow, okay.” You stared at your notebook, barely reaching a quarter of the way through with the notes you’d been making, and it looked like Stiles was ready to start making progress towards a conclusion for his hypothesis. “So, you’ve got a whole lot done, then.”

“Yeah, well, I want to spend as little time in a prison as I possibly can.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead, the pages crammed full of information as he flicked through to find a blank one. “Plus, I didn’t want to go and interview inmates on my own, so I wait until Derek has free time to go with me, and I get as much done in those sessions as I can.”

“You’re gonna’ be done weeks before I am.” You pouted, your pen twirling at the top corner of a page, drawing a collation of pretty flowers to form a border, and he chuckled.

“I have easier test subjects than you do. They’re already guilty and behind bars, they’re more than happy to open up. You’ve gotta’ deal with Noah.”

“That’s true.” You grinned, thinking back on the conversation you’d had with the other twin that morning. When he was alone, it wasn’t so bad, he talked more and he wasn’t so worried about judgements, but as soon as there was someone else who might hear, he completely closed down.

“Hey, seriously, we have ages left. You’re gonna’ be just fine.”

“I’m just freaking out a little bit, because this is the last hurdle, y’know?” He nodded, and you could see whatever it was he was thinking practically swirling in his eyes, because Stiles’ emotions were open to read like a book.

“It’s terrifying. It’s, like, what the hell are we supposed to do when we finish?”

“I don’t know.” Your head dropped to your hands, fingers soothingly rubbing at your temples. A large hand landed on your back, rubbing in comforting circles. “What I do know, though, is that if I don’t get on with coming up with some more content, I’m never gonna’ finish this study in time.”

“Well, put your headphones on and come up with some questions.”

You did as told, plugging your earbuds in and choosing some classical music that would make it easier to concentrate. Opening one of your survey works back up to the page you’d left off at, your eyes began to flicker over the pages, picking out the useful information. Once you had a list built, you had a foundation to work from, questions to create and organise into groups, different sessions being able to come together.

Beside you, Stiles’ hand never seemed to stop rising, a constant dialogue with your tutor as he checked his work and ironed out any kinks in his study. He was also full of chatter and laughter, getting along with everyone around him and asking about their works, making you turn your music up several times just to be able to concentrate. But, by the end of the session, when Stiles was tugging your earbud out and telling you your class was over, you had a solid three pages worth of questions that had been split up into sessions, and ready to be worked through.

“Pack up and get ready to go. I have plans to get ready for.”

Stiles already had his bag in his arms, notebook tucked inside and pens and pencils put away, two empty coffee cups and a muffin wrapper sitting out, which he quickly gathered up, once his bag was on his shoulder. He was gone, walking past you and down to the waste bin at the front of the hall to dispose of them, his fingers tapping idly on his thigh once he was done.

You gathered your belongings, packing them away and curling the wire of your headphones back up neatly, making sure everything had its correct place in your bag, before following him down and out of the steps.

The halls were filled once again, the two of you navigating through crowds to the outside of the building, and you followed him in his diversion across the pathway, all the way to his car. Some students had already left, spaces beginning to empty out as a bottleneck effect took place at the only entrance and exit to this carpark.

“Where’s your car?” The dirty blue jeep was one of the only ones left in the parking lot, Stiles looking around for your vehicle, and you sighed.

“Don’t get me started on that hunk of junk.” You growled, stomping a foot on the floor as Stiles laughed. Opening the driver’s side door, he hopped up inside of it, legs dangling from the chair. “I’m trying not to use it as much. It splutters when it starts up and I have to try it a whole bunch of times, so the less I use it, the closer to graduation we can get before it eventually taps out.”

“You ever think about just getting it fixed?”

“Oh, big words from the man whose engine is held together with duct tape.” Your hand rubbed over the hood of the car, a slightly dusty layer that made you cringe, and you wiped your hand off on your jacket to stop it.

“Touché.” Stiles only smirked. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride to my place. I’ll be waiting for hours if you walk.”

He slammed his car door once his legs were inside, leaning over the centre console to pop open the passenger side door as you rounded the car, and he was sparking up the car before you were even fully inside. Slamming it shut, he was reversing from his spot as you clipped in your safety belt, swinging his car around, and you gripped onto the edge of the door. “Easy there, fast and furious.”

“Oh, relax. Nobody is around.”

“Except for me, and I’d like to live until graduation.” His eyes rolled, hitting the brakes and flicking on the indicators as he was leaving the parking lot, moving out onto the main roads. There weren’t so many other cars, the mid-afternoon meaning the other students were mostly in class, in bed, or eating their lunch. College was a weird time, and while you’d loved it, you couldn't wait to regain some kind of normality. “Can we swing by my place? I need to swap out my books. I don’t want to carry all these around.”

“Okay, but be quick! I have to be ready by six and out the door by six-thirty. Derek will kill me if I’m late for this.” His fingers were tapping on the steering wheel as he changed direction to head to your place instead of his own. The space between you both was filled with the radio, the simple tunes of classic 70s anthems, the songs Stiles had grown up with, his dad’s favourite records and he played them constantly. He knew all the words, mouthing along and banging his head, pausing occasionally to check the mirrors and the roads between dancing in his seat.

Rolling the window down as he slowed in his approach to the building, afresh air swept into the carbon of the car, the slightly musty smell of the older car was something you’d miss when it was gone. The shade of the concrete cover overhead was chillier than the sunny roads, and he swung himself haphazardly into a parking space.

“I’ll turn the car around and wait here, cool?”

“I won’t take long, promise!” Hopping from the car and closing the door, you leant on the open door frame, and Stiles slouched in his seat, as he usually did. “Lydia and Ally should both be out, so there’s nobody for me to even talk to.”

“Good, because you’re chatty.” He teased, and you flipped him off, a quick walk as you headed away from him to the stairs. Once you were there, you were taking a quick jog up the sets of stairs, headed for your floor, and balancing your books in your arms carefully. Rooting through your bag to find your keys, they were at the bottom, jingling tantalisingly for you to find.

Leaving your books on the countertop of the kitchen, you shifted through them, taking the notebook you needed and leaving the rest, piling them back up and taking them to your bedroom Abandoned on the desk, you rushed to change, throwing on a bigger and warmer jumper to get through the rest of the day, phone in your pocket and a bag on your arm. Passing back through the kitchen, you were ready to grab the notebook and bag you’d left there, keys hanging in the back of the door, and you eyed the freezer.

You’d made a bet, a point to prove, and you were certain that buried somewhere deep in the bottom, you had a frozen lasagne from the last time you’d made it for Allison and Lydia. You had a few spare moments, and so you moved over to the freezer, opening the door and crouching to scan over all the shelves.

Running your fingers over frozen plastic, you searched for the right one. Tinfoil crinkling in the back, behind a bag of dinosaur chicken nuggets and a tray of alcoholic ice cubes, was a tray of lasagne. Pulling it out, the cold chilled your arm, even through the layers of your hoodie, and you used your foot to close the freezer while wrapping the tray in the nearest tea towel for an extra layer.

Placing your notebook over it and holding it in both arms for security, you clicked the latch onto the door, keys in your pocket and bag on your shoulder to let it swing closed behind you.

Stiles saw you coming, his head snapping over to the metal door between the stairwell and the parking lot when it fell open, backing through it and his brows raised. Opening up the passenger side door, he took the lasagne from you when you handed it over, climbing back into the vehicle.

“This is cold. What is it?”

“Lasagne.” You settled it onto your lap once your safety belt was on, folding the towel underneath to keep your lap from getting chilled and painful, and he nodded. The engine was still running, and taking off the brakes, he was pulling out of the space again.

“So, not that I don’t love a home-cooked meal, but I’m going out for dinner. Why the traybake?”

“I have a point to prove to Noah.” You were looking out of the window, but you could feel his gaze on you, making you a little uncomfortable, and you turned to face him. His eyes were flicking between you and the road, brows furrowed, a stare like he was trying to figure you out, before he let it go. “He told me I looked like I couldn't cook, and it’s a battle I’m going to win.”

“Well, alright then. Save me leftovers?”

“We’ll see.” You winked, and he grinned, eyes flicking to the tray in your lap, before back to the road.

It was only a short journey, the distance between your place and Stiles’ building was short for a walk and even shorter in a car, on the edges of campus and conveniently placed, and it had been one of the building blocks of your friendship with him An easily accessible study partner, somewhere to hang out with, someone to walk home with you after a night out, someone to share a cab with, or simply knowing there was a friend so close to you.

“It’s going to be weird not living around the corner from you in just a few months.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He sighed, pulling into his one building sparking area and it didn’t have the luxury of being covered or underground, it was exposed each flat having allocated parking spaces, and Noah’s bike was parked underneath the shelter, you could see it from here, with a clamp around the wheel and covered from the impending and risky weather of the early months. “I have a feeling that you’ll end up living next door to me someday.”

“You do?”

He parked the car, arm behind your head as he reversed into it, ready to make a quick getaway on the next morning, or this evening, when he would invariably be late. In true Stiles Stilinski style. “Yeah. Especially after I rock whatever gown you want me to wear for being your maid of honour, someday.”

“Lydia is going to fight you for that role.”

“I will fistfight her for it.” He challenged, and you grinned, clambering down from the car as Stiles had parked a little too close to someone else on your side. With your bag on your shoulder and lasagne in one hand, you tried to squeeze around the door without scratching someone else’s paintwork.

Stiles’ arm was slung over your shoulder as you set off toward the building, the elevator being fully functional, and it was a refreshing change not need to take the stairs up to your place, or risk your life in a rickety elevator.

Throwing his keys down on the kitchen counter, they slid all the way across and to the other side, hitting the floor, and he grimaced when you turned to stare at him. “I’ll pick those up later.”

“Uh-huh.” The sounds of video games and music were coming from behind Noah’s door, though it wasn’t fully closed, only pushed halfway, and you hoped that was a sign that he was still in a good mood. Leaving your bag on the edge of the couch that was facing away from you, your hands rubbed together, glancing around at the environment you were still getting used to. “You should put this lasagne in now, so that it’s ready for after the study. Medium heat, leave the full-on tight.”

“Where are you going?”

“To say ‘hey’ to your brother.” Stiles’ face scrunched up, a mumble of ‘good luck’ as he picked up the tray, lifting it over his head to look in at it from underneath. Wandering toward the sounds coming from the hall, you knocked on the edge of the door, pushing it open a second later when you heard the game pause, and the music following it. Leaning on the doorframe, Noah turned to face you, brows raising slightly, and he shifted in his chair. “Hey.”

“Hi. It’s, uh, time for the study stuff, then?”

“Yeah. You okay?” He shrugged, turning back to his game and closing it off, leaning forwards from where he was sat on his bed enough to turn the console off.

“I didn’t realise we’d be doing it here. It feels more personal, somehow.” He had a large hoodie on, comfortable in his own clothes as he wore a baggy and warm outfit, the same way you often had when everything started to feel overwhelming.

“Well, this study is going to get pretty personal.”

“I know that. It’s just that right now, it feels a bit like I’m naked, y’know?” You chuckled, a momentary smile on his face flashing past, and you were glad to see it. “I just feel exposed.”

“This study is gonna’ do that, but I promise that I’ll try and make it as easy as I can. I’ll break it up, I’ll make it comfortable for you, and we’ll stop whenever you’re getting overwhelmed.”

“That’d be great, actually.” His hands rubbed together, sleeves hanging slightly down over his palms, and he looked a whole lot less terrifying right now than he did with the armour of a bike and a leather jacket. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Good, because I need you in high spirits. I brought a lasagne and I have a point to prove.”

You backed out of the room as he advanced toward you, the door closing and leaving you both standing in the hall, and he smirked down at you a little, a disbelieving expression. “You really brought that?”

“You bet I did. It’ll be ready by the time we finish.”

“Then I guess we’d better get started, huh?” He hopped over the back of the couch, settling in beside his brother, who scowled at him as his drink spilt down his shirt from the impact. Taking a seat on the other side of them both, your legs folded underneath yourself in the armchair, finding a glass of water laid out for yourself on the table, courtesy of Stiles.

They looked so different and yet so similar in this moment. You could understand how people may have confused the two of them before their styles became so radically different. In the beginning, before Noah turned to leather and a sleeve tattoo, when they both wore hoodies and band tees and had clean pale skin. With the sleeve of tattoos covered, and the pair both wearing hoodies, one with an etching across the front and the other with a faded logo from being washed one too many times,

Laying out your books, it was more of a note you’d keep to yourself, and following from that was your recorder, coated in the front pocket of your bag so as not to get crushed. Switching it on at the side, the red light flashed on to green blinking once to let you know it was active. “Can you guys do your confirmations for me while I get set up?”

“Surely can.” Stiles sat forwards, leaning down a little with his forearms braced across his knees, as opposed to Noah, who slumped back into the cushion. “Stiles Stilinski, happy to be recorded.”

“Noah Stilinski, aware of being recorded.” Stiles rolled his eyes at his brother’s dead tone, clearly not having as much fun as Stiles was, but you didn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, why don’t you guys tell me what it’s like to live together at college.” There was a beat of silence, and then a set of matching laughs from both of them, the two starting at one another. There was a look between them, one you didn’t quite understand, and it seemed like some kind of twin-telepathy communication.

“It’s, like, exactly the same as when we were in high school.”

“Uh, what?” Stiles interjected, and Noah turned to look at him. “It’s nothing like high school!”

“Yes, it is!” Noah insisted, and you smirked, picking up your water and taking a sip as the two stared in shock at one another. “We lived together in high school, we played video games, I did all the cooking and you did all the cleaning while dad was at work. The only thing that is different is that we can’t cheat from one another’s homework anymore.”

“We don’t drive to school together anymore, we’re on opposite sides of campus!”

“That so doesn’t count.” Noah scoffed, and Stiles twisted on the couch, his hand gestures much more emphasised than that of his brother’s and you watched the debate go down. “You can’t name any more than that.”

“I take that as a challenge.” Stiles’ head rolled side to side. “Our schedules don’t match up anymore, and we haven’t had our usual movie nights in almost six months now. I can’t bring Derek over because your room is right across from mine-”

“My room was across the hall from you at home. You just didn’t date in high school or have anyone to bring home.”

“Low-blow. Unlike some people, I didn’t want to traumatise my brother in high school by bringing someone home, for that.” Stiles reached out mid-sentence, swatting at his brother’s shoulder, before continuing; “Uh, let's see. Oh! We don’t talk anymore, you didn’t ride your motorbike so much at home, you used to ride in the jeep with me. It’s like a totally different world now.”

“I didn’t know you felt like that.” There was a palpable kind of feeling in the air, something between them that was sizzling with electricity, before Stiles sighed.

“It’s no big deal. The difference is just that we’re both so busy now.”

“That was really good, actually. Thanks.” The two seemed to have forgotten you were there, both flinching and turning to face you again, matching sets of honey-coloured eyes in varying shades were fixing on you again. “Speaking of what you said, though, does it ever make it hard for you guys when your class times are so different?”

“Hard to do what?” Stiles squinted at you, face set in a frown that his twin normally wore.

“Hard to hang out, talk, have that whole brotherly bond going on.” Your clarification did little for Stiles, his brows still pulled tight and frown never moving, but Noah’s face smoothed out.

“Oh.. well, I g-”

“Totally.” Noah pressed, and once again, Stiles’ head whipped around to look at his brother. “Don’t look at me like that. You basically said it, anyway. We don’t talk so much anymore. We barely know each other. You don’t even tell me about your podcast, anymore.”

“You never listened!”

“You used to tell me your problems, not broadcast them to the world with jokes and humour! I missed two episodes, and you just stopped keeping me updated on it.” The moodier twin crossed his arms over his chest, and you swallowed thickly at the environment you had unwittingly created. “I don’t know. Just feels like we used to talk a lot more.”

They both went silent, and Noah shot you a pleading look, but there was something darker behind it. It almost felt venomous, angry or defensive, as though to say ‘I told you so’ about it being more personal now that they were home. Stiles was occupying himself with pulling a loose thread on their couch cushion out and making it that much worse, distracting himself from it all. “Well, how about something a little bit lighter. Just some questions about hobbies. Stiles, what inspired you to first start a podcast?”

“Well, as you know, I never stop talking.” He smirked, Noah laughing beside him, and just like that, the awkward air between them both was completely evaporated. “I had a lot to say, I had a lot to get off of my mind. At first, it was just to get my thoughts out there. It was kind of like a recorded journey for myself, and to share with my friends from back home. But, then other people started listening. I thought it was going to be the end of my college social life, a social life that I was developing for the first time ever, and they liked it. I was just talking into a mic and getting things off of my chest, making no sense while telling stories and bitching about my homework and suddenly I had friends. It got a whole lot of followers and I made new friends,”

He paused, offering you a wink for the comment, and you beamed.

“-and I was going to parties, I met my boyfriend at a pep rally, and everything just kinda.. blossomed. The more I got out of it, the more inspired I was to keep going. I ended up making multiple videos a week, all differently themed. Sometimes movie reviews, sometimes songs, sometimes just talking. That’s how ‘Mischief Mic’ was born.”

“Alright. That was awesome.” Stiles bowed as best he could from sitting on the couch, and reached over to take a sip of his drink. “Okay, Noah, have you got any hobbies that you didn’t have in high school that you found when you came to college.”

“Not really.”

“Not even one?” You pushed, and the arms folded over his chest tightened, his gaze going to the floor, socked toes pushing into the twist cable rug. He took his glass, swigging all of it, the water draining from the glass in nervousness, and you could hear the crickets inside your mind chirping to fill the silence that had formed.

“No. Not really. I’m going to get more water, feel free to continue.”

“Uh, okay.” You pressed your pen down into your paper, drawing a line through the question on your paper as you realised you’d have no answer to that question when you listened back on the tape at a later time. “Stiles, back to you, then.”

Your next question came, and went, and Stiles was more than happy to answer them. Occasionally, Noah would answer a question, you’d be able to pin him down long enough to get a straight answer out of him, but there seemed to always be something that he needed to mess with, or fix. Almost half of your questions for him had a line drawn through, and you would have to ask them another time, and get a whole extra session in without Stiles, dragging the study out.

It was going to take you twice as long to get through it all if every time you had to ask them separately, and had to spend your time trying to force him to sit and answer. You were missing half of the information that you needed to be able to compare to Stiles’ answers, you couldn’t answer without them.

The clock ticked by, leaving you with all of your questions for Stiles answered. On a blank page, while Noah had once again been tinkering with something in the kitchen, you’d rewritten up all over the crossed out questions that would still need answers. You had doodled on the corner again, waiting for him to come and sit back down, a collection of hearts and flowers, the occasional bee or ladybug, even a couple of misshaped stars, forming a banner across the top of the page.

When he finally came to sit back down, he huffed, eyes moving to the clock as though he was waiting for this to end just as much as Stiles was, and you gave up.

“Okay, how about we just finish this up?” You had reached the end of your tether, not even bothering with the rest of the questions that were written down for him. “We got almost two hours in, that’s perfect.”

Noah sighed, something like an apology in his look as your eyes met his and he shrugged lightly. Stiles only nodded, eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall, and he was grinning when he came back. Tearing a page out of your notebook for each of them, you passed it over, blank paper sitting before them, and you searched for a pen or pencil in the bottom of your bag for each of them. Placing your pen down before Stiles and a pencil in front of Noah, they both leaned forwards, picking them up. Switching off your recorder and packing it away, you were left with the two staring at you expectantly.

“Okay, Stiles, come fill yours out in the kitchen. You can’t discuss these ones.”

“Oh, some mystery. I like that.” He picked up his paper and pencil, heading over to the kitchen counter, folding the sheet in half as he did, and you nodded. Standing from your place behind the coffee table, your bag slumped a little more from where it had been propped against your leg.

“Okay, I want you both to try self-diagnosing yourself.” Stiles gasped, a little excitement lacing it, and his pencil was already moving over the paper. Noah, however, looked a little lost, looking to you for guidance. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to use professional terms, just, describe what you think, I’ll be able to figure it out, and if I can’t, I’ll ask you about it at some point.”

He nodded, pausing, not quite as eager to get into the activity as Stiles was, before the pencil finally met the paper, and the slow scratching of graphite over paper filled the silence.

Moving away to the kitchen, you searched for plates, and a dish, laying them out on the counter before moving to the oven. A wave of hot air into your face once you pulled the door open, and when it cleared, you search for the kitchen towel you’d brought with you. Wrapping it carefully around the edges of the tray inside, you pulled it out, resting it atop the oven and closing the door back up.

Flicking off the handles, the light inside went dead, and Stiles loomed up behind you. “Smells good!” He presented a piece of paper to you, your eyes flicking over what he’d written once you’d taken it from him, and everything that he’d written about himself seemed completely accurate. It wasn’t a surprising self-evaluation, Stiles had spent almost four years studying this, just like you had, and so it was bound to be accurate and professional. Even if his handwriting looked a little bit like chicken-scratch.

Noah was still working on his, and Stiles was picking at the edges of the tinfoil, trying not to touch the glass of the casserole dish and burn himself, and as soon as he had some foil pinched between his fingers, he was pulling it back. “Wait, Stiles, watch out for the-”

“Fucking steam! Oh, my God, that’s so fucking hot!”

His hand snapped back, half unpeeled as all the steam from inside clouded in the air, and his hand was clutched to his chest. He was glaring at the pot, before moving away and running his hands underneath the cold tap at the sink, his thumb rubbing over wet skin to soothe it.

A second later, Noah was appearing, placing his paper face down on top of Stiles, which now lay on the kitchen counter. “Well, now that I’ve been scalded by pasta, I’m going to go shower and get ready.”

“M’kay.” He backed away, and Noah leaned on the counter beside you.

“Looks good, but does it taste any good, is the question.” The twin you were left with was teasing you, your eyes finding him, and you raised a brow.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get me something to serve it up with, alright?”

He smirked, pulling open the drawer behind him and searching for a serving spoon. Slicing it into pieces, you dished it up for him, a large slab on a plate, still steaming with cheese that had only just stopped bubbling. He grabbed a fork, and one for you too, waiting patiently as you served yourself, and put whatever was left into a dish for Stiles, covering it back up and leaving it to cool.

“Okay, prepare for the best lasagne of your life.”

Picking up the papers and your plate, the two of you moved back to the couch, sitting opposite one another, and you waited with excitement. Taking a piece off of his plate with the edge of his fork, he raised it, blowing cold air over it for a few moments, before taking the bite. There was a tense few moments, while he chewed, face unreadable, before he was swallowing the mouthful.

“Well?”

You couldn’t take the anticipation any longer, a smile on his face at the desperation you showed for his answer, and he gave in. “Alright, alright. This may actually be the best lasagne I have ever had.”

“Yes!” Your hands went up in the air, cheering excitedly and he laughed at your reaction, holding his hand up when you forced him to, palms slamming together in a high-five. He was tucking in again, and you reached for your plate, excited for the meal you had made, Taking a large piece on the tip of your fork, you tucked in.

The sound of Stiles’ shower was running in the background, and he was singing loudly, a song that you were certain was a TV show intro but you’d never seen the show, and there was a chance it was something from Disney Channel. Picking up the pieces of paper again, you turned Noah’s around to face you.

You’d had an expectation, you knew what you thought he was going to write down, and yet you were somehow surprised and entirely not surprised at the same time. It was what you expected but with a twist. He had confidence in what he’d written about himself he was sure of it, and while there were definitely elements that you’d disagree with, there was a lot of truth to it, and you frowned, reading it again.

Noah was watching you do so, the scrape of forks over plates as the lull in chatter came back, and you place the two pieces of paper into the front of your notebook, making sure that it was all sealed tightly away. “Is it alright?”

“It’s just not what I expected from you. But, it’s perfect.”

“That feels like a backhanded compliment.” He smiled softly, but he looked nervous, and you shook your head.

“Not at all, it just means that you have a better grasp on this whole thing than I thought you did.” It was the truth, and while you didn’t want to reveal so much to him about it all without compromising your work, but it made sense. “It just feels like with the way today went, like you weren’t really so interested in it, so I didn’t expect such an accurate self-diagnosis from you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighed, pushing what was left of his food around the plate, and you copied him, appetite dwindling. “It’s just that when you’re here, in my apartment, and you’re asking questions about what changed and making me confront everything, it feels like real therapy. You said it was going to be casual, and this didn’t feel casual.”

“I get it. I really do, and it’s okay. I can just email you the questions you didn’t answer, and you can get around to them whenever you feel up to it, alright?” He nodded, shaking off the evening’s stress. He continued to eat, polishing off the meal that was laid out before him and settling his hands over his stomach once he was finished. There was a satisfied smile on his face, and your empty plate was soon stacking on top of his own. Leaning forwards a little, you caught Noah’s eye, and one of his brows arched up. “I can try to make it more informal, in the future.”

“That would be great, actually.”

You smiled, the consolidation made between the two of you, and your ears picked up on another sound. “Hold on, is Stiles blow-drying his hair?”

“Oh, yeah.” He laughed, head turning to the closed bathroom door where his brother resided. “He thinks it makes his hair fluffy.”

“He gels his hair, though! Why does it matter if it’s fluffy?”

“He’s insane. Don’t you know this, yet?” Noah scoffed, and your giggles carried you back into the rest of the chair as you settled back into it. The evening was still waiting to come in fully. Comfortable quiet fell between you both again, and Noah moved away to take the plates to the kitchen. He left them in the sink, water running to wash them up, before storing Stiles’ lasagne in the fridge.

The aforementioned boy moved from the bathroom to his bedroom, skidding on the floors a little and clutching the towel to his waist as he hurried, making himself late with the extra-long shower and the blowdrying of his hair. Noah was washing up the plates, leaving them to dry on the draining rack, and you took that as your cue. The night was over, that much was clear, and you’d be willing to bet that he was more than eager to get back to his alone time.

Taking your bag and double-checking that you had everything, you swung it up onto your shoulder, and made your way toward the door. Hearing the shuffling of your feet, Noah turned, drying his hands on the towel beside him. “Are you going?”

“Feels like I should. Stiles will be going soon, anyway. I’m sure you have things to do, too.”

“I don’t have anything to do, if I’m being honest.” He cringed at his own words, pulling down the rolled-up sleeves of his hoodie and making his way over to you. Undoing the catch on the door, he pulled it open, leaning against it and you linseed in the doorway.

“Since you’re not doing anything, do you wanna’ get a coffee with me?”

His eyes narrowed, just for a second, and his fingers tapped anxiously on the wood of the door. “As a study subject, or..?”

“As friends.” You confirmed, his lips a thin line for only a second, before pulling up at the sides in a smile.

“Then, yeah. I’d like that.” He looked down, sweatpants and mismatching socks on his lower half, and there was a tint on his cheeks when he looked up. “Just give me two seconds to go change, alright?”

He darted away before you had a chance to reply leaving you there with the words frozen in your throat. Stiles was clattering around behind his own door, and Noah’s door slammed shut, leaving you alone in the doorway. Your hands tapped against your thighs as you waited, bag swinging on your shoulder, and only a second later, one of the doors was opening.

To your surprise, it was Stiles, flapping the flannel on his body to shake out any creases, and he stood before you. Doing a little twirl from where he stood, he began to button it up down his front, looking somewhat smart. It was a nice black and white one, no rips or tears or stains like most of his other ones, and the black stood out prominently against the white, thick patterns with flecks of grey within it.

“How do I look, then?”

“You look great, Sti. I’ve never seen you wear anything so plain before. There’s no colour.”

“Yeah, well, this is a new flannel. It’s my best one, and the skinny jeans are Noah’s. All my skinny jeans are blue or red, it was this or khakis.” He was nervous, resisting the urge to mess with his freshly-styled hair. “The place we’re going to is kinda fancy, but I don’t feel fancy enough for it. I’m gonna’ do something stupid like drop my glass and smash it or make a joke about something dumb.”

“Haven’t you met his family before?” You teased, and he huffed, searching for his keys, and finding them under the counter where he’d never bothered to pick them up from.

“No, not really. I’ve met his mom because she comes to visit a lot, and of course, his little sister, because she’s a sophomore here. But, he has a lot of family. His extended family are coming to graduation, but this is his older sister and his dad, and his uncle, and I’ve never met them before.” His keys were tucked into his back pocket, and his phone followed, your gaze moving over him.

“You got a blazer, Stiles?”

“Uh, yeah. One that my dad made me promise to bring, I wore it to my senior prom.” He shrugged, hands smoothing over his front. “You think I should wear it?”

“Go get it, show me.” He nodded, moving back to his bedroom, and you were waiting for something with orange and blue stripes to come back out, which wouldn’t surprise you. In fact, you’d always imagined Stiles going to his senior prom in a Beetlejuice suit. Noah emerged from the other side of the hall, hangers scraping over their post in a wardrobe as Stiles searched for them. “Did Stiles go to prom in a Beetlejuice suit?”

Noah paused, rolling the edges of his hoodie up, charcoal grey skinny jeans that were only a  few shades lighter than the ones Stiles had stolen from him on his legs, and a pair of his usual scuffled boots. “What?”

He was laughing, loudly, shaking his head to hide his grin. “It’s a legitimate question! I have this mental image of it!”

“Unfortunately, he did not. My dad made us both go in three-piece formal suits. He saved up to have them custom made. Said that every man should have a smart suit.” He shrugged, crouching to start tying the laces on his shoes and Stiles reappeared. Over his shoulders was a dark black suit, crisp collar and pressed edges, and it was a beautiful piece of tailoring.

“You look good, Sti. Very smart, but casual. Like a polished version of your usual self.”

“Yeah? Good enough to meet Derek’s family?” His voice shook, and you wished you could ease him more.

“Totally. You look great.” He thanked you both, and Noah grabbed his wallet from the side, and his house keys, letting them both hang in the front pocket of an oversized hoodie.

“You ready to go?” He offered, hand on the top of the door, and Stiles’ head snapped up again from where he’d been checking his phone, presumably looking for texts from Derek.

“Where are you two going?”

“We’re getting coffee!” You beamed, and Noah nodded, stepping a little further out of the door with you.

“Oh, well, have fun. I’ll text you updates about how it goes. I might need bathroom-break pep-talk during the night.” You waved to him as you went, wishing him ‘good luck’, before the two of you were wandering down the halls. Thumbing the button for the elevator, the doors popped open, and you were stepping inside along with Noah.

“So, you wanna’ show off those new small talk skills to me, then?”

“Okay, okay. Let me think of something.” He hummed under his breath, glancing up to the top of the elevator and looking around at the posters on the walls for inspiration, and he seemed to find one. Turning his attention quickly back to you, you prepared for what he’d found. “Have you listened to any of the student bands? There’s been a lot of them growing, lately.”

“I’ve noticed that, actually.” There were several posters up around the inside of the elevator, different coloured flyers, some on shiny paper and some on smooth matte, varying fonts and designs, it was dizzying. “I haven’t, I’ve never been to see a student band. I should do that before I graduate, though. Have you?”

“I’ve been to a couple.” The door clicked open, the two of you stepping through it. Out into the setting chill of the evening that was threatening to break its way in. He chose the direction you’d be going in, heading toward the coffee shop on the side of campus that had been the first the two of you had met at when beginning the study. “Some of them are good, some of them are kinda’ average. They usually play at the bars on the edges of campus or in the places in the city, the less well-known, kinda’ alternative places. They can be fun.”

“You going out optionally to a night on the town? I’m shocked.”

“Uh, no!” He protested, grinning at you. “I’ve never been for a ‘night on the town’, and I never will. However, going to one of the few small bars around here that aren’t practically a nightclub, to listen to covers of good songs and get a pint without worrying about anyone bothering me or mistaking me for my brother, that’s nice.”

“Okay, well, maybe I’ll go to one sometime.”

“You should, I think you’d have fun.” The two of you weaved between other students, the small talk keeping up between you both as he did his best, and while it was sometimes a little stuttered and stalled, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you had expected. It wasn’t until the two of you had entered the coffee shop that he fell into tight silence again. The crowds, the rush of chatter from other groups gathered around the tables, and the friendly greetings of baristas whose chit-chat diverted to him due to his allegiance with you.

“What are you drinking? My treat.”

“Uh, just a black coffee.” He choked out, eyes flicking over all the boards, so many options up there, and you chuckled.

“Really, just a black coffee?”

“I’ve never really experimented. I just ordered whatever was the quickest and the easiest.” He confessed, already glancing back over his shoulder at the queue that was forming behind you both. “What would you recommend?”

“Hm, well, do you have a sweet tooth?” He only nodded, scratching around his cuticles on one hand and staring down at the flesh growing red, and you took his hand. Lowering it back down to his side, the hand formed a fist, flexed nervously, and you let it go, squeezing comfortingly first. Turning to the barista, she was still waiting patiently, and your eyes moved over the boards overhead. “Two mint and dark chocolate hot cocoas.”

“That sounds really good, actually.” He leaned down, mumbling the words into your ear to make sure you heard the quiet tone over the talk in the small coffee house.

“And, two croissants, too.” She rang it up on the machine, and you leaned in a little closer to her. “Do you have any of the warm and fresh ones straight from the oven?”

“We made a fresh batch about twenty minutes ago, they’re cooling. I’ll get them from the back for you.” She finished it with a wink, passing the card machine over to you once you’d produced your card from your wallet. Swiping it across the reader, you moved to the end of the line, and she moved away to begin preparing your order as someone else took over at the counter.

She was working, creating two beautifully constructed hot chocolates for you both. Placing them down on the counter before you, once they were garnished with chocolate sauce and whipped cream, she disappeared into the back room. Taking one of the ceramic plates with her, you were happy to see her bypass the glass cabinet with the older ones in, and only a moment later, she was coming back. Two fresh croissants on a plate, still warm and soft to the touch, and she handed those over as well.

Noah had been scouting for a place to sit, choosing which was the best one, and he carried both of the drinks while you carried the pastries, guiding you to the seat he’d chosen. It was tucked away in the back, a small loveseat sofa with a low sitting coffee table in front of it, and as soon as the paper cups were down on the surface of the table, he was dropping down into the seat.

“It feels like rush hour on the highway, but with coffee.” He mumbled, and you settled onto the couch beside him passing him his drink over, and he stared at it curiously. “What about the whipped cream. Do I eat that first? Scrape it off? Mix it in?”

“Any of the above.” You grinned, taking a wooden stirrer from the condiments tray in the middle and beginning to stir the cream into your hot chocolate. He placed it down, copying your actions, stirring slowly and trying not to spill any over the edges, but it was an impossible feat to achieve. Sticky droplets left over the edges of your cups and his, creating rings on the table that you had to mop up with tissues. “Okay, try it. This is one of my favourite orders here. It’s bitter because of the dark chocolate, but also sweet. Reminds me of you.”

“Now, that one is a backhanded compliment.” He muttered, taking a sip of the drink, and your lips rubbed together.

“Not everything is a backhanded statement, you know. I didn’t intend for it to be mean, it’s just the truth. You’re all dark and moody, but I can already tell you’re sweet on the inside.” You sipped your drink to finish your statement, and he filled the time where he didn’t know what else to say by pulling a chunk off of his croissant. Chewing on it idly, he settled back into the cushions, and you lifted your legs up to fold underneath yourself as you turned to face him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve already asked me a lot of questions today.”

“You didn’t answer many, though. You kinda’ have to give me this one.” He scowled falsely, but nodded, licking a flake of pastry from his lower lip. “Not that I think you need it, because personally, I think you’re just fine, but why are you so scared about therapy? The idea of it, anything to do with it, it makes you so closed off. Even more than usual.”

His eyes moved over the room, nervously, before scanning both you and the table, and you put your drink down, holding open palms up to him.

“No recorder, no study. I’m just curious.”

“Okay.” He sighed shakily, and slumped back. “Well, after my mom died, my dad made me and Stiles have therapy when we started acting out. We had a therapist who came to the house, and she was great, don’t get me wrong, but I hated it. I didn’t want her to tell me how to grieve or mourn, and I didn’t want her to tell me how to move on. Stiles needed all the advice he could get, but I didn’t want it. I wanted to do it my own way. Now, the idea of therapy, brings back all those feelings of sadness and pressure and stress.”

“I’m sorry, Noah.” You reached out, rubbing a hand over his shoulder, and his gaze fell to the contact. “Genuine sympathy and sorrow, not just that thing girls do that you hate.”

“Stop hanging things I’ve said over me, I don’t remember half of them. I blackout in social situations.” He grinned, moving past the moment, and you withdrew your touch.

“You know, if it makes you feel any better, I understand the nervousness of being in a study.”

“Yeah?” He picked up the rest of his croissant, a large chunk of it being eaten, as he waited for you.

“Yeah. When I moved here, I was so nervous. I was beginning to take my course and I didn’t really have any friends, and there was a senior who needed freshmen for her study.” Noah grinned, settling in for the story and sipping his drink. “She was doing a study about the difference between kids who travelled far from home for college alone as opposed to those who were still close to home, and whether it impacted social clubs, grades, all that. To be fair, it was an awesome study.”

“It sounds like it.”

You smiled, swirling the cup in your hands to gather any loose powder that may have begun to separate and gather at the bottom. “Well, I got drawn into it. She was a senior, and she was nice. I had no friends yet, I was in a flat-share with Allison and Lydia and three other girls who were all too busy getting adjusted to college themselves. So, this senior, she invited me to a party, and then another one, and suddenly people started wanting to be my friend because I was the freshman who hung out with seniors. I figured it would all drop away when her study ended and she didn’t need me anymore, but by then the whole social hierarchy had done its thing, and there I was.”

You shrugged, and Noah was hiding a shit-eating grin behind his mug. “So, you were just a little freshman lab rat, then?”

You scoffed, your laughter mixing with his, and the two of you were left in subtle amusement. His laughter was cut short, though, brought a rapid halt when a set of legs bumped against your table on the other side, followed by two more behind them.

“Hey, girl!” One of the girls on the cheer team, a lacrosse player behind her and a girl who you recognised from your psychology class texting on her phone. “Saw you over here, wanted to know what your plans for the evening were. We’re going to do some karaoke and get some food, you wanna’ come?”

Your eyes moved to Noah, whose attention was fixed on the floor again, as though the splintering wood was of utmost interest. “Maybe another time. I think we’re good here for now.”

“Oh, you sure? I think it could be super fun, you should both come.” The invitation was now extended to you both, and you shook your head at her despite it.

“Seriously, you should go, if you want to,” Noah whispered, and when you turned back to him now, he’d dared to look up, chewing on a lower lip that would go raw, but he met your gaze.

“No, I’m sure. I’m having fun here.” You held his gaze for a second longer, before turning to her, and confirming your denial, and she smiled, promising to make plans with you soon, before she was walking away. Noah was fidgeting beside you, shuffling in his seat, and you could practically feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves. “I’m serious, Noah. I’m having fun, and I’m perfectly happy here with you, right now.”

He was trying not to grin, a smile that was being bitten back on the inside of his cheek. “Well, for the record, I’m having fun too.”

“What was that?” You cupped your ear, challenging him to repeat it, even though you had heard it perfectly, and by the look on his face, he knew the game you were playing.

“I said I’m having fun. I won’t deny it.”

“Two victories in one day, for this gal. I’m breaking down all your walls, Noah Stilinski.” You poked at his cheek, and he swatted your hand away, taking a bite from your croissant as punishment, and you tried to snatch it back from him.

“Two victories, one loss. You’re not getting this croissant back, now.”

[2-cute-4-school]

𝚗𝚌𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚖𝚜

requested by anonie:  hi if you’re taking requests could you do an NCT Dream reaction to you crying while studying for exams because you’re stressed? thank you !

Mark Lee

my boi understands the STRESS

he debuted like 6 times and he has more comebacks and schedules than he can count bby is so overworked sometimes  °(ಗдಗ。)

i think you’re probably each other’s safe places

whenever mark catches sight of you he just buries himself in your arms and all his stress and worries melt away as he breathes in your familiar scent (.づ◡﹏◡)づ.

your hugs? his best medicine

so when he finds you trying to muffle your cries in your hands, hunched over open textbooks, a mess of pens and littered papers around you

his heart breaks just a lil (*>_<*)

why didn’t you come to him?? or at least call him??? don’t you trust him?? is he part of the reason of your tears???? what if-

“mark?” ༶ඬ༝ඬ༶

but as your meek voice calls for him he decides that questions can wait

you are his one and only priority

he dashes to your side and engulfs you in his arms─=≡Σ(づ￣ ³￣)づ

“it’s okay baby, you’ll be fine, i’m here, i’m with you”

you just hide your face in his chest and allow yourself to break into sobs that wrench mark’s poor lil heart while mark caresses your back and head

“just let it all out baby, i’m right here, i’ll always be here”(๑´•д • `๑)

he keeps murmuring comforting words as you slowly run out of tears

once you calm down enough to explain the reason of your breakdown to him, he just presses a kiss to your forehead ლ(´﹏`ლ)

“how about you take a rest for tonight and we’ll talk tomorrow and i’ll find a way to help you through this, hm? does that sound good?”

you make him promise he’ll stay with you for this night he has no objections (ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡

he ends up playing his guitar for you with your head on his lap asfdsfksf until you fall asleep and then spoons you after tucking you in

his softness for you doesn’t prevent him from having a serious discussion with you to make sure you know you can always come to him for anything and then ends up helping you study might end up asking for help as well _(T-T*)

Huang Renjun

this boi seems really chill while at home

so i’d say that he mostly minds his business if you’re busy with school work like he’s probably in a corner painting or sumthin’ the lil artsy fairy that he is (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*

he does check up on you from time to time to make sure that you’re... you know... alive and breathing?? lol fun times huh

but still, silent comfort IS your love language ∩(︶▽︶)∩

so he kinda assumes that you ALREADY know he’s there for you at any time anywhere in any way you may ever need him

so when he hears a muffled sob from behind the door you’re studying in?

his heart BREAKS ꒰๑˃͈꒳˂͈๑꒱ﾉ*ﾞ̥

but he also doesn’t want to stress you out even more or scare you so he slowly enters the room to find you hunched over your desk

he hesitates for a moment as his chest just clenches in hurt while he watches your shoulders shake with muffled whimpers ˓˓(ᑊᘩᑊ⁎)

so he walks up to you and lays a gentle hand on your shoulder

he waited for a moment to make sure that you’re comfortable with his presence in such vulnerable moments

and the he just ENGULFS you in a firm embrace and you FINALLY get the chance to ground yourself as you let out all of the pent up frustration in the arms of the person you trust the most (๑◕︵◕๑)

he just pats your head and you bury your face in his chest and you just ✨melt✨ into each other

i don’t think he’d say much tbh (´°ω°`)

there’s a silent mutual understanding that all you need right now is someone- him to lean on when you’re too tired to hold yourself upright

as you start calming down he presses a kiss to your head before speaking softly but firmly

“you’re taking a break, come on let’s eat and then we can have a lazy evening for once” ε-(‘ﾍ´○)┓

“but-”

“oh we can finally try out the fluffy blanket we bought together last week”

he AIN’T TAKING NO FOR ANSWER!!! (￣ω￣)

you spend the evening wrapped up in each other under your blanket with a forgotten movie playing in the background while renjun hums a lullaby’s tune in your ear

Lee Jeno

he has a sixth sense for you

you can’t get away WITH ANYTHING ¯\_༼ᴼل͜ᴼ༽_/¯

you stub a toe: aw frick-

jeno, thousands of km away in the middle of rolling his hips into another dimension during practice: something’s wrong ಠ_ಠ

so i think he might notice even before you that you’re kinda breaching your limit

but ba(r)bie isn’t sure how to approach you without offending you since you’re kinda irritable because of the stress ofc he doesn’t blame you

so if he fails to stop you before your breakdown he’s gonna blame himself for sure tho so make sure to reassure him once you’re stable he’s gonna keep a VERY watchful eye over you ( ◉  〜 ◉ ) 

he’s 100% READY to be there for you!!!!!

he has fluffy blankets, your favourite sweets and snacks, your preferred take out place on speed dial in case you’re hungry AND your comfort show prepared  (•̀o•́)ง

what he isn’t prepared tho?

his OWN heart cracking at the sight of your pain and exhaustion (ಗдಗ) 

he LITERALLY CAN’T stop the small whine building up in his chest as he strides over to your side for support

so when you wrap yourself around him like a lil koala, trembling in his hold and muttering through tears that it’s just too much-

his ULTIMATE protectiveness kicks in FULL MODE (ಢ⊱ಢ ｡)

he just scoops you up and burrito wraps you into the gigantic mound of blankets already prepared for you while pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead i promised i’d make it his trademark so here ;)

he *dashes* to bring over all of the snacks AND is already on the phone if you decided you wanted something to eat

basically bf jeno didn’t come to play ║ * ರ Ĺ̯ ರ * ║

spends the rest of the night literally PAMPERING you in anything you need

and most importantly... LOTS OF KITHES AND CUDDLES!!!!( *¯ ³¯*)♡

his baby deserves a chill and lovely night and he’s gonna provide exactly that and the absolute best for you :<

also jeno will gather all of his remaining braincells to help you the next of the day he really seems a smart kid in my opinion

Lee Donghyuck

hyuck is a LOVELY person don’t get me wrong (๑♡⌓♡๑)

but he’s also a tease so he might unintentionally push you to your limits with a few remarks

poor babe really didn’t realize you were going through it

so just imagine his panic once you just burst into tears after what should have been a harmless teasing from him (╬⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾ Д ⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾)

“ba-babe? what happened, did i go too far?? i’m so sorry my love, i just-”

he keeps on rambling and you just cry even harder cuz come on hyuck is just such a thoughtful boyfriend

“i’m really sorry y/n, please don’t cry, i’ll do ANYTHING-” ٩(´Д` ;)۶

you try to explain to him that he’s not at fault for your breakdown

obviously it’s not really comprehensible but it’s enough for hyuck to understand once he hears the words ‘stress’ and ‘exhausted’

he simply embraces you as tight as he can and reassures you that humans have their own limits (っ⇀⑃↼)っ

and that taking a break doesn’t invalidate your hard work and dedication

he understands how overworking can affect a person so he knows how to handle the situation

he proposes taking a hot bath once you’ve calmed down and he adds extra bubbles and a really nice smelling body wash (╯✧∇✧)╯

and after that- YOU’RE ON BED REST!! no excuses

if you protest? you wouldn’t dare

stops you with kisses all over your face before fully shutting you up with a soft but firm kiss on your lips o┤*｀3´*├o

you spend the entire rest of the day restrained in his hugs

you really scared him so he became a lil lot clingy 

need to go to the bathroom? he INSISTS to piggyback you there since ‘you need all the rest you can possibly get’ (∪｡∪)｡｡｡

but i reckon you can’t complain since you have the chance to spend some quality time with your also busy boyfriend

my boy will also go to the ends of the world in order to help you the next day to study whether that means burning his own brain or gathering half of nct and his manager to get everything done in time (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و

Na Jaemin

it’s literally NO SURPRISE when i say that he’s PROTECTIVEx1000000 of his loved ones (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

so why would you even bother to hide anything from him??

it’s LITERALLY no use

he’s a very very doting person and he keeps tabs on you no matter what, sometimes even uncounciously

and if he’s not there physically? NO PROBLEM!!

texts and calls between he two of you are a very common occurence bubs just wants to make sure you’re well and happy (˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

so unless you’re a top class at acting, good luck in trying to play off your stress and tiredness

but let’s say that due to busy schedules and different timetables it somehow gets past him

babe will be so heartbroken (๑´•д • `๑)

his worry topples over as he freezes in your doorway for a moment at the sight of your defeated form and tear-stained papers

BUT he does a good job in keeping his composure because he can’t risk letting his emotions get the best of him when you need him ( •̀ω•́ )

so he just trudges up to you and SMOTHERS you in the tightest hug possible, tucking your head in his shoulder so you could cry freely hidden away from the rest of the world

he coos a few words here and there, encouragements, compliments, reassurement that ‘you’re more than enough, you just need to take a moment to relax and breathe’ ✧˖°ˈ·*ε-(๑˃́ε˂̀๑ )

otherwise, he’ll leave the talk for the next day when you’re rested both physically AND mentally 

after you calm down he helps you put away all your school work you wouldn’t dare oppose him on this for the rest of the day

we all know what’s coming up i’m sorry

COMFORT FOOD!!!! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

he seats you on a kitchen stool while he cooks whatever you need at the moment, anything his baby wants

honestly he just adapts to whatever you need atm

cuddles in silence? works for him!! wanna ramble? there to listen!! want netflix and chill??? absolutely!!!!

Zhong Chenle

sooo from what i’ve gathered he’s not exactly emotional???

but also have you seen this absolute cutie when jisung was crying at the dream show?? babe was trying so hard to comfort his bff but he also seemed uh.. a bit awkward a bit? in a cute way tho!! (๑⁍᷄౪⁍᷅๑)

but i do think he’ll falter once he catches sight of your state!!!!

so many mental debates too!! (๑′°︿°๑)

‘they’re hunched over, did they fall asleep? wait shaking?? is it cold in here????... fuck no was that a sob?? do i... do i go over to comfort them? but how like do i hug or do i talk or..? what if they break up with me??? shit what have i done recently?? i washed the dishes, i cleaned the dog poop, i took out the trash.. it can’t be this’

my boy is going through THE CRISIS OF HIS LIFE (≖ლ≖๑ )

so he reluctantly walks up to you determined to help

but when he reaches you? *brain fart*

ends up patting your head and rubbing your back, but his touch manages to ground you without overwhelming you even further (っ⇀⑃↼)っ

if you end up pulling him into a hug tho, he won’t hesitate to hold you

while comforting you he finally notices your open notebooks filled with messy writing

he feels weirdly relieved that you’re not breaking up with him and neither is it something *tragic*  •(◐﹏◐)•

he’ll let you cry it out before he asks if you’d like some help with your school work he asked fans to send their maths homework so he must be a nerd enough to be able to help you too

but you’re probably too drained（×ω×）  to do anything so you two just settle for a cuddle session under a mountain of blankets

and daegal therapy!!!!!Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ who probably loves you more than chenle and he ends up whining jokingly about it

chenle will probably focus on lifting up your mood with jokes and stories and he’d do anything to cheer you up

he might try to spoil you too 

and he’s not letting you refuse the ton of food he orders since ‘you deserve to fill up your batteries’ ~~旦_(-ω-｀｡)

i’m sorry for your tummies after the ammount of sweets you shared

Park Jisung

ah nct’s certified crybaby(lovingly)

might just start crying with you because if you cry he cries too 

i honestly see him a bit panicky in a delicate situation like this once where he has to deal with *emotions* (｡´>д<)っ彡☆

so he watches from a safe distance at first

literally jisung.exe has shut down

but then poor kid starts feeling guilty about just watching you suffer without helping and comforting you but he’s kinda scared that he’s only gonna make it worse (●’Д’●)

‘come on park jisung think!!! what would-... what WOULD JAEMIN DO!!’

*cue lighbulb going off above his head*

cue calling jaemin and getting scolded for being on the phone with him instead of being by your side but still giving his precious baby advice

jisung probably comes up with a speech before approaching you he’s nervous okay? ┌༼ σ ‸ σ ༽┐

he lays a hand on your head, gently caressing you and just as he takes a breath to start his speech, you just look up to him with THE kicked puppy eyes ༼ つ ◕ ‸ ◕ ༽つ and jisung is A GONER꒰ლ✘ㅿ✘ლ꒱ 

he MELTS into a puddle of uwus and just leans into you, opting for silent comfort and that’s how he found out that cuddles>>>>>>words

he kinda babbles a little while holding you words are hard ya know

he kinda rambles after you calm down too so now you have to calm him down you’re both messes but you’re cute so

so what is the most efficient way to shut him up? peck his lips!!!!

and as he melts into your hold he remembers that ‘wait!! i’m the one supposed to comfort them!!!!’ (•̀o•́)ง

so he throws his nerves out the window for a moment and just cups his entire world your face in his hands and pecks your all over your face

you end up watching some compilations with kitties or something on both your phones untill your batteries die so then you switch to another device gen z behaviour 

he also probably gets a call from jaemin too and you figure out that your puss of a boyfriend had to call his friend in order to help you

so you give him that look <(｀^´)>

let’s say he’s taking you out for brunch the next day AND helping you with your school work 

[ahockeywrites]

4 times you stayed at his + the 1 time he stayed at yours - Matthew Tkachuk

A/N: Hi everyone! I had this idea and within 48 hours I had it fully written. I hope you enjoy this 5k of fluffy Matty! Thanks to @calgarycanuck for proof reading this!!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, explicit fem!reader

One

It was a typical Saturday night for the Calgary Flames who were celebrating a big win over the Canucks. Your best friend, Matthew Tkachuk, had invited you and your roommate out to come to the bars. Jess had been quite friendly with Noah Hanifin, and you just hoped they wouldn’t be using your apartment as a place to spend the night.

You tugged down the sleeve of your deep green bodysuit and looked across to the bar, hoping to see Matthew ordering you another rum and coke but instead saw him surrounded by 5 beautiful women. Women who you thought were more beautiful than you. As you let out a small sigh, you turned to Lauren and struck up a conversation with her. She had persuaded you to join her for a hot yoga class followed by a brunch in the next few days to catch up properly as you had been working so much. The friends you had made through meeting Matthew were amazing, but it didn’t take a genius to notice that the feelings you had for him were slightly more than friendly. 

“I’m gonna go and get myself a drink,” you announced to no one in particular. As you pushed your way to the bar, you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist. “Hey you,” you heard the voice of Noah in your ear. “You want a drink?” he asked. You nodded and asked him for a double dark rum and coke. If Matthew was busy with girls, you thought, you might as well let someone else get you a drink.

Noah passed you the finished drink and you took a large gulp of it. “Please tell me this isn’t a bribe so I can let you and Jess go and fuck in our apartment?” you groaned, figuring out what he was doing. Noah did this often; when he wanted you to take Jess out of the apartment to set up for a dinner date or more often than not when he wanted the apartment to be empty so the two of them could spend time wrapped up in each other.

“I’m sorry, it’s not my fault she’s so hot,” he complained. You rolled your eyes telling him that you’d find somewhere to crash. Usually, it was the Giordano’s spare room, but after you quickly scanned the bar, you noticed they had already left. It turns out, the only people left at the bar were Matthew and his entourage, Jess, Noah and you. You had no choice but to try and pry him away from the girls surrounding him.

You finished your drink and made your way over to where he was sitting at the bar. As you tapped him on the shoulder, he turned around to see you and offered you a huge smile. Matthew got up out of his seat, pushing the girls away and gave you a large hug. “How are you going?” he asked, genuinely as he hadn’t seen you much during the night. A few of the girls gave you a dirty look, but you ignored them knowing that Matthew would rather spend quality time with you.

“I’m good, just not sure where I’m gonna be sleeping tonight,” you mentioned hoping he would get the hint.

“Noah and Jess going at it like rabbits again?” he questioned, knowing what you had to deal with. You nodded and told him that Gio had already gone home so using their spare room was out of the equation. “Just stay at mine, it's no bother,” he said with a smile. “You wanna go now?” he asked.

Matthew had never offered you his spare room to stay at, no matter how close the two of you were. Or was it that Lauren always took you under her wing and he wasn’t able to offer you the room? He thought that it was a simple offer but you were freaking out inside. The not so little crush you were harbouring on him was going to be made more obvious, surely?

“Yeah, I’m working an afternoon shift tomorrow so kinda need the sleep,” you replied. 

“Sure, lemme close up my tab and order an Uber,” he smiled back. Matthew reached over to grab the attention of the closest bartender and passed across his credit card. He pulled you into his grasp to make sure you didn’t blend into the crowd. As he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket, he led the two of you to a slightly less crowded area so he could easily order the car home.

The outside air was cold, and Matthew noticed that you began to shiver as the wind picked up. Quickly, he slid his jacket off and placed it over your shoulders, “the car is only a minute away,” he informed you as you tried to warm up under his jacket. It wasn’t like Matthew was warm in just his jeans and t-shirt, but he knew his mother would kill him if he didn’t even offer you his jacket.

Matthew didn’t know why he just got up and left the girls at the bar as he was sure one of them would have come home with him. The friendship the two of you shared was strong and slightly flirty, but he also knew that the girls who were at the bar all arrived together and if he didn’t take you home safely, he would be worrying about it all night. For his sanity, this was what he kept telling himself, not that, god forbid, his feelings for you exceeded the bounds of friendship.

As if the car he ordered knew he needed to stop thinking, it arrived stopping directly in front of the pair of you. The driver lowered the window and Matthew checked it was for him and going to the right place. Once he was sure this was actually for the two of you, he opened the door for you allowing you to slide into the back seats. You shuffled your way across to let Matthew have some space. The drive back to his place was short, but he never let go of your hand, even letting his thumb brush over your knuckles occasionally. It felt more than friendly to the both of you.

The car abruptly stopped outside of Matthew’s apartment building and he jumped out to open the car door for you. It was strange, his behaviour, you thought, but maybe it was because you had never stayed the night in his guest room. He greeted the concierge in the lobby and directed you towards the elevator.

You had been to Matthew’s apartment before, but not like this. You knew he lived on the 35th floor and he had an amazing view of Calgary out of his bedroom window, but you had probably spent a total of one hour there, aside from the pre-drinks he occasionally held. He led you into his apartment quickly and stood in the kitchen, unsure what he should do. “I don’t know what you usually wear to sleep, but I can grab a shirt for you? And I think Taryn left makeup wipes in the spare bathroom when she was last here?” he seemed to be questioning himself more than asking you. One of his arms reached up to scratch his neck to add to the awkwardness.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, “a shirt would be great thanks.” Matthew pointed you in the direction of the spare bathroom and you started taking your makeup off. You looked at yourself in the mirror and just hoped that Matthew wasn’t gonna see what you looked like barefaced. In your mind, he couldn’t see you without your additional layer of confidence. You walked back through to the spare room to see him sitting on the side of the bed with a shirt in his hands. “Urm, I hope this is comfy enough,” he stuttered, unsure of what he should say.

“Thanks, Matty,” you replied, taking the shirt from him but not wanting to undress in front of him. He stood quiet for a second before realising he should leave and let you sleep.

“Goodnight Y/N, sleep well,” he said, bringing you in for a hug.

“Goodnight Matty,” you replied.

You walked back into the bathroom to change out of your restricting jeans and bodysuit to put on the soft shirt. Initially, you didn’t notice what he had given you, but when you looked in the mirror you saw the logo of the London Knights. And sure enough, on the back was the number 7 and the name Tkachuk. You laughed softly, he knew you weren’t a Flames fan so he would never be able to get you to wear his current jersey, but this was a step closer to him getting his best friend in his jersey.

Two

He didn’t mean to let you stay over again, you were just so tired after being his plus one to a Flames event. It wasn’t like you had found the event boring at all, just after an afternoon shift at the restaurant, followed by getting ready with Lauren and Jess and then having to control Matthew at the charity event, you were tired and ready to sleep.

Matthew had to almost drag you out of the Uber because you had fallen asleep on his shoulder in the car. “Y/N, c’mon, just a little further then you can crash for the night,” he encouraged you. You lifted your arms up, indicating that you wanted him to carry you up to his apartment. He groaned but lifted you up to carry you bridal style through his apartment complex. Somehow, you had fallen back asleep in the elevator on the way up and he had to try and open his apartment door without waking you up. He was successful and gently walked through his apartment to lay you down on his guest bed. 

It took a few moments for him to remember where the makeup wipes were but as soon as he figured it out he went to find them and started slowly removing your makeup. He thought he was doing a good job until he figured out you had put on a pair of fake eyelashes. There was no way he would be able to take these off without waking you up or hurting you and he decided that the former would be the safest option.

“Hey,” Matthew whispered softly whilst gently shaking your shoulder. You stirred slightly in your sleep so he shook your shoulder again with a little more force. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open to see a shirtless Matthew with a slightly dirty makeup wipe in one hand and a confused look on his face.

“You didn’t have to take my makeup off for me,” you spoke with a lot of sleep in your voice. 

“It’s okay,” he replied, “I was almost there but you’ve got these things stuck to your eyes and I really don’t want to hurt you.” You laughed having forgotten that you had put falsies on and told him to wait there and you’d try and take them off without your usual products. Luckily, Matthew had been able to detach the inner corner of both sets of lashes and you quickly pulled them off. It was slightly painful as you didn’t use your normal cleanser to help them detach, but they were removed and that was the main thing. You quickly disposed of them in the trash can in the bathroom and saw Matthew waiting on the edge of the bed with a shirt for you to wear. He handed it across and let you go back into the bathroom to change into it.

“Matty,” you began, “do you still have the makeup wipes out there?” You wanted to take off the rest of your eye makeup but were pretty certain that he had them somewhere near him.

“Yeah I do, come back out here so I can take the rest of it off for you,” he replied. You were slightly confused but went back through to sit opposite Matthew on the bed. He tugged you so you were straddling his lap and started removing the rest of your makeup. He was so deep in concentration that he didn’t notice you placing your hands on his hips to keep yourself still. If you didn’t do this, you were almost certain his hockey strength would have sent you flying. 

You asked him if he was done and he nodded telling you to get comfy in bed. Obliging, you made your way under the comforter and almost instantly you fell asleep. Matthew walked back in to see you completely knocked out and went to brush some hair off of your face. “Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered.

Three

Best friends stay over at each other’s houses, right? You convinced yourself that staying at Matthew’s house whilst he was on a week-long road trip was okay, simply because he had a better kitchen than you and his bathroom had a bath compared to just a shower in your apartment.

Matthew had given you his spare key to use when you needed to go in and check on the houseplants his mother had given him as an apartment warming gift. You did question why Chantal had given him a selection of plants but you didn’t complain as it meant you could take advantage of the amazing kitchen set up he had. As you dragged your bags filled with baking ingredients into the apartment, you noticed that there was a note left on the kitchen counter. It read:

Y/N, thanks for watering the plants on this roadie! I may have taken the extra brownies you made for me on this trip because the boys wanted something to remind them of Calgary. Stay safe, Matt :)

You smiled, knowing that the team always devoured any baked goods you brought along and you had even helped some of the children who were at the events with decorating fairy cakes. The kids adored you to the point some of the parents would get you to babysit them when they wanted a date night and how could you resist? It seemed like each of the children had you wrapped around their little finger as you found it hard to put them to bed at their usual bedtime as all they wanted to do was something creative.

The memories you had made with the children had to be pushed aside as you were here to bake, and you were unsure of how much you were going to make. First, you put the milk and butter in the fridge to make sure it was cold and unpacked everything else onto the kitchen counter. Then, you grabbed your laptop out of your backpack and loaded up the recipes you were planning on making. A batch of chocolate chip cookies, a tray of brownies and an apple pie was the bare minimum you wanted to make. You hoped that there would be enough time to make a set of 24 blueberry muffins too but would be happy to snack on the blueberries throughout the day. 

You fiddled with the dials on the oven to allow it to preheat and connected your phone to the fancy speaker system Matthew had in his house. The playlist you chose was one you and Matthew had curated to be perfect for relaxing days and it was exactly what you needed on your day off. The music allowed you to become lost in the baking and you didn’t realise the time was so late until you looked out of the large windows. The sun had set so you took a quick look at your watch to notice that it was nearing 9 in the evening. How you had become so engrossed in the cooking was a mystery to you as this seldom happened.

Notifications lit up your phone and you chose to reply to Matthew first, letting him know that his plants had been watered and you had even bought some fertiliser to help them grow. Then you dropped a quick text to Jess letting her know you were just going to stay at Matthew’s apartment for the night rather than risking an Uber alone at night. Sometimes you hated being a woman and not trusting society but you knew that Matthew wouldn’t mind you staying at his place as long as he knew you were safe.

It seemed as if your tiredness hit you quickly because once you ordered some food for a late dinner and had watched the Flames game, you were half asleep on the couch in the living room. Slowly, you peeled yourself off the couch and removed the blankets you had been hiding under to the other couch. The walk to the spare room seemed too natural and you noticed that there was a small collection of skincare products sitting on the counter next to the sink. You realised that they were minis of the same things you used. Matthew couldn’t have gone out of his way to figure out what you used and get some for you in case you stayed over again, could he? It seemed like something he could do but you thought he would do that for someone he considered to be more than a friend, unless? No, you thought to yourself, he couldn’t like you in the same way you liked him. 

Shaking your head to try and rid yourself of these thoughts, you started to cleanse your face and then add the moisturiser on top. Once you had finished your nighttime routine, you walked through to Matthew’s bedroom and his closet to try and find something to wear to bed. The shirt you were looking for was the same one you had worn the first two times you had stayed over at his place. It was slightly hidden behind a few pairs of jeans and the occasional St Louis t-shirt but you found it and it was just as soft as you remembered. You slipped back into his spare room and quickly changed into the shirt.

There was just one more thing you needed to do and that was to box up all the baked goods you had created earlier. You made your way back to the kitchen and found the Tupperware you brought along solely for this purpose, then popped them on the kitchen island with a note for Matthew telling him that you were in his spare room and that he could eat as many of the snacks as his meal plan allowed him to. You also sent him a text warning him that you were staying at his in the spare room for the night as you didn’t want to head back to your place by yourself in the dark and he should be quiet if he arrives back before you were awake. He did reply, but much later so you were already asleep.

Matthew gently opened the front door to his apartment, not wanting to accidentally wake you from your sleep, seeing as it was 5 am. He placed his equipment bag down in the hallway and took in a deep breath, inhaling the smell of many different baked goods. Even if it was 5 am, there was no way in hell he was going to turn down something you had made. He waltzed his way across to the kitchen and was greeted by multiple boxes, each with a label on informing him what was inside each of them. A small giggle left his mouth as he read the note that you had left on top of the boxes and he chose to have a piece of the brownie before he went to check on you in the spare room.

The large comforter engulfed your body and he noticed how at peace you looked. Matthew wondered if you would ever be the one he came home to after a long road trip.

Four

6-0 loss. 10 minutes in the penalty box. Ejected from the game. This was the worst game you had ever seen from Matthew and knew that he would need space, so The text you received from him was unexpected.

Come over

Short and straight to the point. You were unsure what to expect but replied saying you were catching an Uber and were gonna be over in about 15 minutes.

Knocking on the door felt more appropriate rather than using the key he had gifted to you to use as you didn’t want to walk in to see him destroying plates and glasses. As the door swung open, a dishevelled Matthew silently greeted you. He was shirtless, displaying the bruises he had obtained from a night of hockey. You followed him into his place and went to get two glasses of water because you knew that he wouldn’t have drunk anything for himself.

The sounds of muffled crying filled the apartment and it tugged on your heartstrings. The feelings that you had developed for the St Louis native made you almost drop the glasses, but you were able to make your way back to the family room. 

Matthew was curled up, in the foetus position, on the largest couch. Tears flowed from his eyes, he was feeling emotions that he rarely felt after a game. He was a player who left all his feelings from a game on the ice, but it was impossible to do this when you’ve been ejected from a game. 

He knew you wouldn’t turn down an invitation to see him because he had noticed the extra time you spent at his apartment. But he thought it was for the kitchen, not the feelings you had for him.

It wasn’t like Matthew didn’t have feelings for you, ever since the first night you had spent at his place, he knew he wanted to be more than friends with you. But he was respectful, he knew how he would want someone to treat Taryn, so he treated you the same way. He assumed that you wanted to be no more than friends, and he was happy with that. 

The advice you gave him, the jokes you made (often at the expense of his teammates), just the company you offered him when he needed it. He couldn’t lose that, you were too good of a friend for him.

You placed down the drinks on the coffee table and just looked at him. He looked broken on the outside and it just made you think how broken he must be on the inside. It wasn’t a good game for the entire team, but his individual performance wasn’t brilliant either. Matthew was competitive, anyone who had ever seen him knew that.

“Matty,” you said. There it was, he thought, the one nickname that no one else could call him except you. 

You ran your hands through his hair, letting his tears continue to flow. It was hard for you, as a friend, to see someone this close to you go through this. But you knew that he needed to let his feelings out, and just be there for him when he needed you, whenever that was.

His right hand reached for one of yours and you offered it to him. It grounded him, knowing that he was safe in his house, safe with you, safe with his emotions. “I played shit, I don’t deserve to play in the NHL, let alone have the ‘A’ on my chest,” he spoke aimlessly. 

“Matty,” you consoled him, “one game does not define you as a player, you as a team member.” After this, you pulled him into your body, hoping that he would accept it. You remembered that he liked hugs when he wasn’t feeling amazing, so you knew it wouldn’t be pushing his boundaries. 

He continued to cry, wetting your T-shirt in the process, but he needed this. You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, hoping that wouldn’t be too far.

“Y/N,” Matthew sniffled, “I just wanna be held as I sleep.” 

“Of course, anything for you,” you replied softly. You gently unwrapped yourself from around him and offered him your hand to walk to his bedroom. He followed you and sat down on the side of the bed. “Just gotta brush your teeth, Matty,” you encouraged. He sighed but followed you to his en-suite.

“I’ll let you brush your teeth, I’m gonna find something to wear to bed,” you informed him. He pouted slightly but let your past. You were familiar with his closet and the exact shirt you were looking for. A London Knights game-worn jersey, it was soft and perfect for sleeping in.

It wasn’t the first time Matthew had seen you in his jersey, and he hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time. He smiled to himself, the first time he had been genuinely happy all night. He tried to stop you from going to the bathroom to brush your teeth and take your makeup off but you were able to make your way past.

You tried to be quick with your skincare routine, somehow you had a bottle of everything you needed in Matthew’s bathroom, but knew you couldn’t rush any of the steps. As you were applying your final product, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. “I thought you were gonna be quick,” Matthew complained as he nuzzled his head into your neck.

“I was trying,” you replied as you turned to face him. He was so close that your foreheads were touching and you were able to look directly into his eyes. “We should-,” you started.

“Bed, yes,” he finished for you. All you wanted to do was kiss him, but you couldn’t take advantage of him when he wasn’t feeling good. He unwrapped his arms from you and offered you his hand so you could walk back to his bedroom. Matthew refused to let go of your hand as you both got into bed, and you allowed him to be the little spoon because he needed to be in someone’s embrace tonight. 

“Goodnight Matty,” you whispered, but he didn’t hear you as he was already asleep.

plus one

It was a drunk mistake that should never have happened he said, but nothing he said could prepare you to see photos of your now ex-boyfriend making out with some random girl when he had been on a ‘work trip’. Jess tried her best to help you by bringing you ice cream and watching shitty television with you but there was only so much she could do when Noah came over to take her out on a date. You were happy for her, you really were but seeing someone happy in a relationship was not what you needed right now. 

You allowed yourself to think over the good times you had with him, but they were so few and far between. He had pulled you away from the friends you had made out of the Flames players and they all became worried about you and suddenly you realised how toxic the short relationship was. Quickly, you scrambled to find your phone and noticed it had been two weeks since you had last texted Lauren when usually you would be texting daily and you hadn’t spoken to Matthew in three weeks. Normally, it was common for the two of you to physically see each other at least every day.

But then it clicked, your ex must have been jealous of the friendship you had with Matthew and his teammates. You understood slightly as you did have a crush on Matthew but that died down when you started dating him. It was a trust issue, he didn’t trust that you would stay just friends with them so he had to pull you away. It was slightly ironic, how he didn’t trust you as he thought you might cheat on him, but then he went and cheated on you.

There was only one person who could make you feel better and he would understand how shitty your ex was and how you needed to rebuild the friendship with him. As soon as you sent him a message, he was quick to reply saying that he was on his way to your apartment with Chinese food and a pint of your favourite ice cream. It was at this you noticed the butterflies forming in your stomach, the crush you had never went away, did it? 

You were brought out of your thoughts by a knock on your apartment door and went over to open it. As soon as you saw Matthew’s face you broke down in tears again. Quickly, he brought you into a tight hug, somehow not dropping the food he had brought. “C’mon, Y/N, let’s head to the couch and enjoy the takeout I’ve got?” he asked, unsure if he was asking you or himself. Your head might have been pretty much attached to his chest but he could feel you gently nod in response. 

He offered you his hand and walked towards the couch. You sat down first and he started unpacking the food onto the coffee table. “Just sit back and find something to watch,” he instructed. You followed as he said and he quickly left to grab some cutlery from the kitchen. You flicked through Netflix and settled on Brooklyn 99 because it could just stay on in the background. Sighing, you picked up your phone and reread the DM you had received from the girl’s best friend. You didn’t notice Matthew standing behind you until he picked your phone out of your hands and put it in his pocket. “Tonight, we’re gonna watch Jake Peralta attempt to solve some crimes, enjoy the takeout, maybe drink some wine, and forget about that asshole,” Matthew affirmed. You sighed again but knew that he would be getting his way. 

Matthew passed you a plate and some cutlery before disappearing back into the kitchen to collect a bottle of your favourite wine and some wine glasses. He sat down next to you on the couch and poured two generous glasses of wine. As soon as the food was opened, it was like the two of you hadn’t spent any time away from each other. The conversation flowed perfectly, as did the wine and after two episodes of B99, the two of you were slightly wine drunk, which you continued to tell Matthew was the best type of drunk.

“I missed you, Matty,” you admitted. He sent you a soft smile but knew that he felt the exact same way. Your ex was toxic for you and he was glad that you had gotten out of that relationship. The smile you had on your face was real and one of the purest he had ever seen in his entire life. Your happiness radiated to him too and he started laughing as you began to make silly faces at him.

You were lucky that Matthew had seen you wine drunk before and knew you were getting close to crashing and needing to be near a bed was almost a necessity. He wasn’t sure how, but he was able to get you to your bathroom, even as you were stumbling the entire way there. There was no makeup on your face so he quickly used a face cloth to clean your skin and was able to find some moisturiser to use on both of your faces. It was the most genuine smile he had seen you ever have in a long time and he was able to adore your beauty. 

“‘M sleepy,” you groaned, giving Matthew a small shove to try and encourage him to move out of your way.

“I know babe,” he replied, not noticing the term of endearment he had used for the first time. “You just need to put something on that you can sleep in.” You nodded your head and dramatically walked to your dresser and pulled out a matching set of short black satin pyjamas. It wasn’t a pair you usually chose to wear, but they looked nice. Clearly, your drunk head was trying to impress Matthew. You jumped directly on top of the soft comforter and didn’t care that you should have been underneath the blanket because you fell asleep almost immediately. 

Matthew came out to see you sleeping softly on the bed and gently picked you up to place you under the duvet and onto the mattress. A soft kiss from him was pressed to your temple and you subconsciously smiled in your sleep. He moved around to the other side of the bed and wrapped you in his arms, hoping this was the last night you were in his arms but not his girlfriend.

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

Lost in Translation

*Lafayette x Reader

*Request: “ @thefluffypancake asked: ‘Hey could you do a Lafayette x reader where she’s learning French and she try’s to ask him out on a date but accidentally asks something else. If not, it’s okay! Have a great day! 💞💞’”

*Warnings: Language, my own personal issues with French as a language. Let me know if I missed anything!

*A/N: This request is so old and I’m so sorry for that. Also I kinda changed the request a bit to reader saying she wants to kiss Laf because that word-for-word translation is off and you’ll see in the fic.

Tip Jar

**********

French was definitely a made up, ridiculous language. While - as your friends always felt the need to point out - every language was made up, French was even more made up than anything else. And yet here you were, trying to learn French on your own just so you could ask out the Frenchie in your friend group. It was a stupid idea in hindsight, but you thought it’d be cute to just surprise him by talking to him and then asking him out in French. Turns out it was a lot harder than you thought it would be. When your initial plan didn’t work out, you could always count on your friends to fuck up in a way that would make things somewhat better. 

Apparently, John never got the memo to not tell Alexander you’d asked him for help with French, and Alexander never got the memo that you learning French was supposed to be a secret. He definitely didn’t get the memo to never bring it up in front of Laf (even though you were pretty sure you’d told John you were trying to learn to impress Laf), so he did exactly that when all of you were hanging out. You had just got back to the table, coffee in hand when Alexander opened his stupid mouth. “Hey, how’s learning French going?”

“I mean, that’s one way to greet me I guess,” you said, trying to ignore the heat rushing to your face. Nope, the best course of action would just be to avoid the conversation. “Like, I haven’t even sat down yet.”

“Wait, you’re trying to learn French?” Laf asked, looking at you in excitement. You could already feel your resolve weakening.

“I mean, I’m trying but it’s not working out so great. Turns out that Duolingo owl only cares about Spanish,” you tried joking, taking the empty seat next to him.

“Dude, you asked me for help,” John spoke up, like that would make the situation any better. It wasn’t your fault that French was an utterly ridiculous language. What language even needs that many vowels? 

“Not my fault you’re a shit teacher,” you shot back, deadpan but completely joking. Even though John looked offended, you knew he wouldn’t hold it against you. After all, you were his ride back home. It took John a second to bounce back.

“Nah, you’re just a shit student.”

“I mean, my grades aren’t gonna argue with you there,” you laughed, the tension finally easing up some. You were still gonna strangle Alexander later, but for now things were fine. For all of five seconds.

“Why didn’t you ask me for help?” Laf asked, stealing your coffee and taking a sip. You were quick to take it back from him, trying to think of an excuse that wouldn’t give away your true intentions. However, now that you thought about it, just asking him to help you learn French probably would’ve been the easiest course of action. Have lessons with him a couple times a week for a few weeks, ask him how you ask someone out in French, and then bam! hit him with the question. Why do I always make things more difficult than they need to be?

“I… actually, I don’t know. Do you think you could help me out?” You tried to ignore the impressed look John was giving you. Sometimes you hated the fact he was your best friend.

“Yeah, of course! I’m offended you went to him first,” Lafayette said, stealing another drink of your coffee.

“Dude, buy your own!”

“But yours tastes so much better,” he teased.

“Gross, can you guys get a room or something?” Hercules spoke up. “Actually, don’t. I forgot I share a room with Laf for a second.”

“And you just made it worse than it had to be,” Angelica muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Anyways, when are you free? It’ll be fun helping you learn,” Laf said, turning his attention back to you. “Just send me your schedule and we can set it up!”

“Yeah, sure thing,” you agreed after a second, trying not to seem too eager. You and Laf rarely hung out on your own, normally having at least one of your other friends there with you. You couldn’t remember the last time the two of you had been alone, let alone you not being awkward when it was just the two of you. You texted him a screenshot of your schedule, your heart already racing at the thought of getting closer to him. You could handle hanging out with him with other people, but alone was a whole different story.

“Great! This’ll be fun!” His bright smile was enough to take your breath away, easing your worries somewhat.

“Yeah, I can’t wait.”

“Okay, so back to me,” John redirected the conversation, making a face at the look you were giving Laf. You couldn’t help but laugh at his obvious attempt, gladly letting him talk about whatever project he was working on now. No, you needed to figure out how you were going to handle this.

**********

Considering it was the middle of the semester, it was difficult to find a time to meet up with Laf that worked for the both of you. You both had papers, midterms, and group projects to work on, but you were finally able to find some time to have a little French session. The first few sessions were accidental, happening when Laf happened to find you in one of the 24-hour libraries, way too late for anything to actually stick in your mind. You found yourself only focusing on the way he spoke French, which was way too attractive to be fair.

After you had a few more impromptu sessions, you were finally able to actually set something up with Lafayette. For once, the both of you had a Friday afternoon free, so you’d be able to see him when you didn’t look absolutely destroyed by assignments and projects. It was still early on into your changed plan, but you figured now was as good a time as any to make your move. You managed to convince John to leave the apartment for a few hours at least, not that he made it easy on you. With his incessant teasing, sometimes you wondered why you chose him to be your best friend and roommate. 

Once John was finally out of the apartment, all you had to do was set things up. You set out some snacks, not really knowing how to host other than offering people food, had some study materials set out because the two of you were going to work on some other assignments before you started with the French lessons. Things didn’t have to be perfect, but you were determined to make it as close as possible. You had a note on your phone for what you wanted to ‘ask’ Laf about, and you were ready. The only thing you needed was for Laf to show up.

As you waited for Laf to make his appearance, you decided to get some reading done for class. Well, you tried to. You couldn’t help you constant fidgeting, switching between tabs as though there would be a different internet on each one, checking your phone and scrolling through Twitter - you really had no idea how you were supposed to pretend that you were going to study when he got here. You knew it would be super obvious that your mind wasn’t 100% on your work. Before you could think about it any longer, there was a knock on your door. Holding yourself back, you waited a minute before getting up to answer it.

“Hey,” you said with a smile, acting like you hadn’t just been fretting over how you were going to get through this.

“Hey! You ready to study?” Laf asked, tugging on his backpack strap as if to prove he brought his work with him.

“Yeah! I’m set up at the table if you wanna just head over there.” You silently cursed how non-human that sounded. As soon as the two of you sat down, though, things got easier. Even as the two of you worked, you kept a small conversation going, making jokes about things you’d just read or were working on, telling stories about class. For the first time in a while, things were going just like they were when the two of you hung out with the group. Lafayette made it really easy for you to like him.

After a couple hours of the two of you working on your own things, Lafayette closed his laptop, getting your full attention. Laf leaned forward like he was about to let you in on some giant secret. “Are you ready to learn some French now?”

“Yeah, I wanna know what you, Alex, and John are saying whenever you go into French,” you teased.

“Non, that’s a secret,” Lafayette laughed, looking away. “Alright, let’s start.”

The session started out much like your impromptu sessions: Lafayette would say a common word or phrase in French, he’d ask you what you thought it meant, he’d tell you what it actually meant, and then you’d repeat it to him. He’d fix any mispronunciations, and you’d keep going until you got it right. This would go on for as many phrases or whatever until one of you decided to take a break. It was a nice little process and was definitely helping things stick in your mind more than when you tried learning on your own or with John.

You were the first one to call for a break, your heart pounding as you tried to figure out how you were going to do this. You wanted to ask him out soon, not willing to let yourself chicken out at the last second, especially since you knew John would talk so much shit if he found out you kicked him out and didn’t even ask Laf out. As you were in the kitchen, filling up your water bottle as an excuse, you tried to calm yourself. The worst that could happen would be things getting weird between the two of you, the best was the two of you would get together, so that meant reality would be somewhere in the middle. You took a deep breath before making your way back to the table.

“Ready to start again?” Laf asked, looking up from his phone.

“Yeah, I actually had something I wanted to ask you.” You took your seat next to him, grabbing your phone to double check what you had translated earlier.

“Go ahead.”

“So, uh,” you paused for a second, gathering the last bit of courage you needed. “Right, uh, what does je veux te baiser mean? Because, uh, je veux te baiser.”

Immediately, Lafayette looked away, drinking his water so he didn’t have to answer you. You could just tell something was wrong and felt your face heat up as you just looked down at your hands. When Lafayette finally spoke, you felt your heart drop. “I… I don’t think you know what you just said.”

You looked up, eyes wide. You knew French was tricky, but there was no way you messed up something that simple, right? You tried not to appear too flustered, but you knew it was a losing battle. “Wait, what did I say then?”

“I think I know what you were trying to say, but you didn’t say it.”

“So what did I say?”

“Okay, so direct translation was that, but what you said was, uh, you uh wanttofuckme,” he rushed out the last part, and it took you a second to process what he said. If you thought your face couldn’t get any hotter, you were wrong. 

“Jesus Christ, I am so sorry. I mean I really like you but I didn’t mean to say that and I’m so sorry, that probably made you really uncomfortable and I understand if you want to leave and-” You were cut off by his lips on yours. You quickly melted into the kiss, even though you still weren’t exactly sure what was going on.

“Je veux t’embrasser,” Lafayette said as he broke the kiss.

“What?”

“Je veux t’embrasser. That’s how you say I want to kiss you,” he explained.

“Je veux t’embrasser,” you repeated with a small smile.

“Good.” You were rewarded with another soft kiss. Maybe French wasn’t so ridiculous…

No, it definitely was. 

**********

Permanent Tag List: @treatallwithkindness, @laic2299, @delaber

[obae-me]

Hi I love your blog and your writing. I don't know if your doing request or not, so if you aren't just ignore me. But could you possibly have a hc where MC breaks a body part and had to be in a cast how would the brothers (+undateables if you have time) would react?

Oh but this is soft tho, I love writing fluff, thank you so much for the request! 💜

Lucifer

MC had been with him when it happened, and it’s something he’ll never forgive himself for. He forgets how fragile humans are and how anything can hurt them. Anything! He had prepared for monsters, demons, curses, spells, poisons, but he never thought he needed to protect them from stairs!

He was walking beside them as they both started to walk home from RAD, talking to them about an upcoming project. It was dark and rainy, and it bothered him none as he started to descend the slick stone steps. He was just about to warn them about their step when they stumbled down the stairs, hands extended to try to catch themselves, hitting each step with an awful sound before resting on even flooring with a groan.

He freaked out so badly, he called MC by five different wrong names before he finally got it right just as he reached their side. They were alive. Great. They were breathing. Fantastic. They...they had their right wrist bent in the wrong direction.

MC was fairly certain he didn’t even breathe or blink at all as he flew them towards the Devildom’s version of a hospital. He kicked the doors open, demanding MC got looked at, ignoring all of MC’s pleas to wait like everyone else. The poor doctor was not prepared for all of Lucifer’s commands and questions.

MC is not allowed to walk, not allowed to go to class, not even allowed to leave their room for a while. He’s so worried something will happen. He doesn’t even want them to sleep without him there first. His brothers are only allowed to come see MC one by one, following a strict schedule he posted outside MC’s door. Anyone found breaking the schedule will be severely punished. 

Is he overreacting severely? Yes. But does MC appreciate his affection? Yes. He’ll hold them close whenever their wrist hurts, petting their head and shushing them if they ever cry. He’ll do all his work for Diavolo in their bedroom, making sure to glance up in frequent intervals and check how they’re doing. He’ll watch over them so intently he’ll end up accidentally falling asleep in the chair by their bed, head resting on his folded arms.

Even after it’s healed, he insists on holding MC’s hand whenever they walk to make sure it won’t happen again. He’ll also pick them up now whenever it rains. He can’t afford anymore unnecessary risks. 

Mammon

He brought MC along on another one of his poor-planned money making schemes. He wanted to show off and impress them, and MC only agreed to go along to try to make sure he didn’t get himself in too much trouble. Try being the key word here. 

It ended up being super sketchy, causing both MC and Mammon to run away from angry demons. Since Mammon is impossibly fast, he held onto MC’s hand to try to keep them together. However, even if MC ended up being an Olympic runner, they still wouldn’t have been able to keep up with his speed. So, they lost their footing and fell hard against the ground. There was a rough popping noise, but Mammon got them right back on their feet. It wasn’t until they finally got home before Mammon realized that not only were they scratched up, but their shoulder...didn’t look right.

He thought maybe he could fix it himself, which was the opposite of what he should’ve done. Now, not only did it look even worse, but MC’s expression of pain caused Mammon to panic like he never had before. He held onto them tight, much too tight, and MC was almost certain he’d end up passing out before they did.

He got a doctor right away, and while they were getting checked, Lucifer and Mammon were fighting worse than they had in a long time. Mammon had hardly fought this much for anything-or anyone-before. The only reason why Lucifer let him off the hook for something this severe is because it’s been too long since he’s seen Mammon so serious.

Mammon won't leave their side, but he doesn’t feel like he deserves to be near them either, so he’ll spend time pacing by their door for hours before MC tells him to quit. They tell him he doesn’t need to feel so guilty, it was an accident, stupid stuff like this happens to humans all the time. He’ll kneel on the floor by their bed, head against their leg, looking like a scolded puppy. It’s the first time they’ve seen him cry.

It’s not everyday Mammon will do whatever they want. Even if it’s not perfect, even if he messes up, he wants to get MC whatever they want or need.

After they’re fully healed, Mammon will still check their shoulder every day, and Lucifer doesn’t complain when Mammon tones down some of his schemes for the sake of MC’s safety.

Levi

He signed both himself and MC up for this awesome parkour class. He had seen an ad for it and wanted to go, only because he wanted to learn some cool moves that he had seen in an anime. Of course, this was a demon class, so already they had the students doing crazy things like jumping roof to roof and doing flips that would take years for MC to do properly. Unfortunately, they tried it out anyway, not wanting to wimp out of it.

Next thing they knew, they heard Levi scream as one of their legs gave out on them, unable to support their landing. He was by their side, already in tears, shouting incomprehensible words as he called for help on his D.D.D. Not only did one of the brothers have to carry MC home, they had to carry out Levi as well, his brain fried at the sight of their broken leg.

He blames himself hard, having to catch his breath anytime he sees MC in their cast. He had no idea human’s bodies were so brittle, they never seemed so weak in anime. They were always fighting, overcoming impossible feats. He was so lost in the world of fantasy he didn’t know real life was so...frightening. It was a reality check he really needed, he appears to treat MC more authentically now.

He’ll make sure MC is fully entertained while they’re on the mend, it's the least he can do. Most of his setup is now in their room so they can play games with him and watch shows together. He’ll talk their ear off about his favorite plots, and promise to MC that they’d get better and he would protect them, just like his precious characters. 

MC now has little drawings on their cast thanks to him, to liven it up a bit. Covered in chibis and little hearts.

He’s used to not getting much sleep, so he’ll watch MC as they rest, watching their chest rise and fall, making sure he keeps an eye on their leg. They’re not allowed to move it much, so he keeps tabs on how much they toss and turn, sometimes holding MC in his arms while they sleep to make sure they don’t move.

Even when they’re better he is always wary about them leaving the house. He should’ve never broken his rule, home is always safe, and now he can’t relax until he knows MC is safely home.

Satan

He was always afraid of hurting MC due to his wrath, but he never knew that they could so easily be broken. He hadn’t even intended to hurt them, he didn’t! He just...he was angry, he didn’t want them to come into his room, but they insisted, they wouldn’t listen! Now look what he had done to them...

He had slammed the door on them while their finger still lingered in the door-frame, he had no idea...he didn’t know something as simple as shutting a door would hurt them so. They both heard a sharp crack, Satan originally believed it had been part of the door, the wood breaking. Until he heard MC’s shriek of pain. He opened the door back up to see their finger bent backwards where the door had shut on it.

After he had tore the door off its hinges and resolved it to splinters, he ushered MC quickly out of the house to get their finger checked. His other brothers had to quickly come at MC’s request to keep Satan from harming the medical staff when told they had to wait to get checked. It took him far too long to calm down, having to be physically restrained by Lucifer and Mammon until he cooled off. 

MC’s broken finger had been on their dominant hand, so Satan did all the writing for them. MC never asked him to, he did it anyway. He felt like it was the bare minimum of redemption. He made sure to read up more on the skeletal structure humans possessed, and MC is pleased to find that they had never seen Satan be so gentle with them. He softly strokes their hand, has a hard time now raising his voice above a whisper around them, and MC swears he now has painkillers in his pocket at all times for whenever they need it. 

Satan takes after Lucifer in being much too prideful for simple apologies, he’s hardly wrong in the first place, but he said it to them once they drifted off to sleep, head in his lap. He didn’t move from his spot all night.

Healed wounds meant nothing, Satan refused to treat MC any differently from his delicate and precious books.

Asmo

Trust him, he would have never given MC those ridiculously high heeled shoes had he known that humans were so clumsy and fragile. The heel of the shoe was so tall, whoever wore them might as well be walking on the very tips of their toes. They were a new fashion, and since he adored his adorable MC so much, he got them a pair.

The last thing he expected was to have them fall so dramatically after a single step. At first he planned on giving them props for their fall, it was like a movie scene, but then he saw how their ankle looked. Twisted and limp, MC started to hyperventilate.

He had seen some pretty disgusting positions the human body could get into, but this was wrong, it shouldn’t be like that. He had never been so serious or flown so fast before. He didn’t even say a word until they were in bed, getting some medication for the pain. He grasped onto MC’s hand and apologized repeatedly until MC was convinced he had lost his voice.

After they’ve been taken care of, he refuses to let go of them, cuddling them pampering them. He didn’t know just a simple misstep in the wrong shoes and they could just hurt themselves like that! He thought himself a master of the body, but he still had much to learn about humans, it seemed.

He calls himself Nurse Asmo for weeks, not leaving MC’s side, carting them around in a wheelchair even if they insist on using crutches or moving around themselves. He’ll have none of it. He feels responsible and so MC is under his constant care until their body is just as beautiful and whole as he remembers. He’ll want to make sure he takes care of them so well, their body will have no choice but to heal faster.

He’ll not forgive himself for allowing MC’s perfect body to get like that again. He’ll never let MC even look at high heel shoes, he knows plenty of adorable flats that would look great on them.

Beel

He’s always extra careful around MC, he knows they’re fragile, he’s well aware of the difference between strengths. Anytime he’s around them, he does whatever is necessary to make sure they’re safe at all times. Unfortunately, no matter how protective he is, sometimes accidents happen, especially when humans and demons mix.

He and Mammon were fighting over food, special food, limited edition flavor chips, and Mammon had stolen it. He didn’t even eat it, he sold it. It was an insult. They both were in demon form, battling it out, Lucifer trying to stop it, by force it would seem. They were all so consumed in combat, power flinging, furniture flying, they had no idea MC had walked in the room to check on the chaos, only to get caught up in it. A large cabinet headed in their direction, and if they hadn’t stepped back, they might have gotten fully crushed. Unfortunately, their foot ended up being crushed in their place.

Beel felt sick to his stomach, hearing the sound of the bone crack made his insides feel all twisted in a way he and his iron stomach hadn’t felt in centuries. The fighting immediately came to a close, the food they were fighting over seemed worthless to him now, for once he couldn’t care less. He refused to let any of his other brothers touch MC. In fact he almost didn’t want to touch them himself. He had such a hard time holding them, he ended up physically shaking, worried that he’d hurt MC even further. He doesn’t want to let them go, though, he holds onto them for an entire day, acting like MC’s personal shield. 

Beel skips classes, workouts, even his team practices to be with MC. MC is absolutely not allowed to move by themselves, he’s going to carry them wherever they need to go if they must go somewhere. Until they’re fully healed, all the meals are going to be MC’s favorite foods. None of the brothers get a say otherwise, but no one is going to defy Beel over this anyway.

MC never sees him fight with any of his brothers again, not with them around anyway, and if they thought Beel was already super protective, they weren’t ready for their new unofficial bodyguard.

Belphie

Honestly, he was bewildered how MC hadn’t died yet--well, other than that--in the Devildom. Lilith had loved humans, and, he in the past, had loved them too, so he knew how weak they could be. However, MC had just...tripped...on their own feet, falling right onto their own face. He laughed at first, he will admit, he had no idea how hurt MC was. When they stumbled back onto their own feet, their face and chest was covered in blood.

He was frozen for a good few minutes, his mind buzzing, his heart pounding out of his chest. He kept getting flashbacks of that terrible moment in the attic, and it was only until MC grabbed his arm, disoriented and in pain, that he was able to move again. They gasped his name to snap him out of it. They weren’t flinching away from him, they didn’t look afraid of him, in fact they were leaning into him, looking for his comfort. 

He got them home as quick as he could, making sure MC didn’t have any more fumbles on the way. Obviously once they saw the state MC was in, all the other brothers were freaking out as well. Mammon accused Belphie of doing something to them again--it was taking Mammon the longest to forgive him-- which didn’t make Belphie feel better about it. Normally he would’ve just fought Mammon then and there for such an accusation, after all the things his older brother had dragged MC into, but he didn’t have the energy. MC needed to be taken care of now. 

He did feel guilty, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Once the doctor came, he left the room, getting some air. He would wait until after MC was asleep to come check on them and make sure they were okay. He would make sure that MC’s pillow was fluffed, that they were comfortable, and then he’d fall asleep at MC’s feet at the end of their bed. He’d wake up at the slightest movement, checking over their body and face for who knows how many times now. 

While they were deep in a dream, he took a permanent marker and drew little cow spots on their bandage. It was a silly gesture, he was well aware, but even having a small piece of matching patterns made his heart happy. 

He won’t say it but he’s so glad when they’re finally healed. MC notices a sharp increase in his energy levels as he asks them to do plenty of activities together. He hardly ever wants to do something with them besides nap. 

He’ll be prepared to catch MC if they ever trip again. He won’t let them be hurt ever again. Period. 

Diavolo

He wasn’t there when it happened to MC, but Lucifer relayed the information to him as soon as possible. He didn’t freak out, at least, not in the way people would expect. It is rather unlike the Lord of the Devildom, however, to drop all his work, cancel all his meetings, and quickly make his way over to the House of Lamentation.

He excuses MC from classes immediately, making sure staying safe and healthy was their first and only priority. Not just for the sake of the program, but something in him stirred violently at the sight of seeing them pale, in pain, their forearm in a cast. He asked Lucifer for details. 

Upon hearing that it was due to some lesser demon, he laughed, but it was a terrible laugh. He calmly stated that he would handle it, but every member of the household could feel the house rumble. Not even Diavolo could stay completely tranquil, it seemed.

He knew the consequences of having a human in the Devildom, he knew the risks. He knew about the dirt in his kingdom that called themselves demons. He just didn’t realize how it would make him feel . Not only did MC have classes off, he allowed all the brothers to stay home for a while as well to make sure they were well taken care of. He had Lucifer give him daily updates on their progress.

MC is now curious why there are new changes to not only RAD but the House of Lamentation, Purgatory Hall, and even Diavolo’s castle. Simple things like ramps, elevators, railings, anything as a means of injury prevention. None of the demons need to use it, it’s all for MC, but everyone acts like it’s completely normal. All due to Diavolo’s ‘modern design’.

None of the brothers dare say anything about the Demon Lord’s frequent visits to their home, or to MC’s room. Not even Lucifer had him come over this often.

MC is thankful they never have to see the demon that resulted in their arm breaking again, but they didn’t know where they possibly could've gone. 

Barbatos

It’s safe to assume he knew about this. Except, there were plenty of timelines where something like this had happened, so he didn’t know the details of which unfortunate accident would come about. Whatever the case, he was prepared to assist and serve MC in whatever way he could.

He always thinks he’s seen everything and is well prepared for it, but it still doesn’t prevent him from having his chest hurt and his nerves shudder at seeing MC like this. On the outside, he’ll always appear neutral, so no one knows just how much he’s feeling for this human. He’s so much softer with them than anyone else.

MC doesn’t know how this demon keeps getting into their room without coming through the door, it freaks them out a bit, to be honest. They don’t complain about their room being so pristine you could brush over it with a white glove, though. 

MC thought that maybe, maybe, just once they could get away with getting up and doing things on their own. The brothers kept on fussing over them non-stop, but at one point they got called away to a meeting, leaving MC alone at home.

They got up out of bed, ready to stretch their legs and get some fresh air, trying to get some sort of normalcy back. They did all this not knowing that Barbatos was keeping a close eye on them from the shadows the entire time. 

Whether it was by Diavolo’s orders or Barbatos’ own volition, MC will never know, but they did find their little excursion to the outside quickly brought to a halt by some form of magic that transported them back to their room. Barbatos had them back in bed before MC could even reach the front gates. 

No matter how they tried, they were forced to stay safe, now even unable to get out from their bed. No matter how much they struggled, their own sheets betrayed them. The silent butler only showed up once MC gave up. He strutted over putting a soft but surprisingly stern hand over their shoulder as he went about taking care of them. Any words of protest fell on deaf ears. It was his duty to protect him, and not even MC could stop him. 

Simeon

He had no idea till he noticed that MC hadn’t been to school for a few days now. When he brought it up to the brothers, they explained how MC had staggered back home one night, hand completely busted, and they wouldn’t tell anyone why. For MC’s safety, and just for the brother’s peace of mind, MC was to stay home until further notice.

Simeon’s an angel, so peaceful, anger isn’t something he fully understands, but he felt a burning pain in his chest. Why didn’t anyone tell him immediately? Was he just supposed to figure this out himself? It had been quite a long time since Lucifer had seen Simeon frown so deeply before, eyes cloudy with distress.

Simeon had never missed classes ever. He was always much too early, much too eager to stick to regulations. So when he ended up skipping class, it shocked Luke to his core and caused Diavolo to make a note that an angel had broken the rules to go check on a human. This program was turning up all sorts of surprises.

MC was pleasantly surprised to hear the soft knocks on their door, vastly different than any of the ways the demons announced themselves. Simeon strode in, radiating warmth, carefully grasping their hand in his, and gave it a gentle kiss. The pain MC had felt no longer existed. Simeon explained that it was still best if they heal on their own, but at the very least, they wouldn’t feel pain. He would be there to make it all go away. 

He’s around MC now much more frequently, guarding them, keeping them from harm. From that point on he urges MC to let him know when things happen.

Solomon

He had been teaching MC more about magic. Not only did he think it would be beneficial for his human companion, but it would sate some of his curiosity. He wanted to learn more about MC, about their capabilities, testing to see in what ways their previous angel ancestor had changed them.

He knew they had a hard time driving out their power, so he tried different methods to assist them, methods they could use on their own. Magic rings, chants, wands. Unfortunately, once something worked, all their built up power flooded out of them at once, their temporary wand exploding into shards, and the bones in their hand following suit.

He used some of his magic to heal up what he could, being careful not to go too far or he’d overwhelm MC’s already weakened body. MC couldn't tell what was running through his head as he had them supported and cradled with one of his arms, the other one hovered over their hand. Magical circles and sigils running over their skin as it rushed to heal them. While his face seemed calm, his eyes looked a bit darker, missing the mischievous glint in them. They were tighter, laser focused, serious.

After he did what he could, both of them promised not to mention it to anyone, for fear both of them would never hear the end of it, or worse. While MC walked themselves home, Simeon used magic to keep an eye on them from his room, taking note what happened with him today. His mouth tight, arms folded across his chest, watching as the remnants from MC’s faulty makeshift wand burned rapidly in the fireplace. 

Luke

He has absolutely no idea how humans work or how weak they are. So when he heard MC had a broken bone, he didn’t even fully understand what that meant. Broke...a bone? He knew the word broke didn’t sound pleasant, and when he finally went to go see MC, his little head almost exploded.

Their body broke?? Human’s bodies could break like that?? And they couldn't just have it healed immediately??

He blamed the demons most definitely, but MC had never ever been so entertained when the little angel pointed at each and every one of the brothers--Lucifer included--and chewed them out. Each of them had different expressions. Belphie looked exhausted, Beel looked downtrodden, Asmo didn’t even seem to be paying attention. Satan looked like he was only focusing on not destroying Luke right then and there, Levi looked mortified, Mammon was the only one arguing back, and Lucifer was stunned speechless that a creature barely higher than his waist was giving him a lecture.

Until MC is fully healed, Luke makes sure to bring plenty of freshly baked sweets right to their door, not noticing seven pairs of glowing glares while he lingers in the house of demons.