#leg is watching my school president | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunboki · 1 year ago

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— WHEN THINGS WERE SIMPLE a Lee Minho fiction

⭐️ : Lee Minho(Leeknow) x fem. reader

TROPE. school romance, 90’s romance, bestfriends to lovers, online au, strangers to lovers, highschool au, small town au

WORD COUNT. 7.7k ☆ 37 minute read

WARNINGS. light cursing, deep conversation, two teenagers being madly in love(lmao), bankruptcy, anonymous online chatting between strangers — this is in no way recommending anyone to join anonymous chat rooms nor meet up with strangers irl!

AUG'S NOTES. this fic was heavily inspired by “Twenty Five Twenty One” (one of my favorite kdrama!!) and was based around the 90’s when today’s technology was just beginning, i hope you find this piece to your satisfaction! if so, please leave some feedback, thanks :)

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Lee Minho, the newest resident in your small town, has already established a reputation as the Class President despite moving only a week ago. You, on the other hand, don’t really see the appeal, or maybe your schedule is too jam-packed to consider the prospect of boys. In the meantime, you join an anonymous chat room with this so-called "lino98," and eventually, the stranger recommends that you meet holding a yellow tulip and wait- is that who you think it is?

or alternatively :

Whoever you’ve been talking to in that chat room was definitely not who you thought would be standing in Marronnier Park with a yellow tulip in hand.

1999.

“Hey! The sign says no throwing!” You scold, rushing to fix the arm to the statue as the tires on the boy’s bike screech to a halt.

And suddenly, it feels like everything’s in slow motion when the perfectly kept head of brown hair swivels back to face you, sharp jawline and piercing eyes belonging to a model-looking stranger you’d never seen before.

Thursday morning was when you first met Minho. Although, you didn’t know his name then, nor that this interaction－the daily magazine breaking your statue’s arm－would change your life.

His expression drops, looking rather bored despite your obviously frazzled (and flustered) state.

“How much?” The bewilderingly attractive boy asks, and it takes you a moment to register what he said, repeatedly glancing from the statue back to him like he was speaking a foreign language.

“It’s.. It’s priceless.” You huff, regarding the stranger with a hard glare as if he’d broken some holy vase or something.

He didn’t.

In fact, the only reason you felt so worked up was because once your parents saw the statue, you’d be grounded in an instant. You, on the other hand, could care less about the stupid piece of marble.

Something about his gaze sets you off, not to mention when he flashes a cheeky grin screaming nothing but trouble.

“Is that so? Then I guess it’s especially priceless now, huh.” He shrugged, kicking the kickstand up and hiking his leg over the seat.

You freeze in your spot, equally stunned with both shock and confusion.

Huh? Where is he going.

Is this guy serious!?

“What’re you- hold on- you can’t just leave!” Racing after him while he positively sped ahead of you on bike, you endlessly shout, slowing down to a halt after a few minutes to watch his silhouette disappear below the winding road traveling down to the village.

Hunched over to catch your breath, you mumble silent curses, dragging heavy footsteps up the small arrangement of stairs to try hiding the broken part behind the statue the best you can.

Brushing off your clothes and adjusting the straps to your bag, you start down the same way he left, stomping and groveling in your misery similar to that of a child denied their favorite toy. It’s quite a sight.

Tomorrow, you’ll give that attractive-Mail-Boy-whose-name-unknown a piece of your mind. You’re sure of it.

Entering the classroom, the first thing piquing your ears wasn’t Soyeon and Hyomin’s daily bickering match about the most random topics (the two you and Yuqi are certain are going to marry one day), but hushed whispering amongst each other.

So, accepting your role as a certified nosy person, you crouch across Yuqi’s desk, craning to make out her way-too-fast-to-be-normal conversation with Rei.

“Psst, Rei, what’s going on?” Blabbering on about whatever the school had been gossiping about, the girl swiftly turned to you, face alight with excitement.

“Have you seen the new guy? He’s an actor, I’m sure of it!”

…Of course. You should’ve known.

Nothing would have Taeyang High School falling over itself faster than a new handsome face.

How disappointing.

Not that you don’t appreciate a good looking person when you see one, but seriously, it could’ve been the upcoming volume of Full House or a class barbecue, something you deemed much more swoon worthy than a boy.

Yet, the transfer student who opened the door mere seconds later looked eerily familiar.

The Mail boy who mutilated your statue this morning is standing there, or are your eyes playing tricks on you? Maybe you’re sleeping at home and this is all a dream. Please be a dream please be a dream please be a dream- Ow!

Pinching yourself did hurt , you were awake, and it was Mail Boy at the front of the class introducing himself.

This week was already off to a great start.

Snapping out of your nightmare to notice him walking in your direction past giggling, lovestruck students to find a seat, you frantically shield either side of your face with your hands. Behind you, Han Jisung, your second best friend to Yuqi, cocks a brow as the boy fortunately takes a seat two rows ahead of you.

It feels like your heart is thundering in your chest with every breath you take, shaking your skull with it’s deafening beating. Any second now he could turn around, and you don’t know why, but the thought of that critiquing stare landing on you again gives you incessant goosebumps.

Sitting through homeroom has never been so suffocating-ly awful, and Jisung can tell when he comes over after class ends, plopping backwards in the chair in front of you to wince at the face you’re pulling.

“I’m cursed, Jisung—“ You childishly squirm, flopping around like some self-acclaimed grub.

Your classmate huffs a humorless chuckle, helping fix a messy strand of your hair before raising from his spot.

“Don’t worry, It’ll only get worse from here. ‘Want a Banana milk?”

Shitty Han Jisung and his shitty personality. Way to lift your spirits, asshole.

“You suck.”

“Two Banana milks it is!” He slaps the wood surface of your desk, breaking into an unaffected smile while hurrying off to the vending machines. Perhaps you’ll just mope till next class, brainstorm the easiest way to glue your statue back together and leave the country while you’re at it.

Abruptly, the minimal view of the classroom from where your head’s wedged between your arms is invaded by a green color, slowly peeking out only to be met with dollar bills waved in front of your face.

Now this had to be a dream. Han Jisung is never fast when it comes to vending machines, usually ogling at options the latest one installed in the cafeteria offers.

Also, for the record, he’s dirt poor like most of the students here.

“Fifty dollars for the damage.”

Damn it!

Still not a dream, because the crisp cash held out to you is none other than Mail Boys’ (a.k.a. Minho’s), staring down at you like you were some insect scurrying near his polished shoes... Or maybe that’s your interpretation of how he’s looking at you.

“This should cover any fees for fixing the statue, I don’t want to deal with you hunting me down every morning when I pass by.” He grumbles, patting the money next to your hand.

You gawk, amazed that he considered at all. What left you more amazed? How he had this amount of money in the first place as a student. Applying for a delivery job may not be so bad after all. That or he does own polished shoes, fancy clothes and a suit with his picture-ready hair and all.

He might as well scream in everyone’s face that he’s rich waving those dollar bills around.

“Keep it. It’s already bad enough it’s broken but it’ll be worse if I have money. Unlike you, I pride myself in being poor.”

There’s that terrifying, critiquing stink-eye again.

“..but my parents don’t, and they would think I stole something.” You quietly add, and Minho almost snorts, appearing to be having a difficult time withholding his bubbling laugh.

Before he can respond though, Jisung steps through the door, stopping in his tracks upon noticing what's going on, beverages in hand.

Noticing the elephant in the room, Minho slides the money closer your way and walks out, leaving you with awkward silence, fifty dollars, and too many questions.

Well, until both Banana milks slam down and your friend snatches the bills with a loud gasp, boba eyes round as saucers.

“Holy shit! I haven’t seen fifty dollars in like, four years. Is that Minho guy your secret boyfriend? Was that why you were acting so weird earlier?”

Not helping with the too many questions part, Jisung. And a secret boyfriend? Does this guy even know you?

“Absolutely not,” You cross your arms, being sure he sees your excessive eye-roll. “He broke my statue.”

In those few seconds of silence you swore he went through at least eight phases of contemplation trying to figure out the context attached to what you said, deciding to just blankly squint till you spilled your guts.

“So you’re telling me,” He points his finger at some imaginary diagram on the desk, focus flickering in every direction trying to connect the dots. “That Mail Boy, no, Lee Minho, threw the newspaper, broke your statue and ran off? This morning?”

There’s a doubtful lilt to his voice while you hurriedly nod, praying the boy will believe you despite how insane it sounds—despite how insane it really was.

“And this isn’t because he’s attractive?”

You cough.

“I mean, he’s attractive, but-“Aha! Finally! A prospect! Looks like my lovely Y/n won’t die alone after all.” Jisung places an over dramatic hand over his heart and you open your mouth, ready to tell him off before the bell rings and all hope of earning any sympathy flies out the window.

Nonetheless, confessing your grievances to the ferociously blunt Yuqi and expecting the newest volume of Full House after school wasn't usually the highlight of your day, but you've come to accept anything away from Mail Boy should be counted as a highlight at this point.

Come to think of it, you haven’t seen the god forbidden statue-killer since morning class.

Eh. He’s probably massacring some more neighborhood statues. He seems like he’d have weird hobbies anyway.

“Sounds a bit like you’re into him if you ask me,” She chews her sandwich, and you might’ve thrown up in your mouth a little bit.

Absolutely not. Your education is far too important to be interrupted by this transfer student. Plus, he also seems uninterested in love, right? It works out .. totally.

“C’mon Yuqi, you know me. The only thing I’m into is good grades and college admission.” You slump against the bench, absentmindedly stealing a few grapes from the girl.

Seriously though, falling in love is not on your roster for high school. At least not for now.

Nope. Take it back. No love. None. Nope.

Yuqi gasping like someone stabbed her seems to pull you from your loophole headspace, grabbing your arm excitedly.

“Oh my gosh! Doesn’t Volume Eleven come out today?” She says, and you might’ve just ascended to heaven.

Ah. Forget good grades and college admission, you’re in love with Full House. Save the boys for later.

She didn’t need to say anymore, because in the blink of an eye you were full sprinting out the gates, mind trained on one thing and one thing only.

Practically singing to yourself with glee, you swing open the door of Myeongjin DVD store, calling out an equally singsong, “Sir— did you save the newest release for m-…”

Huh.

You know those scenes in movies where all the music stops and everything seems to just freeze? Yeah, this was one of those moments.

“Hm?” Is what he responds with.

What Lee Minho responds with, working behind the front desk sorting through rentals.

Come to think of it, this is the first time you’re calling him by his actual name and not Mail Boy.

Strange.

“Ah.. Ahem .. The new volume of Full House, is it saved for me?” You gradually pique, bouncing back and forth on your heels.

Things should be settled by now between you two after he paid you back and all, but you just couldn’t seem to shake the awkwardness compiling in your gut. Like this strange boy that showed up (literally) on your doorstep would get you into trouble.

Placing the book he’d been checking down, he picks up a bulletin board, finger scouring the titles before glancing at you.

“Full House? Nope, we’re all out.”

“Thanks- WHAT?! Look, you might not know, but I’m pretty much the owner’s daughter,” You explain matter-a-factly, cocking your brows expectantly. What kind of stunt you were pulling you didn’t know. Either way, you’d use the many years you lived here before him to the utmost advantage.

Turns out, you definitely should’ve remembered how Lee Minho earned his reputation in the first place.

“So sorry, he didn’t say anything about his beloved daughter paying a visit today.” The man in front of you leans forward, head tilted in a conniving manner.

What. A. Prick.

Jesus he looks good right now.

Opening your mouth to bite back, deja vú plows through like a bus when he cuts you off, light smirk gracing the edges of his lips. Mocking, like when you first met. Mocking.

“But, I’ll be sure to tell you when more are in stock. Deal?”

Oh how you want to beat his stupidly handsome face in.

“Deal.”

Settling down into your chair and repeatedly clicking the cream colored mouse, you watch the blue background fill the screen along with the other person’s username.

Only on stressful nights would you log back into the anonymous chat rooms. Except today wasn’t necessarily stressful, more just leaving you in denial without Volume eleven in hand.

Somehow, these conversations were thrilling in their own, odd ways. Not knowing if the person is your best friend or your worst enemy made the experience all the more fun.

Recently, you'd begun chatting with Lino98, a kind person who apparently moved not too long ago. They gave you the best advice and would always joke around like friends while you talked about love, grades, and anything at all.

In a sense, they were your friend.

YOU: Lino98?

LINO98: Hm?

YOU: What do you want to do in the future? Now that we’re getting older, I’ve been thinking about it a lot

LINO98: Well that’s a random question

YOU: Shhh just answer

LINO98: Okay okay, mine is way out there and pretty unrealistic for a student, but

LINO98: I want to be a dancer

YOU: Wowー dancer? As in, dancing on stage?

LINO98: What else would a dancer do ㅎㅎ

YOU: You know what I mean!! But being a dancer is a good dream. You’ll have to work hard, but it’s your passion, so I shouldn’t be one to judge

LINO98: You’re sweet, saying that

YOU: Hey hey don’t get all sappy

LINO98: I mean it ㅋㅋㅋ

You smile, fingers rapidly typing to keep up with the replies. They had a wild dream, sure, but Lino98 had their own aspirations, and you wondered if maybe in the future you’d see them on TV.

See them in real life. Now that was a thought. Heck, you didn’t even know if they were a boy or girl.

Oh god, what if Lino98 was one of your classmates? Worst case scenario it’d be Minho.

Although, that would never happen, the chances were too slim.

Too slim.. but not impossible. In fact, very much possible because no matter how small the chance is it could always become realit- “Y/n!”

You jump, reaching to turn off the old monitor.

There’s a shuffle outside of your door, the woman’s head peering in momentarily. You have an idea of what she's going to say next seeing you in front of the computer.

“You’d better not be on those chat rooms, I told you they’re dangerous. Also, could you run to the market? I’m missing bean sprouts.”

Bingo.

Patting the doorframe, she disappears once more.

You know she’s right. Sure it could pose a threat, but you’re a student, and adult things like being worried about safety could come later.

However, running into Mail Boy there could also come later, and you debated on turning around before he noticed you. That was, until you remembered the unfortunate errand you’d made the trip for in the first place.

The last person he expected to find at Ahyeon Market was you, looking equally as shocked with his appearance here as well. Still clad in uniform, he motions from his place on the outdoor bench, patting the spot next to him.

If gears could literally be seen turning in someone’s head he's certain he would have witnessed an entire mechanical process by now, rather amusedly analyzing your angel and devil conversation with cat-like observation.

“I don’t bite y’know,” Breaking the quiet lull, he clicks his tongue, earning a suspicious look.

“And how am I supposed to believe you.” Question rhetorical (he assumes), you approach him slowly, testing, like he’d pounce at one wrong move. The tempting urge to jump and scare you briefly crosses his mind.

“Because,” He bites back a grin. “Our Volume eleven pact, remember?”

Almost instantly, the tense atmosphere dissolves and you plop down beside him followed by hushed “Yeah, yeah”'s muttered under your breath. Barely twenty seconds pass though before you’re bolting to upward (and ironically scaring him instead), glancing left and right.

“I’ll get some Banana milk.” You bolt to the small fridge unit, lips focusedly pursed cashing in your coins.

Minho can’t help but smile to himself at your unbothered-ness, your easiness. You’re kind, not to mention brutally honest on occasions. It’s reassuring being around you, like he doesn’t have to worry about anything. Like, in some sense, his youth is returning to him. Piece by piece.

“Here.” Your voice has his head swiveling, holding a small cartridge for him to take.

“So.. Why’d you transfer here?”

He stares at the drink for a while, though your eyes never stray from his, observing him contemplating, thinking. Cat-like, you agree. Minho greatly resembles a feline.

“You like this stuff, huh.”

“Jisung got me hooked on it, you don’t want it?” Knitting your brows and greedily pulling the drink to yourself, he’s quick to reach forward, grabbing your hand in his.

You hesitate, both frantically searching each other's face before Minho snatches the Banana milk from you, tone suddenly doused in nervousness.

“No- I do, thanks.”

Liar. He hates Banana milk, but he’ll drink it. For you he will.

There’s that feeling again, blooming in his chest and warming up his entire body.

Weird.

It’s like he’s a three year old crushing on his classmate again, awkward and young. In love.

Anyone unlucky enough to witness this obvious pining deserves a written letter of apology.

“Mm..” You hum quietly, aggressively poking your straw through the paper lid.

Minho’s lips form a tight line, fixating on the rotation of his own straw as he aimlessly moves the drink in his hand from side to side.

“My family went bankrupt. That’s why I moved.”

Pausing your movement, you nod quickly and he feels a pang of guilt strike his chest. He shouldn’t have told you that, should’ve kept the comfort and ignored the question. Way to ruin it, jerk.

“What was your first impression of me?” Changing the subject, he clears his throat from the chilling air. So long for the summer heat.

“First impression?” You mimic, appearing deep in thought for a reason he couldn’t help but feel nervous about. Nervous for what, he couldn’t name.

There were lots of things he “couldn’t” when it came to you. It makes things interesting, makes you interesting. Life isn’t boring when with you, something he realizes the longer you accompany him, vice versa.

He can’t make sense of the feeling, ironically enough. Another “can’t”.

“Well, If you want me to be honest,” Glancing over at him from your earlier focus on a neon road sign, you lift your brows, awaiting his signal to go on.

“I thought you were cold, rude, not to mention a pain in the butt. Also, I’m not kidding when I say I was convinced you were a rich and spoiled brat-“ Rapid waving of his hands in front of you stops your train of thought.

“Are- are you being serious or just insulting me.” He interrupts, deadpanning while sending you a rather confused, nonsensical look.

“Dead serious. You wanted the truth after all.” You shrug your shoulders and Minho chokes a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

Unbelievable. Absolutely, unforgivably, unbelievable.

“And what about now?”

More thinking.

“You’re nice to be around, but still a pain in the butt.” Shuffling on the pavement, you pull your coat tighter around yourself, gaze flitting to the crack of smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

With the streetlights automatically turning on, without response, simply a soft look from the boy, he steps forward and wordlessly beckons for you to follow.

Walk home with me, an inaudible invitation, and you tag along accordingly.

He doesn’t want to go home, but he won’t tell you that. In fact, he dreads going home to a silent house. He won’t tell you that either.

Truth being, Minho hadn’t been this happy in ages, and being by you, talking to you, getting to know you and everything in between has brilliant shades of color decorating his black and white world. If only he could muster up the courage to tell you that.

“Shoot!”

Panickedly facing you, surprise lay evident on his usually unwavering features.

“I forgot bean sprouts! Hold on, I’ll be right back.” You pronounce, disappearing inside the Market with the boy right on your heels.

Arriving at the register, he places his wallet on the counter before you could fetch cash from your pocket. Turning to him, you poke an accusing finger against his chest, fixing your attractive friend with a hard stare.

“Minho, I told you rich people paying for poor people isn’t ‘nice’, it just makes us look pitiful.” You pout, and the boy resists the overbearing urge to coo not only from how unfairly adorable you look right now but hearing his name come out of your mouth for the first time as well.

Adorable. What was he thinking using a word like that anyway? He meant something else .. another, descriptive word for something cute… Nevermind.

“Think of it as me paying you back for the Banana Milk.” Giving in the tiniest bit, he lands a small nudge against your side, earning an equally playful shove back.

Laughter envelops the both of you, walking from the store with bean sprouts in clutch and pink hues decorating your cheeks whether from giggling or something else. Swinging the bag beside you, a fleeting thought of holding it for you crosses Minho’s mind. Should he? What if you say no and things become awkward again?

God, why is he complicating things so much recently. Just do it, Minho. It’s not that difficult.

“You know how much I gave the cashier for those drinks?”

Quickly pulling his hand away from where it reached for the plastic, his grimace becomes instantly replaced with feigned curiosity in hopes you didn’t notice.

Holding eye contact has never been difficult for Minho. In fact, he’s a pro at it …with everyone but you. So when you study him with those brilliant eyes, he can feel his ears burning bright red.

“Yeah? How much?” He mischievously replied, watching you light up.

You have a particular smile, the one that transforms your face so prettily, the one that makes his heart thunder in his chest. He really likes that smile.

“Ten dollars. Can you believe it? I could buy a mansion with that money.” You hum sarcastically, tumbling all over the sidewalk while being kindly beckoned away from the road by the concerned boy.

“Hey Minho?”

He turns to you.

“What do you wanna do when you grow up? Y’know, after High school and University.”

Opening his mouth to respond, he can’t help but find the question eerily familiar.

“Since I was a kid I wanted to be a Dancer. I actually auditioned a few days ago, but I probably won’t make it.” The dark haired man humorlessly laughs, actively avoiding your attention.

You frown, he doesn’t notice.

“You don’t know that. I don’t know what I want to do, but riding in a sports car sounds nice. It doesn’t have to be realistic, we’re young.”

There it is. This was the easiness he was thinking of, your unbothered-ness. All of the things he finds himself smiling about. The things he looks forward to dropping off your mail in the morning to see.

“..A sports car?”

Once comfortable silence interrupted by his snickering, you wack his arm for the nth time that night, sending him a faux glare.

“Oh look! It’s my stop!” You interject, hiking up the stairs to turn around and see him looking up at you, eyes crinkled with a small smile adorning his face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow! Goodnight, Minho.”

Minho thinks you're very, very cute.

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

Minho hopes you think he’s cute too.

Days go by, some long, some short, with August feeling extremely drawn-out and uncomfortable—leaves gradually beginning to brown for autumn.

As for September, you’re still waiting for Volume eleven from Minho, incessantly dropping by the DVD store to annoy him into leaking some info about when the next batch will be shipped.

“It’ll be next week”, “It’ll be next week”, “It’ll be next week,” is what he always says every week until you’re quite certain next week has happened four times already.

On a different note other than your Full House dilemma and impending exams, Minho had been elected Class President, Soyeon and Hyomin are getting closer to officially dating (from you and Yuqi’s observations), and Jisung is currently keeping count of how many girls confess to Mail Boy each semester.

Don’t ask about the last one.

Expecting someone like Yuqi to be running up to you so early on your walk through the school gates, you blink twice to realize it’s Minho instead, something in hand and positively glowing with cheerfulness.

“Y/n!”

Spinning around, you mirror his overwhelming energy and narrowly dodge getting run over in the process.

“Guess what.” He grins, looking scarily enthusiastic compared to usual.

“What?” You ask, already lost in the way his caramel globes for eyes seem to practically sparkle.

“I got accepted! I’m going to be a trainee!” Shoving the acceptance paper in your face, you scream, covering your mouth in disbelief.

To say you both jumped is an understatement, basically frolicking around the courtyard like lunatics. Well, before you realized the entire jumping and frolicking thing and hurriedly returned to your normal, stiff high school selves.

“Also, the Full House shipment came in this morning.”

…

He’s kidding. You’re kidding.

Oh my god you could kiss him right now. Good thing you didn’t say that out loud.

Running as fast as you possibly could with the boy yelling for you to slow down, you mercilessly slam the door open, manically searching through boxes until the beloved, astounded, mystifying book rests peacefully in hand.

Heaven’s gates should’ve opened up by now.

Taking his sweet time as if this wasn’t one of the greatest moments in life, your counterpart casually strolls up to the register, appearing to check out the rental despite holding your precious book hostage after scanning the barcode.

“You don’t care about me making the cut, do you?” He pouts, lip pitifully jutting out.

Mouth left agape, you swiftly bite back what you’d planned to say about the deal, stumbling over sentences to find an excuse.

“I do! I swear! Now give me the book.. please?” Sporting the most genuine tone you could manage, you snatch the book he begrudging lowered down, hugging the prized possession close to your chest.

“Fine, liar.”

Yikes, talk about a grumpy face. He looked like a kicked puppy. You didn’t even think that expression was possible for Lee Minho.

However, you also didn’t think it was possible to feel sort of upset about it. Not his grumpy face, no, but him getting accepted. Wasn’t this a happy occasion? Volume eleven was released and finally in your possession and your friend was now going to be a trainee, now going to chase his dream of becoming a dancer.

So why did you feel sad walking back to school?

It felt wrong, you felt wrong, and the disgusting feeling only grew worse as the day went on. Heck, looking through pages and squealing with Yuqi—an activity that normally helped lift your spirits—didn't feel as reviving.

Later that day you asked him when he’d be leaving to train, leaving for Seoul, far from here. You dreaded the question, but at least it gave you time to prepare in a sense.

“January,” he replied, eating his apple as if it wasn’t the end of September, as if your heart wasn’t splintering into a billion tiny pieces.

Perhaps somewhere, hidden in his unaffected façade, he felt a tad bit upset like you did.

‘It doesn’t have to be realistic, we’re young.’ You recalled assuring him at Ahyeon Supermarket back in August, thinking it wasn’t going to be real, believing it wasn’t going to become reality.

If only you had known.

Adult things were climbing from the busy city into your small town. You weren’t ready.

So when life becomes increasingly overbearing, you log back in.

YOU: Today has been so draining.. I want to wake up and everything to be a dream

LINO98: Need to vent?

YOU: I thought you’d never ask ㅠㅠ

LINO98: Alright alright, go on

YOU: Well I have a friend, and he’s getting to do something he’s always wanted, but it means he’ll have to go away for a while and I can’t help but feel sad

LINO98: Feeling sad is normal, there’s nothing wrong with that

LINO98: It makes you feel like everything you’ve done with them was taken for granted, don’t you think?

YOU: That’s exactly what it’s like

YOU: If you're okay with it, could we meet up and talk? I mean, we’ve been talking for a while now and I just thought

LINO98: Would Marronnier Park work?

YOU: Didn't think you’d be so willing

LINO98: What can I say, we work well together

YOU: How will we find each other though?

LINO98: Hm.. theres that flower shop nearby, right? Bring a yellow tulip and I will too, good?

YOU: Tomorrow at noon?

LINO98: I’ll be there

Yellow tulip, noon, tomorrow. You sigh a stretching grin, clicking the small exit button before flopping onto your bed.

Only downside of this would have to be your inability to sleep, mind unable to calm itself down as you lay awake. Tomorrow you meet Lino98, someone truly cherished for all their help and kindness.

Eyes slowly drifting closed, you can’t help but hope meeting them in real life will ease some of your troubles. Even just a tad.

Springing from bed that morning, you make your daily stop at Myeongjin DVD store, attempting to drag Minho outside to grab dessert with you while he complains of having plans.

You grumble, growling to him you’ll enjoy the sweet treat more by yourself, his saccharine farewell fading into the distance as you close the door behind you.

Luckily, there wasn’t anything that could truly damage your happiness today(despite really wanting to get desserts with Minho) while picking up a yellow tulip on your way to the meeting location.

Gosh, your stomach was doing backflips right now.

Locating the park’s sign, you stopped and patted yourself down for a moment.

Alright. Now time to start guessing. Would they be a girl? Be a boy? Maybe they’d be Yuqi. That would be hysterical. You mean, you’re soulmates at this point, it’d make plenty of sense.

Venturing inside, you shuffle between people in search of the same flower being in someone else’s grip till finally spotting it, hidden between two people in front of you.

If they would just scoot over a little bit.. there! Now you can see ...them.

Oh.

Making eye contact, you watch them realize, beginning to back up.

You don’t know why you run away, you don’t know why your legs won’t stop and why the person keeps calling out behind you.

Funny that the slim chance you mentioned turned out to be true.

Today you met Lino98, someone you'd truly cherished for all their help and kindness prior to learning who they were.

Today you met Lino98 at Marrionner Park holding a yellow tulip, but the person in front of you was Lee Minho, flower in hand and staring directly back at you.

December gradually rolls around, and usually you’re ecstatic seeing all the lights and festivals Taeyang High hosts as Christmas and new years approaches, especially with next year marking a new millennium.

After the news of Minho’s departure though, it’s hard enjoying the holidays knowing he’ll be leaving only a week or so into January.

No. You should soak up your last month or so. This is the most important part, you can’t be miserable when he hasn’t even left yet.

Despite how badly you want to see him all the time, nothing came easy with his identity revealed.

You weren’t angry nor embarrassed. And initially, you didn’t feel anything, you just stared at him across the park, wondering if all of these coincidences were dreams, your loneliness causing hallucinations of a sort.

Regarding the running away part, that was more of a “need to get my thoughts together” reflex, a desperate and last resort you now deeply regretted holed up in your room with Yuqi’s voice ringing through the home phone.

Yes, you’d like to say you dealt with the matter like a responsible almost-adult.

You didn’t.

“Yuqi… I’m ruining my own life and I can’t do anything to stop it..” You hiccup, loud sobs echoing through the empty household.

She clicks her tongue, once patient and understanding persona instantaneously snapping.

“Yah!” The girl shouts, and you flinch on the other side of the line. “Keep saying stuff like that and you really will ruin your own life! I know no one warned you that falling in love with him would be like this, but seriously, I am not letting you waste this last month avoiding each other!!”

In spite of her reprimanding you, her intentions are clearly aimed towards wanting the best for the both of you, and you know you should be grateful in return.

“I’m not in love with.. My god I am in love with him, what do I do—“ You drag out, dissolving into more cries.

It’s true, both her point and the fact that you’re unabashedly in love with him. All of it. From first meeting him, avoiding him, making up, becoming close and convincing yourself you weren’t looking for a relationship, and now avoiding him again. You’ve always had that feeling, that lingering affection teetering back and forth between the line of friends and lovers.

Although, your friend’s sigh suddenly gets cut off by another person, and you briefly wonder if her younger brother took it before making out the name Yuqi yelled in the distance.

“Yeesh you sound ugly when you cry.”

Is that.. Jisung?

“Han Jisung, give me back the phone!”

Jisung over at Yuqi’s house. Weird.

“Just one seconds this is important~” He whines, and from the sounds of it is also currently running away from what you assume to be a raging Yuqi.

“Okay so Yuqi, Soyeon, Hyomin and I are planning the craziest new years bash ev-“HAN JISUNG!” Phone finally finding its way back to the original holder, you can hear sly giggles echoing in the background.

She audibly groans and you can easily imagine her hands threading through long blonde locks of hair, probably visibly resisting the urge to bury her companion. You can’t help but smile.

Just so you know, only Jisung and I are here so don’t worry about the public humiliatio- aw shit there's thirty seconds left on the call- anyways, be sure to stop by my place on the 31st, we have a surprise for you!” Time limit ending without another word, you take the time to connect the dots with Jisung’s “new years bash” and Yuqi’s “surprise”, to expect a small party of some kind.

With those two arranging it, you don’t know what to expect.

Why not? The reasons to say no are basically nonexistent.

Christmas break officially starting, students clambering from school grounds, and your daily “avoiding Minho” schedule on hold now that you’re out till the end of January, the anticipation of this upcoming party creeps closer. That, and how you plan to talk to Minho.

You aren’t stupid, and you didn’t ignore what Yuqi had said about avoiding each other either, fully aware of how essential coming to terms was for the sake of your friendship, and at least for you, for the sake of your love too.

The real question was when, something you’re still trying to figure out on the 30th of December. Way to procrastinate.

Before tonight you’d never hesitated talking to Lino98 (Minho), deleting your message at least a dozen times before clicking the send button and preparing to hide under your comforter for the rest of the night. Keyword: preparing. Because when you anxiously peered between your fingers to see a response beneath your message, you might have just jumped out of your skin.

YOU: Hey, can we talk?

LINO98: I thought you’d never ask

YOU: About meeting up.. I want you to know I’m really not mad at you

LINO98: You can be honest, Y/n

YOU: I am, promise

YOU: It’s so much easier talking online than in person, but I really want to see you

LINO98: Same, but I doubt I’ll be able to say the same things in person

YOU: I think that’s something we can both agree on

LINO98: Hm

YOU: I’m busy tomorrow, but maybe the next day?

LINO98: Seems we still work well together

YOU: Don't say that, I’ll get PTSD..

LINO98: Sorry sorry ㅜㅜ

Little did you know you were both busy doing the same thing after nobody mentioned Minho would be at the party as well, too stunned to speak seeing him sit around the enormous pile of snacks and drinks laying in the middle of the floor.

However, you found it in yourself, not only because of the minimal time you had left but also because of your conversation last night, to move past the tension.

Like adults.

What a bizarre phrase coming from you.

And it looked as if he felt the same too.

Lively conversation filled up the small space, and six kids, six adults, sat around an army of junk food and held a pitiful excuse for a party while using this time together to forget, if just for a moment, about life outside the room.

You couldn’t have had more fun talking and catching up, not to mention the curdling screaming when Hyomin and Soyeon announced that they were officially dating, bouncing around whilst stuck in Yuqi’s bone-crushing hug of delight.

The clock ticked on the wall, and after hours of bringing back old memories and suggesting new ones, a few attendees began to slip away, gradually leaving only you, Minho, and Yuqi to occupy her living room.

She yawned beside you, half-lidded eyes making her sleepiness rather apparent. Patting your shoulder, the girl rose up, trudging toward the door.

“Alright I’m tapping out, see you guys next year.” She quietly mused and you cracked a sarcastic laugh, both wishing her good night before the sound of the knob clicked shut behind her.

It’s just you two now, watching the live broadcast in a numbing peacefulness. It stays like that for a long time, basking in the presence you’d been deprived of after that fateful day.

You stifle a chuckle.

“It wasn’t my intention to fall in love with you, but I guess I couldn’t help it.” You wistfully smile, back leaning against the wall clad in your heavy sweater and socks.

You hear him take a deep breath.

“I could say the same,” He whispers, eyes trained on the celebration airing on TV. “I bet you were upset that I’m Lino98.”

You pull your knees closer to yourself, listening to the two minute warning the reporter announces.

The room once busied becomes quiet apart from television chatter and your hushed talking. In a few minutes it’ll be a new Millennium, the 2000’s.

You should feel happy, knowing you’ll graduate soon, knowing that a new year is beginning. You’ve tried, truly, but you can’t find it in yourself, not with the circumstances.

“I’m not upset. I was just being selfish because I didn’t want it to be any harder seeing you leave.”

The circumstances seem to steal everything away. Minho must know that much better than you do.

Except you have this moment right here, right now, that the circumstances haven’t taken away yet.

He utters a pained sound, a sound that feels like crying. You don’t dare say anything.

“Don’t people,” He stops, waiting for you to look to your right, look at him and his glossy eyes. You’ve never seen Minho emotional, and you wish you never had. It feels cruel. Immeasurably cruel.

“As I speak, we have ten seconds till 2000.”

He opens his mouth again.

“Kiss on new years?”

You can hear the countdown begin.

“Ten!”

Minho has a wistful smile, dancing from your eyes to your lips.

“Nine!”

Should you take the chance?

“Eight!”

Will this hurt you?

“Seven!”

Haven’t you been hurting enough?

“Six!”

He’s leaving in a few days.

“Five!”

It’s now or never.

“Four!”

You lean forward, lips softly connecting with his. They’re soft, his lips, and he angles your head from side to side with a gentle touch, palms enveloping your cheeks, holding you close. Your skin feels like it’s on fire. Everything feels like it’s on fire. Ferociously alight and blazing.

“Three!”

He whispers something between your lips, you can’t hear it.

“Two!”

Partially, you feel grateful you couldn’t.

“One!”

Fireworks burst in your peripheral, littering the screen with a bountiful assortment of lights and cheers.

The new year had begun, and so had a different chapter in everyone’s lives. Both your classmates, and especially yours and Minho’s.

“Let’s welcome the year 2000!”

2000.

LINO98: Don’t get too excited, but I’m outside your house, come quick

YOU: Didn’t we see each other yesterday?

LINO98: Are you saying you’d rather stay in? I thought you loved me

YOU: Fine you big baby, but I’m going back to sleep after this

LINO98: Sounds good to me〜

You groan, dragging yourself out of your covers at the speed of a turtle to organize the unruly chaos ensuing in your disheveled hair and pull on your shoes.

In all honesty, you can’t even remember how you got home last night, only recalling that Minho tasted like Coca cola and that you had a roaring headache.

Minho tasted like Coca cola. You kissed Minho.

Wow.

Maybe the adrenaline had taken over last night considering how your face erupted red merely thinking about it the next morning.

A honk sounds outside and you jump slightly, mind sifting through ideas of what exactly the boy had gotten himself into this time. With Han Jisung’s influence yesterday, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was in a fancy sports car or something.

Scratch that, he was in a fancy sports car, and you had to blink repeatedly to check if you were awake.

Did he have a license? Wait, nevermind, since when did he own a car?

“What is this, you may ask?” He gestures to the bright red convertible Mustang, tipping down the sunglasses perched on his nose with a cock of his brow. “Well, since I‘m getting to do what I wanted when I got older, I thought it was only fair you got to do what you wanted to too. Sports car, right? Hop in.”

Oh. My. God.

You just keep falling in love with Minho over and over again.

Breathing a laugh of disbelief, shock, and every other emotion making a pit stop while standing in your pajamas, you cross your arms, sending him a suspicious stare.

“And might I ask how you got your hands on this thing?” Smile threatening to appear, you stave down the urge, struggling to maintain your unconvinced poise under his watchful eye.

“Let’s just say I know a friend who knows a friend-“Y/n! What happened to our statue?!” Your mothers shouts from up the stairs and you practically leap into the passenger seat, frantically urging him to step on the gas.

“Only took her a few months,” Your personal driver huffs amusedly, quickly putting the vehicle in reverse to flee the scene. Ah.. You’re not looking forward to the trip home.

Luckily, you’re not home, and you hope you won’t be for a while. Instead, you’re driving through side roads with Minho and his stupidly attractive sunglass-clad self, and it feels like you’ve just started high school again.

Minutes pass, maybe hours. You wouldn’t have been able to tell, too caught up enjoying it. The sights, the smells, the sounds, all of it. Enjoying everything.

Slowing down to pull into a small alcove overlooking the ocean, the boy leans his seat back and you do the same, warm sun baking down on the dark interior. You reach a hand forward, fingers tangling with his.

“Can we stay like this forever?”

He smiles.

“Forever it is.”

2009.

Scooting the metal chair to the side, Minho takes a seat, adjusting the collar of his shirt that earns a few screams here and there alongside the merciless flash of camera shutters swarming in every direction. Today marks his first fansign as a group, as a member of Stray Kids by the stage name Lee Know.

Exhilarating, perhaps. Terrifying, also perhaps.

Initially, he was anxious, worried he’d come off as cold and rigid followed by the other lovely assortment of offensive adjectives you used to describe him standing outside of school that day in August.

Life was different then, just as it is now. Although, he’s not unhappy with how things turned out, nor how life changed since high school.

Tonight you’d text him (like you did every night since he first left) about the fansign, asking if he found anyone cute (the answer would always be you) and telling him about your day, your changed life.

He’d listen, give his most-always teasing input, smile at your equally teasing retort and tell you to eat well and take care of yourself.

“Good morning Minho— ah, wait, I should call you Lee Know now, shouldn’t I?”

A voice stirs from in front of him and he’s certain he’s officially going insane. But no, it does belong to you, in the flesh, mesmerizing eyes disappearing as you grinned while plopping down onto the stool below.

“Do me a favor and act really obsessed with me for a minute, I want to make your fans jealous,” You giggle, leaning closer to whisper the petty request.

In the midst of his shock he scoffs, appearing profusely offended.

“And you still suck at introductions. Not even a congratulations, ouch.” The brown-haired now-Idol frowns, behaving more like a child than ever before.

His status as a normal person might’ve developed (Minho was never a normal person), but he still retained the maturity of a twelve year old.

“Oh, dearest apologies my beloved Lee Know.” Basically gagging, you balance your chin on your hand, once teasing expression replaced with a smile that makes his heart downright ache.

“Congratulations on becoming a dancer, Minho. I missed you.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @dorisnumber1fan @mal-lunar-28 @httphans @virluna148 @bettybeako @grannyindehouse @minhaurloml @ylixbok @inkelea @luna585 @hyunbae-35

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justalonelybitch · 1 year ago

Text

Lovesick Fools

Kazuha x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Highschool AU

Warnings: hints of poor home life, overworking, implied family issues, smol commitment issues

Word Count: 2.7k

Buy Me A Coffee :)

dedicated to my lovely muse @siyooungi <3 enjoy your dessert

Your mind buzzed with thoughts as you wandered aimlessly through the dreary school halls. You swore all the endless studying was bringing you closer to your grave with each passing day. Your desperate longing for a break guided you up the school stairs. Eyes gleaming with delight as you unlocked the familiar door, your muscles ached in protest trying to push it open, sighing when it finally gave. Collapsing on the nearest couch with a thud, your body sunk into the soft cushions immediately. “What the hell happened to you?” Sakura, the student council secretary, asked teasingly when your head landed atop her lap. Her hands combed through your hair as she studied your appearance, worry written on her features.

“You work too hard Y/n,” Your student council president scolded you, eyes drifting from her assignment to spare you a wary glance. “Someone’s got to pay the bills,” you said playfully, no one catching the serious undertone of your words- well almost no one. Kazuha’s concerned gaze peered at you from from afar. Your legs dangled lazily off the couch as you relished in your childhood best friend’s gentle touch. It sent you into a state of bliss, your heart swelling with content as you allowed yourself to truly relax for the first time in what seemed like forever. “When’s your next shift?” Chaewon asked, the innocent question dragging you back to the harsh reality that was your life. Groaning, you lazily lifted your hand to glance at your watch, forehead creasing in a frown. “One hour,” you mumbled, cursing under your breath.

“How do you work every night and get good grades?” Sakura muttered, baffled by your ability to balance everything. Humming thoughtfully, a smirk crept up to your lips, mischievous glint in your eyes. “A magician never reveals their secrets,” you said cheekily, abruptly jumping to your feet. Saluting jokingly, you swiftly swung the door open, disappearing without another word. Kazuha quickly rose from her own seat where she’d been silently listening, rushing after you as while yelling her goodbyes over her shoulder. Jogging down the steps in a hurry, she bearly caught sight of you disappearing round the corner.

“Y/n!!” Kazuha yelled, halting you in your step. Spinning on your heel, you turned to face the ballet dancer. Smiling brightly, you waited patiently for her to catch up with you, chuckling when she panted breathlessly upon reaching your side. “I’ll walk with you,” she managed to get out between breaths. Nodding happily, you linked your arm with hers, dragging her out of the hellish school. “How’s the dance performance coming along?” You asked curiously, lifting your hand to shield your eyes from the bright sun. Falling into step with you, she mimicked your actions, no longer squinting to see your eyes that gazed at her with sincere intrigue.

“It’s good, I even have a solo part this time,” Kazuha murmured, sheepishly scratching that back of her neck. “Really?” You asked, a proud smile adorning your lips. The dancer hummed in response, laughing when a particularly strong gust of wind blew your hair into her face. Stopping momentarily, you innocently pushed the stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath hitched as she gazed into your eyes, she could’ve sworn your hand lingered. Glancing briefly at your lips, her eyes widened in surprise when you inched closer. Her body instinctively followed your movements, lips lingering just short of yours.

Before she could close the gap, you pulled away abruptly, ducking your head shyly. A dark blush coated Kazuha’s cheeks, swallowing her disappointment as she looked to her feet awkwardly. Clearing her throat, Kazuha shook her head in hopes of ridding her mind of your pretty pink lips that invaded her mind on sleepless nights. Walking silently, you busied yourself with admiring the fallen leaves decorating the path before you, uncertain of how to proceed. Both of you grinned bashfully each time your hands brushed against one other, unable to make eye contact.

“When does your shift end?” Kazuha finally broke her silence once she’d successfully recomposed herself, gaze burning holes into the side of your head. Though when you turned to meet her curious gaze, she folded the moment your eyes that danced with kindness met her own. “Eleven tonight?” You tilted your head, unsure of the answer. “Again?” The older girl sighed, no stranger to your habit of overworking yourself. You shrugged your shoulders plainly. “Are you coming over after?” Kazuha asked hopefully, growing accustomed to late night visits.

“Only if it's alright with you. I don’t think I can go home tonight.” You smiled sadly, eyes telling a tale of your sorrows. Kazuha knew better than to ask. You liked that she never did, it was one of the many reasons you found yourself knocking on her door every night and Kazuh awas determined to keep it that way. “No wonder you’ve been so exhausted lately, you’re hardly getting enough rest.” She made a seamless change of topic upon sensing your discomfort. As much as she worried, she was content knowing you would open up to her some day. She could only hope for that much.

“I’m going to be late, I better leave!” You exclaimed suddenly, avoiding her concerned gaze as you wandered off, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets. “I’ll see you tonight!” Kazuha yelled after you, biting back the smile that threatened to break out on her angelic features. You beamed brightly at her, giving her a double thumbs up before disappearing into the distance. The older girl sighed in content, running a flustered hand through her hair. A wide grin finally crept onto her face as she shoved her hands into her own pockets, smiling stupidly all the way home.

It was ten o’clock that night when Kazuha finally heard the awaited knock on her front door. Rushing to the source of the sound with little care for her appearance, she swung the door open eagerly, heart thumping in anticipation- Or maybe it was because she’d been practising for her upcoming performance for the past few hours, though she preferred the former. Nothing could prepare her for the sight of your sweet smile, butterflies swarming to life in her stomach upon opening the door. “You’re early,” she managed to stutter out, swallowing her nerves with a harsh gulp. Her eyes wandered your face appreciatively, admiring the way your exhaustion only seemed to add to your beauty.

Kazuha blinked owlishly upon realising how long the two of you stood silently staring at one another in her doorway. She tilted in curiosity her head when she found you in just as much of a daze as she was. Her eyes followed your gaze to her stomach, eyes blown wide open when she noticed what you were staring at. “Sorry, I was practicing the dance..” She trailed off, self-consciously covering her exposed stomach. You coughed awkwardly, pulling your gaze away from her surprisingly toned abs. “Sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming, boss man let me go early,” you muttered apologetically, glancing anywhere but the girl directly in front of you.

“That’s alright, I’m glad you got here safely.” She expressed her relief, gesturing behind her in a weak attempt to usher you inside. “I hope I didn’t interrupt,” you murmur upon passing the threshold, painfully aware of the way her skin glistened with sweat in the dimly lit living room. “Don’t worry, I was just about to take a shower.” She smiled reassuringly, clicking the door shut behind you. Kazuha wordlessly reached for your hand, leading you up the spiralling stairs to her room with a sudden burst of confidence. You ducked your head bashfully at the contact, cheeks dusted pink.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Kazuha urged with a grin when she arrived at her room. The pastel colours and sweet scents were something you’d grown accustomed to, spending more time in the dancer’s room than you did your own. Your chest never failed to tighten at the sight of the small bed the two of you climbed into each night. You’d never bothered to question why her family home’s numerous guest bedrooms were always left untouched when you visited, not when you slept so soundlessly next to her. Wordlessly curling into her side each night was strangely comforting for reasons you’d never understood, but wouldn’t dare risk losing her warm embrace with stupid questions.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Kazuha mumbled once you’d plopped down on her bed. She clumsily searched for a change of clothes before disappearing off the bathroom. You chuckled when she stumbled out of the room, a foreign feeling settling in your chest as you glanced around her room. Ignoring the persistent buzz of your phone as you settled comfortably on her bed, boredom threatening to overcome you as you stared up at the ceiling littered with glow in the dark stars. It felt like hours had passed before you finally heard the shower turn off, but perhaps it was just your growing anticipation to be in her calming presence.

“Are you tired?” Kazuha’s gentle inquiry greeted your ears after what felt like an eternity had passed without hearing her angelic voice. “A little,” you admitted, sitting up to find her leaning against the threshold. Her dark wet locks framed her soft features, oversized hoodie almost swallowing her body whole. You shivered under her intense gaze, overwhelmed by how hard your heart thrashed against your ribs at the mere sight of her. “You’re cold,” she observed, eyes narrowing when you shrunk into yourself. Her eyes lit up as she dashed towards her closet, reappearing seconds with a jumper in hand, her jumper.

She silently offered it to you, her sheepish smile rendering you speechless. “Thanks,” you murmured softly, tugging it over your head appreciatively. “It suits you,” she blurted out before she could stop herself, admiring the way you looked in her clothes. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to prevent yourself from smiling at the compliment, your cheeks flared red as you avoided her curious gaze. You were thankful when she flicked the lights off, praying she hadn’t noticed you how easily she flustered you. Your smile widened with a will of its own when the bed dipped beside, Kazuha slipping beneath the covers.

Your breath hitched when her arm brushed against yours, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue as your nerves got the best of you. No matter how many times you’d shared a bed with the dancer the tension lingering between the two of you never faded. Though after an agonising five minutes of painful silence, Kazuha finally shifted closer to you. She pretended it was so she wouldn’t fall off the edge to ease her mind, but both of you knew it had nothing to do with that. “I’m cold,” the lie rolled off your tongue with practiced ease, shuffling closer to Kazuha under the pretense of a cool night.

It was the same as every night you visited Kazuha. The excuses you made to be closer to one another were safe. It didn’t matter that neither of you believed the poorly curated lies. It was familiar and that was what mattered. Though Kazuha deemed tonight would be different. The way your breath fanned her neck when you snuggled closer to her was something she didn’t want to imagine her life without. She never wanted to forget the way hands curled into the fabric of her hoodie so tightly as though you feared she may disappear into the darkness of the night. Your sleepy confessions that made her heart race each night weren’t something she was sure she could survive without. Having all that in mind made words she’d stumbled over for months seamlessly roll off the tip of her tongue.

“You know I like you right?” Kazuha's question echoes the darkness. You hummed in acknowledgement, biting your tongue as you shifted in her embrace. A part of her regretted the admission when you received it with silence, but you spoke before she could spiral. “I don’t know what to say,” your whisper was so quiet she almost missed it. Rather than jumping to conclusions, she waited patiently for you to elaborate, but she couldn’t help the anxious feeling that overcame her. “You’re one of the kindest people I know and you make me feel so safe, but a part of it scares me.” You confessed, voice muffled by her shoulder. Her heart ached at the pain hiding beneath your words.

“It scares me because you’re the only person that has ever made me feel this way,” you continued bravely. “And I don’t know what that means or if it’s even what you want to hear-” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply as soon as the words left your lips. You couldn’t see the faint smile tugging at the corners of Kazuha’s mouth for it was hidden by the darkness, but you could feel her grip on your waist tighten. “I guess what I’m trying to say is.. I think I like you too,” you breathed out before it could become a ramble about months of concealed confessions. The warmth that blossomed in Kazuha’s chest at your admission was like no other. She was certain she could never be happier than she was in that very moment.

“Really?” The doubtful inquiry escaped her lips before she could stop it, uncertainty clouding her mind. “I’ve never felt this way for anyone else before, but if you’d be willing…I’d like to see where this might lead us.” You suggested, voluntarily taking a leap of faith into the unknown for her. “You mean dating?” She questioned cluelessly, holding her breath hopefully. “Only if you’re interested-” You stumbled over your words, desperately warding off the doubts that plagued your mind day and night. “Of course I am,” she breathed out before you finish, cheeks hurting from the sheer amount of times she’d smiled in your presence.

“Well then I suppose that’s settled,” you uttered stiffly, unsure how to proceed with your newfound establishment. It seemed Kazuha was no better, awkwardly shifting beneath you as she struggled to find the right words. “I suppose so,” was all she managed to conjure, words left hanging in the air. Though you were no strangers to awkward tension lingering between you, this was unfamiliar territory. Your mind wandered far and wide until the painfully loud silence simply became too much to bear.

“Zuha?” You questioned into the crook of her neck, feeling her go rigid beneath as your lips barely brushed against her skin. “Mhm?” She hummed shakily, not trusting her voice enough to speak. “I really want to kiss you right now,” your daring declaration caught the dancer off guard, blood rushing to her face. “Oh… oh!” She exclaimed clumsily, eyes comically wide as her brain scrambled to express her delight. “Oh?” You questioned, insecurities creeping into the whispered question. “Good oh! Great even!” She was quick to confirm, tugging you closer before doubts could pull you away.

“Good oh..” You trailed off with a pleased smile, Kazuha nodding her head rapidly in agreement despite the fact you couldn’t see her. “Well in that case,” you mumbled into the silence, lifting your head from her chest. If Kazuha was curious, you didn’t leave her wondering long. Leaning forwards, your soft lips managed to find her cheek in the darkness, lingering before you pulled away with a pleased grin. The dancer was wrong when she though she could never be happier, because if she got to spend the rest of her life like this she was bound to combust from joy.

It may not have been the kiss Kazuha was expecting, but her heart thrashed painfully against her ribs nonetheless. The content sigh that slipped past her lips was enough confirmation for you to know she felt the same way you did in that exact moment. While learning to love would certainly be difficult, you were positive that with Kazuha by your side anything was achievable. With that in mind, you slipped into a peaceful slumber in the embrace of the girl you would come to love in no time.

waiting patiently for my kiss 😌😌

#le sserafim x reader #kazuha x reader #nakamura kazuha x reader #kazuha imagines #lesserafim x reader #le sserafim imagines #lesserafim imagines #nakamura kazuha imagines

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absolutebl · 1 year ago

Note

Hi ABL! After watching episode 1 of Between Us, I was impressed with the level of "thirst" between Boun and Prem's characters in the last couple of scenes. Are there shows or scenes of shows, regardless of actual heat level, that you think did "thirst" well, regardless of how that's resolved at the time? Subjective, I know, but would love to get your take on this!

20 BLs with the BEST Thirst!

Thirst wants to slide a hand under his waistband right tf now and grind. Horny wants to rip his clothes off, and probably pop buttons and laugh about it. Yearning wants to run both hands up his back while they kiss deeply. Hunger wants to lift him by the ass and slam him against the wall.

Raise your glasses please, to THIRST.

I Cannot Reach You - Japan 2023

It's fresh in my mind, so first on this list.

Secret Crush on You - Thailand 2022

This scene in particular sprang next to mind, just because for me it kinda defined thirst in Thai BL. (Also see my #1 pick for sides at the end.)

Jun & Jun - Korea 2023

We Best Love: Fighting Mr 2nd - Taiwan 2021

2 Moons: Ambassador (AKA 2 Moons 3) - Thailand 2022

Eternal Yesterday - Japan 2022

Why R U? - Korea 2023

HIStory 3 - the BL that shall not be named - Taiwan 2019

Bed Friend - Thailand 2023

They sleeping together but King still thirsty af

Big Dragon - Thailand 2022

My Beautiful Man - Japan 2021

Between Us - Thailand 2022-23

Minato's Laundromat - Japan 2022

Ghost Host Ghost House - Thailand 2022

the infamous leg scene alone qualifies them, but they very mutually thirsty in general

My Personal Weatherman - Japan 2023

It's the point.

I Feel You Linger in the Air - Thailand 2023

The oil scene is a stroke of genius.

Well, several strokes.

Old Fashion Cupcake - Japan 2022

I Told Sunset About You - Thailand 2020

Love in Translation - Thailand 2023

Just because of that damn convenience store make-out scene.

Nitiman - Thailand 2021

I find thirst is often (although not always) the provenance of the seme character.

Mutual thirst is really rare.

Side dish gravy

Shorts, side couples, and so forth.

Oh My Sunshine Night - Thailand 2022

Noh appears 2x on this list. He's GREAT at thirst. Possibly the only Thai actor to give Japan real competition. GIVE HIM ANOTHER LEAD!

HIStory 4: Close To You - Taiwan 2021

Gen Y 2 - Thailand 2022

@heretherebedork and I call them PokeTongue for a reason.

Y-Destiny - Thailand 2021

kiss x kiss x kiss: Perfect Scandal - Japan 2022

No shocker that Japan is the only one to field a micro on this list. Usually thirst takes more build up.

Defining THIRST

I make a distinction between thirst and other types of physical desire. This is just me and language.

Thirst usually leaps off the screen and has an edge of danger to it. Like they gonna get caught, or go out of control just from wanting to touch. They gonna die without physical contact. It's pure survival need. Japan kinda specializes in this.

There's no humor to thirst, but horny can get kinda cheeky. It's more fun and mutual (ee.g. KinnPorsche). More want than need. So it's more Thailand and Taiwan.

There's also yearning (e.g. The 8th Sense), which has a more emotional soul tether to it. Korea in particular, but also like GMMTV and lower heat prestige stuff, high school things for example (My School President).

And finally hunger, which I tend to think of as desire but with a nourishment component. It's I want what's MINE. Like Taejung in Cherry Blossoms After Winter.

These aren't mutually exclusive, mind you.

I dithered but they didn't quite make the list

Irresistible Love - China 2016

Second Chance - Thailand 2021

Takara & Amagi - Japan 2022

Love Area - Thailand 2022

Takumi-kun - Japan 2007

Moonlight Chicken - Thailand 2023

My Engineer (RamKing) - Thailand 2020

It's why we're all still mad we never got full RamKing

(source)

This posted dated end of 2023. Not responsible for thirsty BL that happens after. Check the comments for additions and other's thoughts on the matter.

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malepresentingleg · 2 years ago

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gun: "I'll be the captain of your ship :')"

tiw, popping out of nowhere "exCUSE ME, that position is already TAKEN!!! "

#the audacity #lmaooo #that's what happened in my mind at least #leg is live blogging #leg is watching my school president #my school president ep 9 #my school president the series #my school president #msp #msp ep 9 #msp spoilers #msp tiw #msp gun #winsound #soundwin

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moralesmilesanhour · 1 year ago

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mad props! 03

summary: you're now officially part of the theater club's latest production! just one small problem... wc: 1282 a/n: Can't believe I was able to type this out within the same week. But I diiiid! The songs being performed are: 'Popular' - Wicked 'Ohmigod You guys' - Legally Blonde: The Musical (Original Cast Recording) | Have fun reading ! Feel free to tell me what you thought in the comments <3 (only warning is that the process of putting a theatre production together is probably not super realistic here lmao) 02 03 04

“One five, four five, three five, two five, one five, four five, three-two-one,”

You clutched the white binder containing your sheet music to your chest as you went through every vocal exercise from middle school that you could remember.

From the diaphragm, you reminded yourself, taking another deep breath.

“One five,

Four five,

Three five,

Two five,

One five,

Four five,

Three-two-one–”

“Y/N L/N?” the casting director’s voice called out to you.

Your stomach lurched as you rose from your seat and approached the stage. You handed the sheet music over to the pianist. The blinding stage lights made you sweat beneath your uniform, but part of you was grateful that it hid the faces of your four-person audience.

The first chord was your cue.

“Whenever I see someone less fortunate than I…”

You sang the lines through your nose, making your delivery as cartoonish as possible. It even earned a few laughs from the dark void in front of you that bolstered your confidence.

Now, when playing a character such as Galinda, one may be tempted to keep the squeaky ‘princess voice’ the whole way through. But you knew better.

You added depth to your voice for some lines, maybe a growl here, a cry there; your performance needed to show that you could do more than just play the pretty soprano lead.

You belted the final note, arms spread wide as if you weren’t just about to vomit from nerves, and curtsied.

There was disembodied applause, and then: “Thank you, we’ll be sure to send out an email on Friday to let you know if you got the part.”

“Thanks,” you exhaled as you stepped down from the stage.

All that there was left to do was wait.

You were jumpy all Friday afternoon. Even Miles noticed your knee making your desks tremble with the way it bounced up and down in the middle of English class.

“Yo, you good?” he whispered.

You shot him a glare while tapping your pencil frantically. “None of your business.”

“It actually is my business,” he shot back, teeth clenched, “ ‘cuz you’re shaking the damn desk.”

“Is there a problem back there?” the English professor peered over his glasses at the two of you.

“Nope,” Miles sighed. “Not at all.”

Your leg stopped bouncing, and you rested your chin on top of folded hands.

“If you must know,” you muttered, “I had an audition the other day, and callbacks are supposed to be this evening.”

He furrowed his brows. “Oh…kay…?”

“What do you mean ‘okay’? I’m super nervous about it–”

“I mean, why are you telling me this?”

Your eyes widened. Why were you telling him this?

“I…well, you’re sitting next to me, and you asked–”

“I didn’t ask for allat.”

You kissed your teeth, and went back to taking notes in silence.

“Oh, the principal’s gonna love that.”

Joshua Baptiste–current president of Visions’ art club–grinned as he watched Miles add his signature to the wide sheet of paper.

Miles replaced the cap on one of his paint markers with a click, assessing his work.

It was a poster for an upcoming pep rally, advertised in bold, sleek letters that curled in and around each other and ended in sharp arrows. Satisfied, he rose to his feet.

“You think?”

“Hell yeah. Better than anything I could’ve put together,” Joshua ran a hand through loose, sandy curls. “I’m more of a portraits kinda guy.”

The boy’s smile was contagious, showing off two rows of light blue braces. Miles remembered how he used to circle back around to his lunch table just to see them when he laughed with his friends, silver earrings tinkling as he threw his head back.

He’d done crazier things just to see a crush.

Miles returned the compliment, “Your paintings go crazy, though. You could get into art school if you put a portfolio together.”

Joshua shrugged. “Doubt my parents would ever let me go.”

The other hummed in agreement.

“Anywho, I came over here to ask you a favor. Theater club needs an extra pair of hands working on the set, and I already said one of our guys would help out. You in?”

Miles raised an eyebrow at the sudden new project being dumped on him, but he relented. Not like he had anything better to do today.

“Sure. Where to?”

Joshua’s face lit up, and he gestured for Miles to follow him.

“They’re down in the auditorium. You’re a life-saver, man.”

The auditorium was already bustling with students when the two boys entered. There was one group on the far right busy customizing piles of hot-pink costumes with bows and sequins. On the left side, a bunch of kids clutched wrinkled scripts in their hands, practicing until it was time to run through the first few songs. Miles looked up, and taking center stage was a group of no more than ten girls practicing what looked like stage choreography.

Regardless of what each group was working on, there was an urgency bordering on panic to their movements and voices. Miles thanked his past self for not signing up to be a part of it.

“Oh, thank god!”

A tall, stocky-looking girl wearing pink glasses scurried up to them, carrying a clipboard.

Joshua gestured towards Miles. “Here’s your guy! He’s got an eye for color, you’re in good hands.”

He gave a quick salute before turning to exit through the double doors.

The girl stuck out her hand. “I’m Sarah Park, junior, and student production manager for, uh, all of this!”

Miles accepted the handshake and nodded. “Cool. What’s your vision for the set?”

“Well, it’s…”

Before Sarah could finish, the lights dimmed, and a voice announced: “We’re gonna rehearse the opening, everyone in ‘Ohmigod You Guys’, please take your places!”

She grabbed Miles’ wrist and led him to a seat in the front row and whispered, “You should probably just see it.”

Suddenly, music boomed from the speakers as the stage lights illuminated the same girls from before, now all standing in a straight line across the stage with wide smiles.

They sang a number he didn’t recognize, but there was plenty of squealing as they passed down a blank sheet of paper as a prop. He deduced from the few lyrics he caught that they were playing sorority girls, but that was about it.

As the “Ohmigods” crescendoed, Miles noticed that there was someone entering from backstage that then stood behind the girls. He wondered what for, until the group parted and stepped to the side.

Nothing could’ve prepared him for who stood in the middle of the stage. In a blonde wig.

“It’s almost there, but…”

Miles’ jaw dropped as you recited your lines fully in-character.

It hadn’t occurred to him that you could smile without malice, but people were full of surprises: Here was the girl who rarely spoke more than a sentence in class until last week, belting her heart out while twirling across the stage. He would have pinned you as more of the debater type.

The song ended on one final “Oh my god!” in unison before the lights were turned back up.

“Great job, everyone, especially for a first run-through. Everybody take five!”

You sighed in relief, wiping away the sweat collecting around your hairline from being beneath a hot wig and an even hotter spotlight. Wig in hand, you carefully descended down the steps with the rest of the cast and made your way back to your seats.

Sarah brushed past you in between aisles, along with a familiar red hoodie.

You paused and spun around on your heel, confirming your fears.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales fic #moralesanhour

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whorekneecentral · 1 year ago

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The Smell Of The Holidays

Kostas Tsimikas x Fem!Reader

Warnings: friendly neighbourly chats, sweet moments with kos and his puppies, a heartfelt thank you, a little crush from kos's end, some tattoo exploring, sexual tension, it's giving sub!kostas for a minute there, thigh riding - it's more dry humping than thigh riding but I digress, oral (f!receiving), 0.2 seconds of fingering, finger sucking, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie.

Word Count: 3,565

Author's Note: I think this is my favourite and the longest fic so far. dedicated to the president of the kostas fan club, miss ivy @curiousthyme <333

merry smutmas series

You over baked for your niece’s holiday bake sale so you do the neighbourly thing and share with your neighbour, Kostas and his two puppies.

Your brother was a single father, he’s a busy guy that he works long hours and you help out with your niece in whatever way you can. Your brother can’t bake to save his life so when she comes home saying she needs treats for the bake sale, he calls you.

You were baking treats for her holiday bake sale; cupcakes, cookies, brownies, lemon bars - you name it, you baked it.

The bake sale was for the whole school, they were raising money for a charity who helped underfund kids, or something along the lines. With your niece's missing tooth, she didn't annunciate the best.

You have been baking all day and it wasn't until you turned around to set the final tray of cookies down that you realized you had run out of counter, dining room, coffee table and couch space. The cooled and frosted cookies, brownies and cupcakes were sitting on the couches in their trays, the ones that were needing to be frosted were on the tables and you had the hot pans on your counters.

Carefully, you shifted a few things around to set the hot pan down, leaving it to cool.

Your hands on your hips, you looked around; you've baked yourself into a conundrum.

It wasn't until you heard the barking next door that you realized what you could do with all of the extra treats that you were baked. You finished frosting the last of what needed to be frosted before packing them away neatly into their trays and loading them into your car.

You went back inside and picked up a small tray that you had set aside specifically for your next door neighbour, Kostas.

He was kind and sweet and kept to himself most of the time. He had two puppies, who weren't really puppies but you addressed them as such; Maui and Fuerte. Kostas wasn't home much as he was very busy with his job but every now and then you'll see him in his backyard with his dogs, training or swimming laps or whatever it is that he does out there.

It's a neighbourly hello and a few tummy rubs for the puppies before you head out and go about your day.

You balance the tray with one arm, setting the majority of its weight against your jutted out hip. You knock on the door and wait for someone to answer. There's some barking before the door opens, you can hear Kostas shooing the puppies away to stop them from coming out.

Behind him, you can see into the living room; a massive tree stood tall in the centre by the window, ornaments hung plentiful along the green branches. There's a few other Christmas-related things around the entryway.

"Hey!" He smiles, black sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a white vest that clung to his chest in all the right places; you scolded yourself for gawking at him. "Y/n, right?" He points to you with his finger.

"Yeah," you smiled at him, "I hope I'm not bothering you."

"Not at all," he shakes his head, shifting to stop the dog you know as Maui from coming outside. She poked her head between his legs, looking up at you curiously. "What's up?" He asks, watching as you look lovingly at his puppy.

"My niece is having a bake sale at school and asked me to bake some treats for her and the thing is, I went a little overboard." You laughed. "I realized I made too much, and I figured I would do the neighbourly thing and bring some over for you."

"Oh," he smiles at you, taking the tray that was heavier than it looked from you. "Thank you very much, I was wondering if someone opened a bakery around here. I've been smelling it since this morning."

A soft laugh slipped past your lips as you shrugged. "It got hot with the oven running so I opened the window."

Kostas nods, shifting his leg a bit as Maui tries to wiggle her head away from his legs. You smiled at the dog, peeking over Kostas's left shoulder to see her tugging on a toy with Fuerte.

"The ones with the frosting on it aren't puppy friendly but I put some in there that don't have frosting so you could share with them. There's also a few brownies and other things, I wasn't sure what you like, so I tried to put a mix of everything."

Kostas nods, thinking to himself that it was very sweet of you to consider his puppies when packing the tray. "Was that intentional? You know, catering to the puppies ?"

"Yes but also no. I did intentionally not put frosting on some of them for the pups, but you know kids and their allergies, all the ingredients are safe for the puppies. I made sure to double check."

"Thank you, y/n. I really appreciate it - we're gonna be eating these for the rest of the week." He says, glancing down at the tray. "Would you like to come in?" He steps to the side a bit, and as much as you want to say yes, you don't.

"Unfortunately, I have to get treats over to my brother's house so perhaps another time?" You looked at him, hoping for a yes to your rain check.

"Definitely," he nods. "Thank you again."

"Anytime!" You skipped down the pathway, giggling like a teenager with a crush. Kostas watched from his front door, smiling at you. "Have a good day, y/n!" He calls after you.

"You too, Kos!"

The nickname was something he heard often, mostly from his teammates, but it was the way you said it that made him blush and almost giggled like a school boy with a crush.

Kostas shut the front door and set the tray on his dining room table. As he takes the tinfoil off the top, all he can think about is what he can do to find himself in your presence yet again.

---

A few have gone by since you dropped in at Kostas's place and you had only seen him in passing since then.

You had successfully dropped off the treats for your niece and she called you to let you know that they were a hit. You had gone about your week as normal, tidying up and getting your place ready for the holiday season.

There was a knock on your door, you're a bit confused seeing that you weren't expecting anything or anyone, but you wiped your hands on the side of your shorts and found your way to the front door.

Much to your surprise, it was Kostas at the door; a pleasant surprise that is.

There's a rectangular box in his hand and an envelope on top. One hand on the bottom, and one hand on top to keep them in place as he smiles at you. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course." You nod, stepping aside to let the man in. "I'm sorry about the mess, I was in the middle of tidying up."

Kostas nods as he glances around, trying to spot what mess you were talking about. The entire house looked as if it had been staged, not a single thing out of place.

And you have carefully thought out where to place your Christmas decorations, and Kostas noticed that. Your tree sitting in your living room in a spot that commanded attention, garlands wrapped around all of the railings and ornaments hung on all of the branches. All topped off with a pretty red and green wreath on your front door.

"Where are the babies?" You asked him, shutting the front door as he took his shoes off. "Groomers, sent them to get their holiday clean up. I can't stay long, I just wanted to drop this off." He smiles, following you to the kitchen.

Kostas sets the box on the table, handing the envelope over to you.

"For me?" You asked, taking it hesitantly. "I hope this isn't payment for the stuff I dropped off, because if it is-" "No," he shook his head with a smile, "just a thank you."

You carefully open the envelope, taking a sheet of paper out of it, and unfolding it. There's a few flowers painted across the piece of paper, it was clear that he used the puppies' paws to make the petals of the flowers. Some scrawled handwriting which you assumed belonged to Kostas was in the middle of the page; thank you miss y/n.

"Tell Maui and Fuerte I love their picture," you smiled at him, sticking the page on your fridge with a magnet.

Kostas smiles, watching you. "I'll let them know they made it onto the fridge as well." He joked, watching as you straightened the paper and stuck another magnet on there to keep it up.

You walk over to the table, standing in front of Kostas who's now made himself comfortable in your space. "What's this?"

"A thank you from me, I'm not as artistically skilled as my puppies."

You smiled, opening the box to find a chocolate cake. The brown frosting covered the majority of it, there are a few green and red decorations around the border, resembling mistletoe.

"You didn't have to do all this," you tell him, walking over to get a knife and two plates, as well as forks.

"It's the least I could do." He watches as you cut into the cake, handing a piece over to him. "I took some of the treats into work, the boys say I should've given you more than just a cake." He chuckles, taking a bite as you shut the box.

You nod towards the couch, and Kostas picks up his slice of cake following you, and the two of you sit in comfortable silence. The now empty plates sat on the coffee table as you rambled on about something your niece had told you about the bake sale.

Kostas listened intently, but his eyes wandered. Your shorts and hiked up a bit when you dropped yourself on the couch. You noticed his staring, not mentioning anything but you knew he wasn't fully listening. You pull the hem of your shorts, fixing it back to its original length. Kostas noticed and glanced up at you, his cheeks flustered and red.

"Sorry," he whispers, blushing like a school boy with a crush.

"I don't mind," you whisper.

Kostas hums, his eyes wandering over your legs yet again. He can't help but notice the colourful ink peeking out from under the hem of your shorts. "You have tattoos?"

"A tattoo," you correct him, pulling the hem of your shorts up and over your hip.

Kostas's eyes follow the design from the top of your thigh to just over your hip bone. There's a vine with a trail of flowers scattered along it; roses, lilies, daisies, wild flowers, any and everything in between. There's a lot of intricate details, the lines carefully placed to make it look cohesive and the colours of the flowers complimenting each other.

He hums in appreciation, stopping himself from reaching out to touch it. "It's beautiful." He smiles, glancing up at you. "Is it the only one you have?"

You nodded, laughing. "I was 19.. and drunk."

"You went big for your first time," his eyes meet yours and you can't help but feel that his words have a double meaning.

You shrugged, slouching back in your seat. Your leg crossed over the other and your shorts hiked up a bit more, showing off a few inches of your skin that Kostas was begging to put his hands on.

"Most people say you get addicted, but I just did the one and done."

He hums, gesturing to his arms that were covered in various designs and words. "Case in point."

"Just your arms or you've got more?"

Kostas nods, "my left leg and my ribs, and behind my neck." He lifted his shirt a bit to show you the tattoo on the left side of his ribs - an intricate portrait of what looked to be Adam and God.

Hesitantly, your fingers reached out and traced the shape of the tattoo. Kostas's eyes trailed from your face down to your hand and to your fingers, watching as you carefully outlined the ink along his skin.

"Beautiful," you mumbled and Kostas's cheeks flushed red, watching as you slowly moved your hand away.

He knew you were talking about the tattoo and yet he blushed, as if you had called him beautiful - but in a way, you did. And you meant it.

"Maybe I'll get another one, something small." You tell him and Kostas nods, offering to take you to his guy. Always the first one to offer up help and advice, he can hear Thiago's words in his head.

You look down at his leg, he was in shorts despite the cold winter air that nipped at you any time you opened the door - he had run over from his place after dropping the puppies off. You can see the lower half of his leg, the delicate shading and line work made up a stunning tattoo along his leg, the ink on his thigh peeked out from under the hem of his shorts.

"What's under there?" You nod and Kos's brows furrowed, looking at you for an explanation. "Under where?" He asks, making you giggle. It took him a second to realize why you were giggling but then he too, began to laugh.

You shook your head, "I meant your thigh, what's on your thigh?"

Kostas lets out a sound of understanding, shifting to pull the leg of his shorts up so you could see the tattoo. There's a massive portrait of a lion roaring, it didn't seem like Kostas's taste in tattoos but at the same time, it fit him to a T.

He nervously bites at his bottom lip as your hand rests on his knee, carefully slides up to his thigh. "Is this okay?" You whispered, glancing at him. Kostas nods, not sure if he remembers how to speak or even breathe - it feels as if you had taken all the air out of his body.

Your hand slips further up, leaning into the man in front of you. Kostas glances at your lips, your eyes and back to your lips. He sees your tongue wet your bottom lip, pressing them together.

Just as you were about to speak, Kostas beat you to it; "can I kiss you?"

You smile, "I thought you'd never ask."

His hand reaches for your jaw, holding it gently as if you'd break. Kostas brushes his thumb over your cheek, smiling at you sweetly before closing the gap between the two of you.

It was something out of a movie, you had never felt this way about anyone before. It just made sense; you fit against him as if you were meant to be there all along.

Kostas must have had the same thought, pulling you over and onto his lap, letting you straddle him. His hand slips down your side, resting on your hip. "You're so beautiful."

You can't help the blush on your cheek, you lean down to kiss him once again. You can feel his shorts rubbing along your inner thighs as he pulls you to him, trying to have you as close to him as possible. A hand on his shoulder, rolling your hips slightly to test the waters.

He seems to have gotten the idea; lifting his leg to give you more leverage. Your thighs are slotting either side of his, Kostas's hand rests on your hip, lazily brushing his thumb over your hip bone. He watches closely, listening to every little sound that slips past your lips.

"Kos," you mumbles, and the man perks up. "What is it, love?"

"Want you."

The words barely leave your lips and you're being flipped over, flat on your back before he pulls you by your legs, re-situating you to his liking.

Kostas is careful, pulling your shorts and panties off - they're tossed somewhere behind you. It's an issue for later. He kisses up from your calf, letting your legs rest over his shoulders. He's gentle, calculated - as if he knew exactly what to do, as if he had done it before.

Thighs on either side of his head, you weren't fully against his face but Kostas's hands grip the back of your thighs, pulling you further down. He glances up at you, a wicked smile on his face. "Is this okay?" He whispers into your skin, moving closer to exactly where you wanted him.

You nod, "please." The word comes out a bit more desperate sounding than you'd like but you could care less. You needed him - in every single way.

His hands rested on the back of your thigh, pulling you down flat against his face, his tongue pressed against your slit.

Your body juts forwards - not only from the pulling but from the feeling of his tongue on you. Reaching forward, your manicured fingers tangle in his hair.

Kos' tongue curled upwards, brushing against your clit and you tug on his hair, something incoherent meets his ears - partly because he was focused on what he was doing but also because your thighs were squishing his face.

He didn’t care.

He loved it.

A soft groan leaves his lips when you tug on his hair, trying to move him a certain way. “That- oh!” Your chest heaves, tugging on his hair to get him to do that again.

His grip on your thighs would leave marks as would the stubble scratching along the inside of your thighs. He rocked you a bit, pulling you closer as his nose brushed against your clit, his tongue moving down to lap over your cunt.

Kostas glances up, his tongue on your clit and he can’t help but admire the view above him. Your chest heaving, tits spilling out over the black lace over your chest, your head tossed back and eyes fluttering closed as his name falls from your lips like a prayer.

He lets you pull him closer, his nose brushing your clit, replacing his tongue as he moves it elsewhere, his fingers pushing into you slowly. He sits up a bit, fingers curling and pumping in you, your eyes still closed.

His free hand reaches up to hold your jaw, pulling your focus to him. “You’re perfect, did you know that?” He asks and you can barely focus enough to grasp the words he was saying, let alone give him an answer.

“Need you,” you mumble.

“What do you need?” He asks.

“Need you.” You say once more.

He hums, he knows he’s not gonna get much more of an answer from you, he just had to give you what you wanted and Kostas knew exactly what you wanted.

You whimper at the loss of his fingers but passes his fingers over your lips, letting you suck on them for a moment as he shuffles his pants down.

Both of you let out a satisfied sigh when he pushes onto you, your leg pulled up onto his hip and he leans over you. His lips brushes against yours,

Kostas's cock twitches when you clench around him, “oh fuck,” he breathes, forehead against yours. “This pussy was made just for me, hm? Take me so well, my pretty girl.”

He pushes the straps off your shoulders, tits spilling out over the top of the bra. He glances down, letting you wrap your legs around his waist and he leans down to kiss you once more, leaving a trial of marks and sloppy kisses until he reaches your tits.

There’s a faint purple mark between your tits; his new favourite spot.

“You're so pretty like this,” he says, your hips buck, wanting more from him. He can feel you clench around his cock. “Fuck, gonna make me cum, darling.”

“Kos.. please.” You breathe, and he gives in, he can’t help himself; you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. “Want you to fuck me full,” you whisper to him. He shuffles a bit, pulling both of your legs over his shoulders.

The change in position does it; his thrusts sloppy, signalling that he too was close. You feel Kostas cum, your legs dropping off his shoulders as you do.

He's still buried in you when he drops down onto you, landing with an oof. You let out a giggle, your hand passing through his messy hair as he peppers kisses along your shoulder.

The two of you lay there for a while, basking in each other's company and the silence. It hits you; "Kos?"

"Yeah?"

"Aren't you supposed to go get the puppies?"

"Oh crap!" He's pulling himself up, hurrying to get dressed. You take that as your cue to get redressed as well. You figured you'd see him again at some point, not expecting him to grab your hand. "Do you wanna come with me?" He asks, walking with you to the front door.

"Isn't it too early to introduce me to the kids?" You joked, already grabbing your hoodie.

Kostas smiles, "they love you, and.."

"Yeah, same." You smile, the words left unsaid for another time.

---

taglist: @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @trentsfav @trentsmyfave @noturbabe22

#merry smutmas xoxo #kostas tsimikas #kostas tsimikas smut #kostas tsimikas x reader #football #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football smut

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zhng96 · 1 year ago

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sunny days — k. gyuvin

↳ how can one make it up to someone who spends their days helping people- and how come you’ve found yourself faced with flustering feelings for said boy so suddenly?

↳ pairing: kim gyuvin x gn!reader (3.1k words OH MY GAWD)

↳ warnings: nothing honestly

↳ note: THIS IS SO LONG HELP,,, the longest fic i’ve written yet AND I LOVED EVERY BUT OF IT!!! HAPOY BDAY GYUVIN YOU DESERVE EVERY OUNCE OF LOVE EVER.

perm taglist: @tzuberry @hrtattcker @yueriots @neohyxn @avocarua @dwcljh @uyujns @knrejj

o. the meaning of loving.

kim gyuvin was the epitome of someone who loved loving. he helped where he could, was doting to his friends- even in a teasing way- but everyone and their mothers knew he meant every candied word he sent towards them, he was a social butterfly, and he made sure everyone was comfortable around him.

it was in his nature, you suppose, to help you despite not knowing you very well. being the class president and all, you assumed that he was just helping take a burden off of your shoulders even if it was a measly stack of papers waiting to be dropped by the office- not to mention his altruistic nature.

little did you know that there was a hint of devotion behind it. gyuvin knew he helped around a lot- but with you, he helped extra. any time he found you taking on a task by yourself- no matter the difficulty, he'd offer a hand. he just wished you’d notice how he set his attention on you just a little bit more than he set his attention on others.

(more under the cut !)

albeit the wave of fluttering feelings that burst throughout his chest when he hears the grateful thank you with a soul-crushingly sincere smile; he knows that when he has you for himself, he'll feel the same, just ten times over.

that's one of the reasons gyuvin has yet to give up over his attempts of showcasing his affections for you- but also because he just likes doing it. he revels in the way the sun hits your skin when the two of you are working during lunch, he loves when you accidentally make eye contact with him and find yourself looking away just as fast.

he lives and breathes you- he only hopes you do the same.

i. a paper stack as tall as jack's beanstalk.

midday was always the slowest time during school days. classes went by increasingly slower as the clock approached closer to the hour to which the lunch period began.

your stomach grumbled in anticipation for the assortment of cafeteria foods that awaited for you as soon as the bell rung. you were practically jumping in you seat peevishly- unable to distract your mind from imagining what was on the menu today.

finally, the bell rung. the teacher nods in dismissal and every student bursts from their seats.

you quickly grab your bag resting against the desk leg and shove your belongings into its pouch before turning towards the exit.

that's when the teacher called your name.

"yn, could you come here for a moment?" they ask, waving a hand towards them. you have no option but to oblige.

suddenly, 2 tall stacks of printer paper etched with various texts slam onto the teacher's desk, and your mouth is left agape, already preparing for what they will ask of you.

"i need you to bring these to the office for me", they state, sheepishly rubbing their neck, "i've got to pick up my daughter for an appointment, i'm sorry..."

breaking away from your stupor, you shake your head violently, "i-it's no worries! i'll get it there right away!"

the teacher send you a grateful nod before gathering their stuff in a hurry and their footsteps descend down the hallway- a quick and irritating clacking sound ringing throughout the 3rd floor of the building. you pay no mind, only staring at the two large stacks before you- worries about your ability to eat your long awaited lunch bouncing throughout your head.

unbeknownst to you, gyuvin stood at the door, watching the whole affair transpire. he noticed your antsy demeanor during class, having sat behind you- watching you slightly bounce like a maniac and look back at the clock every few minutes. when he heard the teacher call your name just as you were about to rush out towards the cafeteria- he knew he had to prepare for the worst.

watching your face drop had only motivated him to help you more- but when he saw the two fat stacks of paper forced before you, he wasn't so sure that even his efforts could manage to get you to eat the lunch that you were willing to risk it all for.

you frown, the office building was on the first floor and currently, you were on the third. with no elevator, the school solely relied on stairs- and with the sight of the two tall stacks of paper, there was no way you were getting both of them down in one trip- you'd most likely have to make four.

groaning, you finally oblige to the task at hand and reach for the first quarter of papers you would bring down, using your tippy toes as a support. someone is quick to help though. a tall, lanky boy reaches out to steady the trembling stack, letting you grab half of the stack with ease.

without seeing his face, you already recognized who it was. not only were his huge hands a giveaway, also the height- and most of all, the fact that he's even here right now rather than getting lunch.

you rest the stack on your biceps and tuck it to your chest. now comfortable, you turn towards him.

"you should be eating lunch", you quirk your brow, gazing at him with sincere concern- he only feels his heartbeat pick up.

"so should you", he replies coolly, shrugging his shoulders and taking a whole stack of papers as if it weighed nothing.

you yelp, "i can handle it myself! you need to eat!"

he chuckles, shaking his head before nodding it towards the door, "well, if we get a move-on we'll both be able to eat lunch. how's that sound?"

you find yourself perking up at the mention of being able to enjoy your long awaited food and nod helplessly. he nods his head again, suggesting you start walking ahead of him and you comply, being the first to walk out the door and gyuvin following close behind.

gyuvin wasn't going to lie, the stack was heavy. but thankfully, with his height, the tall stack of papers did nothing to restrict his movement, his head still fully over the top of the stack.

the two of you stop in front of the stairs and you give him a weary look, "you sure you can make it down those without falling? we can always come back up again, there's still half a stack in the classroom..."

gyuvin smiles, nodding confidently, "we'll be okay! c'mon, the faster we get this done, the quicker we can eat lunch!"

you can't help but take note on how, despite asking a question directed to him, he still manages to include you in the answer. having first-handedly witnessed the natural way he still manages to think of others in the littlest of things evokes an unrecognizable emotion inside of you. suddenly, the sight of him makes you want to break out into a grin.

quickly, gyuvin turns back towards the stairs and steps down with a fastened pace- somehow, none of the papers that lay at the top of the stack fly in the opposite direction.

you giggle to yourself before jogging down the steps as well, trying your best to catch up to gyuvin while also maintaining the balance of the stack in your arms.

ii. he said, she said.

after taking a second trip up and down the three flights of stairs to hand over the other half of the stack you left behind, the two of your were satisfied with your work. the second trip around, the two of you were so caught up in conversation that the intention to rush was long forgotten.

as the two of you slowly walked towards the cafeteria, now discussing some silly shenanigans gyuvin and his friends had done during one of last year’s breaks, the bell rung once again, and the students flood the hallways the pair were striding down.

the two of you freeze in place, watching as the students head back towards their lockers to grab their belongings for the upcoming class.

you glance of gyuvin, frowing at the sight of his downcast expression- he had missed lunch just to help you sort out your paper stack predicament.

little do you know, gyuvin is feeling just the same- he helped you just so you could be able to eat lunch and there he was, selfishly talking to you, only to lead you to missing lunch completely. his plan was perfect, it was just that his execution turned out to be counterproductive.

"i am so sorry gyuvin... i really should've just done it myself", you ramble, clenching your fists in embarrassment. you fail to notice how he looks at you with concern.

taking his silence as an apology unaccepted, you cringe, "i'll find a way to make it up to you-"

"yn!" one of your friends call from a few feet away with great urgency, causing you to trail off on your sentence.

you look at him once more, painful apology painted across your face, before jogging along to see what your friend had urgently called you for.

the rest of the day was spent racking your brain for ways to make it up to gyuvin.

you could buy him a lunch, you pondered- but you decided he was worth more.

how about a giftcard somewhere?- well, you weren't 30... it seemed like an old gift.

everything you thought, it always seemed like it was never enough. gyuvin deserved way more than just a free lunch, or giftcard, or an apology. he was gyuvin for godsakes, he helped you and everyone he could, no questions asked, he's kind, and for some reason- the mere shadow of his presences sends your stomach fluttering.

with guilt bubbling in your stomach since lunch, you've finally reached the end of the day. putting away the textbooks that weighed your backpack down onto the metal shelf of your locker- a certain name uttered by a group of friends behind you perks your ears.

"what did you guys get for gyuvin's birthday tomorrow?" and suddenly an idea hits you like a truck.

you found the perfect way to make it up to him. gyuvin loved people- what if you held him a little surprise party first thing tomorrow?

you twist around and but into their conversation- an obnoxious gesture, but with your mind racing miles a minute, that was the least of your worries.

"is it really gyuvin's birthday tomorrow?" you ask, looking around to meet the faces of his close friends- the eight of them stand there a little taken aback before they collect themselves.

"yeah!" matthew, if you remember correctly, confirms happily, sending you a warm smile.

"what if we held him a surprise party?" you suggest, surveying each of their faces to take in their reactions.

each of them light up, "where are we gonna get everything?"

"don't worry, i'll take care of everything... just meet me at the school about an hour to half-an-hour early!"

iii. a lunchbox cake.

it didn't take long for the rest of your class to absorb the (not-so-secret) surprise party plan for their beloved classmate, but you never minded- afterall, gyuvin deserved only the best and that showed through the devotion of the many people he's helped giving a hand to create a great celebration. the rest of the day was spent running errands for the last minute plans.

holding two bags full of decorations which ranged from balloons to silly little party hats you bought for the laughs, you head over to your favourite bakery- they had recently started advertising lunchbox cakes.

you requested two of these cakes- hoping it will be enough to feed everyone to satisfaction, but not enough to create a herd of hyper teenagers. one cake was to be a simple white- a cursive birthday message in black buttercream decorating the top and sprinkles made through piping icing directly onto the cake taking up awkward gaps where something felt missing.

the second cake was to have a teal background and a puppy wearing a pink birthday hat in the middle- all made of icing.

despite feeling bad about the amount of work they had to put in in such a short amount of time, they assured you that you are a beloved customer and they appreciate you always coming to support them- they accepted the order with no hesitation. you explained your deadline, saying you'll be there to pick it up an hour before your classes start and you watch as they immediately start on the batter. on your way out, you thank them profusely

all that was left was setting it up and presenting it to the birthday boy.

iv. surprise?

the clicking of your loafers against the cement along with the wind rapidly dancing past you rings your ears- the sound of the early morning traffic is easily muffled.

you run frantically towards the bakery- you had gotten a text from hanbin that they were at the school ready to set up, and feeling bad that they would have to wait- you decide to drop off the decorations and then head back to pick up the cake (bad decision). you were now frantically running- only having 25 minutes to get back to the school, cakes fully intact and looking presentable. 25 minutes and then classes would start- 25 minutes and you'll see gyuvin walk in and-

turning the corner expecting to see the entrance of the bakery in view, instead you are met with a lanky figure in a very familiar school uniform.

"oh!" the boy yelps, grabbing onto your arm to save you from a painful fall onto the concrete.

at the voice, you eyes widen- gyuvin was here, right now.

"ah, g-gyuvin!" you stammer, tilting your head up to greet the boy.

at the sight of your slightly messy hair, the boy giggles, causing you to quickly run your hands over your head to smooth it out.

"what are you doing here?" you laugh awkwardly, rubbing your bicep in attempt to act natural- you needed to get out of there immediately, but without being rude? that was impossible.

"oh... i thought i'd pick you up a pastry since i made you skip lunch yesterday..."

you perk up at this confession, tilting your head in consideration.

it was his birthday and he was getting something for you...

"you... didn't make me do anything gyuvin, really it's okay!" you comfort, watching as his eyes grow wide.

"why are you here?"

you didn't know how to answer that question.

"well i... um.." gyuvin patiently awaits your answer but rests a hand on your head after he senses your struggling.

"you don't need to tell me, it's alright. you wanna come inside with me so you can pick your treat?"

pursing your lips, you nod after a second and follow him inside.

"what's your favourite pastry?" he asks, surverying the dainty bakery.

"yn!" the woman behind the counter shouts, catching both you and gyuvin's attention.

"you come here a lot?" he questions, the tilt of his head makes your heart clench; you nod sheepishly before excusing yourself. while you walk away, gyuvin internally praises himself for the choice of bakery.

rushing over to the counter, you thank her gratefully and open the two boxes just an inch to inspect the cakes.

they were perfect, the cake with the dog was perfectly smooth and the icing art was admirable, the other cake was perfectly plain. simple, yet elegant.

you turn back to gyuvin, who eyes the two boxes curiously and you shrug.

"what's all that?" he nods towards the two boxes as you walk back up towards him.

"surprise", you smile, your nerves now calmed- everything was going to be fine, all you needed to do was get gyuvin to the school.

gyuvin hums, seemingly content enough with your answer. he then moves to walk up to the cashier but you grab his wrist frantically.

"there's no need, really! seeing you enjoy these cakes is enough for me!” you stumble, saying the first reasonable explanation to get back to the school right away.

it takes you a few moments to realize your mistake, but when you do, you find yourself frozen in place.

great going.

“surprise, huh?” he chuckled, staring at your appalled expression.

“well… it was supposed to be…” you mumble, shifting between your two feet awkwardly.

sensing your shame, gyuvin places a hand on your shoulder in comfort, “hey, it’s okay… i didn’t mean it that way, you’re just too cute not to tease.”

you perk up at his confession, now it was his turn to face you, appalled by his own mouth.

“that was supposed to be a secret too…” you giggle, taking his hand in attempt to calm his nerves.

“c’mon birthday boy, that’s not the only surprise”, gyuvin follows like a puppy, gripping your hand back happily once he comes back to his senses.

v. birthday wish granted.

you walk up to the classroom in anticipation, hopefully, everything was fully put up and everyone was ready to greet the boy a happy birthday.

you tried to make it known you were going down the hallway, extending your voice a few decibals higher than usual- you only hoped gyuvin didn't notice.

still holding his hand, you drag him over to the classroom. once the two of you stood in front on the room door, you looked at him with a wide grin- his eyebrows furrow and his gaze softens at the sight of your smile.

pursing your lips, you gesture for him to move in front of you- it seems like gyuvin had figured out your other surpise a while ago as he gives you a knowing look, but obliges nonetheless. before he turns to slide the door open, he gently cups your face.

the contact of his lips on your forehead feels majestic. it was delicate and meaningful- a small peck meant so much.

he then looks at you for permission, you only nod, reading his face for his next action.

he smirks before leaning down, now level with your lips.

by pure coincidence- yujin, who overheard the two in the hallway and was getting impatient- slid the door open, ready to peek out to see if you two were close by.

instead he finds you two inches apart- suddenly the two of you jump back.

theres a pregnant silence before matthew pops up from behind a desk, his eyes darting from you and the birthday boy and then at your hands. he smirks cheekily at the sight, “happy birthday gyuvin! i’d tell you to make a wish but it looks like it’s already come true.”

navi. mlist.

#. . . 🖋️ zhng’s prose #zb1 fluff #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 #zerobaseone #gyuvin x reader #kim gyuvin x reader #gyuvin fluff #kim gyuvin fluff #gyuvin imagine #kim gyuvin imagine

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scriptnoir · 6 months ago

Text

SOMEWHERE IN BETWEEN.

you develop a strange friendship with the pretty college girl who visits your library.

pairing. olivia hayes (jessica alexander) × female reader

length. 12.9k words

themes. smut, uni student!olivia, librarian!reader, legal age gap, praise kink, pet names (princess, ma'am), fluff, angst

warnings. homophobic and blackmailing antagonist, age gap, smoking, get even spoilers, maybe ooc olivia but NO ONE GETS HER LIKE I DO DON'T @ ME

author's note. HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!!! yall dont know how special this fic is to me. i started this in september, continued writing it in february (!!!) after being down bad for jess then, after watching get even, revised it to be for my baby olivia hayes :) also my first fic on this blog ! olivia hayes and get even in general are pretty niché in fics, but i hope you'll give this a chance </3 also, i will be writing for more female celebs so stay tuned !!

There was a library - a nice, wide place located in the smaller parts of the university. It’s where the students seldom went to study for their exams, perhaps find a little reprieve from all the youthful stress that curled around them. They’d lounge on the sofas with a textbook in their laps, or hide behind an aisle of novels to make out. That didn’t matter to you - what you cared about was that your second home was a safe space for them, just like it was to you, where nothing else was out to get them but the smell of new books.

That’s where it all started.

It was all supposed to go so normally, but then she came in.

Suddenly you weren’t so safe anymore.

Oh, but could she do any naught? You heard and dismissed rumors, but she was just a schoolgirl - well, the better and more guiltless term was perhaps college student. Still, you're a handful of years older than her with a degree she's using the end of her teens to fight for. She was young. Innocent too, with those bright, casual eyes that passed around the library fascinatedly. But it was far from easy to remember that when those long legs strode confidently in your vicinity, underneath that short skirt which ought to get her in trouble with the dress code. But why? It was standard uniform - it wasn’t her fault she was beautiful. Ah, and one couldn’t forget the socks, simple white ones yet looked painfully beautiful on her with how they wrapped around her thighs like a present.

When she looked at you and smiled, it was a cut straight to the bone. No remedy here. Stitches couldn’t save you.

In the second minute since she arrived here, you realized that she was familiar. That was the kind of face you never forgot - engendered into the ripples of your brain forever, a flame of memory kept alive. Because she was just a college student - many years your junior - but she was so goddamned beautiful that it ached your tongue and left it numb.

“Hi,” she said softly. From one word you could tell that curled preppy accent - something that teetered between an heiress’s and a sweet friend - was natural. From one word you were left breathless.

“Olivia Hayes.” You mentioned her name without thinking and with too much a realization, and now it sounded as if you didn’t know her, and oh, how rude that was. How dare you be rude to a girl like her, known and adored by everyone, a princess? You wanted to say you just recognized her, that you knew her already - which wasn’t false - but she’s already smiling.

Her smile, sweet with tender full lips and her eyelids reaching for their other halves, was something you could swim in forever. Oh, you’d drink from her, too - she was a saltless sea that tasted of nectar instead.

“That’s me,” said Olivia, beaming. “I’m the president of the student council. I think that’s where you remember me?”

Of course. She was the pretty face that always led a group of giggling schoolgirls to the hallway; the pretty voice that spoke at auditoriums for the school’s events; the pretty body that flexed as it twisted to send a ball that’s just as small as her head over the net. While you weren’t a professor by any means (you had tried to be, but that dream was whisked away quickly), you were a frequent presence for the student activities. The one who always, always stood out to you was her.

You suddenly found it very, very hard to gulp down another rough bout. She was beautiful in a way that was impossible to perceive without falling for her. When she had that relatively tall yet slender form all compact and tight in her uniform, with lips that became her brand - (because the other girls would always gossip and say how they wanted lips that full, and maybe you were jealous too) - and had their glossed signature, it forged a path that only led to wanting her.

“Yes, you’re right.” You collected yourself. “Anything I can help you with Ms. Hayes?”

“Do you have anything about Greek mythology?”

That was the lilt of tone she used with her close circle of friends, fondly. Were you a friend to her now? Oh, but you had just met. Not just, perhaps, but this was the first time you actually talked to her lengthily. But she knew you - she’d said your name, and she, with the allowance of you basking in her sweet voice, considered you as someone trustworthy.

But you were far from that. A trustworthy individual did not reach desperately after a kempt schoolgirl like her, or fantasize about doing away with that skirt and scheme to watch all that royal composure dissolve from the princess that she was.

It was only now that you came to the realization that you had always, after all this time, wanted Olivia Hayes.

“Ma’am?” she asked, and all you could think was, oh, it’s the end. It was the beginning of the end the moment she was a polite girl and called you a name that was as innocent as her. It was of no ill intent when she called you that - she was merely asking for your help - but your fist curled up and your throat was tight.

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

You had to act before you did anything stupid, like make her use those perfect lips on you, put them to good use; get your hand all up in that golden-brown hair. Instead of acting upon all those sinful fantasies, you placed a book she might like, the one you recommended for her only, and brushed the old crumbs of bookshelf dust from its cover. Because you’d hate to see those long, pretty fingers get stained.

As you handed her the book, which she accepted with a smile, you asked, “You read a lot I presume?”

She giggled. “I try to,” she said. “Haven’t got time for it lately. But I have to.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re excellent,” you told her, not being able to help yourself. It wasn’t like it was a lie - Olivia Hayes had a lot of potential in her. A great leader, having watched her create the rules to keep the students in line; a great actress, having seen her perform at the theater with emotions that shook you to the core; a great person in general.

“Oh.” Olivia’s cheeks filled with pink. And you found out that when she got shy, her ears flushed too. You ought to smile. “You think so?”

And this was the kind of schoolgirl sweet you pictured her as. She found everywhere but your eyes to look at, and her legs began to sway to and fro, shifting her weight from here to there to stabilize herself. Olivia Hayes - president of various important clubs, prom queen and honor student - could also be . . . adorable?

The rumor mill claimed she wasn’t such a sweetheart. A real fucking snob, a boy claimed after leaving her classroom with tears on his face. Stuck-up bitch. Too arrogant for her own pretty good.

You never believed them. You . . . .did, perhaps? But it was not a belief you held to defame her.

You actually found the roll of her eyes, the snide of her scoffs and checking of her perfect nails a little hot.

But the pink on her face was how you realized that she’s the type of girl who’d melt if called anything remotely complimenting. It’s what she was used to; what revolved her world.

“I know so.”

“Ah,” she mumbled, nodding thoughtfully as she looked down at her black Mary Jane shoes. “Thank you.”

Quietness settled into your humble library. It was what you insisted upon hearing, but there was something about Olivia - how she rolled her words, giggled when she was nervous, spoke softly but easily - that made you want to break your own rules. And several others.

“You have a library card?”

“I don’t.” You envied how she managed to recollect herself before she melted more. You could never say the same thing about yourself. Suddenly her chin was up again, and a small smile played on her lips. “Is it alright if I read here for a while Ma’am?”

What else could your answer be?

The day became night, the moon stark in the sky from behind your library windows. All the students had filed out. It was time to close.

You looked at your log book. Plenty of people came in today. You were happy about that. As a librarian (you taught too if that meant anything), you were naturally passionate about books. Having a job related to them was a dream right from the start. When you were young, you wanted to be a librarian. When you entered high school, you wanted to be a librarian. When you finished college, you became one. The pay was nothing close to meager which was enough for you. You wanted this job and not one day passed that had you upset about it.

Mostly, people came here to hang out or hide. That didn’t matter to you, but what struck you was Olivia. Ever since dismissal time, she was in that corner reading. A pile of books sat on the table with her. All of them were about mythology, whether novels or retellings or anecdotes.

You pretended not to notice her as you rearranged books and disposed of unattended belongings. It kept you busy. Sometimes nobody cared about the system you ordered your books in, or the tidiness overall of your little place. So it took a while, one you were pleased about, until you walked over to Olivia.

She was on the four-hundredth page of the novel. Her thumb pressed above the high number on the foot of the page. Didn’t she just start that? And she was still going.

“You’re a fast reader,” you remarked, fascinated.

She looked up in surprise. A sense of calm passed over her features when she realized it was you. “Y-yes I am. Other days I finish books in like a year, but I guess this isn’t one of those days.”

“Same here.” You liked how you had that in common with her. She was pretty already, but a voracious reader? That was the key to your heart.

You picked up her bag beside her chair and placed it on the table. She returned to scanning the book, the pages crisp between her manicured nails and eyes bright and thoughtful. In her lap was a notepad. Her writing was tidy and smooth. Small letters spelled details about Odysseus, gods, and fables.

“You have a quiz about Greek mythology?”

“Oh no.” She shook her head. “I’m doing research since I got the part in a play about this stuff.”

“Let me guess: Aphrodite?”

It was a basic line - so easy, actually, so obvious. But it fit so well and her ears started to color again. She covered her mouth to giggle, then sat up straighter. The form of her back was like a duchess's: composed, slant, smooth. But she wasn’t a duchess. No - perfect lips, eyes shimmering; she was something more. Something else.

Olivia pursed her lips before smiling softly. “If I were naïve Ma’am” - there was that word again, sweet and faultless but making you pent up, as she considered you with a serious gaze - “I’d think you’re trying to flirt with me.”

“Too quick for that, don’t you think?” you backtracked. You had to be appropriate. Yet you reeled forward again: “But you’re a beautiful girl, fitting for the part.”

You normally didn’t go for the model-in-the-making girls, much less ones who were younger than you. But she had this different aura about her. She was quiet, sweet, and incredibly polite while maintaining her popularity and schoolwork. She was each one of those but people still chose to put her down. You wondered how she dealt with everything. What was behind that pretty, pretty face?

“Unfortunately, being pretty doesn’t free you from my rules.” You pointed at the clock. Regret filled your heart as you informed her. “It’s 7 PM. According to school regulations, I was supposed to close twenty minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you close then?” A smile creased the corners of her eyes and emphasized her lips. “I thought being beautiful didn’t exempt me?”

There it was. She knew how to reply, how to send back a maimed question with a bigger bullet. This was why people liked to deem her an intimidation.

She was smart, cunningly sweet. You never doubted Olivia’s intelligence but it still surprised you. She looked at you knowingly while you flustered. You searched for an answer when all you searched for was the hike of her skirt up her thighs. She knew your game, and she was not afraid to play it.

Olivia was a tactful, patient pupil. She sat with her hands folded in her lap - like a good fucking girl - and waited for your response. You mustered nothing. It felt stupid to stand there and wordlessly admit you got cornered by a nineteen-year-old.

“It . . . does now.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Fuck.

“You know you can take these books back to your dorm? All you need is a library card.”

“Oh!” Delighted, she stood up and beamed with a light that always was with her, even in the night. “When can I get one?”

“Here tomorrow. Like I said, library hours are done.”

Olivia didn’t take your sternness to heart. She picked up her bag and slung it on her shoulders. She began to leave.

She was simply following orders but you hated to see her go. You were already yearning for her. You would have wanted to like her in a purely pure way, but you weren’t a good woman. You yearned for the slip of her stockings down her knees, the prop of her neck, the flight of her hair as the wind pushed past her.

She turned to you at the doorway. Did she read your thoughts? Did she forget something?

“Well,” she said, “if here’s where you want me to be.”

Then, in a low voice and the final smile of the day, “Ma’am.”

Plenty of students came in after her. They were either the ones who didn’t have friends to eat lunch with (you didn’t enforce the no food rule for them) and the ones who were rowdy, using your sanctuary as a place to yell and make jokes (you tapped the silence rule taped to your desk.) Everyone signed their names in your log book, but the words flew past your notice. All those days gone and your eyes still remained on Olivia.

Everyday she sat on the loveseat with her legs crossed. She didn’t speak one word. Olivia simply read and read and read, occasionally pausing to rest and take notes. Her nose was buried in the book, but you could see her brilliant eyes above its edges. They disseminated, observed, analyzed. The rest of her face was covered and you still found her beautiful.

“Ma’am,” spoke a student nearing your desk, “can I get a library card?”

The background blurred. You looked at the student and realized you were staring at Olivia for too many an hour. You had to focus. Ogling at a student was inappropriate, and not what the private university paid you for.

Also, the title didn’t sound as nice as it did if it came from someone who wasn’t Olivia Hayes.

“Of course.” You rose from your chair as you took his ID.

“It’s free, right?”

“Yes, no charge.”

You typed in his name. It wasn’t long or a unique one but you had to read it several times over to ensure its correctness. Typical procedure. Ronny. Soon, his library card was laminated and printed. You placed it on your desk for him to take.

Thanking you, Ronny picked behind his ear. “I couldn’t help but notice,” he began, “you were looking at Olivia for a bit there.”

You swallowed. Were you that obvious? You hated to think so. The last thing you wanted was your ogling at the girl to be something controversial. (It was.) You were doing it for days, ever since her initial visit.

What did you say to him? What did you do?

“Oh, uh. No. I just space out a lot.”

He saw through your lie. His easy grin made you uncomfortable. Why? He was just making conversation. “I mean, I understand. She’s really pretty and popular, but she doesn’t have many friends.”

You turned to look at Olivia. She was still reading. The whole time she was quiet and preserved, not taking time to speak to others. She liked to keep to herself for a girl who was the talk of the campus.

“Doesn’t she?”

“She needs someone to talk to,” he told you. His words were overly friendly, like he was lulling you into a drunken false sense of security. “I think you’d be perfect. She’s just getting into reading.”

“I-I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He gave you a smirk of knowledge and left. Shit. Why did you have to be so indiscreet? You quickly collected yourself and returned to your book. You had to forget about it.

The characters in your book fought against dragons and fell in love and fell apart and passed on. Chapters became nothing like the minutes. There were rare moments when you had to look up and assist someone, but aside from that, the day was relatively uneventful.

Night arrived, slowly like it always did. You were a dedicated reader, but the story was uninteresting compared to the pretty girl lounging across you. She was the only one there now.

Before you could return your eyes to the book and stop watching at how she flicked her hair back and checked her phone, she caught you. Her attractive smile was full of awareness of your plight. You quickly looked down at the pages. It was too late.

School shoes tapped a rhythm on the floor as she approached you. She leaned down on your desk. You tried to ignore her and pretend she wasn’t there. But Olivia had a face people would never forget. She was most likely someone’s first love, who, even when along came a girl who filled their life, was not erased from memory. No, she was too precious to let go.

“You know,” stated Olivia, her tongue curved upwards at the side of her lips, “you could just talk to me. I’m not scary, am I?”

You lowered the story. She was so good to look at. Her hair was tossed over the side and she wore a carefree smile that invited you to close the book.

Was she scary? Yeah - her exclusiveness, tight-knit friendships and beautiful wit - you’d call that scary.

But the fear always turned into a yearning - please notice me when I walk past; please say my name again; please ruin me- let me ruin you-

“Sure.” You gave in. “What do you wanna talk about?”

She thought for a while. “Anything that’ll make us friends. I like you. It’s gonna be easy.”

Being friends didn’t sound dangerous. What could happen? It’s not as if the moment you bonded you would suddenly grab the small of her back and let your lips meet.

“Wanna get out of here?’’ She framed her cheek with her fingers. “I’ll put on a jacket. Nobody will know.”

You’d love nothing more. But was it alright? There were lines being crossed here: the relationship between a student and a mentor; the rules; the propriety.

She looked you up and down, taking note of everything, then cocked an eyebrow. Oh, it was a challenge. Would you give in?

You found yourself buttoning your coat and walking out with her. The library had to close early. She grinned and looped an arm through yours. You made an excuse that your sudden freezing up was due to the night air.

Well, it was chilly. The breeze puffed Olivia’s hair into the night. She always made herself look like a femme fatale from a fan favorite watch - red lips; smoky eyes; and a tendency to make anyone want her. Ah, not a tendency - she was a natural heartstealer. She broke it even if you weren’t a thing when you saw her with boys, with girls, with anyone looking to tear her uniform down in pieces when you felt the exact same thing.

The school looked more serene in the darkness. It was so grand but looked just like home. Old bricks built themselves up into pillars that resembled castles. Dim light illuminated from dorm windows.

“It’s nice to get out of that place for once,” Olivia said. She tilted her head to the school and sighed humorously. But the smoke of air that left her mouth shook a little too. “It’s kind of suffocating in there, honestly.”

The branches reached for her hair. Your shoes were torn by growing roots. But through everything, you kept walking. You wanted to know: what was more to this forest? What was more to her?

“Let me guess,” you said. “It’s the popularity contests? Friends? Math?”

She rolled her eyes, a confirmation. “Ugh, math.”

“You’ll get through it,” you assured her. It was cliché to say, but everything would eventually come to pass. You were on a planet in a galaxy in a galaxy in a galaxy, or whatever. It didn’t matter. “I mean, I did. If anyone could do it, it’s you.”

“I was gonna say you did excellent getting through it, but I don’t know you that well.”

“So get to know me.”

You talked, and Olivia was surprisingly easy to connect with. She listened with attentively creased brows and an occasional laugh. You narrated the basics: “read” was your first word. You did your classmates’ homework in exchange for candies. Reading was your foundation. If you had to go without it, you died.

You thought that she would make a joke about the cheesiness, or worse, laugh at you. But she didn’t. She kept listening. She sometimes threw you a few interesting questions that kept the drain of conversation going. The thoughtful, caring energy in her face was solid and you felt undeserving to bask in it.

“What I like to say is I’m a reader before a woman,” you told her anyway. The depths of the forest came up and for some reason you weren’t scared. It was the rumor mill for ghosts and hookups, but you were with Olivia. Why would you be scared? “That’s how I wound up here in a uni, letting them read what I have.”

Olivia nodded, hands on opposite elbows. The trees towered over you and made horrific shadows on the dust. Fear didn’t get to you. “Do they pay you well?”

“They do.”

“Must be fun.” She bit on the inside of her cheek, making the soft skin hollow. “Doing something you love.”

There was a wistfulness in her voice. Her expression was dreamy as she thoughtfully stepped over the roots and twigs.

“Well,” you began, carefully, “what do you love?”

Olivia smiled self-assuredly. “Me.”

She told her story. She was born rich, lived rich, and would die rich. Her mother was an heiress whose love was a businessman, and the wealth would go on for the next ten or more generations. She wanted to be an active and proper student, behaving well enough so as not to take advantage of her father buying her out of any situation. She participated in many clubs and, according to this year’s paper, was the school’s Actress of The Year.

You didn’t think you had too much coffee today but you thought that it wasn’t illusion she had inched closer. Olivia’s knee was beside yours, and she was speaking and chuckling like you weren’t close to being insane about how smooth her skin felt.

Was this the “bitch” who supposedly broke hearts and ruined lives? She flipped her hair and giggled like she had all the time in the world. She didn’t seem so terrifying.

“I try not to be so stuck up. I want people to leave me alone, but only when I need them to.”

You shrugged. “That explains why . . . ”

“Yeah?” She was not going to let that obvious halt pass.

You blinked. “Oh, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine,” she dismissed, continuing the path down the forest. Olivia studied her fingernails. “It’s not like I don’t know people think I’m a bitch.”

So she knew. She had that admirable composure steadying her, but how did she deal with the falsehood? There was everything to cope with - the pressure of her parents; school; and friends who expected a lot from her. What was her method?

“For the record, I don’t think you’re a . . . ”

“Say it.” Olivia’s eyes flicked up from her nails and shot you with a cheekiness that made you feel lightheaded. “Call me a bitch.”

She slipped her hand in yours. The textures of your skin were vastly different. Hers was as soft as a baby’s cheek. Smooth and blemishless too.

“Actually,” she added coyly, “call me whatever you want . . . Ma’am.”

You stared back at her. What did you just start? She winked at you then continued talking like she didn’t almost cause a heart attack.

The moon was stark and sent bursts of wind whipping you around. Sometimes you felt her grip tighten around the slots of your fingers to keep her balance. You hoped your palm wasn’t sweaty.

“They’re right though.” She giggled, fixing the blazer of her uniform. “I need a little redefining. So I’m doing some self-improvement, working on my habit of rolling my eyes.”

“You’re a perfect student,” you joked, but you meant it. Every word was genuine. “You’re intelligent, pretty, studious, and committed. Who do I have to fight to be you?”

As expected, she rolled her eyes with a stifled simper. You both burst out laughing and for a few seconds it was all you knew. The lines of her smile, the shrink of her eyes as she chuckled - it was all so beautiful.

“Seriously! You’re a beautiful girl. And that hair is lethally gorgeous.”

“Thank you. It’s smooth too. I guess combing like ninety times a day helps.” She scooted closer, as if close weren’t close enough, and turned her head. Golden-brown locks showed themselves to you. “See for yourself.”

Was she bold or just friendly? You gingerly ran your fingers through them. No knots blocked your way. Each thread was silky and clean. This was the kind of soft you’d feel on pillows in hotels you couldn’t afford. You were pretty sure she had well-paid, adoring women who attended to her for this.

It felt intimate. Too intimate. There was hesitance as she observed you, like she wanted to do something but had to think twice. You were getting so comfortable in the familiarity of her features that you had to remember she was a student and you were . . . you. This was like busting yourself out of the closet and getting yourself a case of being improper with a student, although she wasn’t a child by any means.

You put your hand back down. “What color is it?” you asked.

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “Brown? Blonde? Somewhere in between?”

Whatever it was, it looked good on her. Everything looked good on her. She was the only student you saw who never looked stuffy in the hot uniform. The British air was hot in the morning but not one drop of sweat stuck to her skin. Her mane of somewhere-in-between was articulately brushed and straightened.

Footprints of athletes still were visible on the ground. You stamped your foot over a mark of a rubber one. She followed suit. With that, you left a sign you were here. It might be the only sign that you ever lived.

Books and shelves faded over time, but the earth would always remember your mark. It was sort of sentimental. This would be the first and only time you live, and you were glad to spend it enjoying a night with a girl you liked and getting to know quickly. Maybe you knew her all along.

“If you really think I’m all that,” Olivia said, toying with the zipper of her jacket, “you should come to the play. I’ll prove my worth. It’s next week.”

“I’ll be there,” you instantly replied.

You’d love to see her act again. Plays weren’t your thing but it would be good to see Olivia onstage, reciting her lines with deep emotion and twirling from prop to prop. You knew she wouldn’t disappoint.

Her eyes lit up, and that response told you, without overassumption, of a mother who was too busy to come to her activities, of a father who wasn’t there. Never was. “You promise?”

She was holding you to it, you could tell. It was a promise you were willing to keep. You’d never break it if the circumstances tested you.

“If that’s where you want me to be.”

“That’s my line,” she objected. She pulled the end of her skirt down to her knees. The waistband sank and unveiled modest skin. It was so devoid of ill intention that it was just right to make you feel guilty for looking. “If you use it, you need to have a nickname for me too.”

She turned to you. The crescent moon refracted in her pupils. Olivia was dead serious. You stopped in your tracks and tried to think. But she was there - so gorgeous, so put together and so lovely - that it made your thoughts go static.

Right from the start, you yearned. You thought it began when she visited your library for the first time. But now you thought that it dated back to watching her act, watching her and her group of friends, watching her be herself in a midst of elites. You wanted her since the moment she stepped in the university and it was difficult to deal with.

Why? Because you wanted to call her a lot of things. Each would be sweet or sour, whichever she chose, as she sank between your legs and/or sat in your lap and/or just kept being the tantalizingly beautiful thing she was.

“What’s something people call you?” you offered weakly.

“Uh. Ollie and um, Hayes-Are-For-Horses” - you laughed and she had to explain it was back in primary, when she used to be bullied by the people who desired her now - “Liv, Livvie, Livia, Princess-”

“Princess?”

She looked down, a little embarrassed. “My friends call me that. It’s my code name.”

She was a princess, truly. Olivia was everything a princess should be. That’s why her peers loved her. That’s why her peers hated her. She was royalty, and people didn’t know if they wanted to lust for her or reject her just to say they had the opportunity to.

You nodded approvingly. “Very fitting.”

“That’s it then,” she said, satisfied. “You’re Ma’am, and I’m Princess.”

Saying the name felt like sinning - you realized this when you thought it over. But she was smiling again, so of course you’d do it without penance.

The play was beautiful. The props were crafted diligently and all actors quoted with diction and importance. You sat at the front as staff should and kept searching for your favorite student. She came in a white dress and hair styled in endless curls, and delivered a performance deserving of whatever Oscar there was for college plays. She was an excellent actress. All bias melted when you believed she was the best out of the whole drama club. Even her fellow actors said so.

While Olivia performed her nuances, she looked at the crowd, as if willing them to come onstage and save her. The fourth wall was broken through. You were too. She saw you at the front, went out of character with a smile, and got away with it. Her slip-up was so unnoticeable that at the end of the play, you thought you would have signed up for drama club if you were a student. She made it all look so easy.

“You came!” she said, bouncing off the stage stairs and wrapping you in an unexpected hug.

You fought back your giddiness. She was just being friendly. You returned the embrace like a good friend should. “Of course.”

The purple dress swayed around her like water, the little details and seams the seashells that fit the siren that she was, born from foam. You saw it hug her waist and flow around her legs and - despite everything: your promises to remain professional, a good senior, a good friend - you couldn’t deny she looked insanely good.

She ushered you backstage as the curtains closed. The cheers erupted for her, and you could picture her making it really big out there. She was gorgeous, talented, and excessively charming - a director would ditch screenplays to cast her. The coach was sure to die if they watched her rehearse. And anyone’s going to fall in love with her, really.

“Beautiful,” you remarked, and it could mean either way: the performance or the pretty little thing in front of you.

“You liked the yelp I did when Paris dragged me?” asked Olivia. Her eyes contained all the stars in the galaxy. She made a wish to each of them, asking for an eager attendee to her play. “I strained my voice, but I did good, right?”

Never did you ask about the black wig, or the smoky makeup, or the way she was almost in tears - almost like she never expected you to come. Or anyone for that matter.

All you said, squeezing her forearm where you could feel the beat of her excitement, was: “The Princess was more than great.”

She never got that library card. Olivia chose to stay in your library for hours at a time rather than take them back to her dorm. The play was done but she began reading for fun instead of necessity. You recommended her thrillers and romance. Your heart grew bigger. She was actually very easy to be fond of.

Now she took a seat near your desk where she occasionally asked questions - what does this word mean? what language is this? have you read this? - and left you biscuits in your lunch break. You enjoyed her company. You were insecure about a lot of things but one: she did back.

“Coffee.” Olivia brought a cup of steam to your desk. She pulled a chair to your desk and sat on it, crossing her legs. “Nobody’s here. The rules don’t exist.”

Your heart did a little offbeat thump. She was a generous girl. You forgot to thank her upon seeing that her strawberry blonde hair was tucked into a bun on her head. The strong curve of her jaw and her swan’s neck were just out there.

Olivia’s full lips closed on the straw of her iced coffee. You couldn’t stop watching her. You could help her out with her lessons - there’s her opened textbook, her reviewers - but you had eyes only for her. What a cliché. But you’re a reader. You liked your fair share of clichés. You could give this one a pass.

“Thanks Princess,” you said. You took the coffee and blew its smoke out. “You’re really kind.”

She was the kindest girl you ever met. These past few months, she did nothing but keep you company and spoil you. Olivia was a generous princess - she stepped out to meet the populace, give them food worthy of a royal, and kept them company. That was why you liked her.

You stopped there. You didn’t want things to go too far. Not yet. These feelings you had for Olivia were inappropriate and deserved hindering. But she was just so beautiful and lovable that blocking the thoughts from your head felt like torture.

“It’s no problem.”

She was smiling again. You really wondered how her peers carved her out to be an alleged pain. She was so thoughtful that you were beginning to think if anyone had chosen to befriend you this way. Were you even deserving?

“What are you studying?” you asked her. You had to make conversation before you slipped up again.

Olivia’s simper melted. “Math.”

You looked over at the formulas, fractions and calculations. It already made your head hurt. “Can’t help you with that,” you said regretfully. “It’s either I don’t know it or I forgot that thing a long time ago.”

“Can you help me with something else?”

After you nodded, she began to speak. Well, tried to. She trailed off, looking blankly at her textbook. Her face wore a blue little look that was a break of character from the serious one she always had. Olivia Hayes, as far as you knew, was not once lonesome.

“It’s been . . . really hard these days. I’m sorry, I know it’s completely out of topic but-”

“You can tell me anything.”

Hope crossed her features. She didn’t really have anyone to trust with her feelings. Her mother was too busy. Her friends would use them against her. The guidance counselor would just tell her to pray. Would you listen to her without bias?

“I don’t know if I’m hanging with the right people. I don’t know if I’m even that good. I don’t know if I-” Olivia stopped and made complicated gestures with her hands. A defeated sigh sounded from her slim throat. “-am.”

Self-doubt. It was your accurate diagnosis. You were surprised that a girl like her would experience it, but even the most confident people went through that. It would be easy to assume from the way she walked, talked, and acted that she had all the assurance for herself.

Olivia sighed at her textbook and shut it. Her shoulders were trembling. Was she sulking? Nearly crying? You couldn’t bear to see it.

“I don’t think I know myself at all.” She swallowed, then without looking at you, asked, “Do you ever feel that way Ma’am?”

She was too young and too pretty to be going through this dilemma. You couldn’t say you didn’t go through the exact same thing yourself in the younger years of your life. But seeing the look of pride and strength disappear from her face was a death to your own self-pity.

You looked at your hand close to her. The pins you gifted for her bag. The jacket you let her borrow after she lost it. Foolish to think, but maybe you finally found someone you could care about more than you did yourself.

“Every day of my life,” you said quietly.

“Oh,” she whispered, nodding. She said nothing more. Olivia’s view was focused on the cover of her textbook, which boasted happy students reading from it. It wasn’t the case for her. Revising this subject, being in this school? It didn’t make her happy.

Well, one thing did.

It hurt to see her like this. Had anyone ever considered what she felt? Or did she put up a front, being pretty and kind?

“I just feel like I’m wasting borrowed time,” Olivia muttered. Each fragment of her broken sentences grew heavier. “I want- I need-”

Before she could burst into tears, you tilted her face up. The water in her eyes remained there. What held them back besides your gentle hand was the tight frown of her lips. She was trying very, very hard not to break down.

“Hey. Chin up Princess,” you told her. You offered her an encouraging smile. “I know you. You’re a strong girl, aren’t you?”

Her eyelids were still puffy in their fight to keep her tears back. She didn’t quite believe that. But you would make her.

“Look at you. You’re smart, studious and sensitive. Nothing would make me think otherwise.”

Her gaze lingered on you, thoughtful. Did you really think that? Were you this sweet to anyone else? She chuckled and looked down shyly. “Alliteration.”

Smart girl. “That’s right,” you said. “I’m rubbing off on you.”

“I guess that makes me okay.”

“You’re doing great. I promise.”

Light coffee stained the end of her mouth. You wiped it away with your thumb. A bit of her lipstick smudged your skin. An indirect kiss?

When you retracted your touch, you thought the coffee was doing something to your head again. You could have sworn that Olivia leaned in.

And just when you thought lines couldn’t be crossed further:

People like to believe in things that they can see. Why trust in ideas that aren’t visible to the naked eye - it’s a lie for sure, right? Thus, the concept of atheism. Thus, the need for eye witnesses in court, primary sources, the like. Thus, the school not believing that the odor of cigarettes from behind the library could possibly be from you.

Well, they’d be damned.

Gray floated from your mouth like a lost dream. Vices aged along with your soul. See, you weren’t a bad kid. You stayed in school, did your homework, only tried a few prohibitions. But the smoking stuck to you - it reminded you of a more youthful time. It also made you feel a little light on your feet.

The thing was: the school couldn’t know. So you sank into the wall of the back of your library, fingers twined between a cigarette. You may not know yourself but you weren’t depressed or anything - it’s just a thing you do, like drinking coffee in the morning and writing. People often got that wrong.

The forest was just close by. Naturally you mistook the crunches of leaves for the usual PE class. Then they grew louder, and when you turned your head, there was-

“Ma’am? Oh!” Olivia stopped in her tracks and gasped sharply. It was a sound only an actress could make - sweet, tiny. “I’m sorry, am I-”

You waved your wrist. “Not at all,” you said. If there was anyone in the school you trusted with this secret, it was her. “It’s just smoking. I’m not committing a felony.”

She nodded. Her eyes remained doe-wide.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it time for your classes?” you asked.

It was the middle of the afternoon. She should be having English at this hour. Would they be surprised to find out that the top student was absent? The reason being . . . you?

Olivia swept her hair back. Time slowed down and made permanent the flight of her mane and the pride that stayed. “I’m cutting. I know, I’m a very bad girl.”

She was skipping classes for you. You didn’t want to assume, but was your friendship really that strong? It felt like you knew everything about her. She knew you too, like a book. She read you from cover to cover and annotated your pages. Olivia was a significant part of your life now.

“Oh, what have I done to you.” You played into it as if you were an actress as good as her. What she didn’t know was that you were enjoying it.

Her nose wrinkled at the smell of your cigar. Still, she stepped closer, albeit cautiously. “Can I-”

“Leave?” You nodded. “Sure. Secondhand smoke’s cancerous.”

Yet if there’s anything you would hate, it would be for her to go.

Olivia shook her head. “I-I’d like to try, Ma’am.”

Your brows were furrowed. You took one look at your cigar then at the student. She was looking down shyly, her side fringes hanging from her face. It was obvious she was trying to prove something. But what else did she have to make worthy to you?

“I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

“Please?” she said, a pout stretching on her pretty mouth.

“Princess.”

Your sharp tone didn’t hold her back. It seemed to drill her on. Olivia slipped beside you with a look in her eyes that you didn’t know if you liked. Her lashes sat low and her smile - god help me. Like that wasn’t enough, she wore a low ponytail with a few specks of hair left untied. She was too beautiful, and you weren’t strong enough to handle it.

She let a finger twist through the smoke. “It’s just smoking,” Olivia echoed. “I’m not committing a felony.”

Her character was hard to read sometimes. She could be sweet and innocent to you then switch to being a coy serpent that told you to do all the wrong things. Her breath next to your ear didn’t help your hypocritical case. The fight in you yelled to be the bigger person, to tell her it wasn’t right. It was anything but easy when she had a face that you’d die to hold.

“I don’t have more on me,” you excused. It was the truth - your pockets were empty, this was the only one you got.

“Wouldn’t mind using yours.” Olivia was almost whining at this point. The desperate look on her face was one you chased after, and you wanted to make her beg more. She sounded pretty that way. “I’m not a child, am I?”

She had a point. It wasn’t like you were giving away and teaching vices to an impressionable little girl. It didn’t feel right.

“Please, Ma’am?”

You found yourself giving it to her - not only this, but your everything. Your future, your job, your morals.

Your main takeaway from that moment wasn’t to never do that again, or remind yourself that you could easily say no to a pretty girl (you couldn’t.) It was this:

Olivia Hayes’s lips looked gorgeous wrapped around a cigarette.

She was made for the part. Her mouth fluttered around it while her stare was distant, piecing something together. She lowered it down and blew a ring of smoke in the air, just like in the movies. Olivia was an old Hollywood actress - a blonde bombshell; the main lead.

“It feels . . . ” She struggled for a word. “Good.”

You took the cigar away from her. “Don’t get attached,” you said. It was genuine advice. “We all know how that ends.”

She was smiling. You were too.

She rested her head on the brick wall, facing you. Not quite - her gaze was fixated on your lips. “You look beautiful today Ma’am.”

You leaned forward. It was a dare for her to be audacious enough to prove it right. “Really now?”

The bump of her neck bobbed. You realized that your faces were too close to each other. Her lips were so full that it would take a small stumble to accidentally kiss her, to accidentally pin her to the rusty wall of this building. Those wide, princess eyes stared back at you in fear.

It was your signal to back up. This wasn’t right. No matter how beautiful she was or how close you were, flirting with a girl years younger than you wasn’t right.

Even in the silence that carried guilt, the universe didn’t take kindly to your offense. It brought about a punishment you would remember: the snap of a camera flash.

You jolted. Who was that?

Privy to your conversation, there was the man who asked for a library card. He was smirking. You knew and tried to avoid him because it was an open secret: he was bad news. He blackmailed, lied, used-

Ronny Kent was his name, and he was not a good person.

There was Mika, whose reputation was solidly ruined after he leaked a picture of her. The rumors were too loud to keep secret. Then the janitor who only wanted a private moment with his partner. Ronny turned everyone inside out and it wasn’t pretty.

“Chainsmoker and a slut,” he said to Olivia, lowering the camera. “You play every game, even your friends. Gotta respect you for it.”

“Shut up,” said Olivia. Her jaw was tight. She spoke very softly that the insult bore no real bullet. “Please.”

But she meant this one. You hadn’t seen her this uncomfortable. There was real fire in her eyes but a downness in them too. This was not the first time Ronny had seized her dignity and smashed it beneath his feet. You could tell from the sudden rigidness of her body, the loss of her stability.

You couldn’t speak. He was so close to her, and you were afraid you would shove him if he came closer. Maybe you should.

“I don’t think so.” Ronny’s mouth sat next to Olivia’s ear. She cringed in spite of trying to remain nonchalant. Hot odored breath huffed on her face. “Get out of my way.”

Olivia stared down at her socks. Nothing else existed to her. She felt cornered, afraid and humiliated.

“Mr. Kent.” Your authoritative voice was no match to a teenage rebel. You glared at him and crossed your arms, but he took none of the signs. “It’s not your place. I’ll kindly ask-”

“When I told you to be her friend,” he said, completely ignoring you as he stroked the camera lens, “I didn’t mean to try hooking up with her. What would her boyfriend think?”

Boyfriend?

Olivia lifted her head with a short-lived defiance. “He broke up with me, Ronny.”

“Of course, because he found out she kissed me.” He was proud of it too. “She took me on a date. Ice cream and coffee.”

Olivia had just cut things loose with Donté. She never told you why. But this couldn’t be true. That wasn’t the girl you held close to your heart. Anger was clear in her face but she didn’t move. She took each word to heart as tears welled up.

You had never seen Olivia Hayes cry before. This might be the first time.

“Everyone knows what you did to Mika,” she said, slowly and sourly. The end of her sleeve brushed at her eyelid. “You can’t hurt people anymore.”

“Oh, you don’t know that, Princess.” Ronny squeezed her shoulder. Each move he made stenched of bad luck. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

Olivia was trembling so bad you had to step forward to hold her. You had to defend her and set a boundary with Ronny, who had crossed anything you could have made. To your shock, she left before you could speak up. Her shoes clicked angrily to her exit.

And there was Ronny’s cruel smile that told you nothing good was going to come out of this.

And there was her somewhere-in-between hair: soaring in the wind, like a closing curtain.

You finished several good reads and Olivia was still not visiting you. She hadn’t been for the past three days. It was beginning to concern you.

You watched the campus from outside of your library. It was full of rushing, bustling students, but you couldn’t spot Olivia. Your heart ached. She was a face you could spot in a crowd miles away but she wasn’t showing up in one or alone.

Was that her friend? A pretty girl with hooded eyes and an atmosphere around her that reminded you of Olivia. “Excuse me?” you asked. “Amber, right?”

She looked almost irritated to entertain you. She always wore that bored expression anyway. “Yes?”

“Have you seen Olivia? Olivia Hayes?”

“She’s probably here. Or there.” Amber lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you see her, please tell-”

“I don’t want you looking for her,” interrupted Amber seriously. The little once-over she did told you that she knew something, and everyone did too. She wasn’t afraid to be upfront about it. “If what they say about you is true, you shouldn’t be allowed near her.”

She left without another word. That was the end of it.

Now you knew why less and less pupils logged in. Ronny had done the job: spread the rumor, took the reins, rendered you completely of your power.

It was your fault. If he had crossed a line, you crossed thousands with Olivia. From your thoughts to your gestures to the bond you had - none of it was supposed to happen. None of it.

You brought this upon yourself.

You didn’t want to seem suspicious by asking around. Anyone who visited your library knew you and Olivia were close. You didn’t want to ruin the girl’s reputation.

Maybe someone already did.

The days felt empty without her. No biscuits, no fun conversations, no Olivia. You missed her coquettish laugh and lean posture and thoughtful little gestures. The desk across yours was devoid of a girl who became important to you. Everytime someone entered, you hoped it was her tall and pretty self coming to check in on you. Much to your dismay, faceless pupils were the only people logging in.

It hurt. You didn’t want to make this about you. But it hurt.

You had to quit being selfish. She probably needed space. Space? She wasn’t your girlfriend. She couldn’t be.

You were finishing up for the night. The screen of your computer was bright. It reflected in your tired eyes an Excel sheet. It was a record of late fees and damage compensation. Someone had missed their return date and as much as you didn’t want to charge anything, you had to. Generosity wasn’t a skill they hired you for.

Calculus. It was exam season; you expected that.

What you didn't expect was the loud banging on your door.

“Jesus-” You flung out of your seat, clutching your chest. The clock said it was past 7 PM. Didn’t they have a watch? Elite heirs usually had watches whose prices skyrocketed past your salary. So who was it?

You ignored it, sitting back down. It wasn’t your fault they couldn’t read the rules.

The rummage of the knocks grew louder than the typing sounds. Along with the darkness and otherwise complete silence, it was beginning to terrify you. Words didn’t make sense for the first time ever. You had to tell them to cut it out.

You stood, paced to the entrance and opened the door.

“Ma’am?”

It was Olivia.

She was crying.

Tears streaked her face. Sniffling, she threw her arms around you. Her back rose and rested to the tempo of her sobs, an unwelcome rhythm. The redness in her eyes and the desperation in them - full of need to be comforted, to be held - you ached seeing it.

Something was wrong. You closed the door and hugged her. She was shaking like she had escaped a rainstorm. The only rainstorm here was the flood of sobs that stained her cheeks. Now they spotted your collar.

“Ma’am,” she murmured. Her lips were on your neck, vibrating her cries into your skin. Oh, if you could, you’d take that with her pain. “I thought I lost you. Ma’am-”

Olivia’s voice was broken. She said your nickname not only to call you, but almost like a reminder that you were here. She had nobody else.

You held her tight and let her cry it out. It was alright, you told her. You were here. Your hours were done but you had and would add more if it was for her.

“I’m here. Hi Princess.”

Your Princess.

Olivia didn’t let go. She was suffocating you with her arms knotted behind you, and a mouth that muffled her pain into your shirt. The pain that bubbled in her chest killed you. but you’d die a thousand times if it were for her.

Olivia shivered when you let go. You led her behind your desk, her safe place. She leaned against it and tried to control the tears dropping from her red eyes. But the rainstorm was inevitable. The whole day poured down on her ruthlessly.

The familiarity of everything seemed to calm her down a bit. Hands on her hips, you gently pushed her down her usual box. She didn’t sit alone. You were there for her this time.

“Hey,” you repeated.

You wanted to call her your girl, your baby, your Princess - anything that would comfort her. You wanted to take care of her. You’d wrap a blanket around her and take her out to eat. You’d kiss her and tell her you were here. You’d say: hey little dove, you don’t have to soar all the time. You could just sit here with me.

All you could do was hold her waist and try to control the shudders. “What’s wrong?”

She whined and placed her face into her hands. “I’m sorry.”

What was she apologizing for? She did nothing wrong. She couldn’t do anything wrong. She was so frail and weak as she supported herself at the end of your table that you wrapped her in an embrace again. You knew she needed it.

“Sorry for what?”

Her words trembled, regretful too. “He . . . he leaked the photos . . . ” Olivia stammered.

Your heart dropped. You didn’t need to ask to know what photos or who did it. Ronny’s visit was a revelation of the end. “Oh baby-”

It was one of a girl’s worst nightmares. There came a deceptive boy whose threats held bite to them, who deceived and lied and manipulated. Nothing could ever be given to them without the fear of the tables turning.

That was why you couldn’t find her like you always did. That was why she didn’t visit. The world was against her, and she couldn’t keep her resilience anymore.

Her breaths kept tying around her neck and choking her. You kept a hand on her back so she could at least catch them. Her shaking was knives to your chest.

“I was looking for you. I thought they . . . they took you away.” The thought got to her and she looked at you with begging written all over her face. Her frowned lips uttered the words you didn’t think would hurt you this way: “Ma’am, please don’t go away, please don’t go away-”

You pulled her close. Her hair stuck to her cheek, glued with teardrops.

“I’m not going anywhere Princess,” you told her.

She didn’t quite believe that. Sniffling, she pushed you off.

“I lied to you Ma’am,” she laughed sourly. Her thumb soothed a teardrop at the end of her mouth as she stood up. “All this time. Did you know that?”

What was she talking about? Was Ronny right? You denied it with all your heart.

Olivia looked villainous. The rage was new. She’d contained it all these years, keeping it together, keeping pretty. But this was the end of it.

“He’s spreading it around too so I think you know already. I’m not an heiress. Fuck, I’m not even rich. My dad’s been gone for years. My mom would rather die than go to my shit. But I thought that everyone would love me if I was just like them.”

“Olivia-”

“I’m sorry for lying to you!” She broke down again. She was the victim and the villain - crying, laughing; hurting, hitting. She was hysterical, hands together as she pleaded for your forgiveness. “You like me so much and I like you so much but you won’t trust me ever again. So I’m sorry-”

“Olivia.”

She beat her wrist on the counter in frustration. “What?”

Her scream deafened you. The feedback ringing was so high yet it didn’t cut out her frantic crying. It couldn’t save you from the pain of hearing her tear herself down.

You took the red trunk of her wrist and held it close. She wasn’t going to hurt herself. Not when you were around. “Olivia,” you repeated, “I don’t care if you’re rich or not. I want you anyway.”

She tossed her head back, trying to keep the water in her eyes. It pooled and overflowed. Olivia couldn’t hide anything anymore.

You squeezed her forearm. “I still wait for your gifts.”

She glanced down at your touch enveloping her. Slowly, there was a realization that sank into her.

She swallowed. “I still look if they have your favorite on the menu,” Olivia said softly.

“I still read the notes you leave.”

“I still want you to call me Princess to get through the day.”

You pulled her in. It was an unconscious decision but you didn’t regret it. Her skirt swished against your legs. You were chest to chest and stomach to stomach. No boundaries. Just her skin against your skin. Her eyes connecting with yours.

“I still pray you never get a library card,” you confessed softly, “so you can read with me everyday.”

Olivia was silent. Her glimmering eyes pierced through your soul and saw what you didn’t need to say. Actually, she would have said something herself, had she not chosen to kiss you.

She was whimpering as she devoured your lips. She held your cheek and let the passion infect you too. It was like in these little kisses, these little touches, she found a promise that it would all be okay.

(It would be - in all due time.)

You closed your eyes. Shock melted into passion, passion melted into the need to carry her to the edge of your table. Everything about her was perfect. You believed that until now.

It never stopped. Your fingers laced into her golden brown hair to lead her face closer. You would burn if she left you. Your mouth trailed hotly down her neck anyway. Even here, in the little space where her skin flexed and sweat, she was delicious.

You noticed her ragged breathing and stopped. Was it alright if you tore away the line that put you apart?

You couldn’t say anything. Were you really doing this? To a student? To a girl that you adored?

Olivia’s legs were spread open. Her chin below yours, she blinked up at you. “Ma’am?”

Your thighs squirmed together. The word eternally had this meaning, this double-edged sword that killed you. “Yes?” you asked.

“Wh-What do you think of me?” Olivia asked weakly. The vulnerability in her question was painfully sweet.

You kissed down her chest and opened her blouse. Little gasps coming from her pulsing throat sounded like heaven. Her pretty bra cupped her breasts and she was just singing these tiny moans - begging you to take it off, begging you get your hand all up under her skirt; make the lines of her mouth twist with shock and pleasure; change the color of her face to red. Oh, she needed you to do a lot of things to her - you knew you wanted to do each one of those when you saw her walk in through that door.

Your tongue played with her stiff nipple. She began to move around, afraid to moan yet afraid to leave you hanging.

“I think,” you said, before giving a final peck to the sensitive chest that came up to your mouth, “you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Pretty face, pretty soul. Eyes as big as the heart everyone thought was ice cold. Lashes as long as her patience, her understanding. The beat of her heart matching the loudness of her need to feel good, just for one night.

“Oh.” She sighed. A familiar pink settled over her cheeks. “I really like hearing that from you.”

“Want me to keep talking to you?” It was impossible how every scape of her flesh was appetizing. You licked behind her ear, where she could hear every word. “Want me to tell you how pretty my Princess is, what a good girl she is for me?”

Her thighs clamping around you was enough answer. She was nodding and nodding, the desperate little thing. She was just coming undone. The student, who was so confident and collected, sat on your desk with her uniform tor and lips swollen from kissing.

Her lips.

You pressed a kiss to your fingertips before tracing them to her mouth. Olivia’s lips were cushiony soft. When you slipped your digits past them, she rolled her eyes back.

Your fingers were the source where she drank and drank. Small moans fought their way out of her. She was enjoying this too much. The angry heat left in her body changed to one she enjoyed. This one made her feel giddy, made the little hairs on her skin rise. And Olivia had to voice it out in tiny sighs which provoked something in you.

It wasn’t right, but weren’t you entitled to a little sin?

You freed her mouth and instead imprisoned her chin with your hand, letting them float around her face. “You know where these are going Princess?”

Olivia shook her head. Behind that innocent look, you had a feeling she knew.

A path forged down to her skirt. It was unfair that the uniform fit her so perfectly. Under the blazer, the blouse, the curve of her body slanted beneath your touch. There came the hourglass line of her waist then the flare of her hips, full around your palms.

Olivia was getting an idea now. No sound needed to leave her mouth when it could all be read from her face. The puppy dog eyes, the quiver of her lips, the red of her cheeks.

“These are slipping right under this skirt,” you continued. You did as you said. Her slim thigh was held by a long, white stocking. It would stay on. “Right between your legs, through this pretty white underwear. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. Oh god.” She shut her eyes. “Take it off, take it off-”

Olivia gasped sharply as you touched her. You weren’t in her - not yet. But she was already this sensitive. She squirmed around at how you cupped her core, felt how she was cleanly trimmed through the thin undershorts, how the heat was unbearable. You had to do something about it.

Not yet. You clicked your tongue, continuing to feel her. You would take your sweet time with this princess, make her feel good, make her remember this night.

“You can’t boss me around, Sweetheart.” Sweet talk never truly left your conversations despite the scolding. Punishing a poor little girl who keened and sighed to your touches was cruel enough. It was like wielding an upside-down cross to an angel. “Play nice. What do you say when you want something?”

Olivia kept shimmying her hips into your palm. Her fingers struggled on the desk to keep her stable, and her mind struggled as well to do the same.

“P-Please.”

“Yes?”

“Please . . . ” Olivia breathed, “please fuck me, Ma’am.”

Shit.

You wasted no time. She was true to being a princess - her panties were lace, frilled and white, a bow on the top. Perhaps it was simply you admiring Olivia like you always had, but it was making you so pent up: seeing her with her skirt lifted, the front of her blouse unbuttoned, her long legs embroiled in a fight not to close.

Olivia whined in response to your thumb caressing her clit over the fabric. The rhythm had her chest tightening while her breathing abruptly lost itself. She was done with the teasing.

So were you.

You hooked on the sides of the fabric and gently pulled them down. And God - if her panties were pretty, her pussy was even more so. Her wetness glistened, as if telling you it would look better coating your fingers. Filling your mouth. Sheening your thigh.

You pushed first, not pulled.

“Oh . . . oh.” Olivia lowered her head with her eyes squeezed shut. She was throbbing like crazy. She lifted her head and you could see the gratification written (no, scrawled) all over her face. “Ma’am, I- oh . . . ”

You let yourself curl inside her for a moment. The texture of her walls slid over your skin and the wetness satiated your thirst. Slowly, she took over you. And it was the same on your end - you slid yourself deeper and felt for her sensitivity. It was everywhere, taking from the whines she let out and the frown on her lips.

“Princess,” you said. ”You are so fucking tight.”

You couldn’t even start thrusting. What if you hurt her?

“Just clenching around me, yeah?” You caressed her nub in slow circles. “So damned wet too. Fuck-”

One hand on the small of her back, you buried yourself inside her. Her gasps were shorter and blunter as you fixed yourself inside her. The only thing that made it easier was her wetness, sticking to you and allowing faster movements.

You smoothed her hair as she threw her head back. Her collarbone stood out from beneath the fabric. You pressed your lips there with a nibble gentle enough to increase the sensitivity that set her skin on fire. As her jawline grazed your mouth, you felt her moans vibrate below it. You wondered if she knew how pretty she sounded.

She lost everything once you sucked on that spot. Olivia sounded prettier.

“Ma’am, Ma’am, please-” Olivia thrashed around as if she were a wild animal. What if she were? And not the royal she made herself out to be? She rode your fingers with a fury that beat the angriest of hearts, but she was whimpering - lips pursed; sweet little sounds barely escaping their soft prison. No, this girl was too angelic, too fragile to be feral - but the ferocity of her hips and the grip she had on your wrist said otherwise.

Maybe it was fate that she took you so well. All the little conversations, all that twisted yearning pinned the thread right to this moment wherein you got lost immediately upon sinking inside her cunt. She was so tight, almost too tight, but her wetness let you finger her without having to be careful. You had a feeling she didn’t want you to be careful at all.

And the thing between you and this pretty girl you had literally wrapped around your fingers? The intuition was always right.

Yes, she wanted you to nip at her beautiful shoulder so she moaned louder. Yes, she wanted you to keep a hand firm around her ass so she wouldn’t collapse against the wood. Yes, she wanted all of this - and it’s not in you to say no.

Neither was it in Olivia. The pitiable girl was tearful. Turns out it wasn’t the cigarettes that would eat away at her cleverness, the breath leaving her weak lungs - it was the pleasure. “Yes yes, oh my God, I need them, I need it, need you to ruin me-”

Her words were an invitation to add another finger, and perhaps fuck her harder on this desk. No one had to know. Not the school, not the students - it was just you and Olivia, in your own world, kissing and touching.

It was, too, an invitation you accepted.

Her chin tipped back. “M-mmm, oh!” Olivia cried. Those long lashes carried big tears that fell down her cheeks, as if she were a mystical saint, the monarch of monarchs, a girl worth worshiping. Saint Olivia Hayes, martyred by a want that blossomed in her chest for far too long. Drink from the nectar between her legs and she’d grant a miracle as good as an orgasm. “It’s just- it’s- oh-”

You thumbed at her clit fast. It was so easy to get her moaning and whining but you still felt that you had to work hard. You had to make love to her in a way that she’d forget everything. You had to drive yourself in her like you were trying to start the engine of her insanity. Oh, come on - whose approval were you trying to gain? Olivia’s?

Plausible. Because the ache of your wrist you would trade over and over for the shiver of her body and those big blue eyes staring at you with this subtext that said if you give it to her harder, she might just be yours.

“More.” You felt her twitch around you, your fingers wrapped by the heavenly feel of her pussy. “Oh fuck me now, faster. I deserve it, I’ve been so good.”

“Of course you have.” You lifted her face and looked at her with the gaze of a doting teacher, almost making this moment justifiable. You were only taking care of her. This was nothing out of the ordinary, teacher and student. “You deserve everything, Princess. Oh, you don’t even have to ask for anything. I’ll give it all to you, baby, I promise.”

And this was around the time, or perhaps exactly when, Olivia melted. Her cheeks flushed and her pout ran deeper. As queen bee and campus celebrity, she carried herself as if she didn’t need anything, not even a compliment. But the need throbbed and screamed inside her. This was the true Olivia, wanting to be petted and praised and kissed. You were the one to satiate it.

You rubbed the tips of your fingers along her weak spots while thrusting quickly. The marriage of your eyes obligating her to meet them, the curl of your fingers, the thumb at her chin - it was too much. She was pushed to the edge and she could fall at any moment.

“Don’t-” Olivia shook her head. Tears ran freely. She didn’t know what she was feeling anymore. The lust was overwhelming and there were too many things she wanted you to do to her. “Fuck… oh God, please!”

Your thumb worked on her swollen clit; meanwhile, you’d spread her legs and instantly slid your tongue through her slit. It’s fucking crazy - when her flavor pooled in your mouth and you drank her freely, she tasted like a memory. You’re already missing her. She was a habit you wouldn’t think to kill off and she’d grow within you and become part of you.

And you would lose her. Just like that.

But you would never, ever, forget her.

You lapped her up. You savored her because the repercussions would catch up and you had to save every last bit of her until you could. Oh, she was screaming, loud and raw - you heard her despite her soft thighs clamping around your head. You kept them there. You wanted to stay in her forever.

“Too much,” Olivia implored, but not for you to stop. She had a fist around your scalp and another around your heart. “Ma’am please, you’re going too fast!”

This was the first time in her life she liked being overwhelmed. Her novel plot of an expression twisted and turned - (it would end like this: beautifully, yet not the way you wanted.) She pouted, she smiled in spite of, she gaped. She did everything and showed you how good you were being to her. But nothing quite prepared her for the feel of your lips tight around her clit.

Her river flowed and flowed. She arched her back and screamed for what all of it was worth. She fell in love with you and you let her dance on the tip of your tongue. You fell in love with her and she let you quench your thirst with her taste. You - two women, from two different lives - fell in love with each other, and you weren’t quite sure how to end that.

You secured her clit in your mouth and sucked as hard as you can. She burst into tears, trying and crying and swearing that she couldn’t handle more but she’d chew off more than what she can stomach, for when the orgasm bubbled in the pit of her stomach, she knew that it was going to be difficult.

“Ma’am, please, I don’t think I can handle it.”

You were sure you were going to suffocate. The hold of her thighs around your neck was deadly.

“No, please make me cum, it’s too much!” She sobbed and rode you harder. “I can’t I can’t I can’t, Ma’am, Mommy-”

And there it ended. With the sudden drumming of your heart you didn’t know how to do it. But it finished itself with your Princess finishing on your face, static shock running through her blood and looking quite lost in her own world.

It happened. The expectation of it did not make it easier. Ronny’s photos reached the school authorities and the students. Every detail was out there in the spotlight. It included how you met, how you admired her from afar, how you were caught smoking suspiciously alone with her.

You were brought in and quietly dismissed. Nobody wanted attention brought to the school already gained by the murders happening. It was an unsafe place, for both your heart and soul. It was just right to leave.

You didn’t get to have a last conversation with Olivia. Afterwards, she simply sat there on the desk with her eyes closed and exhausted. Her head rested on your heart. You could still feel it now, as you sat at home, looking for another job. There was no use tearing up about it. It was wrong from the start and it was wrong now.

A few tears did end up on the black and white ink of the classifieds.

Not a day went by that you didn’t think of Olivia. How was she doing? Was your Princess coping? To be outed like that to what she saw as her world, to be named a slut and villain by her peers . . . it couldn’t be easy. You wanted to apologize to her in some sort of way. It would be to pay back all the good things she’d done for you. She was a good listener, a good student, a good girl. She deserved to be okay.

But how?

The answer came to you one day in the form of an email, from an unknown address but a familiar name:

We broke the rules. How about we and some good friends of mine break more to get even?

You in? ;)

Yours,

Princess

104 notes · View notes

starysky1289 · 1 year ago

Text

Toxic!Soroity!Vanessa X Reader. Meeting.

TW: Drug Mention, Non-Con, Dub-Con, alcohol, toxic relationship

Note: L/N = Last name

The air was turning crisp from the Chang of seasons, you were bundled up in a fuzzy blue sweater your grandma had made you as a collage gift. The campus was huge, you had to speed walk to make it to your English Class.

You entered the large building, heading to your normal classroom, sitting in your usual spot, pulling out your books. You felt someone push behind you, and heard them settle next to you. The bell rung, and the professor walked up to the front of the class, clearing his throat.

“ good evening class. We have a new student in our class, but most certainly not new to the school. Ms.Shelly, why don’t you introduce yourself, I’m sure you don’t need one though. “

Your teacher slightly pointed up near you, looking over it was the person who sat next to your. She was a taller girl, with pale skin and thick blonde locks. She glared down at the professor, she had the iciest blue eyes you had seen.

“ my names Vanessa Shelly, I’m a Law Major, and newly elected president of Kappa Theta, surprisingly the only Sorority house in this stupid college. “

Her voice echoed in the hall, your heart raced, she was strong, intimidating, and beautiful. The Professor scoffed, heading to his desk.

“ it’s good we only have one, we can hardly keep your in control “

“ Watch your mouth. I’ll say some shit you didn’t even know where words. “

Vanessa barked down, before sitting down silently. The professor ignored her, and put the day’s assignments on the white board, it was just some reading and writing, nothing bad. You pulled out your notebook, and flipped through the pages, going back to your short story page, carefully writing your make it fluent.

You hummed, before feeling a nudge on your shoulder. Looking over, it was Vanessa.

“ so. What are we supposed to be doing? “

“ oh, we’re writing our short stories, do you want help with yours? “

“ oh it’s the free period here too? Sweet. “

Vanessa leaned back in her seat, and began to scroll through her phone. You akwardly chuckled, looking back at her.

“ well, uhm no. If you need help I’d be happy too- “

“ don’t. I only do shit if it’s important, like a quiz. “

She side eyed you, before smirking.

“ your pretty cute for a nerd. What’s ya name. “

“ O-Oh! Y/N, Y/N L/N. Why are you in an English class if you’re a law major? “

“ needed the credits. God you are gorgeous~ “

Vanessa held your chin, chuckling slightly. You couldn’t help but blush, feeling yourself grow hot.

“ She’s also my Star Pupil, so I’d be happy if you didn’t infect her “

The professor called up. Embarrassed, you tried to pull back, but Vanessa kept her hold, pulling you even closer.

“ Mind your fucking business asshole. You’re fucking lucky I show up. “

He didn’t even attempt to respond. Vanessa turned her attention back to you, her eyes half lidded, but glistening in the light.

“ Kappa Theta is holding an opening party later, anyone who’s interested to join is welcome. Why don’t you stop by, I’m sure you’d be a delight to have there~ “

“ N-no I couldn’t, I’m not into that stuff. “

“ but your into my stuff, i saw you looking at me..what, do I look good? “

You blushed again, and Vanessa laughed, letting you go. You turned back to your assignment, trying to write again. Vanessa slid you over a small peice of paper with the adress.

“ cmon, dress pretty, you’ll have a amazing time baby~ “

You nodded, finally able to settle down and finish your assignment you were already planning what you should wear, not that you had anything like she wore, but you’d make an attempt.

*~*

You showed up to the address,you could hear the music already blaring from inside the white and pink house. You tugged on your white blouse, and fixing your black legging, before knocking on the door.

The door swung open, a shorter blonde greeted you.

“ heyyy, welcome to Kappa Theta. Names Caroline. Who invited you? “

“ oh uh, hi. I’m Y/N..Vanessa Shelly Invited me. She gave me the address in our English class “

The girl turned around into the house.

“ Hey Nessa! Your English girl is hereee “

You looked into the house, watching as the tall blonde stumbled into the mud room of the house, looking up at you.

“ Y/N~ come on in, I’ve been waiting for you. “

You smiled, nodding at Caroline before heading in, wiping you feet and walking up to Vanessa.

“ hi Vanessa..I hope this is alright, it’s one of the nicest outfits I have. “

“ god don’t you look adorable, I love it. Cmon, you’re my special guest tonight, you can hang out with me. “

Vanessa lead you into the living room, it was a rather large room, two couches, one on each side of the room, a large TV that was playing some sports game, and a few coffee tables that you supposed had been moved around. Vanessa sat down on the larger of the two couches, patting the spot next to her for you to sit.

You sat down next to her, and she pulled you into her, playing with your hair while she watched the party. Vanessa was rather…handsy, but you didn’t mind too much.

“ do you want a drink sweetheart? We practically have every alcohol on earth. “

“ uhm, maybe just a high noon? I’m not too worried about flavor. “

“ HEY, GET MY GIRL A HIGH NOON “

You jumped slightly when Vanessa shouted into the kitchen, a red headed man came out and tossed you the can. You opened it and drank slowly. The room around you blared with music, and lights flashed. It was rather overstimulating, but you stayed quiet. Suddenly, a girl walked up to you two, fidgeting akwardly.

“ h-hey Vanessa do you..got it? “

“ how much you got? “

Vanessa rustled through her purse, the girl infront of you pulled out a wad of cash.

“ Y/N will you count that for me real quick please? “

You nodded, taking the cash, counting quickly, it was all one’s.

“ 50 bucks. “

“ you fucking with me Cindy? “

You looked back up at the girl, Cindy. Her eyes pleaded, you where concerned on what they where taking about, and what she was even trying to buy.

“ your lucky I got a little something. But next time it won’t be this cheep. “

Vanessa tossed a very small bag to Cindy, you could see a loose white powder inside and gasped. When the girl left, you stared at Vanessa.

“ was that crack? “

“ yeah. “

“ You a law major?? Trying to be a lawyer?? “

Vanessa held your chin again, giving you that smile you fell for before.

“ don’t worry about it, no one ever finds out…cmon..relax, it’s a party after all. “

You went quiet, drinking your alcohol again. A horde of girls led into the living room by Caroline,you felt Vanessa grip on your shoulders tighten, and you could see here eyes darken.

“ Vanessa, these…lovely..group of ladies wish to enlist in our lovely sorority. “

“ I see…well..what brings you all to join? “

The girls chuckled amongst themselves, pushing one up to talk for them.

“Well, we just wanna fully enjoy college life, so why not join The Soroity. Is there some initiation or something? “

Vanessa chuckled, standing up. Your stomach twisted with what she’d do, but she seemed so polite, she wouldn’t hurt them, right?

“ yeah, here. “

Vanessa lead the girls into the kitchen, you quickly got up and follow them. Vanessa bent down behind her kitchen island, pulling out 4 bottles of scotch.

“ if yall can finish these off without cheating, you can join. Bailey, make sure you watch them. Let’s go sweetheart “

Vanessa’s tone was harsh, and you followed her back to the couch, sitting with her again. You stomach twisted at the thought of drinking that much scotch.

“ are you gonna make me do that? “

“ no, never! You’re my honorary member, besides, those girls won’t get past the second bottle. No one ever does. Well, no freshman does. “

Vanessa wrapped her arm around you shoulder, her other hand on your thigh. You hated to admit it, but you liked her, she was gorgeous, and she clearly liked you. You never let anyone touch you as much as she was touching you.

“ soo…Y/N…have you ever..been touched? “

Vanessa asked softly, making small circles with her finger nail on your thighs. You chuckled, glancing off.

“ no..n-not by someone else…”

“ but have you touched yourself~? “

You felt embarrassment rush through your veins, you gripped your blouse again, before letting yourself nod.

“ w-when my roommate’s not home..”

“ yeah? What do you do? You seem like you love a bit of grinding~ “

You squeezed your legs together, burring your face in your hands. You hated this feeling, but it burned in your stomach, it made you feel something, and you’ve never felt like it before.

“ aww..don’t be flustered beautiful…I haven’t had anyone else touch me either, only my own two fingers..and maybe a toy or two~ “

She pulled you closer to her, sitting you on her lap. She traced her fingers up and down your waist, eyeing your chest.

“Cmon…tell me beautiful~ “

“ I-i..I grind on my pillow when my roommate’s not there…sometimes I just m-m…masterbait..”

“ fuck..”

Vanessa pulled you in and kissed you deeply, running her fingers messily through your hair. You pulled back quickly, your heart raced from the rush of the kiss.

“ come on baby…you know you want it…I can take such good care. “

You contemplated the options, you hadn’t had such a feeling ever. You pushed yourself back into her, kissing her gently. She smirked, gripping your hips as she kissed you harder.

“ how about me and you head upstairs…let me take care of that body of yours…”

You only answered in a nod, and Vanessa was dragging you through the living room, and up the stairs. She lead you into the her room, it was painted pink, with a large bed in the middle. A white vanity was on one side, and a large cabinet on the other side, along with posters and other things around the room. She pushed you into the bed, pulling off your blouse and tossing it aside. She pulled your bra off aswell, putting it specifically on her vanity.

“ fuck..look at those tits…”

She began to fondle you, dragging her thumbs gently across each nipple. You whimpered slightly, and she laughed

“ don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you…”

She turned around and stripped off her top and bra, tossing them both near your blouse. She began to work down her skirt, before stopping, turning to you.

“ you wanna help me get these off~? “

You quickly nodded, reaching up to the waistband and slowly pulling them down, admiring her panties. She chuckled, teasingly playing with her waistband.

“ cmon L/N…these too “

You pulled them down at her, practically panting at the sight of her pussy only a few inches from your face.

“ good girl~ now let me get yours. “

Vanessa pushed you down, pulling off your leggings and panties at once. She put your panties ontop of your bra, and threw the leggings aside. Finally, you two sat in the silence of the room, starting at eachothers nude bodies.

“ well, I won’t waste anymore time. Sit still. “

Vanessa turned, digging through her vanity. You watched her grab something, and slide something up her legs. She turned around, she wore a bright pink strap. You blushed profusely, looking away entirely. Vanessa pushed you down, and kissed up your neck, biting down on your shoulders and leaving hickeys on every open part of your skin from your neck down.

“ oh so beautiful…god I’ll enjoy this…”

“ n-Nessa please be gentle…I-I’ve never taken something like this. “

She quickly covered your mouth with her palm, growling into your ear.

“ stay fucking quiet, your mine right now…the only noises I want to hear coming from you are moans. “

Vanessa held your legs open, dragging the tip through your folds, before plunging in. You let out a moan of pleasure, and immediately gripped the bedsheets. Vanessa thrusted into you, her pelvis hitting you with a wet slap.

“ god..for a fucking virgin you sure are soaking. .”

She hooked your legs over her shoulders, and thrusted into you harder, keeping her steady pace while also ruining you. Tears had already began to swell in your eyes, the size was ripping you apart, your moans were practically screams of pleasure mixed with pain.

“ v-Vanessa! Oh god I-it hurts!! I can’t do this..I can’t please s-stop! “

She ignored you, instead thrusting into you harder, faster, deeper. Her fingers gripped your waist, leaving dark bruises from the pressure, her nails leaving marks just above the bruises.

“ Fuck. Fuck your good. God you..pathetic fucking whore …”

“ Vanessa p-please!! I can’t do this please please please stop!! I can’t I can’t do this “

You felt the sting of a slap on your ass, and with a few finally aggressive thrusts, you cum. Your moans are ruined, you can hardly control your own breathing. She pulled out for a moment, panting, before grinding through your folds again.

“ n-no…please n-not again…”

“ you won’t even feel it after your third round..now be a good girl for me and shut up. “

And with a single thrust, you were moaning again, gripping to the sheets again, looking up at the face who only moments ago was looking at you with such love. It was going to be a long night.

*~*

The sun peaked through the blinds, and made you awake. You shot up, panting, holding the covered over your nude body. You could hardly remeber last night, only that you had to of been 6 rounds deep before you were absolutely screaming for her to stop. Vanessa was stil asleep next to you. You got up quickly, grabbing your phone from your leggings pocket, you missed two of your classes already, and actively late in English.

“ fuck fuck I’m dead- I’m dead- “

You turned to grab your undergarments from the vanity, but they were missing, she must of moved them somewhere. You didn’t have time to deal with that, you slowly slid the leggings and blouse back on. You could still see hickeys and bruises around you neck, you quickly turned to her cabinet, digging through and grabbing the first full hoodie you could find, throwing it on. You then slid your shoes on, and dashed out the front door, not even caring to look back.

You ran down through the campus, skidding into your English class, moments too late. The dismissal bell had rung, you had missed one of your most important classes.

“ Ms L/N. I wasn’t to shocked to see you missed. I already emailed your other professors and said you had slept in late and had gotten sick, sit. “

Your professor spoke, point towards the chair near his desk. You sat, guilt ate at you like a dog who hadn’t been fed in days.

“ you went to that party, didn’t you. “

“ she wanted me to…I didn’t know what was going to happen. “

“ what did happen, Ms L/N. “

You stayed quiet. You didn’t know what she’d do if you told, but you didn’t want to find out.

“ we know what happens. I will tell you now, Ms L/N. She is a parasite, and she has latched on. You need to stop seeing her if you have any chance off successfully graduating in three years “

“ but I just missed today! And trust me I’m really sorry, but it won’t happen again, I promise! “

Your professor stood up sighing, heading towards the door to let you go.

“ you have a bright future, don’t let her ruin it. Have a good day Y/N, you are excused from the rest of the classes. “

You got up and walked out, she couldn’t be that bad, right? Sure, she was a bit aggressive last night, but she was drunk and into it.

You made your way back to your dorm room, stopping suddenly, Vanessa and another girl stood infront of the dorm building chatting. She must of woke up when you left earlier.

“ Oh, Y/N, there are are…in my 80 dollar hoodie. “

You went quiet, trying to walk through them. She grabbed you by the hood, pulling you into her.

“ you took my virginity last night, i think the hoodie is a good trade off. “

You mutter, they both burst out laughing. Vanessa held your face, kissing you gently, you felt her put something around your wrist. Looking down, it was a bright pink scrunchie

“ here you go~ now you’ll wear this everywhere you go, and everyone will know your mine~ “

“ y-yours? “

“ well yeah. You’re my pretty little girlfriend now..we’re going out to lunch later so I can show you off to everyone…you’ll be good and come, won’t you~? “

You swallowed the air in your lungs, and nodded. Vanessa smirked, and let you go. You hurried to your dorm room, and threw off the hoodie. The scrunchie felt like a chain on your wrist. You were hers, like she said last night.

You’d make it work. Shed get better, everything would be alright.

#vanessa shelly #five nights at freddy's #vanessa shelly x reader #sorority!vanessa #tw toxic relationship #toxic!vanessa #tw: drug mention #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #tw alcohol

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