#like the fact I need to sit in a psych classroom again or my brain might just melt

[dr-lizortecho]

reasons I’m not allowed nice things, I am currently playing around with echo and their sex life, idk if any of y’all have noticed, but like the concept that instead of solidified d/s they are just people who have sex that sometimes leans those directions chaotically within it which had of course opened up a whole conversation (in my head) about Liz’s sexuality and how she expresses it- because she is of course capable of bottoming, but not for the sake of it, that would be barring herself- it a vulnerability, a lack of control, so it can only exist within a trusting and loving dynamic that’s full of understanding of her and in turn her understanding of the other, because like how Max’s trauma somehow coalesced to being giving up control but maintaining bodily autonomy he could just as easily developed a preference for the aspect of control, so like all of this to say- thinking about the psychology of sexuality, specifically in regards to these two and how they can shift their apparent immediate preferences by just loving each other so much and opening up channels of communication and even maybe use the ability to switch to workout some of their specific control issues and create a better balance in their lives

[liillyliilly]

Mind Games

iwaizumi hajime x reader words; 14055 synopsis; Whether by fate or luck, they had always been seated right next to each other. Every year, they were desk-mates. She liked to play Go, a game that used a lot of mental planning and strategy. He did not like the way his own brain played games with him, psyching him out every time he was near her. It's just too bad that she's dating one of her club members, leaving Iwaizumi to spend too much time in his own head.

She always thought he was mildly bothersome. The same guy that arm wrestled on her table, when she had the full intention of playing Go instead. Maybe if she had been a part of the chess team instead this all could’ve been prevented. That way she could’ve spent lunchtime with them instead of solely with her strange, but still sweet, best friend.

She focused back to the issue at hand.

“Iwaizumi Hajime, this is my table too.” She shook her box that had the black and white stones she spent so many hours playing with, capturing and expanding territory in the classical intellectual game of Go. Ito Yuuta was hovering around the door, waiting to be invited inside the classroom to join her in their game from yesterday. She had a picture of the board and needed to set it up again the way it had been left.

He just slammed down another kid with his arm, getting patted on the back by one of his fellow club members. “Ah, yeah, my bad, sorry. Truly.” Iwaizumi’s face was red, and she thinks that maybe arm wrestling was more intensive than it appeared.

He ushered the group of boys to clean their stuff off the table so she could set her board down on the desk in the classroom. Sometimes it irked her how much he would neglect to acknowledge that the set of desks right next to each other were not in fact, both of his to utilize in activities between classes. She had a claim to her desk and he had a claim to his desk. That’s all there was to it.

Every year, without fail, when she picked a charm before school started, she always got the Unlucky charm. That unluckiness manifested in the personage that was Iwaizumi, because every year, since elementary school, he had been her seatmate. Iwaizumi himself wasn’t mean or rude, he just lacked a sense of personal space. Especially regarding their desk situation.

She supposes that her family name may have played a role in the seating charts, but even midway through the year when desks were shuffled, she always sat next to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi was really nice though, she did have to admit. And while they weren’t best friends, or extremely close, she did have to admit that she enjoyed his presence more often than not, so she enjoyed the friendship she had with Iwaizumi.

She sat down at her desk, laying out the board and starting to set up the stones. She noticed Ito still awkwardly standing on the threshold of the room, and she waved him over. He pulled around a chair so the two of them were sitting knee to knee around the Go board.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa were already out in the hallway, heading downstairs, aiming to go outside to the tables that were out there. Matsukawa was folding bills in his hands, collecting money from other boys who thought they could beat Iwaizumi. Hanamaki was chewing on a stick of licorice. When the duo noticed that Iwaizumi wasn’t behind them, they turned around.

Only to see Iwaizumi outside the room, but still keeping his head in the room. It looked silly to Hanamaki, to see Iwaizumi almost splayed out against the wall trying to balance while he was trying to watch what was happening in the classroom he had previously occupied.

“Oi! Hajime! I have three guys lined up for you still, hurry!” Matsukawa’s deep timbre broke Iwaizumi out of his trance, as he turned on his heel to catch up with his friends.

Hanamaki glanced at Matsukawa, then back to Iwaizumi who had his hands tucked into his pockets, slouching a little.

Matsukawa caught wind of what Hanamaki was trying to get him to notice, and Matsukawa tucked the bills into his back pocket. Hanamaki decided to instigate a titch, talking over Iwaizumi and making eye contact with Matsukawa.

“She’s really irritating. Thinking she can just kick us out of the classroom.” Hanamaki clocked how Iwaizumi’s shoulders stiffened.

Matsukawa gave a lazy grin, “Yeah, and her infant of a boyfriend is such a twerp, lurking around the room so he can play with her.”

“Not to mention, the school does way too much for her. I mean, what’s a couple of Go championships have on true athletics?”

Iwaizumi stopped dead in his tracks, the three of them right near the exit to go outside. Hanamaki and Matsukawa took a few more steps until Iwaizumi spoke, “You bastards are so rude, did you know that? Screw human decency and shove it all off I guess? You’re both on par with Shittykawa himself.” He waved his hand in irritation and had a scowl on his face.

He pushed past them and sat down at a table with a thud, putting his forehead on the table and clasping his hands over the back of his head. He was bouncing his knee anxiously, enjoying the way the cold outdoors air cooled down the flush on his face.

Today it was how she had said his full name, just hearing his given name on her tongue had his heart stuttering.

Hanamaki chuckled, “Caught him.”

Matsukawa snickered, “Hook, line and sinker Hiro.”

“Great game Issei, we should do it again sometime soon.” Hanamaki held his fist out, and Matsukawa gave it a solid bump.

“Sooner rather than later, he’s so boring when he’s lovestruck and down bad like this. How many years has it been now?”

“I’ve counted four, but I think he’s liked her since they first met.”

Oikawa strutted outside, putting a hand on each of their shoulders, “What are you two plotting this time?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.” Hanamaki throws up the middle finger in Oikawa’s direction as he and Matsukawa walk to go sit with Iwaizumi.

Oikawa throws his hands up into the air and rolls his eyes. “You guys can’t make jokes like that because my mom restricts my internet access.” He groans before jogging over to his friends.

Back inside the classroom, while Ito had picked up his black stone and was thinking about which notch to play it on, she glanced outside the window. She already knew what her next three plays would be regardless of where Ito had placed his stone. The cool wind from the open window next to her desk was always pleasant. The flowers were just beginning to blossom again after a particularly cold winter.

Even though she and Iwaizumi shared a desk partnership, he always asked the teacher if they could swap who was sitting by the window. She asked him about why he liked sitting on the outside of their desks, rather than the inner side by the wall and the windows.

He hadn’t even really given her an answer, he just stuttered and shoved his hands into his pockets. She had offered him an answer, asking him if he just preferred the elbow room from sitting near the aisle. He nodded furiously before running a hand through his spiky black hair and accidentally getting a strand of hair stuck on a ring he had been wearing.

“Just freeze.” She had told him. The bell had rung for a passing period for teachers to change classes and for students to stretch their legs. Iwaizumi’s hand was still stuck to his hair. She leaned over a little, not needing to do much to get closer due to their desk arrangement.

Her knees were brushing against his thigh, and she reached up into his hair to try and solve the puzzle of disconnecting his ring from his hair. The ring was a clunky metal one, on his ring finger. She finally saw where the hair had gotten snagged on one of the sharp curves of his ring.

She gently tugged his hand out of the ring, so both his hands were free but the ring was still in his hair. She spent another few seconds untangling his hair and got the ring free.

“There we go.” She tossed the ring into the air before catching it again. She smiled and held the ring out on her palm for Iwaizumi to grab. He was still frozen. His hands were toying with a different ring on his other hand. “Hello?”

He shook his head before grabbing the ring. Letting out a gruff, but surprisingly earnest, “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem.” She turned her head back around so she could look outside, the snow coating the ground and layering over the trees. She sighed a little, reaching out to draw shapes on the cold glass that was fogging up slightly in the corner.

Unbeknownst to her, Iwaizumi let out a deep sigh as well. He had laid his arm out on his desk, resting his head on it as he looked up at her slightly. He was observing the way her face seemed to focus on the snowflakes outside the room and the way her pointer finger gently glided over the glass of the window.

That’s why he liked to sit on the outside. He could pretend he was looking out the window as well, when he was really just looking at her.

The smell of flowers brought her to attention, as well as Ito’s stone making a click on the Go board and him saying, “Your move.”

She held the white ceramic playing piece in her hand, rolling the heavy toy along her palm with her fingers. She saw Iwaizumi on the bench, getting poked by his friends as he lifted an arm to try and defend himself from getting prodded. Then someone she didn’t know came around and sat opposite to Iwaizumi, rolling up his sleeve. She lost interest quickly after that.

She sat down the stone, capturing several of Ito’s and he made a short whimper sound at losing so much traction in the game. She picked up his pieces and put them in the side bowl reserved for his captured stones. Her next two moves went identically, and their short one hour game, from both yesterday and today, had ended the same way most her other games went, with her winning.

“Sorry Yuuta, maybe tomorrow you’ll have better luck.”

Yuuta scoffed, “Yeah right, I’m glad we don’t play in the same division for a reason.”

He started cleaning up the pieces and putting them back into her opened box, arranging the bowls of stones where they went and sealing lids over the bowls.

“Any luck on finding another member for next year? You can’t have a Go club with just one player.”

“My brother will come here next year, he’ll be in the club.”

She crosses her leg, chewing on her bottom lip, “Anyone else? Maybe you could aim for two new members next year?”

“Face it, Go isn’t popular at this school, despite your best efforts, and all the awards you rake in. If we went somewhere like Shiratorizawa or a different prep school then maybe the story would be different.” Ito slung his backpack over his shoulder, standing up right as the bell rang.

She grabbed his hand before he left, “Thank you, really. You’re the best vice captain a girl could ask for Yuuta.”

Ito rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in a friendly gesture.

“Well, anything for you.”

She smiled as Yuuta carefully slid past Iwaizumi who was making his way to his seat next to her.

“How tall is he?”

She was still getting her math textbook out of her desk. Iwaizumi assumed maybe she hadn’t heard him, so he repeated his words, “How tall is he?”

She looked at Iwaizumi and pointed at herself, he nodded.

“How tall is Yuuta?” She repeated, making sure her understanding was correct.

“Yeah, how tall is he?”

“Like 193 centimeters I think? He had this crazy growth spurt these past couple of months.” She laid her book out, opened to the page the teacher was writing on the board. “Why?”

“No reason.” Iwaizumi knew why he had asked. Iwaizumi was barely cutting it at 179.3 centimeters, but there went her boyfriend who was almost a full fourteen centimeters taller than him. He shoved his hand into his desk, looking for his pen case. “Damn it.”

“What is it?” She had her plastic gel pen in her mouth, lightly between her teeth while she waited for class to officially start. Iwaizumi gulped a little at the way her lips were pressed against the body of the pen.

“I left my pencil at home. I have my pens, I just can’t do math in a pen.”

She nodded, closing her mouth around the pen, she reached into her pencil case and handed Iwaizumi a simple wooden pencil from her bag. She gave the pencil a slight shake in front of Iwaizumi.

He accepted it after a moment, muttering thanks.

When she smiled as a response to his gratitude the pen in her mouth dropped to the ground. Iwaizumi, without much thinking, bent down to pick it up for her. She, also without much thought, also bent down to pick up her pen. When they hit their heads against each other, she let out a soft ouch and rubbed the top of her head.

“My gods I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think,” Iwaizumi cringed internally, how much longer could he keep going like this, stammering and not even being able to get out a full length sentence. He was supposed to be a third year student for heaven’s sake. His ears were already burning and he fully believed he was going to get a lasting permanent burn from how hot the blood was that rushed to his ears.

She told him not to worry, that there wasn’t anything to apologize for, but she kept rubbing her head, trying to use sensory overload so that the pain wouldn’t be as bad. “It’s fine. Class is starting, let’s just focus, okay?”

He could, decidedly so, not focus. Especially not when she kept putting that stupid pen in her mouth, the worst part was when she took it out of her mouth to write down a note or to finish solving a problem and his brain was filtering in a pop sound each time her lips opened. He had to rub his face in his hand every time he caught himself drifting over to her instead of the chalkboard up in the front of the room.

Her perfume was light, but he was so tuned into her that he practically absorbed the scent. It was just a silly vanilla smell, but he was almost tripping over himself each time she moved her head and he could smell the scent from her neck just a bit better.

Iwaizumi was always glad that he went to the first day of school at least an hour early. Maybe it was slightly manipulative, maybe he was trying to weigh the scale in his favor, but he didn’t care. The teachers were always so oddly receptive to his request too.

Each new year, starting in the first year of middle school, he went to his homeroom teacher early and asked to be placed next to her. He knew that in middle school the seating chart wouldn’t be solely based on a family name basis, so his chances of losing out on sitting next to her would reduce drastically.

The first time he had had the conversation with the teacher it went something vaguely akin to him pleading and then the teacher taking pity on Iwaizumi and agreeing to the seating arrangement.

After that first year, that same homeroom teacher contacted the second year homeroom teacher he was going to have. The teacher had simply said, “If you want to be thoroughly entertained, then you need to sit him next to her. I’ve never been more engaged during study hall than watching him try and befriend her.”

Iwaizumi wasn’t aware, but when the jump from middle school to high school was made, all three of his homeroom teachers had personally contacted his first year of high school teacher and had collectively bargained for him- just so that he could be sat next to her.

And now, while Iwaizumi was struggling to solve this equation during the ten minute practice period in the middle of class, the math teacher was watching him extremely closely.

So what if all the teachers at Aoba Johsai that had Iwaizumi had a group chat, and so what if they shared any sort of progress details he had made. So what if they got mad when a different boy tried to talk to her during passing periods when Iwaizumi was struggling to find a reason not to leave his desk so he could stay near her. Adults were allowed some form of entertainment as well.

The day came to a close at Aoba Johsai High School, and she was busy packing up her stuff, having to pull everything out so she could take her Go board home. Typically she would leave it in her locker, but she wanted to polish some of the stones, so she would take it home today.

Ito Yuuta and Hanamaki Takahiro both made their way to her classroom after the final bell had rung. Ito let Hanamaki enter the room before he followed suit.

Hanamaki slumped down in Iwaizumi’s seat, resting his feet on the desk. She just raised an eyebrow and finished Tetris-ing her bag. She looked to Ito who just shrugged but held up his phone, which communicated to her that Ito would text her later about whatever it was he wanted to say. Hanamaki watched as Ito left the room, then leaned back into the chair and rubbed his mouth with his hand.

“Yes? Is there something I can do for you Hanamaki?” She put her hand on her hip and lolled her head around to look him in the eyes.

“Listen.” Hanamaki starts, and she nods , zipping up her bag. “So, I don’t know if you know this, but us volleyball third years are absolutely trash at English. Iwaizumi more than the rest of us.”

She continued nodding, she thought that Iwaizumi was doing particularly well in English, having seen his test grades when papers and exams were handed back. But she supposes maybe not if Hanamaki is telling her this.

“I’d like to be the one to invite you to a study session at Iwaizumi’s house this weekend, it’s a sort of sleep-over situation, but his dad will be home the whole weekend so no need to worry sweetheart. Oikawa and Matsukawa will also be there. It should be fun.”

She pauses for a moment, slowly putting her backpack on. “Can I bring a friend?”

Hanamaki takes his feet off the desk, wiping away the dirt that fell from his shoes onto the desk. “Tall curly brunette that sits with you at lunch?” He posed.

“Ito, yes.” It was a wonder that Hanamaki could befriend anyone she thinks, he’s all bite and no bark.

“Yeah, no. There’s only so many extra futon mattresses.”

“I could bring an extra?” She begins to walk out of the classroom, needing to get home to start polishing her Go materials if she wanted them ready by the tournament. She never used her personal board, it was just a naturalistic routine to get her into the right mindset.

Hanamaki chuckles, “That’s not how this whole sleepover thing works.”

“Okay, well, why me? There’s plenty of other people I would assume you guys want to hang out with over me. I’ve never even loaned you a pencil before Hanamaki. I don’t even have your number.”

“Leave it all to me, just say you’ll come.”

What harm did it do to help these poor boys out before midterms?

“Sure, this Saturday then?”

“Yes. I’ll text you. See you there!”

Hanamaki hustled out of the classroom, getting outside quicker than she could stage an invasion on her opponent's side of the board when playing Go.

She settled into the reality that boys are weird and that she was the only sane person in the universe.

Iwaizumi was pulling his hair out as Hanamaki ate a bag of chips in his living room.

“You did not.” Iwaizumi began to pace back and forth, entirely dumbfounded that his supposed friend would go out of his way to craft a fake tutoring session that would last all night. A full twelve plus hours of her, plus it would be at his house, plus there would be pajamas involved. “I can’t believe you told her that all of our hang outs require pajamas as the attire.”

Iwaizumi dragged a hand across his face.

Hanamaki shrugged, shoving a handful of potato chips into his mouth, then speaking while the chewed up bits of food were still in his teeth, “Don’t lie to yourself, you’re glad that this is happening. You’re glad that I just crafted the perfect catalyst for you to make out with her under the stars. Also, you getting to see what kind of pajamas she wears ought to earn me some Hajime brownie points.”

Iwaizumi lifted his hands up, “I hate you so much. Genuinely, you’re the worst. She knows I’m decent at English too, Hiro, she knows that something is up.”

Hanamaki rolls his eyes and tosses the empty bag away, patting his stomach, “Do you have licorice?”

“Yeah, cupboard.”

Hanamaki throws up his thumb and goes into the kitchen to acquire his third snack since arriving at Iwaizumi’s house twenty minutes ago.

Since today was Thursday, he still had Friday to try and reverse any damage that Hanamaki had caused.

On Friday, during lunch, he decided to stay inside and eat in the classroom. She had brought a lunch from home and was reading a book, her elbow resting on her desk- holding her thick book, and her other hand had her chopsticks lifting bits of rice and chicken into her mouth intermittently.

Iwaizumi scanned for her boyfriend. Then he realized that her boyfriend would probably know all about her going over to his house on Saturday, so maybe she would gently let Iwaizumi down and tell him that her boyfriend said she couldn’t tutor his rowdy group of friends this weekend.

“Can I sit here?” He grabbed the back of his chair, balancing his tray in his other hand.

She chuckles, using one hand to put her bookmark where she had left off in the book, setting the book down in the corner of her desk. “That’s your desk, it would be weird if I said you couldn’t sit there.”

He chuckles just like she had, nodding in agreement.

He thinks about what to say to her, but can’t find the words, so he resigns to sipping on his carton of apple juice.

“You don’t normally eat in the classroom, what’s the reason for your change in behavior?”

He liked that she talked slightly strangely, sometimes she would say things in a long round-about way instead of simply using basic phrases to convey her thoughts. He liked it because he could hear her voice for just a bit longer.

Iwaizumi shrugs, taking a bite of the salmon on his plate.

“Well, it’s nice to see a fellow athlete appreciating the calm that is a classroom during lunch.” She smiles.

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow, and without much thought, inserts a statement that triggers her, “Go isn’t really a sport though.”

She dropped her chopsticks, clattering to the ground. He feels like the most inconsiderate imbecile ever to walk the earth. He prayed to the gods to just relieve him of the pain of having such a thick skull.

“Iwaizumi, I will make you eat your words because Go is the most intensive mind sport there is in the entire world and you will see how difficult it is once you play one match with me.” She realizes that it really isn’t that serious, but it felt like an insult to her passion. She knew that he likely didn’t have any sort of foul intention with his words, he just didn’t understand Go the way that she did.

“Bring your Go board then, on Saturday.” Iwaizumi almost visibly winces. His whole goal in eating lunch at his desk had been to diffuse the idea of a sleepover, but here he was, actively encouraging it. Subconscious thoughts and desires crept up on him like a sort of rain, pittering down slowly, and as you watch the small dark dots appearing on the ground, suddenly you’re soaked from head to toe. In this case, his deep yearning to spend time with her manifested in encouraging Hanamaki’s criminal approach to matchmaking.

“I will then, and you’ll see what a real athlete looks like, an athlete of the mind.” She taps her temple a few times, grabbing her chopsticks from the ground and saying she’s going to go wash them.

Iwaizumi shudders. He had a lot of cleaning to do to prepare for Saturday.

When he got home, he started with the living room and then worked his way out to all the other areas of his house.

His dad, Haruo, appreciated the cleanliness when he got home from work, but seeing his teenage son scrubbing the floor vigorously on his hands and knees might have been overkill for the older man.

“Hajime, what are you doing?”

“I’m having friends over on Saturday night, they’ll leave Sunday morning.” He wipes some sweat from his forehead before going back to his rag and scrubbing in a circular motion.

“It’s just your buddies, what’s all the cleaning for? They all practically live here anyway, they know what a sty it can be here.” Haruo dropped his bag on the coat hanger, kicked his shoes off in the walkway, and stepped up to enter the main living portion of his house.

Haruo looked at the family photos on the wall along the hallway to the main living room, seeing a toothless Hajime being held by his late wife, Hana. He put two fingers to his lips before pressing the fingers to her face through the glass of the frame. Haruo whispered a quick, ‘love you’ before focusing on Hajime again.

“It’s not just Hiro and Issei and Tooru.”

“Oh, do tell? That junior of yours who came around once? The one with the bleached hair? He kind of looks like a puppy?” Haruo sat on the couch, surprised that Hajime had also cleaned the fabric cases of the couch cushions.

Iwaizumi let out a deep sigh, “You know that girl from middle school?”

How could Haruo forget her?

“And you want her over here? With all your friends?”

“Believe me, I was not the coordinator for this.”

Haruo laughed, a deep humor from his chest. He needed to sleep, work had been hard, but he was glad that he had spent some time talking to his son. As he walked to his bedroom, he ruffled Iwaizumi’s hair.

Iwaizumi had finished cleaning around ten at night, stretching his back and scratching the back of his neck, he looked around the house. He applauded himself on having done a good job cleaning. It would be Saturday tomorrow, and he didn’t know if he was stressed from the anxiety of her being around or the excitement of her being around.

Iwaizumi went into the hallway to grab his house slippers, when he stopped at the picture frames. His dad always touched the one of his mom holding him when he was an infant, so there was slight discoloration on the glass right where his mom’s face was.

His dad knew who she was, because she was the only one to come to their house besides Oikawa Tooru during his entire second year of middle school.

She had come with a bouquet of flowers, of lilies.

Iwaizumi remembers that entire day much too vividly for comfort.

He had needed to go back to school after missing it for almost three whole weeks. His mom’s funeral had been the week prior. Staying in the hospital for one full week while she was slowly dying had crushed Iwaizumi’s soul. There isn’t much that you can do for someone once they get ovarian cancer.

He had cried so much when his mom told him that she wouldn’t be doing any more chemotherapy or treatments the month before she died. He had begged her to just try one more, but she had to find a way to gently tell her son that she wanted her quality of life in her last days to be something less painful than if she had undergone various chemical treatments.

“Mom, just one more. You can fight this.” Iwaizumi was tugging on her hand. His dad was sitting on the opposite side of the room, crouched into himself with his shoulders heaving and stuttering from the silent cries he was letting out. “Why won’t you just fight a little more. For me, you won’t even fight for me?”

Iwaizumi had looked to his dad for back up, but was said was done.

“Hajime, you don’t understand now, but you’ll understand later. Please just don’t be mad.” Hana, his beloved mother, was trying to soothe him by gently rubbing his hand with hers.

“I’m not mad, I just want you to try. You say that I don’t understand, and I really don’t, but I do know that you can fight a little more.” He looked into his mom’s olive colored eyes, “Please mom. Please.”

When she frowned sadly, Iwaizumi just cried, wrapping his arms around his mom and getting her hospital gown wet with tears.

The week after her funeral procession, Iwaizumi felt alone. Not even Oikawa could do anything to relieve the pain of losing a parent. No one could do anything.

And at the ripe age of fourteen, she understood that as well. Iwaizumi’s seatmate. Maybe she felt like she needed to do something, because she had missed the way Iwaizumi would steal her eraser without asking, or the way that he’d been gone for so long. Her desk felt empty without Iwaizumi there. So when he returned, but as the shell of himself, she knew she had to find some way to show that she cared.

She couldn’t take away pain, but she could mourn with him. That’s a lesson her own parents had taught her. A friend who mourns with you, is a friend for life. When you mourn with those who mourn, you are honoring those who passed and those that still live with that pain.

It was during lunch, and the teacher had said that everyone would need to leave the classroom for lunch, letting Iwaizumi stay inside the classroom by himself.

That was the only time she broke the rules. When she snuck away from the cafeteria, and went into that empty classroom.

He had his head on his desk, bento left unopened. His body would sometimes tighten and shake, trying to hold back audible cries.

Silent cries were always more painful than loud wails she thought. A silent cry carries a sense of belonging to the agony and a consistent resistance against peace. A loud cry is a relief, you can let go when you cry and people can hear you. But when a person cries silently, they hold in their pain and won’t let anyone share the burden of it.

She opened the door, stepping into the classroom. The overhead lights seemed too bold, too cruel, too unloving for this moment.

She sat down, and began to eat her lunch. She didn’t say anything, she just kept eating and chewing.

Iwaizumi had been upset that she came into the room.

“What the hell do you want?” He was facing away from her, head still on his desk. She was sitting face forward, at her desk. It annoyed her that he was being so curt. She had to let it go, realizing his reaction was more likely out of his sorrow than actual intent to be mean to her specifically.

“I want to mourn with you.”

“Oh, shut up. You don’t know anything.”

“I don’t. But I’m here. I’ll leave if you want me to.” She drank from her water bottle.

Iwaizumi cried in a small voice, she could hear it this time. “She didn’t want to fight anymore.”

The way his words cracked in his throat. The way he lifted his head to make eye contact with her. The way his face was morphed into a shadow of who he was supposed to be.

She started crying when his first tear fell straight from his eye to the space between their desks. She just hugged him. At first, he resisted, trying to break out of the hold. But then he could hear the way her heart pounded in her ribcage.

He hugged her back and had his face in her neck.

It was thirty minutes of crying, some minutes went by quieter than others.

But tears dry up eventually.

“What do you think my mom’s life looks like without me? Can she still hear my voice? Is she watching down on me?” Iwaizumi had rubbed his eyes raw, leaving red everywhere he had touched.

“I think that she’s all around you.” Iwaizumi clenched his jaw, but she kept going. “Even though you can’t hear her or see her, she’s there. She’ll always be there for you.”

“Why did you come?” Iwaizumi started eating his food, extremely small bites, but bites nonetheless.

“I told you earlier. I came to mourn.” She gives Iwaizumi her bowl of chicken broth, and he tries to push it away, but she insists, and he downs it before continuing to speak. She wanted to settle the issue, but he bothered her with more insistence.

“No really, you could’ve just ignored me, just let everything go. But you came.”

“You’re stubborn. I’ve known you for almost three years now, and you’re stubborn. But also, your heart is so sensitive. You take in everything and hold it close. I figured you might need someone who you can express everything too without having to put on a face of composure.”

After school, she had bought lilies from the farmer’s market.

She had asked Oikawa Tooru how to get to Iwaizumi’s house, and Oikawa drew a map for her.

When she had gotten to the door, she tucked the map into her pocket and knocked gently.

Iwaizumi Haruo, the man who had just lost his wife, the mother of his son, saw this sweet kid holding a neatly wrapped bouquet of lilies. She was bowing deeply, holding the flowers out for him to take. Haruo had hesitantly accepted the flowers, and she bowed again.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to help.” She couldn’t have been any more mature for her age, Haruo had thought. Hajime had turned the corner in his house, finally seeing that she was at the door.

And for the first time in a really long time, Iwaizumi Hajime had smiled.

Saturday came soon enough, and Iwaizumi was dressed in his school uniform. Which in hindsight might not have been the most optimal outfit choice when Hanamaki, Matsukawa, and Oikawa came barreling in wearing their pajamas and dumping their stuff in the middle of the living space

Oikawa just rubbed the space in between his eyebrows, “Iwa-chan, why are you wearing school clothes? You know it’s a Saturday right? This is supposed to be a pajama thing.” Oikawa tugged on his Hello Kitty bottoms, demonstrating to Iwaizumi what attire was supposed to be worn.

Matsukawa had turned on the radio, playing GOT7’s “If You Do”. When Iwaizumi asked what Matsukawa was doing, he replied with, “Playing music to set the mood. It’s a song about being desperate for a girl. You know, your whole pining thing you got going on. I thought that my music choice would’ve made for sense, but you’re just oblivious.”

Iwaizumi slapped Matsukawa upside the head, clicking his tongue.

“How much money to enact your little scheme today?” Hanamaki inspected his fingernails, lounging on Iwaizumi’s couch in his living room.

“How much money? You’ve got to be kidding me here Hiro. Shittykawa make this man see reason.” Iwaizumi directed Oikawa’s attention to Hanamaki, but Oikawa just shrugged.

“I don’t know Iwa-chan, if you really liked her then you’d be willing to pay Hiro for his services.”

“Hiro’s going to simply befriend one of her friends under the guise of him having a crush, then find out everything about her for me. That falls under friend duties.”

Matsukawa rolled his eyes, “Iwaizumi you sound crazy, just ask her to hang out one on one, we have like what? Three months left of school? Muster up some of your Ace energy and confess. I’m tired of you acting like your own personal cock-block for these last four agonizing years.”

Oikawa looked at Matsukawa incredulously, “Four years? Nah, Iwa-chan’s been whipped for like at least six years at least. I really don’t understand why, she’s not-”

Iwaizumi threw a sock at Oikawa that he had hastily taken off his foot while balancing on one leg. “Finish that sentence and I’ll shove the other sock down your mouth.”

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Iwaizumi was too engrossed in continuing to insult Oikawa to notice. Hanamaki giggled, then he wiped the pleased expression off his face, “Sorry Iwa, me and Issei got to get back to my house for dinner, my mom is making curry tonight, be back later.”

Oikawa remembered the other plan, the one that Hanamaki had made a separate group chat for last night, rushing to say his part, “I have to take Takeru to that new kid’s movie, I’ll be back around ten.”

“What the hell, I thought we were hanging out.” Iwaizumi lifted up his shirt, planning to change into a tank top. Only once his shirt was entirely off, did Hanamaki open the front door.

She was standing right there, holding both a Go board and the English textbook. “Hanamaki? Matsukawa? Oikawa?” She took a step back, letting the boys exit Iwaizumi’s house as they all told her to have a good time while giving their various excuses why they had to leave. When she took a step forward, she saw Iwaizumi struggling to get his button-up back on. The sleeves were stuck and his head was covered in the body of the shirt.

She could see the solid outline of his abdomen, and the way his back muscles were constricting as he fought with the shirt to get it back on. She felt her body naturally produce some drool, which she just swallowed and pretended like it didn't occur.

It would be rude to just let him struggle, right? She set the Go board down on top of the textbook.

“Freeze for me.” She stated and Iwaizumi stopped wiggling, arms still up in the air.

“Kill me now please.” Iwaizumi said, but it was muffled due to his head being surrounded by fabric.

She snickered a little, “You have other shirts around yeah?”

“I live here, so yes.”

“There’s no need for the snark, I’m helping you.” In one fell swoop she yoinked the sleeves of his top and pulled it off him, she stumbled back from the force, but managed to get the top successfully off.

His face was entirely red, and he had folded his arms over his body. Ignoring the particularly good look she got at his biceps and forearms, she handed the top back to him.

“You should go finish changing, I’ll set my English book up.” She gave him a smile, neglecting the way her ears felt hot.

“Yeah, I’ll, I’ll go do that. Thanks for stripping me.” Iwaizumi mentally slapped his face, “Thanks for taking my shirt off.” He paused and rubbed his forehead, there really was no good way to say this that didn’t end up with him imagining pushing her up against a wall and kissing her.

She laughed at his rapid fire speech.

Iwaizumi had finished changing into a pair of grey plaid bottoms and a black hoodie when he came back out to the living room. She was wearing black sweatpants and a tight-fitting white shirt. He swallowed, before going to sit near her at the coffee table where she had the textbook open and some paper with notes.

“They’ll be back right?” She didn’t look up from her paper, finishing an outline for what she was planning on teaching Iwaizumi.

“Yeah, in a few hours.”

She looked up at him and he felt like the only person in the world. Her mouth was moving but he couldn’t hear anything. She snapped her fingers and stuck her pen into her mouth.

It was always that pen that brought him back to focusing.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I know you don’t need to be tutored.”

His breathing hitches.

“You just wanted to play Go, Hanamaki is the one that needs English tutoring.” She explained her thought process, and how Hanamaki had been the one to ask for her help. “So, let’s play Go for a bit.”

Iwaizumi went back to breathing normally again. Matsukawa’s playlist was still going, and Iwaizumi supposed that he must still have had control over the music because suddenly the song changed to “Sex Tape” by OZI and Sunset Rollercoaster.

She opened the board and began getting the truncated bowls out that held the white and black stones, while Iwaizumi messed with the radio to try and get rid of music playing.

She looked up at Iwaizumi, “Not a fan of Chinese RNB?”

“Uh, well,” He tried messing with the volume but it would not budge. Iwaizumi heard the chorus start to play and he wanted to vivisect Matsukawa down to a pulp.

She froze for a moment, letting the lyrics of, “Watch you love me like a Japanese porn star, ” ruminate in the air for a second.

“Yeah, maybe changing the music would be a good idea.” She just laughed it off though.

Iwaizumi appreciated that about her, she could let awkward moments slide off her shoulders. When he felt like embarrassment was overtaking him, she always approached oddities and uncomfortableness with an attitude of nonchalance. Which was good for him, because he often had moments like that around her specifically.

Iwaizumi was still struggling to change the music, which had now transitioned to another explicit song from Matsukawa’s favorite make out playlist. She had finished setting up the Go board, but noticing that Iwaizumi was still frustrated at the radio, she stood up and went over to him.

She put her hand over his and slightly pushed it away. She pressed the Bluetooth connective button, and suddenly Masukawa’s music was gone.

“There, now we can play.” She clapped her hands together and went back to the coffee table in the center of the room. She was sitting cross legged, bouncing her knees in excitement.

Iwaizumi copied how she was sitting and looked over the board. “I think now would be a good time to tell you I have no idea how to play this game.”

She leaned backwards and giggled. “Don’t worry, I’m an excellent teacher.”

After an hour of interchanging teaching moments and actual exchanges of pieces, Iwaizumi’s brain was fried. And he was losing, for the second time.

She cringed when he placed his black stone down on the board. “Sorry, I hate to do this.” She put her stone down, and let him look at the board again.

“Okay, you have to be cheating because I was thinking at least five moves ahead.” Iwaizumi ran a hand through his hair, leaning over the board to see where he had messed up.

“I think ten moves ahead, at minimum. That way I can plot out multiple escape routes for my pieces.” She kicked her feet a little, positively elated with her consecutive wins against Iwaizumi.

“You’re such a nerd, did you know that?” Iwaizumi rubbed the back of his neck, looking at her.

She didn’t expect to get flustered. It was just, he was looking at her in a way that made her feel all ooey-gooey inside, and the way he was sheepishly rubbing his neck had her weak in the knees.

“Yuuta is way nerdier than me, he’s almost the same rank as me, but he’s only been playing for two years.” She accepts the bowl of various candy that Iwaizumi hands her.

He moves to the couch after putting away his pieces. He chews the inside of his mouth, feeling the stinging reminder that she was not single. She still sits on the floor, cleaning up the board all the way, exactly as she liked it. The clock on the wall read twenty-five to ten.

“He seems really nice, your boyfriend.” Even saying the word made Iwaizumi feel ill.

She laughs, “Boyfriend? Yeah right, you’re funny.”

“So wait, he isn’t your boyfriend?” Iwaizumi tugged on his sweatshirt strings, making the back of the hood tighten into a ball instead of staying relaxed across his back.

She slaps a hand over her mouth with wide eyes, “Absolutely not. Yuuta's a first year, Iwaizumi.” She grimaced and slumped back into the base of the couch, her head near Iwaizumi’s leg, “Does everyone think… he and I?”

Iwaizumi contemplated, making a face that told her, ‘I hate to break it to you’.

“I’m cursed.” She threw her hands up into the air, “It’s because of those stupid fortunes my family takes me to get every year. It’s such a devastation.”

Iwaizumi reached behind himself to adjust the hood of his sweatshirt. Only to subconsciously tug on the strings again as he posed a question that he felt too much rode on.

“We could go to a shrine. Break the bad streak of luck. If you go with me then maybe your luck won’t be as bad. The one in the center of town is having a blossom festival to celebrate the end-”

“Hell yes. We’re going. Give me your phone so you can text me the details.”

“I-uh, yeah, sure, okay, yeah. We’ll go together.” Iwaizumi almost dropped his phone, pulling it out from the inside of his pocket.

She looked at the miniature Godzilla charm hanging from the case. “I really liked Godzilla Minus One, it was the best Godzilla movie that we’ve gotten in a while.” She enters in her number from memory, giving herself a special nickname in his contacts as well.

Iwaizumi blinks. Was it really that easy to get her number? And if so, why had he spent so long waiting to get it? Matsukawa was right, Iwaizumi had been preventing himself from actually getting closer to her.

Oikawa, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa rang the doorbell repeatedly, knocking loudly as well.

“Here, I gotta go get the door.”

While standing up, he trips on her leg. She lets out a short yelp. Moments like these have Iwaizumi’s brain slowing down and playing the scene that unfolds in a sort of vintage sheen.

Because he didn’t want to land on her, he had managed to grab her and bring her over the top of him. But that also meant that when Oikawa used his spare key, they walked in on her sitting right overtop of Iwaizumi’s hips, her hands on his chest. His hands had come to grip her sides, with his thumbs barely below her chest.

She was furrowing her eyebrows slightly, with a slight pout on her bottom lip as she raised her shoulders slightly, finally noticing the trio that had come into Iwaizumi’s house. She picked one of her hands off of his chest and waved sweetly, “Hi boys.”

Her only logical way to avoid a bigger problem was to duck her head down to avoid their eyes. Which caused Iwaizumi to choke and lose any sort of functioning, because her face was right above his. Not to mention she had also accidentally rolled her hips against his in just a way that made his vision blurry. He could feel the plush of her thighs on the sides of his hips and all he wanted her to do was roll her hips one more time.

So much for just an innocent crush. It had become a full blown lust and infatuation at this point.

Iwaizumi ran through his head, trying to clear out all the X-rated thoughts occurring. The fact that he now knew she was single made him feel like he could act just a little more possessively towards her.

He really needed to get a grip, because instead of just standing up and explaining what had happened, he reached his hands up to cup her face and he brought her a singular inch closer to his face, their noses fractions away from touching.

“Only say hi to me like that. You’re mine.”

She gulped, pushing her chest against his chest to lift herself off of him, her hands resting on his biceps as she pried herself away from him. Agonizingly too quick for him.

“I’m going to go get some water.” She carefully stepped around Iwaizumi and went down the other hall to the kitchen. When he heard the door shut to the kitchen he groaned and sat up.

Oikawa was red in the face, slightly fanning himself, “Even I felt something there. Geez. Did you see the way she swung her leg around and off your body, but she had to bring her chest to yours for that leveraging motion? That’s probably in the top ten dream scenarios right there.”

Oikawa sat the bag of snacks he had brought onto the coffee table, sitting on the end of the couch looking stunned.

“You need to shut up right now.” Iwaizumi patted the back of his head, his eyes shut tight. He had pulled his legs up, while sitting upright on the floor next to the couch.

Matsukawa chuckled, “Why, is recounting the experience giving you post boner stress syndrome.”

Hanamaki chimed in, “Or he’s trying to avoid getting one in the first place, consider that Issei.” Hanamaki ran his tongue over his teeth, “But I suppose he’s having a difficult time, because just thinking about that getup she had on, oh, those baggy sweatpants and that tight little shirt that hugged-”

“Close your traps right now.” Iwaizumi barked. He rubbed his eyes until he was seeing static. His brain had finally started clearing but his friends were being insistent annoyances.

He lets out a shaky breath. “Hiro, you better listen to her. She genuinely believes you’re bad at English.”

“But I am bad at English.”

“Good, you won’t have to act at all then.” Hanamaki kicks Iwaizumi in the back before sitting around the coffee table. Matsukawa hooks his music back up, playing Artic Monkeys with a reverb. Matsukawa moves his shoulders, jamming out to the music.

She returns with two glasses of water, mentioning that she’ll go back to get the other three.

The night proceeds with much less excitement. She does help Hanamaki with his English, and Hanamaki feels like he can actually understand basic sentences.

She and Oikawa play a round of Go, she beats him but Oikawa is entertained and says that playing Go was fun. She practically beams hearing his admission of enjoyment.

Matsukawa and her share playlists, she tells him that he needed to blend the energy levels of his songs otherwise it gets boring to listen to a bunch of high energy songs sequentially. Matsukawa accepts the criticism and starts editing his playlist for her to evaluate at a later date.

Iwaizumi talks, and jokes around with everyone but he can’t help but drift off when he hears her laugh at his jokes, or how she pays active, attentive attention to him when he talks about something that’s been on his mind.

So when it hits two am and she says she needs to leave, Iwaizumi feels a bit shafted. Oikawa and Hanamaki were cuddling, already asleep and snoring. Matsukawa was staring at the TV screen watching another episode of a never ending sitcom.

She’s holding her Go board and textbook in her arms as she slides her shoes back on in the entryway of his house.

They’re both whispering so as to not wake up the snorers.

“Why are you leaving?” Iwaizumi slides his own shoes on, getting the door open for her as she takes a step outside.

He closes the door once he follows her to the front porch. She shifts her things in her arms uncomfortably. Iwaizumi takes them from her wordlessly, holding them with ease and perfect balance.

“I need to go to sleep,” She yawns, using a hand to cover her mouth. Her eyes shined from the porch lighting.

“You can just stay here, and if you don’t want to sleep in the living room with us, you can sleep in my bed?” Iwaizumi shuffled his feet, trying to find the right words to get her to stay.

“I need to get home.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Iwaizumi swallows thickly.

She bites her bottom lip, but earnestly explains her thoughts, “Well, I’m in a slight tizzy. I mean, you did grab me by the face and tell me to only say hi to you like that and not to other people, in that specific tone of voice. And, uh, the whole you saying that I’m yours, remember that?”

He digs the tip of his shoe into the porch flooring. “Yeah, that’s my bad.”

“No, it’s all fine, I’m just, I just need space to think. I really did enjoy hanging out though.” She tries to take her stuff back from Iwaizumi. He pulled her stuff closer to his chest.

“Let me walk you home at least, it’s what a fifteen minute walk?”

She pursed her lips, reaching her hand out to touch Iwaizumi’s elbow. He had traded his hoodie for a simple t-shirt earlier when all the bodies in the living room brought the temperature up too much for his liking. He naturally ran hot as well. He also got warm whenever she was near. The feeling of her hand on his elbow had his heart beginning to pitter-patter.

“You’d have to walk back to your house alone then.” She pulled him closer, putting both her hands on his arms, she ignored the taut muscles. “And I wouldn’t want that.”

His heart was racing, because she was leaning in slightly, and he thought that he should’ve brushed his teeth again. In her intelligence though, his body relaxed a little, so she was finally able to grab her stuff from him. She felt a modest amount of guilt for toying with him like that, but his face was blushed from staying up too late, the heat in his ears and apples of his cheeks stemming from watching screens too long.

“So, go to bed Iwaizumi Hajime.” She smiles, “I’ll see you later okay. Don’t forget we need to get fortunes soon, I need to change my luck before Nationals.”

He nods his head, slightly stunned from being tricked a little into thinking she was leaning in for something other than to take her board and book back.

“Wait.”

She paused, already halfway down the path from his house to the sidewalk.

He must have been going crazy. But everyone has to do crazy things once in a while, he supposes.

Iwaizumi slightly rushed to where she was. Just like earlier, he put his hands on her face, but this time he pressed a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth. Not wanting to push his luck any further than it had gone so far this night, he pressed one longer, more intense kiss to her jaw as he moved his hands to her waist.

He smiled at her when he backed up, “Now we’ll have something to talk about on our date at the festival next week.”

It was all so mildly irritating. She wondered why he hadn’t just kissed her earlier, when she had been settled into his lap in his living room.

Shaking her head in amusement, she handed her things to Iwaizumi, and he felt a chill in his spine. When she gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him in for a real kiss, a lip to lip kiss, he felt his whole world burst into vibrant color.

What a tease, he thought, when she licked his bottom lip and took her things back, actually making her way down the street.

He stood outside staring at her retreating body for much too long.

When she set her stuff down on her desk, she flung herself onto her bed. Sighing deeply.

This was not good for her heart.

She remembered her second year of high school.

It was positively awful, and not to mention her repeated failures at romance were starting to make her feel absolutely uncrushable. She thought she was doing everything right, wearing the right makeup, hitching her skirt up just enough (but she returned back to the normal length after she realized she did not appreciate the staring in the hallway from that stunt).

She even tried changing the way she did her hair. Still no gentleman callers. Maybe she was determined to be unlovable.

The only person she could go to was her Go Captain, a third year exchange student from China who destroyed her in every game they played, but at least he was cute, despite the extreme gap in a language understanding. Well, her Go Captain or Iwaizumi Hajime.

She decided to go to the Go Captain first.

“Mingzhe, am I attractive?”

He raised an eyebrow, looking from side to side. He was reading a book in the corner of the library when she ambushed him, resting a hand on the table. Mingzhe looks up at her and tilts his head to the side a little, almost as if he was inspecting her.

“In what sense of the word? Because you have what I would call an attractive personality, you’re really smart and you love Go almost as much as I do.”

“I definitely love Go more than you, but thank you.” She smiles and Mingzhe thought he could go back to his book, but she kept talking. “But the other kind of attractive, like the way my body looks.”

Mingzhe’s eyes almost popped out of his head, “Uhh, I, um.” He made a fist and pounded on his heart for a moment, trying to stop his stuttering. Now, if Mingzhe was the romantic interest of this story, then more about his background would be shared at this point. Unfortunately, he’s just Mingzhe from China who loves to play Go and accidentally fell in love with his overly kind and sweet Go teammate.

Mingzhe kept stuttering, trying to think of the right words to say to her that would express what he wanted to tell her. Because how could he tell her that she was the only girl he’d ever really liked like this. The way that she always took the stones from his hand when he got too close to winning, just so she could make him pause and explain where she went wrong.

She took his silence negatively and she hunched into the chair right next to him, pouting. Mingzhe felt a pang of melancholy run through him. Maybe if he wasn’t so realistic, his story with her would’ve turned out differently.

“Sha gua,” She lifted her head at the nickname he called her frequently. “Do you know what that means?”

She rubbed her eyes, and shook her head.

“Literally translated, my nickname for you means idiot or fool.” Mingzhe puts a hand on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth a little. If he wasn’t Mingzhe, if he didn’t have to go back to China so soon, he’d want to be everything to her.

Her body shakes a little as she laughs in reaction to Mingzhe's statement. “Oh great, thanks for that Mingzhe.”

“In China though, sha gua is a term of affection, right up there with something like bao bei, which means both treasure and baby. Sha gua is a testament to the innocence you have, and my appreciation for that genuineness you carry.” It means I love you.

“Where are you going with this?” She put her hand over Mingzhe’s, and he felt his soul crack just a little.

“If I wasn’t leaving at the end of the year, I would definitely try to approach you romantically, sha gua.” He tacks on the nickname, in tandem with a genuine smile. She puts a hand to his long black hair, brushing away the strand that always fell into his deep brown eyes. She always thought his eyes looked like brown sugar tapioca pearls.

“Thanks Mingzhe.”

“Of course, xinjian.” She left Mingzhe alone in the library, so he could finish his book. She never did find out that xinjian meant ‘peak of my heart’. Mingzhe was the one who gave her her special Go board that she carried around everywhere. (Engraved deeply in the box, on the underside, in Chinese characters was his wish for her to always stay healthy and happy. Along with the address of his family home in China, if she ever did come by to visit him.)

Mingzhe’s answer wasn’t enough for her in second year, so she went to Iwaizumi for additional clarification on her attractiveness woes. Or maybe, Mingzhe’s answer gave her hope that Iwaizumi would have a similar answer.

She just hadn’t known it would be so awkward. In Iwaizumi’s defense, she had cornered him in the back of class after school had been dismissed for the day.

To say he was stunned and bothered would be an understatement in the highest regard. Because how could he think when she slightly loosened the tie around her neck and untucked her lavender button-up from her skirt. Iwaizumi kept tightening and adjusting his own tie, trying to keep his hands focused and on his body rather than letting them magnetize to her body.

“I just need to know, simply. Plainly.” She had put her hand on the side of his head, her fingertips grazing the wood of the cubbies in the back of the classroom.

Iwaizumi was sure he’d seen this scene before in a drama that Oikawa had shown him. Except, he’s in the girl’s position and not the guy’s.

When she puts her foot in between his feet, he can feel the way his thighs threaten to give out on him. He’d been reduced to jello and she didn’t even know it.

“Know what?” At least he could reign in his tone of voice, staying flat.

“Am I or am I not attractive?”

He had wanted to say she was absolutely adorable. But given the way he could feel her body heat from how close they were, his assessment of her attractiveness had gone from cute to downright gorgeous. How a fellow seventeen year old could act like this, he did not understand.

“Yeah, you’re, you’re good looking.” Way to go Iwaizumi, he knew that if Oikawa or Hanamaki or Matsukawa could see him now, they would have either used a slingshot to put him out of his misery or taken a photo and posted it with the caption of, “Top Three Most Epic Fails in Romance.”

“Okay, thank you, I appreciate it.” She brought her hand back, no longer on the side of his face.

Iwaizumi liked her near though, so he grabbed her hand. She looked at him in the eyes, and he looked at her in the eyes.

His boldness was about to be curbed if he didn’t say what he wanted to say right in that moment, “Be my first kiss? As, uh, my treat for answering your question?” He was ready to go and dig his own grave.

“Sure.”

Iwaizumi almost shuddered, almost.

It was a clash.

Neither of them really knew what they were supposed to be doing, or where their hands were supposed to go. They had both settled for holding onto each other's necks lightly.

It was a series of closed mouth brushes of their lips, that was how Iwaizumi’s first kiss went. She had kissed a boy before, in middle school at a party, but she suddenly was wishing that this was her first kiss instead.

When she pulled away, Iwaizumi cleared his throat. Slowly nodding he adjusted the straps on his backpack.

“Thanks,” He started, “I have to go play volleyball now.”

“Yeah, yeah. Totally get it.” She was twisting her foot, digging it into the floor as she kept her eyes hesitantly on Iwaizumi.

Walking to the gym, Iwaizumi pressed his hand against his heart and begged it to slow down.

She realized that maybe high school boys just didn’t go out of their way to confess to her because they were too busy with other things, as demonstrated by Iwaizumi’s focus on volleyball. At the end of the day, she didn’t need external attention to give her internal validation. But it would’ve been nice.

She thought about Mingzhe from time to time. But Iwaizumi always stuck to her thoughts much longer. Second year was when she realized that she liked Iwaizumi, but she just couldn’t tell him. For her, what she had with Iwaizumi was a longer game that expanded much further than high school. Like a good game of Go, it had exchanges and bold moves between players.

Her second year didn’t carry totally throw away memories she concluded, curling up in her bed to finally go to sleep.

By Monday, Iwaizumi was positively giddy with excitement at seeing her again. He had a whole plan for their outing after school on Friday, and he wanted to tell her everything. When she wasn’t in her seat by the first bell, he looked around the room to see if she was silently slinking her way to her seat. Then when the final morning bell rang, he slumped into his chair in irritation.

By lunchtime, she still wasn’t at school, so he decided to go and investigate, making his way to the first year hallway, looking into all the classrooms.

He saw Ito Yuuta, her not-boyfriend, sitting at his desk, playing on a Go board by himself.

He entered the classroom and put his hands on the desk, making a slamming noise that wasn’t too jolting, seeing as Ito was still fidgeting with the stone in his hand.

“Yes?” Ito pressed the stone to his mouth, then quickly set it down. He input where he placed the stone on his phone, waiting for the computer to make a move so he could set the corresponding piece down, trying to beat the Artificial Intelligence system known as AlphaGo for the second time today.

“Where is she?” Iwaizumi brought his head down to force Ito into making eye contact.

Ito made a sour face, unamused with Iwaizumi, “She’s at a tournament today, the posters for it have been up for like a whole month.” Ito rolled his eyes, “It’s at the central Miyagi Gym, she’s playing in the 5 dan ranking bracket.”

Iwaizumi tensed his leg, ready to get to the gym as soon as possible, “Are spectators allowed?” If Iwaizumi wanted to be something to her, he figured he needed to break out of his shell around her and commit, and show that he wanted to be with her.

“It’s almost like all the captains of our sports team were asked to attend. You play volleyball, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Do yourself a favor and find a girl who’s more into guys like you. She’s on a whole other level, whatever interest you have in her will be short-lived.” Ito places some more pieces down according to the computer input. Ito was only teasing, he wanted to make sure Iwaizumi was sure about her.

“Guys like me?”

Ito smiled, standing up to his full height. “Guys who don’t play Go. Guys who are brainless muscle heads. Guys who lack basic skills of strategy. Guys like Iwaizumi Hajime.” Ito wondered what the reaction would be, slightly dismissing his game.

Iwaizumi brought his head back in offense, shocked and appalled at what Ito was saying. A bitter look on Iwaizumi’s face was all Ito needed to feel self-satisfied in his jests. Iwaizumi felt like a fish, with how his mouth gaped open and closed.

“Listen here you little bastard- I don’t know who you think you are, but clearly your ego is too big to contain within the convoluted mind game you’re trying to play with me.” Iwaizumi stuck a finger in the center of Ito’s chest, and Ito lazily held his hands up. “I like her. Genuinely, I like her. I want to go support her, so clearly I’m doing more than you.”

In all honesty, Iwaizumi was just trying to make up for what he considered lost time. He had spent years waiting for the right time to get closer to her, but now wasn’t the time to deflect, to deter, to do anything that would slow the progress he had been making. Iwaizumi was going to make her his, regardless of what anyone would try to tell him.

“It’s not me you have to worry about, it’s the other Go players. There’s an entire array of guys who would literally kill to be with a player like her, a 5-dan player at her age. You’re not fighting with me, you’re fighting with the guys who play Go professionally and rake in the big bucks at 19, 20, years old.” Ito wondered if Iwaizumi knowing he had competition would make Iwaizumi scurry away. Ito was genuinely glad when Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and left the classroom, because that showed that Iwaizumi wasn’t scared to go all in for her.

Another day's work for Ito Yuuta in the books. Now if only he could beat that stupid AI Robot.

Iwaizumi knew that Ito was just trying to get in his head. So he just made his way to Miyagi Gym, taking one of the posters from the hallway to make sure he could get there in time to see her play.

He got there within fifteen minutes, thanks to Matsukawa’s moped that he borrowed.

He held the helmet under his arm as he entered the gym, looking around for directions or a chart. She would be in a higher bracket, he knew that, but he had no idea what the 5-dan ranking was about that Ito had gone on about.

Then he looked over to a screen that had her on display, making a focused face at a game board.

Iwaizumi saw her in person pretty soon after he asked around, she was sitting criss-cross on her chair, across from a boy who looked about their same age. The boy looked much more stressed than she looked. She looked like a picture of calm, almost bored if Iwaizumi was being honest.

She placed her stone down, and leaned back in her chair with a smug smile on her face. Iwaizumi couldn’t help the smile that drew across his face watching her seem satisfied.

“I pass.” Her opponent threw his hands up in the air and shook his head.

She placed one more stone and her opponent groaned and grabbed strands of his hair. She started collecting her opponents pieces and then shook his hand across the board.

An older woman, mid-forties maybe, announced the winner of the round. The announcer held her hand up in the air and she bowed to the audience, and then went and individually bowed to a group of people holding clipboards.

Iwaizumi cheered so loudly from where he was standing, and she caught sight of him immediately. She smiled, but then waved her hand in a ‘be quiet’ gesture. He nodded and started walking over to her.

She got handed a paper from the announcer and she held it so tightly, Iwaizumi thought she would rip it. She quickly made her way over to Iwaizumi, who was standing near the entrance of the subsect in the gym.

“You won? Right? Otherwise my cheering that ended up really bothering that guy who looks like a lemon was a waste.” Iwaizumi tried to sneak a glance at her paper, but she held it close to her chest.

“Yes, I won. I can’t believe you’re here. I didn’t know you wanted to come watch me play?”

Iwaizumi scratches the back of his head, “Well, I missed you. You weren’t in class.”

He missed her whenever she was gone. This was just the first time he had told her.

She laughs, “Usually tournaments are on the weekends, this is the only one I’ve ever had on a Monday.”

“Ah, makes sense. Is anyone else from Aoba here?”

Iwaizumi felt upset that people couldn’t appreciate her. He decided he would just have to appreciate her all the more.

She shook her head ‘no’ with a slight frown.

“I’m here. If that means anything at all.”

“It does mean something that you showed up, even though you’re also missing our math class so conveniently.” She poked his cheek with her finger, Iwaizumi shrugs with a grin on his face.

“One question before we celebrate,” She nods, urging him to continue, “Is your buddy Ito always such an asshole?”

She slaps her hand on her forehead, “What did he say.”

“Oh, he said quite a lot. Nothing I can’t deal with though. But he’s criminally mean, how do you deal with him?”

“He’s mad because he wasn’t invited to the tournament, he spent a lot of time practicing this year and to not get an invite to National Qualifiers kinda put him in a slump. Although, that doesn’t excuse anything he said.” She tucked her paper into the back pocket of her jeans, then gave Iwaizumi a hug.

He liked the hug a lot. He hoped there would be a lot more of them in store for them.

Iwaizumi, letting his curiosity get the better of him, lightly reached behind her to grab the paper. Letting his hand rest on the top of the curve of her backside, just high enough where he could play it off as his hand was on her waist. She let out a gasp at the touch, then he pulled her into his right side so he could read the paper, holding it out with his left hand.

He read through it quickly, scanning for keywords.

“So, you’re my Miss Miyagi Representative at Nationals then?”

“Don’t say it like that, just say Miyagi Representative.” She ducked her head a little, putting her face into his shoulder.

“Why are you getting all shy? This is an amazing accomplishment.” He held her shoulders with his hands and shook her a little, eliciting a laugh from her.

“The winner of the 5-dan bracket at Nationals can become a 6-dan player, just two dan levels below a professional ranking, isn’t that crazy!” She looks a little crazy, but the way her eyes shine with excitement and the way her mouth runs a mile a minute, and the way her hair looks sort of messy all settle into Iwaizumi’s heart comfortably, making themselves at home with his spirit.

“I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying but you’re really cute saying it.”

She rolls her eyes. Her expression changes for a second, shifting from playful annoyance to confusion.

“Iwaizumi, are we friends now? Is that what this is?”

He freezes, “I thought we were already friends? This is me trying to be more than friends.”

She lets out a knowing sound, understanding more than she did before.

“I mean, is kissing something you do with all your friends? Because if so, I’m going to need you to reconsider what you define as friendliness.”

“No, I don’t kiss my friends.” She hits him lightly on the shoulder.

“Good, because I don’t know if I’d be able to handle that. You know, my jealous streak and all that.”

She just loops their arms together and they walk out of the gym.

She ended up winning at Nationals, and Iwaizumi was there to cheer obnoxiously when she won there as well. She thanked him personally because when they went to the blossom festival at the central shrine, she ended up getting a lucky fortune.

What she didn’t know was that Iwaizumi had seen through the paper, and knowing that it was unlucky, got her to set it down to look at some of the stringed lights. And when she went to look at the lights, he swapped their fortunes.

Just so she could have his lucky charm.

He supposed he didn’t need a lucky charm, because she was all the luck he needed.

But even luck runs out sometimes.

He was sitting on the couch, listening to her talk about her college plans. They’d only been out of school and graduated for one week and she had sat him down in her living room to explain what the future holds for her. She was pacing back and forth in front of him, explaining the situation.

Iwaizumi recounted a synopsis of what she had just said.

“You got a full ride to University of California-Irvine, to play Go?”

“Apparently they wanted some cultural diversity, and they wanted me specifically at their school. It’s technically an exchange system, where I attend Tokyo University, but stay in California. But I’d get to teach Go classes, and I’d have a team of players that I would travel with to China and Korea, and home to play with at international tournaments.” She froze, and stood right in front of him.

“I guess you have to leave then.” Iwaizumi folded his arms, and she could tell something was wrong.

“Well, we knew that we weren’t going to be at the same university, so I don’t know why this is such a shock for you?” She lifted her eyebrows, giving him a look of concern.

Iwaizumi pursed his lips.

She sat down on her knees in front of him and tugged on his hand. “Hey, what’s going on behind those beautiful brown eyes of yours?”

“And I guess I’ll have to accept the offer from University of California-Irvine to do an exchange year then.”

She gently slapped his hand, “You’re such a prankster, I can’t believe you made me worry.”

“Oh, don’t stop worrying about me. I never said that.” Iwaizumi grabbed her hand and kissed her palm a few times, then moved his mouth so that he could rest his lips on her pulse point within her wrist. “You’re going to have to call me at least twice a day, and I’ll need you to send me all of your meals so that I can make sure you’re getting enough nutrients.”

“You’ll definitely need to stop worrying about me.” She groaned slightly, trying to get her hand away from Iwaizumi, but he pulled her up and into his lap. He put his face onto her back, his hair tickling the nape of her neck.

He liked being in California with her, but he’d only get to stay for one year, so he’d have to make the most of it.

Which is why he tried to spend most of it at the beach, trying to get her to play volleyball with him.

“Then after I receive it, you do that two handed toss I showed you, bringing the ball back to me so I can spike it over the net.” Iwaizumi was shirtless, wearing swim trunks, and had sunglasses on. If she was being honest, she was distracted by her fiance’s body movements and didn’t pay a lick of attention to the things he was trying to teach her.

She nodded though, taking off her swimsuit coverup, not wanting it to be in the way of the game. She was left in a black one-piece, with a large cut out in the back. Iwaizumi ran his hand down her exposed spine and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, before getting a volleyball tossed at his torso.

On the other side of the net was a guy that Iwaizumi had introduced as Ushijima, and one of her Go teammates who seemed very romantically interested in Ushijima.

Iwaizumi walked backwards for a moment, then he threw the ball up into the air and hit it with the center of his hand. The game was afoot.

Her friend received the ball with a practiced ease that convinced her that she was the only one who did not understand volleyball.

At the end of the game, Iwaizumi was hitting Ushijima’s back and telling him better luck next time. The four of them sat on a large beach towel and ate cut up pieces of watermelon that she had brought. Iwaizumi was sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him, one hand behind himself to prop him up. Ushijima was trying to hide his face from how her teammate was leaning closer and closer to him, talking about this and that.

Iwaizumi and her made eye contact, and Iwaizumi glanced over to where her friend was attempting to get Ushijima’s number. She sighed, ate another piece of watermelon and laid on her back, wiggling her hips a little to get comfortable on the expanse of the towel under the hot sun.

“Where do you want to live after we graduate?”

“I don’t know, I can play Go wherever I want. It’s a very portable game, you know.”

“You’ve told me that a few times before.” Iwaizumi stole the watermelon she had picked up with her pointer finger and thumb, just putting his mouth around her fingers and using his tongue to leverage the piece out of her control.

She let out a sound of disgust at his actions.

He wiggles an eyebrow teasingly, and leaned over her, putting one hand on her back and the other cupping her face softly. He looks to her lips then back to her eyes, she nods rapidly. He slots his lips into hers, working up to the right intensity.

She can hear the way her friend suggests that they and Ushijima should head to get popsicles, and to her surprise, Ushijima agrees.

Iwaizumi breaks out of the kiss for a second, still brushing his lips against hers as he speaks, “I thought they’d never leave.” He slides his tongue into her mouth, gently coaxing her to make the noises he loved to hear.

She pulls back for a second, “You know we’re still in public right?”

“I know, but now I can do this without getting watched by a high school friend of mine.” Iwaizumi slid his hand down to her thigh, and twisted himself around, so that she was straddling his hips. She was on top of him as he was sitting up. He let out a happy hum when she rested her hands in his hair, curling the strands around her fingers. “I think you should just always stay in my lap.”

She starts kissing his neck, then jokingly starts sucking on his jawline. He murmurs a little, asking her to keep going, and she giggles. She moves a hand down to rest on his abdomen, tracing along the lines of his muscles.

“Watch your hand.” He grumbles a little, her hand just a little too low for his own sanity. He kisses her cheek and then goes to nip at her earlobe.

“Watch your mouth.” She leans back but his head follows her, trying to capture her lips again. He lets out a complaining noise, muttering an apology.

“My bad.” Iwaizumi gives her a light kiss, pouting when she doesn't kiss back, “Please.” He kissed her again, and she still didn’t kiss back, “Kiss me.”

“You’re so whiney sometimes.” She pulls him by his neck into a deep kiss and he makes a noise she can only comprehend as a happy chirp.

So what if Iwaizumi Hajime was mildly bothersome to her, she had the rest of her life to be bothered by him. She had the ring to prove it.

[celestialrry]

bunny

6.3k

summary: Harry's shy and you need a tutor.

warnings: like none, cursing?, severe fluff

You rushed into class, and scrambled over to sit in your chair, huffing as the clock struck 9:00 a.m. the moment you touched the seat. Why you signed up for a morning class you knew you would never want to wake up for is beyond you. Why the class you were taking was about English literature, a genre you had only read less than 3 books in was also beyond you. Being undecided in your major didn’t have many perks, you had come to find.

“Alright class, first things first, you’ll be having a test in this class next week about what we studied this past month.”

As your professor droned on, your heartbeat started to pick up. A month into your second year of university and you already had a test? This was absolute torture. You were psyching yourself out at this point, almost positive you would fail, until you zoned back into class to hear a deep voice speaking.

The boy with the curls almost reaching his shoulders in the back of the class, Harry, you thought. He was terrifying and intimidating, but he raised his hand almost every other question and got it right. Always. He was the answer to all of your problems. The one who always wore those tattered brown Chelsea boots and long coats. You had even seen a peek of tattoos on his hand once.

The rest of class was spent thinking of ways to ask him to tutor you. So far, you would suggest to pay him for his time, do it only when he’s available (you would switch your schedule around for him, you were already going to ask a lot of him), and just try to be really nice. You always tried not to judge on looks, but Harry seemed quite scary, and you were afraid he’d turn you down immediately.

Soon class was dismissed and you grabbed your trusty bag (it had survived multiple sleepovers at Niall’s and that boy could destroy anything by just touching it) and slung it over your shoulder, looking to see Harry walking out of the classroom. You hurried over to him out of the doors and caught up to him. “Hi, um, Harry?” You asked, and he stopped in his tracks.

He looked back at you and his eyes widened. He had to look back down for a moment so you couldn’t see him flush out of surprise. He looked back up at you and smiled softly. “Hello.” Harry mumbled, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. No one really ever spoke to Harry all that much. People just never approached him and he had no idea why (his friends had tried to clue him in that he did seem a bit intimidating with his brows furrowed almost all the time, his body littered with tattoos, and the fact that he’s quite a buff guy, but you couldn’t really tell from his oversized sweaters that he seems to wear every single day, but that’s besides the point) and it confused him a bit. It also made him a bit shy around anyone he didn’t already know, because he didn't want to come off too strong at first and scare anyone away.

You smiled at him and introduced yourself before you continued to ask him what you had been dreading out of pure nerves. “Um, I know this is weird, but we’re in the same English lit class and I notice you know like, all the answers to what Mr. Reeves asks, n’I just really wanna pass this test so I was maybe wondering if you could tutor me or something? I would pay you of course-”

“You don’t-you don’t have to pay me.” He interrupted you from rambling on for too long because you tended to do that a lot, and Harry had no idea but he had just saved himself about ten minutes of time. If you were his chance at a new friend, he wouldn’t want it to start off on money, because helping a friend wouldn't be a job. “Oh!” Your mouth formed an “o” shape and your eyebrows raised at him. “Are you sure? I mean that's fucking awesome if you really don’t want money, but I would just feel so bad taking up your time without giving you anything in return.”

You prayed that he would say that you really didn’t need to pay him anything. If he meant it, it means this boy was a godsend and you would be happy spending time with this bloke if he is really that sweet all the time. You wouldn’t expect it just because he rarely ever speaks to other people. The most words you had ever heard him speak was when he was answering a question from Mr. Reeves-

“S’fine, really. If I tutor you, um, it's basically like studying m’self so...” He trailed off scratching the back of his neck, and bringing you back to Earth. You broke out into a grin and bounced a bit on your toes, because he was going to help you pass the final and you didn’t have to pay him. “Perfect! Wow, Harry, you’re an angel. Thank you so much,” You complimented him as you grabbed your phone from your back pocket and as your eyes darted away from his face for a few moments, he attempted to bite back his smile, because you were talking to him, and calling him an angel.

You pulled your pink-case covered cell and unlocked it, handing it to Harry and saying, “Here, put your contact in so I can text you about meeting up, s’that cool?” To which he nodded and took your phone gently and began typing his name and number in, and biting back his tongue when he was about to tell you he had the same phone case as you, because you probably wouldn’t care (you actually would care a very great deal, but Harry had been so used to being ignored he figured he wouldn’t muck up his one chance at a new friend). he handed your phone back to you and you just shoved it back in your pocket, the smile never leaving your face.

“Thanks again Harry, it really means a lot. I’ll text you later, yeah?” You said, slowly beginning to walk to your next class. He just offered you a small smile before continuing the way he was before you had asked him to tutor you. Why he didn’t want money was still itching at the back of your brain, mostly because when you told your best friend, Niall, about it later that night he had said “What kinda college student turns down money?” before going off into a rant about how he wished he actually knew what he was learning so he could tutor someone and get some extra cash. You reminded him he already had a job, but it seemed tutoring was “so much easier than dealing with kids whose parents didn’t give a rats-ass if they yell in the restaurant.”

｡:°ஐ

You and Harry had arranged to meet on Wednesday, because you only had one morning class as did he, and would meet in the library at 12 p.m. You don’t think you had ever been so anxious walking into a library before, but here you were, opening the double doors and swiping your student I.D. (which had a horrid picture on it, they really never tell you when they take the photo) before your eyes scanned the front part of the library you could see. It was safe to say you weren’t in the library very often, if seeing your frazzled face as you zig-zagged through the rows of bookshelves was enough to go by.

You made your way to the back, where you assumed the tables for studying and reading would be, and as you turned the corner of one of the oddly tall bookshelves, you thanked your instincts for the first time, and scanned the area until you found a certain flop of messy brown curls hunched over at a table.

“Hi Harry,” You chittered, flopping down in the seat across from him and immediately pulling out your notes and the book you had been reading for class, Pride and Prejudice. “How are you?”

For the first time, you noticed he wore glasses, when he looked up at you and pushed the clear tan frames up the bridge of his nose, a bit startled by your arrival. “M’good, you?” He asked, no emotion or tone behind his voice really. It sounded like he just wanted you to stop talking almost, but you settled on the fact that it was your nerves telling you he hated you.

“’Bout as good as I can be with teachers up my ass all week.” You said, and a small smile struck his face. You wondered what it would be like to make him laugh. Shaking your head from your thoughts, you cleared your throat and looked at your notes before back up at him. “Alright, so m’a bit confused on why Charlotte marries Collins? I mean, ignoring the fact that they’re all related, I’ve re-read it so many times but the old English they use is so confusing.”

After your question, Harry delves into the answer, not going on an extraordinarily long tangent, but a decently long one, explaining the relationship between them, and why they married when he wanted Elizabeth first, and so on. What was even better was that he explained it all so easily you understood it all (and his voice was sweeter than honey), you just kept wanting to ask more questions, so you did.

Harry was talkative when you kept asking him questions, and it seemed like he was enjoying himself, but whenever the conversation swerved into personal life, Harry shut off and became more quiet. It wasn’t like you were asking him about his family drama, the conversation had smoothly sailed into something about high school.

“I wish I read this book in high school when they gave us the chance.” You sighed, flipping through the pages to where you had put a sticky note to write down your confusion. You truly regretted not being one of those reading types, but you preferred to hear things more (like Harry’s voice), and listening to music became your ‘hobby’ instead.

“Yeah, reading it earlier makes it pretty easy now.” He shrugged, going through his own notes. “I just wasn’t much of a reader, did you read a lot in high school?” It's an innocent enough question, and after spending about 2 hours with Harry, you already knew you would want to get to know him more, but it seemed he didn’t feel the same. “A bit.” He said, tensing up. While you were mildly confused by his body language, Harry just didn’t want to talk about highschool. He read a lot, and was so in his own world he found it hard to really have many friends. He had a few loyal ones, but books would always be there, as cheesy as that was. High school wasn’t fun for anyone, he was sure of it.

“You seem like you’d read a lot, you just give off that vibe, y’know?” You said, looking at him. He lifted his gaze from his notes and you truly could not tell what he was thinking. He gave a small “hmph” in response to your question that wasn’t really a question and looked back down at his notes, gathering them all quite fast. “I think we’re good for the day, just text me if you want anymore help.” He mumbled, slinging his bag over his shoulder and rushing out of the library. You sat there with your mouth slightly open in shock at the way he left so abruptly. After a few moments you packed up your own things and practically ran after him, bursting through the double doors and trying to find him, to-you actually didn’t know what to do. You didn’t even know what happened. That’s why you found yourself on your couch with Niall as he ate all your snack food, deep in a long-winded advice session from him.

“He just ran out Niall, I don’t even know what happened, like did I say something?” You asked, picking your nails in distress, your eyes following the chip that disappeared in his mouth seconds later. “What’s this bloke’s name, again?” He asked, after chewing (Niall could be vulgar, but he wasn’t an animal). “Um, Harry. Longish brown curls, pretty green eyes, y’know? I-I don’t even know his last name.”

The blonde’s icy blue eyes widened in recognition after a moment of thinking, and he slapped your bicep gently. “Harry Styles! I’ve heard o’him. Apparently he has like two friends and never speaks, s’not hard to believe you have a thing for him, bug.” Your brow raised incredulously, and you were quick to defend yourself, and Harry. “I do not have a thing for him, and just because he doesn’t have many friends doesn’t mean he’s a-wait what do you mean it's not hard to believe?”

Niall rolled his eyes and sat up a bit more, turning to actually face you. “You like the quiet types, s’why we aren’t dating, obviously, n’I never said he was a dud, love, just tellin’ you what I heard.” You just nodded, deciding to not worry about it so much. “There’s many reasons we aren’t dating Ni.” You gave him a compassionate smile and pat his knee. The two of you then burst out into laughter and your worries about Harry faded away.

Until the next morning that is.

You had been going over the study guide Mr. Reeves had emailed everyone that morning and realized you weren’t sure about quite a few of the things you were supposed to know. Sighing, you opened your phone and clicked on Harry’s contact typing out a text.

Hey Harry! Wondering if you could meet up sometime again this weekend just to go over the study guide?

You hit send and prayed that he wouldn’t just ignore it, especially after running out last time. After looking back at the email, you heard your notification bell go off just a few minutes later.

I can do Friday at 8pm, and Sunday around 3.

A smile of relief graced your face at his quick response, no matter how short his texts were, he was still willing to help you, and you were extremely grateful. After texting him back and agreeing to meet back at the library, you went back to working on another assignment, happy that you were able to get more studying in, not about the fact that you got to see the quiet and unusually attractive Harry Styles again. That was not the reason.

｡:°ஐ

Eventually it was Friday night. Your friday nights usually consisted of Niall dragging you somewhere you did not want to be, like a frat party (he always made sure you got home safe though), or you sitting at home, watching a movie and binging on cookies that you had baked just 30 minutes prior. Tonight was different however, and you were attempting to open the doors of the library, because it was locked, but you were positive the library wasn’t closed.

A soft voice said your name, and you turned around to see Harry standing a few feet behind you, his hands in his pockets and his bag on his shoulder. “Harry,” you exhaled in relief. “I was about to text you, but it’s locked and I know for a fact it shouldn’t be closed because the hours say 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. every weekday.” You stated matter of factly, pointing to the hours painted on the door. He walked a bit closer to the door and adjusted his glasses a bit, pursing his pink lips as he read the hours. “You’re right.” he said simply, his sage eyes darting to the handle. You wordlessly stepped back and he went to the handle, pulling the door a bit, and pushing it. It moved a bit for him, but it was obvious it was locked.

Your mind raced for solutions, the only ones you were able to find was going to your flat, or wherever he lived, and you were almost positive he wouldn't want you in his house. You heard a little sigh leave his lips as he let go of the handle, and stuck his hands back in his pockets, rolling on the balls of his feet adorned with black boots today. “We could go to my place? If you’re comfortable with that of course, I won’t force you, but it’s like the only place I can think of and my roommate won’t be home tonight to distract us, something about staying the weekend at her boyfriends, but-”

“Sure.”

Your eyes fell back onto his face at his words and you gave a small smile, happy that he had agreed. “Alright, c’mon then.” You said, walking towards the direction of your flat. Only a few moments after you began taking steps he stopped you with his voice. “Wait, you walked here?” He asked, his face twisted up with something you couldn’t tell. “Yeah, m’only fifteen minutes away.” You shrugged. “It’s pitch black-um, come with me, I drove here and you can just direct me to yours.”

You just agreed and followed him to his car, which was an awfully nice black one, you weren’t sure of the brand, but as you got in, you could tell he took really good care of it (not that that was attractive to you or anything). Your words during the drive consisted of you telling him the four turns to take before directing him the best place to park in your lot. You ignored his gaze on you as you led him up the two flights of stairs to your hall, because “The elevator has been down for ages, and I’ve sent about four letters to the landlord, but all I’ve gotten in return is just unnecessary exercise for two months.”

He chuckled a bit at that and you swore your heart grew two sizes as you led him down the hall to your door. You unlocked it, and let him in, quickly walking in front to scan and make sure it wasn’t messy. You were never one to leave the house while it was dirty, but Niall had come over earlier to convince you to come to a party, and you were scared you hadn’t picked up his mess. He truly was like your child in a sense. Taking a sigh of relief at your clean flat, you turned around to see Harry closing your door and you brushed against him to lock it, you never kept your door unlocked at night.

You led him to the living room and dropped your bag on the floor next to the couch, and he did the same, pulling out your books and notes, as well as your laptop. Harry followed your actions and you could tell he was a bit uncomfortable in your flat, or at least that’s what it seemed like. “Do y’want some water or anything? I’m not sure what other drinks I have because I’m pretty sure Niall drank everything in here, and ate it probably as well.”

He looked up at your words and hesitated, bringing his bottom lip between his fingers. “Erm, I’ll have a water, please.” Now was not the time to ask about Niall or who he was to you, he told himself, because it didn’t matter. You nodded and stood up, hurrying over to your kitchen and grabbing two glasses of water for the both of you before handing one to Harry and sitting down on the couch again.

It was a bit weird at first, but soon enough the two of you slid into an easy conversation about the study guide, it was mostly you asking and Harry answering, but occasionally he would ask you something (that you were sure he already knew), and you would answer. It was a good back and forth, and you found yourself thinking about how it would be nice to talk to Harry like this about himself. You wanted to know everything, his favorite color down to the weird little quirks he has (you’ve already picked up on one, like when he itches the bottom of his nose with a curled index finger and slides it to the button of his nose before scrunching it).

“We’ve been studying for about two hours,” You noticed, looking at the time on your computer screen reading 10:03 PM. “I’ve just about filled my brain with enough information about fictional characters for today.”

You looked over at Harry to see him grinning a bit at your joke, and for the first time you noticed he had dimples. You were positive there was nothing wrong with him, other than the fact that he didn’t seem to want to be your friend (it wasn’t his fault, you could be a bit too much for people sometimes). “Okay, I should probably get back home to Luna anyways.” He said, his offhand comment filling your brain. Luna? You prayed you haven’t been taking his time away from a girlfriend, and before your brain could catch up your mouth was already moving. “Oh, who’s Luna?”

Harry looked at you like he forgot he mentioned her and his eyes widened a bit. “Oh, um, she’s m’kitten.” A wave of relief rushed over you, as well as another reason to want to get to know him more. A man so intimidating people didn’t approach him, had a kitten? Harry was flushing out of embarrassment of telling you this little fact, and looking down as he put his things in his bag to avoid eye contact with you, you did not care about his kitten, and you were indirectly telling him to leave, he didn't think he ever hated speaking more.

“That’s such a cute name!”You exclaimed. “Do you have any photos of her? It’s okay if you don’t want to show but I love cats, always wanted t’get my own.”

Nevermind.

30 minutes later, and he was sitting next to you awfully close on the couch, showing you his photo album of Luna. Some of the photos had Harry in them, one in particular, a mirror picture, where he was wearing sweats and had chosen to go without a shirt, holding Luna in one hand by his side. He swiped off of that one with lighting speed, and although you were telling yourself he obviously was embarrassed by you seeing his bare torso, which he shouldn’t be because wow, you couldn’t help your curiosity. “How many tattoos do y’have?”

He moved his head to face you, and only then did he realize how close the two of you were sitting. “Uh, I don’t know, fifty-something? I lost count a while ago.” Your eyes lit up at his words and a grin spread across your face. “Wow, that's so cool. Did it hurt a lot? I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo but I have no idea what, and where. I thought a small little butterfly on my ribs or something would be cute for a good year, but I don’t have much connection to butterflies really, and I feel like if I get something tattooed on your body for forever I would want something that really sticks with me.”

He couldn’t help it.

As you watched Harry while you were rambling on about tattoos you could see him smile. Truly smile, one where his teeth showed and everything. You tried not to get too giddy about it, but it was just so beautiful. “It started hurting less the more I got, and tattoos don’t have t’be something y’really connect with, I have a bunch jus’ because I thought they looked cool and had a decent meaning,” He said, and you were positive that’s the most he’s ever spoken to you. “I actually have a butterfly on m’tummy.”

“What other one’s do you have?” You asked, attempting to get him to talk as much as he could.

It worked, because soon the 30 minutes became an hour, and the hour became two, and he was in your flat at midnight. It seemed the two of you had no idea how much time had passed, because when you checked your phone it said it was five past midnight, and you reluctantly told Harry.

“Shit!” He muttered, and that was the first time you’ve heard him curse before. He looked at you, concern taking over his features. “M’so sorry for staying so long, I didn’t want to impose, I-”

“Harry, it’s okay, I promise. If I didn’t want you here, I would've told you to leave.” You said, and that seemed to calm him down a bit. “I’ll walk you down.”

You slipped on your coat and grabbed your keys, while Harry grabbed his tote and the two of you made your way down the stairs, this time a comfortable silence overtaking the stairwell. You reached his car and smiled at him as he unlocked it. “Thank you Harry, for everything, m’sure after Sunday I’ll be aces at analyzing characters.”

He smiled at you and fiddled with his sleeve before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you. You were surprised to say the least, but your arms found their way around him as well and you reveled in his warmth. He stepped back after a moment and let his hands slide down your arms before bringing them back to his sides. “M’sorry, I should’ve-I just-you’re so nice n’I just-thank you.”

You couldn’t help but watch him try to stay afloat as he struggled to explain the hug. He really felt like he did though, because you were just so sweet, possibly the sweetest person he’s ever met, and you wanted to know about him, and his tattoos, and his kitten, and he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to be with anyone for a hours on end, but he’s already decided that he’d want to be trapped in a room with you for days.

“No need to thank me, get home safe okay?” You smiled at him, reaching out and squeezing his arm and holy shit he’s fit. He looked down at your hand for a moment before smiling big and nodding, parting with a “G’night, I’ll see you Sunday.” before hopping into his car and insisting you walk up first. Rolling your eyes you smirked a bit and started walking up your stairs, turning around and waving at him before he sped off. That was quite possibly the best Friday night you’ve ever had.

｡:°ஐ

Harry was reeling, in the best way possible, but still reeling. After you got together to study on Sunday (and after you both aced the test, which you had given him the largest hug and a kiss on the cheek for), the two of you had hung out almost everyday after.

You met Luna during that following week, and he was expecting her to stay in his bedroom, because Luna didn’t really like new guests all that much, but she had immediately scurried up to you and walked in figure-eights around your feet. Your giggle of excitement was the best thing Harry had ever heard, and he had to take a moment not to squeal out of adoration.

He had opened up to you about, well, a lot. Told you how people just didn’t approach him, which was why he was so off-put when you did, and that he just didn’t want to scare anyone away. You shook your head and sat closer to him on the couch, lifting your hands to pinch his cheeks and pout as you said that he was “the sweetest person” you knew and you had “no idea how anyone could be scared of such a softie.” It was safe to say his face was flushed the entire conversation.

You had also commented on his sweater collection once, and everytime you would shiver, he’d pull off his own sweater and give it to you to wear, even in the courtyard when the weather was reaching 30 degrees. You had refused due to the fact that he would be cold, and eventually he just gave you a sweater you had expressed your liking for. He had handed it to you and you frowned in confusion and said, “Did you bring that just for me?”, because he was already wearing his own, and he had nodded and once you put it on he mumbled, “Keep it.” You did.

It got to the point where the two of you had spent so much time together you introduced him to Niall, to which Niall had commented, “So this is the Harry bloke you’ve been talking about all the time. Nice to meet ya, mate. So, how did you grow your hair out so long?” You had hit his shoulder for embarrassing you, but it seemed Harry didn’t even skip a beat when he started talking about how he had decided to grow his hair out. It was a story you’d heard before, but with Harry speaking, you would listen to the same words over and over again.

When you each went home for winter break, Harry had hugged you tightly and kissed your cheek, telling you that it was only 2 weeks, and the both of you would be back before you knew it. When the two of you weren’t texting, you were calling each other, and he was right, because you had both gotten back yesterday, a day full of hugs of goodbye’s from families, and full of cheek and forehead kisses, along with hugs and cuddles from Harry. You teased him about the gift, a book you had told him was the only one you wanted to read, he mailed you, and he teased you about his gift, a sweater with  a hand-stitched (by you) small little moon where the left breast was, for Luna, and posters of his favorite artists, because he didn’t have anything on his walls.

Today was a day of “movies and cookies, it rhymes” as Harry had put it, and you had just knocked on his door, adorned with the sweater he gave you and some sweats. He opened the door almost immediately, a large smile on his face as he brought you in and gave you a large hug, to which you returned. “Missed you.” He mumbled into your shoulder. “I saw you yesterday, dimples.” You said, squeezing him before letting go and poking the indent in his cheek that just got deeper. “I told you I hate that nickname, bunny.” He smirked. “Oh, shove off.” You smiled, making your way to his living room where Luna was curled up on the couch on the right side, close enough to the end that no one could sit there, but close enough to the middle that practically half of his couch was taken.

“Don’t move her,” He said, walking up beside you. “She’s been crazy all day and she's finally relaxing, little devil.” You just shrugged and looked at the cookies he had already set out. “As long as I get these, I don’t mind where she is.”

The two of you settled next to each other on the couch as he chose an old horror movie that you begged not to watch but according to Harry, “S’not even scary, pet. Nothing is realistic, swear.” You just grumbled in defeat as he started to play it and just stuffed cookies into your mouth as you fell against the back of the couch.

Half an hour later, and your head was tucked in Harry’s chest, while your legs fell over his own. His hand was splayed across your back, rubbing up and down gently and mumbled “It’s okay”’s and “I’ve got you”’s while you peeked out to see the giant ant’s taking over. He really couldn’t believe it, you of all people were in his arms at night. He wished it could be every night, and when he heard your breathing slow down he suddenly took it back.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

You hadn’t planned on sleeping over, but just the other day were you complaining about not getting enough sleep because of your “stupid Philosophy professor”, and there was no way in hell Harry was going to wake you up. He hesitated for a moment, before turning off the T.V. because in the time he was deciding on what to do the movie had long stopped playing, and wrapped his other arm under your knees, gently picking you up and taking you to his bed.

He laid you down and tucked you under the covers, grabbing a pillow for himself before making his way to the couch for the night. He made sure to set an alarm to wake up before you did, and make you breakfast.

When you opened your eyes, the last thing you were expected to be met with was a white ceiling with a sleek silver fan nailed in. You sat up groggily, looking around the room to recognize it as Harry’s room. You had only been in here a few times, mostly to scavenge his closet, but you knew his room when you saw it. You swung your legs out of bed, and slowly made your way to the living room, where you were met with a sleeping Harry, spread out on the couch in his sweats, without a shirt. You tried not to linger your gaze on all his tattoos and abs as you walked by him to check the time on your phone. Almost 9 a.m., and by the vibrating phone next to yours, with the same case, you could tell he meant to set an alarm but forgot to turn his ringer on.

He had an alarm set for something, and he never told you what he was doing this morning, so you decided you would wake him up, just in case. You grabbed his shoulder gently, and tried not to think about how warm he was, shaking him gently and calling his name. “Harry…” You said in a sing-songy voice a few times. He pouted in his sleep and grunted a bit, before scrunching his eyes open. He practically jumped back when he saw you and his head fell back against the arm of the couch. Of course he wouldn’t wake up before you. “Morning.” You grinned. “G’morning. M’sorry if you were confused when y’woke up. I just brought y’to my bed cause you fell asleep, n’I was gonna wake up before you but obviously that didn’t work out.”

You just shook your head and smiled, trying not to think about his morning voice. There were a lot of things you had to try not to think about with Harry. “No worries, wanna go grab breakfast at the diner down the street? Heard they have killer hashbrowns.”

And all thanks to you, Harry wonders what he had to worry about in the first place.

After breakfast, you went back to your place, Harry in your living room while you got dressed for the day, changing your sweats to jeans and slipping back out of your room. “Alright, what’s the plan?” You asked, tugging the sleeves of his sweater down to make paws. It wasn’t like Harry hadn’t seen you with his sweater on, but it seemed to make him more flustered everytime you did wear it. He shrugged and looked you up and down quickly. “I like your sweater, where’d y’get it?” He joked, in an attempt to mask his blush.

“From this really cute guy, he just gave it to me one day.” You shrugged, and watched as he bit his bottom lip in an attempt not to smile too much. “Really cute?” He asked as you stepped closer to him. “Mhm, his name is Harry.”

“Please stop.” He said, and you stepped back, confused by his sudden change in emotion. “I’m just joking, Harry.” You said, attempting to save the moment. His bottom lip trembled and he sat down on your couch, his head falling in his hands. “I know, n’I don’t want you t’be.” He mumbled as you sat next to him. He pulled his head out of his hands and looked at you, his heart beating faster than it ever has.

“I really like you, bunny. And I don’t wanna ruin our friendship because you’re the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time, but I cant- I can’t listen to you joke about how you think I’m cute if y’don’t feel the same.”

You swear your heart bursted at his confession. A smile overtook your face and you moved so you were right next to him. You placed your hands on the sides on his face and kissed his nose. “You think I don’t feel the same? For someone so smart, m’surprised you haven’t realized it before,” you said softly, as he looked at you in wonder and shock. “I really like you too.” You leaned in and placed your lips on his, about to pull back when he didn’t respond. He then began to kiss you back and his hands found a home on your hips. When the two of you pulled away, he smiled like a fool and pecked your lips once more.

There was never anything to worry about with you, he was sure of it.

[missinghan]

to my youth ⤖ lee felix

❖ genre : summer au; high school au; fluff

❖ word count : 11,6k.

❖ warning : explicit language, slow burn

❖ summary : it is official that life hates you because not only was your first few days of summer ruined by a stupid field trip, but things also got somewhat freaky… whatever kind of ‘freaky’ you’re thinking about.

❖ note : i know i said i’m ‘experimenting’ with new stuff but guess who’s back with another mediocre, not-that-well-written mess of a domestic au; please (kindly) yell at me to dabble into a new genre after bearing through this fic- happy reading!

one.

The echoes of your summer days remain as flowers immune to the winter chill, they say.

You’re not entirely sure who even fathomed their time and effort to come up with that statement but from your point of view, those flowers would most likely have either died out from the summer heat or withered horrendously because of the arbitrary showers of rain. Or you’re the only one who doesn’t have the luxury to see life through a rose-colored lens.

Because the first thing that comes to mind for you is the bucket of ice-cream and a YouTube OG that you’ve ceased to finish since finals started two weeks ago. The bell rings, pens down, everyone pours out of the classroom after handing in their exam papers. No one really bothers to check up on each other’s answers anymore; the last subject for today was AP Psych and you don’t know about them but you honestly can’t care any less thereafter cramming the entirety of five chapters. 

Sprinting down the staircase, you easily spot Felix amongst the midst of drowsy high school students for the bright color of his hair. He truly believes that if he slaps enough hair essence and coconut oil on his head four times a week, his hair won’t feel like straws when he changes it every other three weeks. But it’s only a matter of time before balding catches up to him, he’ll learn eventually.

“Please don’t tell me that you left your keys in class,” you sigh upon the sight of him fumbling with his folders and textbooks while trying to open his locker in vain. Just thinking about walking all the way back to the third floor makes you want to use your backpack as a pillow and take a nice nap in the middle of the hallway.

“Gee, Y/N,” Felix makes a face to not show the sense of relief washing over him when he locks eyes with you. “Who do you take me as? A clumsy person?”

“No, just a dumbass.” You coldly snatch a slipping book from his arms before turning to twist the disc in the combination of your birthday until the lock clicks, shaking the shackle off to swing his locker open. It’s a silent tradition that you both set each other’s birthday as your locker’s combination since elementary school; it started out as a stupid joke at first but neither of you really bothered to change it. 

“Why the hell would you put your keys in the locker?” you widen your eyes in disbelief as he grabs the bright yellow Spongebob plushie to collect his keys with a shit-eating grin

“My alarm didn’t go off today, so I was running a little late,” he defends himself while dumping everything out of his backpack, hugging an empty water bottle to his side. 

You throw a wave at a very tired Hyunjin walking side by side with Seungmin on his right and Jisung skipping happily towards your direction. Seungmin looks exceptionally moody today, you pray he didn’t mess up an easy question to take it out on all of you later in the car. “Bet you were staying up late to play Overwatch with Chan.” 

Felix manages to grin stiffly at your comment, turning on his heels and trudges onto the school’s parking lot. “Fine, walk home.” 

“Hey, you forgot to lock this!” you pull his steps into a halt by making a grab for his hand, utterly oblivious at how his cheeks flare up with a bright shade of red at your touch. Or out of embarrassment. Whatever, same thing. 

Felix might be a better driver than you, but he’d be fired ten seconds into the job of a babysitter.

With that being said, when Jeongin decides it’s a good idea to cheer a passive-aggressive, post-exams Seungmin up with a carton of strawberry milk and then proceeds to get lost in his own school, the very same school he’s been attending for who knows how long, you’re the one who manually pulls his ass back into Mrs. Lee’s Jeep within ten minutes. 

And Seungmin has already fallen asleep by the time Jeongin’s back, so now he’s the passive-aggressive one while sipping on the milk bitterly. Either way, this is why you headcount although there are only six of you after Changbin starts getting busy with his college applications. 

“What took you so long?” Jisung looks up from his phone the moment you climb into the passenger’s seat, clicking in your seatbelt (drive safe, kids). 

You immediately feel the need to snap a photo of Jeongin accidentally breaking the cafeteria’s door with the staff running towards him in a panic. They’re more scared for his life than the door itself and that’s… sweet to say the least but with the way that the embarrassed boy is glaring at you through the rear-view mirror, you decide to keep your lips sealed. 

“It’s getting dark so all hallways start to look the same, you genius.”

Jisung momentarily sticks his tongue out at you. “God, you’re so rude to me. You’d never talk to Felix like that.”

“Because,” you drawl. “Lix is a pure-hearted angel descended from the realms of Heaven. Whereas, even Lucifer would see you as an eyesore in hell.”

“See! You’re doing it again!” Jisung points a finger at you in accusation, jumping up and down in his seat but no one really cares. It’s not like you’re speaking any false facts. “Stop bullying me!”

Seungmin shifts his body a little, nose scrunched up at the noises that wake him right up. “Jisung,” he warns his friend without opening his eyes. “Sit the fuck down, you have five seconds.”

Felix smirks when Jisung immediately cowers, slumping and leaning himself against Hyunjin in utter defeat. He learned not to mess with Seungmin after throwing a wallet at him on impulse. “Jealous much, Han?” 

“Nah, she’s all yours bro,” Jisung waves it off tiredly; bickering and making fun of Felix’s gigantic crush on you is too much for his brain to process today. He can really use a long, solid twelve-hour summer hibernation after getting home. 

The statement prompts Felix to look over at you when there’s a red light—the same exact moment as you stop staring at the bakery from across the road to lock eyes with him. There’s a little spark igniting at the pit of his stomach, stirring up butterflies inside his rib cage. But he snaps out of it after seeing you raise a brow at him, implying a silent ‘what?’ before turning away again. Felix has always been the type to stare so you don’t bother to think about it too much. 

The problem is: he only stares at you that way. 

A shade of coral creeps its way up to his cheeks, his gaze averting back on the roads when the light turns green. As Felix tries to calm the erratic tempo of his heartbeat, he also thinks about how much time he’d have left to confess before high school is over and everyone takes their own different paths. Then again, the future is far too blurry for him to make out anything and the thought of changes petrifies him a bit too much. 

Felix wishes to hold your hand until the very end but he’s a little scared...because what if you never wanted to be with him in the first place?

two.

Your brother has one talent, and that’s his ability to irritate the living daylight out of you even when he’s practically on the other side of the planet.

Minho (un)fortunately finished his finals with flying colors, and inevitably, you’re the first victim to receive a series of texts that consisted of nothing but self-indulgent, excessive bragging. Basically, he’s allowed to do whatever slash go wherever for a good three weeks before his summer internship begins, dragging his dumb ass back to hell—where he rightfully belongs. 

He’s probably chomping on a terribly unhealthy amount of pizza, pretzels, and any type of New York street food that you can name from the top of your head. It’s not like he’s paying for them anyway since Chan doesn’t allow people to touch their wallets if they happen to eat out with him. 

Your phone vibrates obnoxiously on your desk, the judder slightly muffled because it’s lying on top of your wide-open psych textbook. You haven’t bothered with cleaning up yet; finals only ended yesterday and you decide that you won’t touch anything until the disarray starts to scrape against your nerves. 

Side note: you’ve specifically told everyone not to call you three consecutive days after finals because yes, you’re that much of a loner, and yes, your stamina level for tolerating human interaction is awfully low. 

Second side note: no one ever listens. 

“Good morning, this is Lee Minho’s personal bullshit pail,” you mumble after your thumb swipes against the screen to pick up, your limbs curled up on the floor. “How can I possibly help you today?” Your morning voice isn’t necessarily threatening but rather scary; according to what Minho claimed, it sounds identical to that creepy girl from The Grudge so he groans aloud, his voice suddenly going out of focus on the other line from pulling his phone away.

“Jesus Christ are you still in your hermit phase after finals?” he questions callously, sounding not at all pleased with the way you greeted him. “Where’s mom and dad? Usually, they would have slammed your ass by now for staying inside like a vampire.”

“Don’t be insufferable, it’s only like…” you trail off while bending forward to take a good look at the little Sumiko Gurashi alarm on your bookshelf that Felix gave you during middle school. “Nine thirty-something and they’re at the park to exercise, duh- why do you care?”

Your brother almost sings on the phone, “Because you’re my little baby sister-” And this prompts you to pull the device away for the sake of your poor ear. It doesn’t help when you’re already surrounded by a group full of obnoxiously loud individuals on a daily basis. Not trying to call anyone out but Han Jisung is at the top of the list, his name in bold, capital letters being circled and underlined multiple times with a red marker.

“Who do I gotta kill to sleep in on a dreadful Sunday morning as any normal, cranky, antisocial high school student would?” you deadpan and rub the bridge of your nose dreadfully. 

“I don’t know, go murder Jisung or something.” Honestly, that’s tempting… but no.

You can physically see the smug smile on his face right now, simpering in delight at your imminent misery. He knows goddamn well about your relationship with sleeping schedules and that’s the perfect excuse for him to ruin those little specks of time when your brain cells are getting an actual break. 

These are also the times when you wish phones don’t fucking exist. 

“By the way, are you gonna go on the field trip tomorrow?” 

This question wakes you up almost completely because your eyes are now wide as a fish’s out of water, your hand automatically putting him on speaker before digging through the folders inside your backpack. What field trip? No one said anything about a field trip. And who thought it’s a good idea to force some worn-out, post-exams, sleep-deprived students into a field trip right after finals?

Minho hums coyly when the only response he’s getting is the rustling sound from your backpack, “Hmm, see what I meant there, little sis? Oh, the downside of living under a rock at its finest.” He doesn’t have to be here for you to fully picture the way that his lips curl up, dark brows wiggling whenever he’s right about something. Your brother wins most of the time against other people but overtaking you is an entirely different story.

“Oh screw off and go buy yourself a sense of humor.”

“Don’t be so mopey, isn’t Felix gonna be there?”

“What does Felix have to do with this?” you grit after managing to pull out a piece of paper from the very back, buried under countless of your essays. And it reads ‘field trip’ in caps at the top with tomorrow’s date right beneath. The trip lasts for three days, you’re going camping with the grizzly bears for three days—a total nightmare, basically. 

“Pfft, you’re actually dense for someone with a sparkly report card,” he sneers. “That kid has been crushing on you since elementary school. Are the signals that fucked up?”

“You mean when I accidentally spilled orange juice over his head? Sure, bet that’s why he’s so head over heels for me,” you snicker, unfazed by these kinds of statements. Minho only knows Felix because he was the president of your school's dance club and you fully believe that your brother is simply trying to mess with your malfunctioning, cranky mindset. 

“I fucking beg to differ, he always stares at you like you’re the love of his life, even when you stupidly poked yourself with a needle,” Minho announces as if he’s a love expert, tsk, amateur. “He might just confess during the trip, who knows? Campfire flickering. Sharing the same s’mores. Surrounded by nature. That sounds romantically ideal to me for a confession.”

He’s visioning everything like a terrible cliché film where two high schoolers stubbornly deny their feelings for each other until they start noticing how cute the other person is while magically being forced to be alone together. The worst kind of high school movie—which is also almost every high school movie. And you best believe that you’d a hundred percent kick your brother’s ass off that director’s chair because people live and breathe for this kind of overused entertainment. Tragic. 

“Alright, fuck this, I’m out-“

“Wait!” Minho exclaims out of nowhere, almost blowing up your eardrums. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

You swear you’re rolling your eyes so hard, they’re about to fall out of their respective sockets. “Well, obviously,” you put the piece of paper down with a sigh, contemplating ways to minimize the amount of socializing in the upcoming three days. “Haven’t you bothered me enough? No?”

“You can’t leave me like this,” he whines in an annoyingly high-pitched voice that sends chills down your spine. 

“You need me, we’re connected.” 

He sounds like a whack version of Minnie Mouse for a second there, the kind of plushie that looks cute but with disturbingly creepy voice audio; no parents would let their children go near that aisle. 

You yawn as if there’s no tomorrow, stretching your limbs tiredly. “What I need is for you to shut the fuck up and leave me alone so I can go on my merry way to pick up snacks for this stupid field trip,” you utter lifelessly. 

“You hurt my feelings,” Minho pretends to clutch onto his chest and lets out a dramatic gasp, his voice doused in pure sarcasm. “What a heartbreaker, Y/N.” Said the one who always keeps his apathetic front up like a fortress’ wall and tosses every single love letter on Valentine’s Day into the recycling bin, handing the chocolate out to his classmates like he’s giving leftover vegetables to his least favorite relatives.

“Oh, I can tell,” you reply with fake enthusiasm and mock empathy. “You know how I can tell?”

“Do not finish th-”

“Cause we’re connected.” With that you hang up, slamming your phone harshly onto the surface of your textbook. 

three. 

You might love your room a little too much, it’s getting somewhat unhealthy.

It was furnished with a rather meager budget after your family moved out of your hometown when you stepped into elementary school. Things stay the same, well, most of it as time passes by you unknowingly. Your sad bookcase used to exist for one sole purpose—carrying countless books and plushies has now been upgraded with too many polaroids of your dumb group of friends, a neatly framed photo of Class of 2020 and two trophies that don’t even belong to you since Minho ran out of space as he kept participating in random dance competitions. 

The morning beams find their way through your white curtains and stain your walls with patches of yellow, eventually bugging your vision until you successfully convince yourself to either 1) wake up and get ready for school or 2) lazily stride across your room to shut the blinds completely so you can head back to bed. It’s summer… so option one is temporarily non-existent for a solid three months. 

Hey, you’re just simply making up for those all-nighters with a new cup of coffee every two hours.

Speaking of your bed, it’s soft but takes up so much space to the point that Hyunjin keeps complaining about not having enough room for his legs when he’s sprawled across the floor with Jisung, vigorously focusing on a presentation’s outline. Seungmin calls you lame for not throwing away your childhood plushies and letting them hog at least one-third of your bed, but Felix doesn’t mind since he always needs something to hug. All the more reasons why you can only trust Felix.

You might miss having those idiots being loud and invading your personal space...maybe.

Your phone rings for the second time that morning when you’re walking downstairs, shoving your keys into your pocket and grabbing a protein bar on the counter. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit right now, Minho,” you bark into the device, chewing on your breakfast aggressively, not bothering to look at the caller’s ID.

The closest convenience store is only twenty minutes away from your house but there’s a sticky note on the fridge from your mom, reminding you that she needs eggs to bake cupcakes for her company’s twentieth anniversary while your dad is running low on his Red Bulls. Basically, you’re in distress. It’s not like your dad should be inhaling those sugary drinks on a daily basis and your mom can just buy premade goods from the bakery. But there are more options for snacks at the supermarket…

“Y/N, the fuck?” The response of a voice as deep as the Pacific ocean almost makes you choke on air. “Did I wake you up or something?” Felix sounds flabbergasted on the other line, slightly taken aback. You almost feel bad because he’s the only sweetheart in your chaotic squad (besides Chan, obvi) except when he stays up late gaming with Hyunjin, pleading for your notes the next morning with puppy eyes.

“No, Minho did,” you grumble before tossing the wrapping into a bin.

“You don’t say,” Felix replies flatly, but his voice soon grows merry again after pushing the topic of your brother aside. “Oh, and I’m coming over to return your earphones, wanna grab breakfast?”

He practically lives ten minutes away from you, sees you almost every day even if it’s the weekend since he can’t stay in the same house with his sisters for too long and puts you on FaceTime every night to prevent himself from slacking off on assignments. The only time he didn’t get to see you for a week straight was when he visited Australia and accidentally dropped his phone into the ocean. It was a rough week without you nagging him for doing something stupid. Fundamentally, he’s merely making up more excuses to spend time with you after finals.

Chuckling, “Only if you’re treating me, I’m about to go broke from buying snacks for our field trip tomorrow.” you say breezily. 

And you’re only telling him that because he might just pay for your snacks as well since Felix Lee eats freshly grilled steak and mashed potato for breakfast. Baffling, absolutely. Plus, he works at a boba shop every summer either way and he would never hesitate to spend the entirety of his paycheck on any of his close friends. Irrelevant but the point is: you kinda don’t wanna go out alone today.

Or you’re just in the mood to go with Felix. That’s a useless statement since you both see each other at least ten out of twenty-four hours per day. 

“By the way, you know what I just realized?” Felix smacks his palm on his forehead. “This is our last field trip, like ever.”

Walking over to the rack of shoes down the hallway, you let out a large exhale. “That’s unfortunate on your behalf. I, on the other hand, don’t have a problem with that,” you tell him with zero consideration, your brain cells too busy picking out a pair of shoes to process the five basic steps to empathize with another human being. 

“No,” he emphasizes helplessly. “I meant, it’s like our last high school field trip. We’re graduating next year, no time to sleep with the grizzly bears again.”

You can only manage to utter, “Oh.” Shit, college is right around the corners. 

“Jesus fucking Christ what the hell am I supposed to do after high school? Stay here? Go abroad? Wait, aren’t applications for going abroad supposed to be turned in a year beforehand? Why are you only telling me this now!?” 

Felix laughs wholeheartedly through the phone, amused at your sudden outburst. “Y/N, calm down. You’re going to college, not prison,” he brushes it off casually but in a way, college is technically prison. Slaving over a degree while working part-time jobs, chasing time relentlessly like you’re driving in the middle of a foggy night with one headlight out. And you’re forced to open up with more strangers. It’s terrifying, actually terrifying. And you’re not the type to be easily terrified. 

Now come to think about it, you don’t get why you were so pressed about it five seconds ago. It’s a good opportunity not to leech off your parents as much, like dabbling, taking one baby step at a time into adulthood. After that, you’ll graduate again, probably settle somewhere with an adequate job and find someone, starting to think about having ki-

Hold up, you’re going too far. You’re barely a senior. 

“I guess we’ll just have to make the most out of this summer,” Felix’s voice snaps you back to the surface of Earth faster than a tick of a clock. “We’re outside, by the way. Open up.”

That fast? Furrowing your brows, you hang up to slip into a pair of sneakers before sprinting to the front door. Wait, your hand freezes as it grazes the doorknob. We?

Not again. 

“Why the fuck..” you cracks a lifelessly crooked smile after pushing the door wide open. “..are you here?” It’s only ten in the morning, and you don’t think you should be screaming at the top of your lungs to be jumped on by the whole neighborhood.

Felix takes a step back, a little scared for his life. “Uhh, to return your earphones?”

“No, no,” you run a hand through your hair tiredly. Just when you thought this day was gonna be peaceful. “I’m not talking about you, I’m talking about them. Since when was this an agreement? How dare-“

“Why yes, I missed you too!” Jisung exclaims like the little shit he is, throwing an arm over your neck to ruffle your hair. No one ruffles your hair without getting their ass slammed- except for Minho. “Why the long face? Let me guess, until this exact second, you thought there’s a fucking squirrel, a lama, a dog, and a kitten standing at your front porch? No, it’s us, your Forever BFFs.” He’s one of the reasons why you refuse to understand the humans’ language sometimes.

With a harsh shove from you, Jisung staggers backward only for Hyunjin to prevent him from rolling like a ball in the middle of your neighborhood. “One more word and I’m telling the whole class who your crush is,” you threaten, earning an involuntary snort from Seungmin. 

“I hate to admit this, but she might actually say yes if he makes the first move.”

Hyunjin supplies unconstructively, “That’s why he didn’t ask.”

“You know what, Hwang,” Felix says with a smirk tugging at his lips, bumping his fist against Hyunjin’s without turning his head. 

“Oh screw all of you.” Jisung’s getting all the attention he wanted this early in the morning yet he still feels like a loser. Perhaps he should try shutting up once in a while. 

four.

“Thanks for giving me a ride, uncle, you really didn’t have to,” Felix says generously from your dad’s back seats, scratching the nape of his neck as though this is the first time he’s ever shared a ride with you. 

He’s too humble sometimes you just want to smack him across the face with a pillow to stop being so formal with your dad. Heck, Felix downright called him ‘dad’ by accident once during a Christmas dinner back in middle school and your dad even encouraged him to keep addressing him like that. 

Not to mention, Felix is chomping on a turkey sandwich that your mom made this morning specifically for him after finding out that his parents are currently out of town and there's nothing but ramen in the cabinet. God forbids her to starve the same kid who helped your dad fix his bumper. So really, he should be expecting these things by now. 

“Oh it’s not a big deal, you’re too nice,” your dad laughs as he pulls over to your school’s front gate, careful not to run into that one really tall, ugly tree. You’re lowkey paranoid that people might die if it collapses during a storm or something. “Perhaps you can return the favor by getting a drink with me sometimes.”

Felix blinks numerous times, slightly gobsmacked. “...but I’m not old enough to drink yet.”

“Correct answer.” And you snicker when your dad turns around to toss a wink at your friend’s direction. “Doesn’t mean that I’m forbidding you kids have fun,” he clarifies upon the baffled expression on Felix’s face. “But not too much fun, got it?”

“Okay, okay dad, I’ll see you in three days,” you shake your head before climbing out of the car. “Don’t starve the cats while I’m gone. Oh! And Soonie still needs his lactobacillus-“

Your dad brushes it off with a sheepish smile, “I’ll leave it to your mom, muffin, I can’t even remember which dry food is for which cat. I also don’t think they’ll be starving anytime soon, those little demons are getting quite fat actually since your brother spoils them all the time.” You can only give him a mere eye-roll because as much as he claims to hate having pets, there have been countless times when you caught your dad red-handed trying to tuck the cats into bed in the middle of the night. 

Felix soon catches up with your steps after bidding him farewell, crumpling the sandwich wrapper in his palm. “Wait up, muffin,” he says breathlessly with a few skips, starting to think about not skipping dance practice again this summer before his body gets out of shape. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, followed by a harsh elbow jabbed into his side. Felix grunts in pain, slowing down a little but still tries to walk side by side with you nonetheless. “You don’t deserve that complimentary breakfast, I’m telling mom to cut your portion off next time.” 

“Ah! Come on, muffin! You’re being mean.”

Your biggest fear has inevitably come true—after all those years of erratic mood swings and other weird things puberty puts you through, Felix still makes fun of you for the nickname that your parents came up with on your first day of school. It doesn’t help with the fact that he meets them quite often too. Like four out of seven days a week since your parents love coming over to each other’s house for dinner. 

“Flip that scowl upside down now, will you?” Felix cups your cheeks and squishes them together, attempting to make your smile by tugging at the corners of your lips. “Aren’t you excited about the trip?”

You scoff at him, “Are you even hearing yourself? My entire existence reeks off ‘excitement’ 24/7.” 

“That’s bullshit.”

“I’m not responsible for whatever happens next to your face.”

But when you reach up to peel his hands away, you’re bound to make a grave mistake by looking straight into his eyes. The morning light hits his face at the right angle and it makes him look like a puppy—which you wouldn't mind starting at all day. Although it’s not like you haven’t got a good look at him before, something’s different today. From the way his irises twinkle gently like thousands of celestial bodies to how his freckles scattered across his cheekbones like the remaining bits from a supernova, his full lips with a prominent Cupid’s bow and his cute crooked teeth. 

You know all of these things; perhaps you’ve never put too much thought into them before. Not when you’re constantly facepalming at him for doing stupid TikTok dances and trying to eat a banana with its peel on. But now when you actually acknowledge them, your heart momentarily skips a beat. Or two. 

Doesn’t matter, you hate this feeling either way. 

“Get a room, this is disgusting to watch.” 

Seungmin steps in between you two with his backpack slung over his shoulders, hands resting on his hip like he’s babysitting you and your biological parents don’t pay him enough for this tedious job. But Felix is too busy making sure that his eyes aren’t malfunctioning when he sees a pink tint on your cheeks to focus on whatever nonsense Seungmin is spewing at him. 

“Get on the bus, losers! Y’all are embarrassing me!” Hyunjin yells as he plants a foot onto the bus, trying his best not to be subtle about the fact that all of your classmates have already been seated. 

You can practically see Jisung making weird faces from the window and next to him is a very cranky-looking Jeongin with his earbuds plugged in, deciding not to tolerate any chit-chatting this morning. It’s a shame how the school’s always on a low budget when it comes to transportation; consequently, some random freshmen got squeezed in with your class. 

So you elect to ignore your friend’s questionable behaviors (sometimes you wonder what he’s on to be this zealous at six in the morning) and grabs Felix's hand to climb onto the vehicle before coach Kim kicks your ass for slowing the schedule down. 

As you shuffle down the narrow aisle, you quickly realize there are only two seats left at the very back—basically, you feel a little guilty for not getting a good spot for Felix but he doesn’t seem to mind because he taps you on the shoulder lightly, signaling for you to move.

“Ugh, I wanna go home,” you sigh, slumping into your seat after tucking your backpack neatly on the small compartment above. 

“You’re boring,” Felix comments flatly but he’s partially glad that he got to sit with you instead of some blabberer. “Need this?” Fishing his earphones out of his backpack, he wiggles the banana milk case in front of your face. 

You only nod lazily at the offer, causing him to huff in disbelief before slipping in a side of his AirPods into your ear. You both have pretty similar taste in music so you don’t mind when he puts one of his playlists on random and Fly Me to the Moon bleeds into your eardrums. The soft melody makes you yawn a little, eyelids getting droopy. 

“Tired.” Is the only warning Felix gets before you decide to drop your head onto his shoulders, slipping your arm around his torso comfortably like it’s a pillow. You personally don’t do cuddles but since he’s into those things and smells nice—very fruity, somewhat musky too, you might as well take advantage of that with the hope of sleeping throughout the entire ride. 

“What is wrong with you today?” he asks with glowing cheeks. 

“Shh shh, I’m recharging my battery.”

Felix is a little flustered, to say the least. But instead of complaining about your sudden clinginess, he rests his head on top of yours like second nature, allowing his childhood song to drown out some of the background chatters. 

You should really be clingy more often… though he’s not gonna risk his pearly white teeth by telling you that. 

five. 

Your school actually knows how to manage money in a smart way. Shocker, you know. 

You are thrown off upon hearing that no one needs to worry about the grizzly bears, or wolves (hey, one can never be too careful) because everyone gets to share a log cabin with a maximum of three other people. 

In fact, the camp counselors have confirmed that even though they’re throwing a bunch of inexperienced, dumb high schoolers smacked in the middle of the wilderness, there’s really nothing to do other than boring team-building exercises...and fishing. In other words, the only creature that can somewhat do harm to you is mosquitoes. 

It’s been pouring nonstop when your classmates tried to set up the campfire with coach Kim screaming into their eardrums last night, no wonder those little shit are thriving to make your life more miserable—they’re in their element, reproducing at a terrifying pace. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N!” 

Hyunjin clutches a hand to his chest in both relief and terror after realizing the curled up figure sitting by the window is just you. He steps inside the cabin completely and flings his wet bangs away from his face, shoving the umbrella in his hand into a stand by the shoe rack. “You look like shit, are you okay?” he furrows his brows, slightly concerned about your eyebags and the way your lips crack from dehydration.

A soulless smile finds its way to your face. “I’m pretty sure ‘shit’ and ‘okay’ aren’t supposed to be in the same sentence but thank you for asking, I appreciate it.”

Here’s another downside to being a homebody: you can’t fucking sleep on any other beds that aren’t yours. And surprisingly that two-hour nap on the bus wasn’t enough to fuel you for the rest of the trip. But lucky you, it’s most likely going to keep raining cats and dogs and trash pandas for the rest of the day. Outdoor activities are no longer mandatory and you can almost hear your non-existent muscles crying in sheer joy. 

“Drink,” Hyunjin sighs at your pathetic state and decides to toss a water bottle in your direction. 

However, all you do is retrieve your limbs deeper into Felix’s fluffy blanket since he refused to use the grey one that’s draped over every bed beforehand. You’re far beyond grateful for that because those fading, questionable-looking stains just scare the crap out of you. And also because the fluffy blanket smells like him; you rest your case.

“You were knocked out for the entire bus ride, so why the hell can’t you fall asleep on a decent bed?” Shaking his head, Hyunjin plops himself onto Jisung’s bed like a potato, accidentally knocking over the neatly folded pile of clothes. He really doesn’t give two flying fucks about the fact that his friend spent an excessive ten minutes to organize his stuff so coach Kim won’t be barging into their cabin with a megaphone at five in the morning again. 

“She can only fall asleep on Felix, that’s why.” You roll your eyes in the bitchiest way possible, not bothering to chuck the abandoned water bottle at the unwanted guest of this terrific conversation. 

Hyunjin almost lets out a shriek when Seungmin jolts up from his bed, hair messy, a leg sticking out from his comforter. “You know, until this exact moment, I thought that you were dead or something.”

“What I’m trying to say is,” Seungmin elaborates as he bends over to reach for his glasses with squinted eyes. “There’s a 99,9% that Felix will make the first move but at the same time, it doesn’t mean the other 0,01% won’t happen so you,” he jabs his index finger towards you. “Better be doing something other than walking around camp like a zombie.”

Hyunjin tilts his head in confusion. “Since when was this even a thing?” You’re this close to have a permanent hand imprint on your forehead for facepalming every two seconds with your idiotic friends around. 

“Uhh, since forever?” Seungmin feels the need to voice out. “Listen, since the day Y/N spilled orange juice on Felix’s favorite shirt, the amount of times they’re forced to be together has risen tremendously. And when their parents found out their families live like ten minutes away from each other, they practically see each other every single day. Even outside of school. They tolerate each other, meaning the dynamic is long-lasting. Their bonding encouraged friendship.” 

“But we’re her friends too?”

A deep breath. “No, their friendship was incited to grow into something bigger, more profound because Felix has a special ‘click’ with Y/N that he doesn’t with us. God, Hyunjin, it’s been what, almost a decade! How could you not see it?” Seungmin says with expressive hands, almost yanking every strand of hair off of his head. It’s too early for this, his brain is about to implode. Hwang Hyunjin being dense just feels like a metaphoric chokehold to him. 

“Y/N,” Hyunjin simply ignores his frustrated friend to look over at you slipping into your sneakers. “You’re being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal.”

“That’s because she’s about to either shut the door in my face then find Felix or kick my ass and then find Felix,” Seungmin informs with a yawn, and this prompts you to muster a fake smile. 

Oh, I’m fucking livid. 

“You know me too well.”

He questions with heavy irony, “I’m sorry did you just agree with me?”

“Oh no, no, I take that back,” you brush him off. “Is Felix still outside fishing?”

“I think so?” Hyunjin replies while running a hand through his hair in mere distress; Felix’s competitiveness goes a little mayhem sometimes when it comes to Jisung being better than him at something since they’re so close. That’s one of the sole reasons why Felix always manages to maintain his flying GPA because Han Jisung procrastinates like no other but still tops his class every single semester. 

“I didn’t find him at the lake, though, wonder where he went.”

You widen your eyes, somewhat alarmed since it’s almost lunchtime, and Felix Lee never, and you mean never, ever let himself skip a meal. He always gets a nice nap after stuffing his face with enough good food too, so that’s a bonus. But that’s not the point, the point is: you’re starting to get a little worried because he’s been fishing all morning, wandering alone in the wilderness without a camp counselor. 

You’d better not find him sleeping with the fishes. 

six.

Maybe you were right, maybe Felix is a dumbass.

Because listening to his ego and coming back to the lake after breakfast was a horrendous idea. 

It’s such a pity how those weird-looking vehicles have stopped driving around camp the moment it started pouring outside. Heck, he didn’t even bring an umbrella after asking the coach to check today's forecast. 

So tragically, he’s now stuck underneath the canopy of a cafe ensuing coursing his way through the water blizzard and seeking refuge but can’t walk back to his cabin where his cabin-mates are probably having the time of their life drinking hot chocolate and nibbling on hand-picked fruits.

Felix exhales in torment while gazing outside, everything’s completely white-out thanks to droplets of raining streaking the horizon. Perhaps dashing back might be his one solitary option, but shivers soon run up his spine again, reminding him that he’s probably looking like a wet rat—his black Converse sodden, water seeping through the thin fabric of his uniform, numbing his skin. 

Ruffling his wet fringe, Felix’s hand fishes inside his pocket to look for his phone only to realize that it’s not there. “Shit...great..just great, today is my lucky day.” Even if the camp counselors didn’t confiscate all the electronic devices, there wouldn’t be any service in the middle of the woods either. Splendid. 

“Ugh, Y/N,” he groans under his breath. “Why did you let me do this?”

“Shit.”

 “AHH!”

Felix shrieks upon the tiny voice squeaking out from behind him. And he sighs in pure relief to see a little girl standing mere inches away, looking no more than a seven-year-old dressed in a yellow raincoat. “Hey kid,” he chuckles and crouches down to her eye level. “Where are your parents? You’re not supposed to be out here alone when it’s pouring like crazy.” 

And to his dismay, “Shit,” the little girl giggles, finding a new profound interest in the curse word that he accidentally spewed out seconds ago. 

“Shh shh,” Felix frantically places an index finger on his lips while darting his eyes around in terror—he might be sued if her parents found out how their daughter picked up a bad word from some random high schooler. Suddenly he feels bad for his future kids. “No, no, we can’t say that. It’s forbidden. What’s your name?”

“Mina,” she answers cutely and fiddles with the ends of her braids. “Who’s Y/N? Is she your girlfriend?”

Felix chokes on his own saliva. “...no, why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, my dad always calls my mom’s name when he messes things up.”

“What does that have to do with- oh, shit,” he facepalms himself. This kid is going to give him a cardiac arrest any second now. “It doesn’t matter if she’s my girlfriend or not, what matters is I need to get you back to your parents. Do you know where they are right now?”

Mina simply shakes her head with a pout. “Okay, let’s go find them then,” he can’t help but cracks a smile, ruffling her hair endearingly. Most kids would be bawling their eyes out by now knowing that they’ve strayed from their parents; she’s a tough one. 

Felix gently grabs Mina’s hand, biting down on his lower lip as he prays that a cold doesn’t catch up to him tomorrow and ready to dash out of the canopy that’s been keeping him dry for the last hour or two. But then a figure comes into view from afar, holding an umbrella while squinting their eyes through the thick streaks of rain. 

“Y/N..?” he mutters to himself in disbelief when you quickly skip underneath the canopy, collapsing the red umbrella in your hands. Felix recognizes that umbrella anywhere—isn’t that Hyunjin’s? Have you been looking for him? And for how long too?

“Didn’t even think about bringing an umbrella, smartass,” you say with a raised eyebrow. “Oh dear, who do we have here?” Before Felix can defend himself in vain with lame excuses, you’ve already taken your attention off him to stare at the unfamiliar presence. Your intense gaze scares Mina a little, causing the little girl to squeeze Felix’s hand, hiding behind his leg. 

Your friend laughs, patting her little head in reassurance. “Mina, this is Y/N, my classmate. Don’t let her intimidate you.”

“Are you really going to bother with this little one?” you scrunch your nose a bit. “We’re having pork rib soup, by the way, better hurry if you don’t want Han to hog your portion all to himself.”

Felix rolls his eyes at how utterly apathetic you are towards children. If you can get a perfect A in calc then why is it so hard to simply comprehend that every twelve-year-old needs to be returned to their hypothetical parents safely? “What part of ‘a common sense of morality’ can’t you understand?” 

“I don’t want to, actually, sounds like a lot of work,” you hum sarcastically. 

“Your girlfriend is scary,” Mina ensconces herself further behind your friend, officially detecting you as a threat rather than someone who will potentially bring her back to the cabin where her parents are probably flipping the whole place upside down in a panic—which is exactly what you’re planning to do. 

In your defense, you don’t detest kids in general. Only the bratty ones. And Mina is borderline bratty. 

“You know, I can spare her some time, Lost and Found is like..ten minutes away from here.”

“Y/N-” Felix wants to scream at you, rubbing the side of his temple in distress. Imagining you babysitting your neighbor’s newborn last summer with nine bucks per hour, ten hours per day, and five out of seven days per week is one of the few things that constantly keeps him from having a good night's sleep. It baffles him how you haven’t accidentally drowned the infant while giving her a bath. 

Mina gives the side of his jeans a tug, round eyes staring up at him expectantly. “Or we can get juice pops!” she exclaims happily and looks over to you, mustering her best puppy eyes. “Please? I don’t want to be alone..” 

“Twenty seconds ago, you called me scary and now you’re guilt-tripping me?” you crouch down to get a good look at the kid. Bright, innocent brown eyes, cute button nose, and a chipped front tooth—perhaps she’s a little too cute to not get her juice pops. 

Then, “And juice pops too? You evil mad mind genius,” you say after standing up to unfold Hyunjin’s umbrella, swinging it over the top of your head. “That’s extortion, kid, you’re too young for that.”

Felix breaks into a fit of giggles upon seeing you failing at trying to keep a straight face and steps in beside you under the umbrella. His next problem just pops up right then and there—Mina can’t squeeze in considering the umbrella that Hyunjin gave you is solely used for one person. 

“Mina, hop on here,” he decides to get on his knees, permitting the little girl to clumsily climb on his back and eventually plopping herself onto his shoulders. 

“Oh, oh, oh, can you two hold hands?” Mina suggests with a shit-eating grin on her face. This causes Felix’s cheeks to burn with a bright shade of red while you’re too busy throwing daggers at her with your eyes to notice. “My family does this all the time, my dad would carry me on his shoulders and my mom would hold his hand as we walk home after going to the park.”

You and Felix yell simultaneously, “We’re not your parents!!” But that doesn’t seem to scare the little girl. You’re both just encouraging her. 

“Yip yip, horsey, don’t be disobedient now,” she giggles to herself and pulls at a solid patch of Felix’s hair, making you cringe because his hair and scalp have already had enough from his questionable obsession with bright hair colors. 

“Ow! Mina! Stop it! Ow!”

“Okay quit torturing my friend,” you tell her and decide to slip your hand in with Felix’s, intertwining your fingers to secure the grip before showing it to Mina so that she’ll stop before any blood is drawn. “There, we’re holding hands just like your mommy and daddy, you happy?” 

Felix doesn’t say anything even when Mina nods happily, releasing her monstrous grip off his poor scalp. He only lets you tug him away from the canopy of the cafe as he gazes downward, eyes glued to how your hand fits into his perfectly. The sound of rain tapping against the umbrella suddenly bugs him, suffocating him in a way. In other words, it’s really unnatural to think this way about his best friend but he doesn't want you to let go at all. 

Everything seems to move faster when you’re holding onto his hand so certainly. Felix thinks you’re fully aware but try to fight off the voices that are taunting you to just drop it. And truth is, you can care less because your head is now far too fuzzy to focus on anything but the road ahead. 

You pray he doesn’t feel the pounding rhythm from your veins. If your red ears haven’t given it away already. 

seven.

Jisung has weird friends, that’s a fact. And no, you’re not talking about the gang that saved his ass every time he got into trouble aka you plus JeongMinLixJin. You’re talking about those kids from Class 2C that are mutual friends with Changbin.

Because the moment Jisung barges into the cabin and starts babbling nonsense that you can’t comprehend (not that you can comprehend any of his shit on the daily), you know that he just came back from a get together with those sketchy dudes who managed to sneak some booze inside a shampoo bottle.

“Uhm okay, who gave Felix alcohol?” he squints his eyes hard. 

You are more than aware that Jisung is mildly smashed by the way that his cheeks are tinted with a light shade of coral, hiccupping every ten seconds and slightly more clumsy with his feet. He almost tripped over the rug at the front door if it weren’t for Hyunjin who caught him in time so that he wouldn’t break one of his precious teeth. Those painful years of constantly slurping on watery porridge after every dentist appointment to tighten his braces shouldn’t be going down the drain. 

Speaking of bland rice water, that’s all Felix has been fed with after returning to camp because he has no choice. The sickness finally caught up to him as a result of staying outside for too long while still dressed in his rain-soaked uniform. Even under the cotton comforter, he’s radiating heat on the outside but stoically shivering on the inside, his energy level is as diminished as his appetite. 

The nurse said there’s really nothing that can be done but give him some pills and let him ride it out so now Felix’s all curled up in a corner of his bed, cheeks burning flush of fever, coughing and sneezing occasionally. He refuses to be moved to a completely separate cabin because sleeping alone in a confined place knowing that the grizzly bears might be roaming outside your door is quite frightening for a junior in high school. 

“God, what makes you think I’m the batshit drunk one here?” Felix croaks, his voice more hoarse and gruff than usual because every word pains him, his vocal cords pulse in agony at each syllable. And that sentence was probably the longest thing you’ve heard from him since dinner. 

Jisung lets Hyunjin toss him onto his bed, face down, and props himself up on his forearms. “Uhh, have you checked yourself the mirror?” he hiccups, words a bit slurred, palms outstretched in a grabby motion. “Seungmin, water- ow! What the fuck was that!?” 

He rubs the side of his head while babbling incoherently like a fucking five-year-old because Seungmin decided to chuck a water bottle at him. Those years of playing baseball during retreats indeed paid off. 

“I went for the head,” Seungmin looks up from his book calmly, acting innocent. 

Jisung whines and turns to his side, watching as the water bottle rolls back towards him after coming in contact with the wall. “God, I miss Minho. You guys suck,” he takes it before sitting right up but flops himself back down when a pang of pain claws at his temple. Who even allowed him to drink?

“Didn’t he make your high school experience miserable?” Hyunjin laughs, sitting down on the corner of his bed, legs curled into his chest. 

“Hello? That was me,” Seungmin clarifies, he sounds a little offended. “He called me a nerd for studying late at the library for our finals! Our fucking finals! Do you know how insecure my freshman self was? I was so hurt!” 

You cross your arms and mumble, “He’s the same guy who treated you ice-cream after finding out you got a B in physics.”

Hyunjin hums, butting into the topic, “And he made me do fifty push-ups because I unintentionally skipped a day at practice. Our Dance Club really didn’t need a president who effortlessly snatches the Asshole of the Year Award like he’s stealing candies from a kid.”

“Please, you’re practically buddies now,” you scoff. “You always play Mario Kart and rewatch the Avatar series with him, even during midterms!”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Jisung suddenly gets on his feet, jumping up and down like a maniac. You’re highly concerned for the bed by the creaking sound that it’s making—sounds just like something straight out of a horror film. “He almost threw a knife at me!”

You’re running out of excuses to defend your stupid brother at this rate. What’s the point in trying anyway? “Han, it was a plastic knife, chill.”

Jisung crawls off his bed to approach you, pinching his thumb and index finger together before shoving them to your face. “I was this close to dying! You try having someone threaten to throw a knife at you during lunch break,” he complains like it’s the end of the world. Truth is, you’ve seen (and experienced) worse things. 

“Minho’s still my brother.”

Staring at you, Jisung looks unimpressed. “He wanted to kill me because I commented on his puffy cheeks that day.”

“He’s adopted.”

The conversation is pulled to a halt right there when Felix does a full-body groan, his head spinning and sweats starting to collect at his hairline. With his mind buzzed like he’s floating, the bickering only adds to the pressure that’s squeezing each of his functioning brain cells. In other words, it feels as though Han Jisung is a fucking hamster going on a marathon across his body, nibbling on his limbs and ears as he’s going through a hangover, his immune system going on a rampage. 

Felix doesn’t even drink. 

“That’s my call for a bedtime story.” You glare at Jisung when he clears his throat while you’re attempting to tuck Felix into bed, pressing your palm against his forehead to check his temperature. It’s not climbing anymore, he should be okay after sweating everything out. 

Hyunjin pulls his friend back onto his bed, locking his limbs in tight before he waddles around and potentially breaks one of those decorative pieces on the bookshelf. “Not to burst your ego, but I don’t think you’re sober enough to give us a good story,” he says unapologetically. 

“Puh-lease,” Jisung lets out the weirdest chuckle at that, wagging his forearm like those Japanese ceramic cat figures that are supposed to bring people good fortune; and Han Jisung is notorious for bringing people anything but good fortune. “They didn’t even have vodka, only Strongbow. That shit is too weak for me.”

You snort involuntarily, “Actually, I think you meant you’re too weak for those bottles of cider.”

“Wow, Y/N, what a snake.”

eight.

The bonfire crackles, flaring up to life when coach Kim tosses a lit matchstick into the pyramid pile of branches and woods. The flame projects long shadows of the trees all round along, swirling and curling in obscure shapes with the high schoolers that each hugs their own cup of hot cocoa, chomping on their marshmallows of choice. 

Glowing embers beneath are colored by the inferno that seems to be moving with the rhythm and melody of the song that they’re all singing along, drumming their feet and bobbing their heads simultaneously. 

“Are you guys sure you don’t want to join them?” Felix says apologetically after sneezing into a piece of tissue, his nose all red and swollen. “I can just… I don’t know, read a book or something.”

When he refers to those oddly colorful and rather bulky-looking books on the shelves, Seungmin immediately stops putting a cookie inside his mouth midway. “Those are called ‘aesthetically useless interior decoration’, Lix. Good luck trying to open those plastic blocks,” he expresses with his hands after stuffing the cookie into his mouth, chewing rather aggressively. 

Felix feels quite bad because, for all he knows, Hyunjin and Seungmin have been planning on going kayaking today and trying out volleyball tomorrow. You’re all going home in two days yet they’ve done nothing but pigging out in pure distress. “Still, it’s a summer camp, you all should be out there having fun, not stuck inside to look after me while tolerating...that,” he quietly looks over at Jisung who just exited the bathroom after splashing his face with some water. 

At least he doesn’t look crazy and homeless now. 

“How are they doing that again?” you join Hyunjin as he rests his head lazily on his forearms, staring outside from the cabin’s window like Rapunzel in an alternative universe where Flynn Rider managed to escape the tower with the crown, leaving her behind longing for civil human interactions in vain. 

“They sing..” he drawls. “And turn their heads to look at each other in the eye.”

You wave it off absentmindedly, falling on your back so now your head is hung upside down from the bed, your arms dangling midair. “Well, that sounds exhausting,” you mumble, ignoring the way that Seungmin is internally judging you. 

Hyunjin sighs, “Never one for sentiment, are you?”

“Easier to let it burn,” you answer flatly, sitting upright when blood starts rushing to your head. 

“Don’t feel bad,” Seungmin immediately forces a smile at Felix. “We’re not really into sitting with a bunch of idiots just to enjoy a mildly decent hot cocoa either way.”

Suddenly the lights go out, and Felix immediately curls himself further into the blanket, a little thrown off. Jisung’s face comes into view out of nowhere when he makes a grab for the oil lamp that no one seems to take notice of, lighting it up with a single match. “C’mon, kids, no bonfire is complete without a good ghost story,” he crosses his legs on the floor happily, still somewhat tipsy so his body is bouncing in excitement with occasional hiccups. 

Hyunjin and Seungmin exchange questionable looks before scrambling to the floor, settling themselves a few solid inches in front of the oil lamp with a sigh while you only shrug at Felix, propping your head onto your hands. Laziness is starting to hold you hostage on Hyunjin’s bed at this rate. 

Seungmin spares Jisung a slight glare, “Better not bullshit us with the same one that you heard at school-”

“No,” Jisung’s lips morph into something similar to a smirk, he looks concerningly confident for someone who’s utterly terrified after watching IT. And now he’s attempting to give his bros who are equally jumpy about everything and anything, you’re excited to see how this goes. “I heard this one from a camp counselor, true story.” You definitely don’t like the sound of that.

At first, the ghost was no more than a chill in the air, a shimmer of mist to the common eyes. Through the heavy rain and fog that seeps through people’s skin, chilling the core of their bones, it slowly came into focus. It wasn’t until the camper found refuge under a canopy of an abandoned café that it congealed into a form—a small child with brilliant round eyes, dressed in white clothing. 

For a moment, all was silent and still. It was as though the camper got hypnotized, feet planted to the ground. Then, he could hear a small lullaby in a cheerful voice. 

“Oranges and Lemons say the bells of St.Clements…” They know how that one ended. 

Suddenly someone blows out the candle, but Jisung’s voice still rings in your eardrums. “When the camper took a step back, the ghost spoke again, this time with the voice almost of a smoker and grin…” You can feel Hyunjin hop back to bed with you in a tick of a clock, holding onto you for dear life with the infrequent whimpers of fear. 

Jisung proceeds to continue, “The grin soon became a snarl, baring teeth like a wolf when it finished the lullaby…”

A muffled silence descends. And, “Have you come to play…?”

“AHHH!!” Felix lets out a petrified shriek, but what confuses you is the sound of Jisung grunting rather in pain. Seungmin sighs in disapproval, flickering the lights on while leaning back against the wall. 

And now before your eyes is a slightly traumatized, feverish Felix with clattering teeth, quivering inside his blanket. Whereas, Jisung is sprawled across the floor, hugging his poor stomach, hacking up lungs. Deserve.

“This is why you don’t give people who can high-kick jump scares, dumbass,” Seungmin comments and crouches down in front of Jisung like his knight in shiny armors, letting a bottle of ointment dangle between his fingers. “Put this on, bet it’s already bruising.”

Hyunjin releases his arms around you and walks towards the freckled boy who looks like he’s about to slip into a coma. “Lix, are you okay?” he knits his brows together, starting to feel somewhat concerned. 

Felix only waves it off with a raspy laugh, standing on wobbly legs with his blanket still wrapped around his figure. “I’m fine, I’ll just go wash my face.” Truth is, he’s anything but fine. And it doesn’t help when he accidentally has a glance of his own reflection in the body-length mirror from across the cabin—his hair is sticking to his forehead, his face is slightly more puffy than usual, and his eyebags look like he hasn’t slept in decades—he looks worse than a trash can, basically. 

“Hyunjin,” you raise a brow at your friend’s current state.

“What?”

“Catch him.”

“Huh-” Hyunjin snaps his head back when a loud thud is heard, eyes growing twice as big in sheer panic upon the sight of Felix laying on his stomach, mere inches away from his feet. “Felix!!” Your friends rush to his side while you’re too busy checking the thermometer by his nightstand. The temperature doesn’t seem to be too alarming, he should be fine after sleeping and sweating it out. But really, Felix looks more like he’s having the nap of a lifetime rather than passing out from the worst fever of the century. That doesn’t stop everyone from freaking out, unfortunately. 

Also, everyone can agree that this is the first and last storytime to ever happen.

nine.

Felix sits on the beach, eyes moving from sand to stone, from rock pools to breaking waves. He lets out a sigh, an exhale of relief when a breeze passes by him, tousling his hair as he buries his feet deeper into the primrose-colored grains. The briny aroma that exists in every fiber of air makes him feel at ease, as though unknotting all his angsty-teenager worries with grace. He feels a bit better, partially because his fever has already gone down when he shook you out of your half-asleep state at four in the morning. 

“Why?” you ask without turning your head after sensing his tense posture.

Felix looks confused, a little startled when you break the silence. “Why what?”

“Why the long face?” you unknowingly exhale too, stubbornly gazing forward. “Thinking about something?” For some reason, you’re too...scared to even spare him a small glance. This isn’t you, did his fever rub off on you or something?

To your dismay, his sudden inquiry catches you off guard. “High school is going to be over in a year, have you thought about what to do?” 

You open your mouth to protest with something along the line of he’s overthinking again and there’s still an entire year ahead to make new memories but when you’re about to utter the first word, your mouth automatically snaps itself close. It’s like you have an entire masterpiece planned out in your mind but when someone tosses you a blank canvas, you’re standing there in defeat like the biggest idiot. Felix is serious this time, you know it’s not because he’s lightheaded after riding out the fever. 

“Honestly?” you breathe out. “No, I haven’t. God, I don’t even want to think about it, the future scares me a little.”

Upon the mossed rock and vibrant horizon, comes the sun rays that are promised by the starlit sky. It makes you both a little breathless, not exchanging a single word nor moving a muscle for a while. 

Until, “Fine, it scares me a whole lot,” you confess, gaze cast downward as you hug your legs closer to your chest. “It sucks because everyone seems to have their lives together, Jisung is finally taking his interest in music seriously, Hyunjin is planning on being an actual theater kid, and Seungmin is...I don’t know, but he’s definitely onto something. Point is, everyone is already one too many steps ahead of me, I’m just..here, stuck. And I don’t feel like I have-”

“A lot of time left.” Felix finishes your sentence, prompting you to look at him this time. His delicate features shine under the cracking lights of dawn, starry eyes twinkling and lips outstretched into the smile that you absolutely adore. He has such a contagious type of smile that it makes you feel a little less dead inside whenever you see it. But your heartbeat also grows a little more ecstatic. 

A hearty chuckle. “You’re not alone, you know,” he says while not breaking away from the eye contact, this makes your throat grow dry. “I still have so much to do, so much to...say yet too little time. So yeah, don’t think about it too much, I’m never gonna leave you behind no matter what.”

You have to hold back a playful scoff at that; and to think he was the one who brought up this sappy topic. “If anything, you’re the overthinker in this relationship,” you tell him with a nudge on his rib. “But if you’ve already had my back, then you should know that I’ll always have yours too.”

Because what would you do without an overthinker like Felix? Drowning your sorrow by stress-eating in the middle of the night? Bottoming out on questionable drinks to end up like Han Jisung? Winging every single important choice that can potentially flip your life upside down in either a good or bad way? Not in a million years. He knows that you need him as much as he needs you, harsh truth but you still hate it either way.

You both don’t look forward to the future, like at all. 

You’re too apathetic and overall just a big ‘meh’ about it. You’re the type of person that goes with the flow, letting life toss you around like a ragdoll until you finally snap at some point to fight back because you know where the line between giving up and knowing that you’ve had enough is. Meanwhile, Felix is rather anxious about things. If a piece of paper with a pencil can draw out the map of his entire destiny ahead then he’ll have it finished in one night. But he’s grown out of his middle school self to know that things don’t always go as planned.

Guess if things turn out to be shit, you’ll still have him.

“Does that mean if we’re still single in our thirties, you’ll marry me like how our parents always joke about?” Felix cracks a shit-eating grin this time, one that makes your heart swell but for the most part, you wanna whack him unconscious with a pillow. 

You sneer in return, “Sure, but you’ll have to fall for me first.”

There’s a pang in Felix’s chest, it’s so loud and evident that he’s afraid you might hear it. You really didn’t have to slap him in the face with that seemingly harmless statement. “Hmm, who would even fall for a stubborn hermit crab like you?” he jokes to hide the nervousness that’s crawling upon his spine. His ears are probably bright red right now. “Although...that wouldn’t be a problem with me.” Because he’s already fallen for you, a little too hard actually.

“What does that even mean?” you only hum after questioning his statement, nothing makes sense right now since you’re getting a little sleepy because a certain someone wanted to watch the sunrise which simply lasted for about two minutes after two(ish) hours of waiting.

“I don’t know,” Felix laughs before standing up, dusting the sand off of his jeans. “You go figure it out, smartass.” With that, he runs off with his Converses dangling between his fingers, leaving you dumbfounded in the middle of the beach like a total dimwit. Slowly, within those five seconds of making eye contact with your best friend again, his words zero in on you like a wakeup call. 

Urgently grabbing your sneakers, you chase after him. “Hey- wait! GET BACK HERE!” By looks of it, you’ve probably figured it out now. It’s not like he’s trying to be subtle either.

Felix feels like he just gained strength from spewing out that indirect confession, and it gives him a tiny ray of hope that he still has his entire youth before his eyes to tell you how he really feels. Or his whole life if you don’t start resenting him for crossing the line that no one dares talk about when they have a thing for their best friend. 

Either way, as long as Felix sees your presence side by side with him at every ups and downs, he’s home. 

[darling-i-read-it]

Trou Normand

1x09

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, mental health problems 

Author’s Note: Dude I am lovign just getting rid of the scenes with Alana that annoyed me to wits end. And it’s getting to the point where I’m like ‘will baby get help i love you’ and it shows. 

I took lines directly from the script so some may seem familiar. Those sentences are not mine. 

Official Episode Summary : The team hunts a killer who makes a totem pole out of his victims' corpses; Jack and Alana question Abigail about Nick Boyle's death; when Abigail agrees to write a book with Freddy Lounds, she reveals a secret to Hannibal.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List: @llperfectsymmetryll​

(not my gif)

Will walked into Hannibal's patient office. You looked up at him as he walked forward to where you were standing, ready to leave. It was late and you had told Will you would meet him back home. He knew you would be here but if he needed you he would simply call. 

“Will?” 

He looked into your eyes and gave you a dead look. The door to the office opened and Hannibal was just as surprised to see Will.

“Are you here to pick up Y/N?” Hannibal asked. Will turned to Hannibal and then his breathing was different, like he had been running in and needed to catch his breath despite the fact he hadn’t been running at all. 

“I don’t know how I got here,” Will muttered. You furrowed your brows. 

“Huh?” 

“Where-what-” Will muttered, walking into the office. Hannibal gave you a look and you followed him closely into the office as well. Hannibal shut the door behind you swiftly. 

“I noticed your car outside the window so we know you drove. Safely it would seem,” Hannibal said. You walked in and sat on the desk as Will ran quickly around the room, trying to make sense of something that was confusing the hell out of him.

“I was on a beach in Grafton, West Virginia...I blinked and then I was waking up in your waiting room. Except I wasn’t asleep,” he swore, head moving wildly as he continued to pace. 

“Grafton is three and a half hours away Will,” you said simply and worried about walking up to him in case he was unstable enough to snap at you. You stayed at the desk and Hannibal stood beside you, both of you following Will with your eyes.

“You lost time,” Hannibal said simply. 

“Something is wrong with me,” Will said. 

“No,” you said instinctively.

“You’re dissociating, Will. It’s a desperate survival mechanism for a psyche that endures repeated abuse,” Hannibal explained further.

“I’m not abused,” Will countered. He looked unstable. He looked scared. Your heart ached in your chest. 

“You have an empathy disorder. What you feel is overwhelming you,” Hannibal siad. 

“I know.” 

“Yet you chose to ignore it and that is the abuse I’m referring to,” Hannibal said. You realized suddenly how much you aligned with Hannibal sometimes. 

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” you muttered. Will gave you a look.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he said.

“I am on your side, I’m always on your side. But I want you to be safe love,” you said simply. 

“I know she wants me to quit but what about you?” Will asked, shaking as he gestured to Hannibal.

“Jack Crawford gave you a chance to quit and you didn’t take it. Why?”

“I save lives,” Will stated.

“And that feels good,” Hannibal analyzed. 

“Generally speaking, yes.”

“What about your life?” Hannibal asked. You glanced between the two of them and nodded simply, moving your cardigan so that it was tighter around you in the chilly office. 

“Amen,” you muttered. 

“We’re your friends Will. We don’t care about the lives you save, speaking for myself in particular. We care about your life and your life is separating from reality,” Hannibal said.

“I agree. I know it makes you feel good but it doesn’t outway the bad,” you said.

“I’m sleepwalking. I’m experiencing hallucinations. Maybe I should get a brain scan,” he suggested. The idea didn’t seem too bad to you honestly. You thought, maybe that was a good idea.

“Damnit Will. Stop looking in the wrong corner for an answer to this,” Hannibal said.

“I don’t think it’s a bad suggestion,” you said. “Something to look into at least.” You and Will’s eyes met and he nodded at you. You gave him a small smile. “I’m worried about your Will,” you said honestly.

“I am as well,” Hannibal concurred. “You empathize so completely with the killers Jack Crawford has your mind wrapped around that you lose yourself to them. What if you lose time and hurt yourself or someone else? I don’t want you to wake up and see a totem of your own making.” You nodded and Will walked over to Hannibal, nodding a bit.

“That wouldn’t be ideal,” you whispered breathily.

-

You walked into the hospital, mind everywhere. You were there to visit Abigail, who you hadn’t seen in a few days. You wanted to make sure she was alright firstly but honestly you just wanted a distraction from your boyfriend who was losing his mind and your friend (?) who seemed to be helping or maybe hurting.

You walked into the room and Abigail was inside, sitting by the window alone. You knocked on the door and she turned her head, a light smile on her face.

“I was wondering where you had gone,” she said. You walked all the way inside of the room and over to where she sat on the window sill. You sat across from her, looking down at the bad view of a parking lot.

“Sorry it’s been a few days,” you said. She shook her head.

“I’ve had my visitors. Hannibal, Alana, Freddie Lounds.” You scoffed.

“Freddie Lounds still harping on that book?” you asked. She nodded, shrugging.

“I told her I would take it. I don’t have any money,” she muttered. You shook your head. 

“I can help with that. Will can help with that. I don’t know anymore but I just hate Freddie Lounds,” you muttered. 

“What do you think about Alana Bloom?” she asked. 

“She’s a friend. Not super close but a friend.”

“I don’t trust her. I know she’s supposed to be my therapist but I don't trust her.” Abigail liked having you around. You made her feel lighter, like she was thought of as a human being still. You liked her because she reminded you of light, despite it all.

“How are the guys?” she asked. You scoffed.

“Honestly?” 

“Honestly,” she confirmed.

“Will isn’t doing great. Hannibal killed a man in his office while I was just outside. Self defense but still, a man died.” Something flashed over her face and you were able to catch it. “What?” She shook her head.

“Nothing. I’m sorry that happened.” She looked out the window. She was reserved now, a wall had gone up. You figured at first it was the murder aspect but you thought about it for a second and wondered if it was something else.

“Abigail?” She looked in your eyes and there was something vulnerable there. Something that can only be shown on the eyes of a teen going through something. You put your hand on her hand that was on her knees she had folded in front of her. “You know you can talk to me,” you whispered. She nodded, swallowing hard.

“I know,” she muttered. 

“In it’s own time I suppose,” you whispered. She nodded, happy for the out but you knew something was there if you dug hard enough. You were no Jack Crawford though and you would let her tell you when she was ready. 

-

You stood in the door of Will’s classroom. You leaned against the wall as you looked at him. Will was talking about the totem pole murders to his class and you could tell he was still shaking. You wondered if he was wondering if he would remember this. 

“Joel Summers - killed by a single stab to the heart. Presented with great ostentation atop a display of all the previous victims. This killer’s design was to never be discovered. A ghost. That is what excited him. Until now... Why is he coming into the light?” Will stopped talking when he saw you and seemed to notice there was no one in the classroom.

“I don’t want to interrupt if you’re rehearsing,” you said. “I just thought I would drop by.” 

“No. No...it's okay,” he said. You looked around the dark space. No lights were on. The projector off.

“Very moody,” you whispered. 

“That’s me all over,” he muttered. There was a tension you hadn’t anticipated. You hadn't spoken about his loss of time yet and you knew he was avoiding it. You walked up closer to him and let out a small sigh.

“You remember when you told me Alana wouldn’t date you because she said you were too unstable?” you asked, voice quiet. He nodded slowly. You took a deep breath in. “Do you feel unstable?”

He thought about it for a moment and you stared through his glasses lenses. He nodded after a second. You walked forward wordlessly and put your arms around him tightly. He buried his face in your neck like he would never touch you again and you wondered if he was crying because you were about to. His pain hurt you like no other.

“I love you,” you whispered. He hummed in agreement but didn't answer you audibly, hsi mouth too far in your neck.

-

“I’m trying hard to understand when I say this is a bad idea,” Will said. 

“Freddie Lounds is dangerous,” Hannibal conquered.

“Y/N said no too,” Abigail asid. 

“Listen Abigail, all of this will change. Whatever you’re feeling won’t last. Things change.” Will paused for a moment, thinking. “Things are changing for me, too. Doing some accounting for what's important in my life and what isn’t. You’re important Abigail and I can’t help but feel some responsibility for you.”

“Just because you killed my dad doesn't’ mean you get to be him,” she snapped.

“Abigail,” you chastised. “We’re all trying to help but when you write this it’s about Will and Hannibal too.”

“And you as well,” Hannibal suggested.

“I’m a miniscule part. I have no career right now. Freddie Lounds has called Will insane one too many times for me to trust her not to do it again and she could ruin Hannibals’ career for a few twisted truths,” you said.

“I don’t need your permission,” Abigail said weakly. She wanted it. She wanted permission. 

“And you don’t need our approval. But I hope it would mean something,” Hannibal said. You stood beside Will and grabbed his hand. He was still shaking.

-

You were with Will in the building, driving him when he told you Hannibal was in as well. That was an invitation to stay and you did. You walked with him up to Jack’s office. Jack let out a sigh at the sight of you.

“You don’t work here,” Jack said. 

“Neither does my boyfriend,” you snapped back. Alana and Hannibal stood at opposite ends of the room.

“Abigail trusts her and she was there that night” Alana says. “She can stay.” Jack, despite wanting to throw you out, continued with the conversation.

“Nicholas Boyle turned up in Minnesota. Dead. He was found in the woods. Frozen. And then he thawed out pretty fast. They couldn’t say if he died this week or six weeks go or the night he disappeared,” Jack said. 

You mind snapped into place. 

That was what Abigail wanted to but also didn't want to tell you. She had killed Ncholas Boyle. Probably with Hannibal’s help. You glanced at him and he looked at you and he knew you knew. He let out a small, barely noticeable sigh.

“How did he die?” Alana asked.

“Knife wound. He’d been gutted. Had the body flown down here. I want Abigail Hobbs to identify it,” Jack said.

“What?” you asked. “You have absolutely zero regard for mental health do you?”

“Get out.”

“No,” Hannibal said. You stayed put.

“You can’t put her in a room with Nick Boyle’s body. She already has nightmares about him,” Alana reasoned.

“I’m curious why,” Jack said. Your blood boiled. Will grabbed your arm and held it loosely to hold you back.

“You can’t seriously think she had anything to do with this?” Will asked. 

“I think she’s the common denominator. Her father, Marissa Schuur, Nick Boyle, they all come back to her. My instinct is she’s still got answers I haven’t heard,” Jack said.

“What are the questions?!” Will asked. 

Everyone looked annoyed, tense, angry. 

“I want to be on record as saying this is a very bad idea. Hannibal?” Alana said. 

“Jack has the look of a man with no interest in any opinion but his own,” Hannibal said. You felt like you were boring holes into Jack’s skull. You half wished you were.

-

Will sat in bed beside you.

“Do you remember when you promised Abigail to help her with her nightmares?” Will whispered as you laid down facing each other. Your eyes fluttered open. You hadn’t quite fallen asleep yet. 

“Yes,” you mumbled.

“I think I’m going to have a nightmare tonight,” he whispered. You scooted forward and wrapped your arms tightly around him. He put his head on your chest.

“You’ll be safe if you do,” you whispered. His breathing evened out and he fell asleep quickly after.

-

At work you knocked on the office door when you knew no one was inside. 

“Your boyfriend paid me a visit,” Hannibal said. He probably had done it earlier when you were at lunch.

“He knows,” you muttered.

“You both figured it out. I suppose I’m not the best at hiding this,” he muttered from his desk where he sat. You shook your head.

“You’re good at it but I know Abigail and by default, know enough about you,” you said.

“What did Will say?”

“He was more shaken up than you,” Hannibal admitted. You walked over to the desk and leaned against it.

“I think I always knew. That night. I think I knew,” you whispered.

“Will said he wouldn’t take us to the authorities. Do I need to worry about you doing so?” You shook your head.

“I won’t. I care about Abigail too.” 

“She has quite the parents looking out for her,” he mumbled.

“Lose two, gain three I always say.”

-

Will, Freddie, you and Hannibal had dinner that night. Freddie had to excuse herself early after asking all her questions which left you and Will in the dining room.

“You know,” he whispered.

“And you know,” you muttered. You looked at him in his chair beside you.

“How long?”

“I figured in Jack’s office. Day before you did.” He nodded.

“Great minds think alike,” he said weakly. You grabbed his hand and he squeezed it tightly.

“Don’t worry about her,” you whispered. “She has people looking out for her.” he nodded and looked at you.

“I think you know I can’t control that.” 

“It was worth a shot,” you muttered and brought his hand up to your lips. You kissed it. 

-

In the kitchen Abigail had just confessed to Hannibal she had been the person to lure the victims for her father. He hugged her close and comforted her as she cried.

“I’m a monster,” she sobbed. Hannibal shook his head.

“No. I know what monsters are...you’re a victim.” A beat between his sentences as he made a promise.  “Will, Y/N and I, we’re going to protect you.”

1x10

[tobiosmilktea]

Hello! I really love your writing and I just saw your requests are open yay 👏🏻 So my idea is that the reader (female or neutral, as you prefer it) is a third year who takes art lessons as an extracurricular subject or something and the teacher ask their students to draw posters of the sport teams, and the reader got the volleyball team. The thing is the reader knows the third years but they're not really close, so they talk just a bit. (Part 1)

paint the clouds — tendou satori

4.7k words | genre/s: fluff | warning/s: possible ooc on everyone tbh | pairing: tendou x f!reader

↪︎ in which you painted a muse who always wanted you too

a/n: definitely not my best work and im super sorry for that, but i hope you still enjoy it 👉🏻👈🏻

a warm spring breeze blew strands of your hair in front of your face, laying against your rosy cheeks as you watched the horizon. the bright yellow sun teased the sky with hues of pink and orange, bound to mix into the darkness of the sunset. school had ended a few hours ago and now you were sitting in your art club waiting for your teacher to dismiss you. she was in a middle of a spiel explaining your next art project, but your brain struggled to follow.

your hand ached from drawing for hours, your wrist tender from constant pressure, and now you could’ve sworn you were going to get carpal tunnel sooner or later. it was worth it, anyway, you were doing what you liked doing as you honestly felt being an artist was your only talent. it was merely the only thing you focused on besides your academics. dating was certainly out of the question.

instead, you watched the birds fly past the open classroom window as your teacher explained the assignment something along the lines doing sports teams posters.

“i will be walking around the classroom with a box filled with names of sports clubs,” the teacher starts, pulling you out of your train of thought as your attention was finally set on her. “you will pick a random piece of paper from the box and that will be the sports team you will be making a club poster for.”

whispers erupted in the room as others verbalized which team they wished to get.

“i hope i get the volleyball team, they’re literally iconic.” you heard one girl say.

another voice exclaimed, “drawing the equestrian team sounds super fun too!”

the murmurs continued to the buzz even after the majority of the class had already picked out their sports team from the box. you were the last one to choose as you opted to sit in the back of the class.

“and last but not least,” said your teacher as she serpentine through the desks towards your sitting figure.

your hand dug into the small cardboard box only to feel one last piece of paper. you wanted to scoff slightly, but you stopped yourself the moment you grabbed the last slip of paper and read the messy handwriting. it took you a good second to even understand what it said as it was complete chicken scratch (no offense to the teacher).

“(y/n), what did you get?” your friend who sat in front of you turned with a smile on her face.

"i got the volleyball club,” you answered, eyes widening when your friend gasped.

“that’s literally the best one to get! i’m so jealous,” she sighed as if she just inhaled a rose scented breeze.

perhaps you were lucky to get such a sought after sports team as your main focus for the assignment, but you couldn’t help but feel an overbearing weight suddenly falling upon your shoulders. shiratorizawa’s volleyball team was the epitome of the academy. they were the ones who brought a significant name to the school with only the smartest of intellects but one with the best athletes. depending on how well you created this poster could potentially make or break your reputation. it was a visual representation of the team, anything less than iconic would dig a deeper hole for you.

it certainly doesn’t help the fact that you actually had to talk to the volleyball team now that you were in charge of their school poster. you internally groaned. you barely interacted with the third years, let alone being completely enamored over a familiar red-head.

your after school activities had ended in the midst of your running train of thoughts as you absentmindedly gathered your things and walked out of the classroom. you gripped the handle of your bag as you strolled through the near-empty hallways of the academy, your mind in a complete spiral as you had already tried visualizing what the end product might look like.

it was common knowledge to everyone who had known about you was well aware how amazing you were at art. no matter what medium you were given, you were known to be the girl who had magical hands that could create even the most beautiful things out of ash and smoke. you had this some innate, almost magical ability to have others stop in their tracks just to admire your works.

perhaps that you were too caught up in your own thoughts and the hypnotic tapping rhythm of your loafers clicking against the school floors that you hadn’t even notice your arrival towards the gym.

even the loud shouts of volleyball players from the ongoing practice wasn’t enough to pull your gaze away from the ground and towards the flying volleyball hurdling towards you.

“(y/l/n), watch out!” you heard a familiar voice shout out, immediately pulling you out of your own jungle-like psyche and into the real world.

everything had happened so quickly, all you knew was a blur fly past you to retrieve the ball before it knocked out of conscious. semi eita quickly turned to you, his figure greatly towering over you as he gave you a reassuring smile. “are you okay, (y/l/n)?”

you gulped, nodding almost too quickly. “yeah, i’m okay.”

“good,” he mutters as his brows slightly furrow in confusion. there was a thin blanket of awkwardness hovering above both of your heads as you both stood there in silence for a good five seconds—five seconds too long that is. “so what brings you here?” he finally breaks it, scratching the back of his head in the mean time.

right, you had almost forgotten why you were here in the first place.

“it’s about the art club, we’re doing sports team posters and i was wondering if i could talk to the third years for ideas.” you asked gently.

semi’s eyes immediately widened, the already prevalent smile on his face only increased at the statement. “that’s cool! come with me, i’ll show you to them.” he quickly motioned you to come inside the gym, feeling the brisk air difference of the air conditioned gymnasium to the warm spring breeze outside.

a shiver flowed down your back. not from the sudden influx of cold air surrounding your body, but the fact that towering volleyball players and their ever-so-intimidating nature causing nervous habits to take over you. soekawa jin, the vice captain of the team quickly flickered a look towards you before tapping ushijima’s arm for his attention. turning to see what his teammate wanted, soekawa swiftly pointed at you and semi approaching.

“it’s a surprise seeing you here, (y/l/n).” ushijima greets you in his deep, guttural voice. it caused you to gulp nervously, struggling to even put on the tiniest of smiles as you meekly muttered a ‘hi’ to the rest of the third years. however, it seemed as if the one you were most familiar with was not in sight. it did seem a tad bit quiet in the gym now that the practice game was on a time out.

“um,” one of the wing spikers approached you, ohira reon was it? “sorry for almost hitting you, by the way.”

you swiftly shook your head, “no, it’s okay. i was the one who wasn’t playing attention, so that’s on me.” 

“so, you’re here for the poster?” ushijima cut into it like a sharp knife, bold and straight to the point.

“yeah, um, i just stopped by to ask if you guys had anything ideal you want to see on your club poster.” your voice was softer than you hoped it would be when you spoke. 

eyebrows furrowing, ushijima glances among his teammates as provocation for an option saturated his hums of curiosity. 

semi then clears his throat, “we’re not really sure if we have any input for you, (y/n). besides, i think your poster will be amazing nevertheless.”

“that’s still a lot of pressure,” you mutter, “considering i would be mauled to death if this poster isn’t amazing.” sarcasm drenched your words like saccharine, hoping that the tall athletes would at least get your banter and share a laugh with you.

but they didn’t. instead, they stared with wide eyes at you in a mere worrying glance. perhaps the joke didn’t exactly translate well.

god, this is so awkward.

however, it wasn’t like you were exactly lying. as the face of shiratorizawa academy, you were aware that they needed to look good and if it were any less than that, you might never see the light of day ever again. not to mention you always liked adding twists to your artwork, which was technically the only reason why you were so infamously known to have such amazing works. but in the past half hour, you’ve came to the conclusion that it possibly isn’t the best option in this case.

“i’m kidding, by the way,” you let out a light huff.

“well, if it helps you in any way, you could always focus on ushijima as he is our ace.” soekawa cuts in, patting the captain’s back the moment he braided his arms over each other.

any form of leftover conversation (or lack thereof) was sliced—cut off from the sudden opening of the gymnasium doors and the (quite obnoxiously) loud middle blocker. tendou satori entered the giant gym with a bright beaming face of glimmering lights and cherries. tendou was perhaps one of the first people to talk to you the moment you entered this academy, eyes glazed in a honey-like optimism with every bright ‘hello.’ you always tended to be the quiet and secluded one in your classes with him despite being known to be infamously sardonic, you seemed to be the only one to which his overly comic ways of banter didn’t annoy you like it did with others. he, himself, was a sunray, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to expose that thought as your eyes fall onto the approaching boy.

out of all the third year volleyball players, you and tendou had talked the most, yet considering you two as more than just mere acquaintances was a bit of a reach.

“yo!” the redhead’s loud voice thundered throughout the gym and you could already feel it echo within your heart.

“you’re back,” mused ohira with his hands on his hips. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” tendou says, fixing the loosened athlete’s tape over his fingers. “but the school nurse was already gone by the time i got there, so i had to fix myself up—oh hey, (y/n)!” he had cut himself off the moment his eyes fell upon yours.

your breath had hitched the moment he greeted you. it was as if your heart had immediately jumped into your throat and prevented you from even muttering a word as you can already feel your palms getting clammy. “hey,” you mutter almost in a whisper.

“so what are you doing here?” questioned tendou as his eyes suddenly widen the moment the words came out of his mouth, “uh-that sounded really rude, um—i actually meant that in the nicest way possible, by the way.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at his sudden burst of scattered thoughts, noticing a faint flush of pink upon his cheeks. 

“she’s here for the club poster,” ushijima answers in your place as you seemed to not answer even after a beat had passed.

“oh nice! i’m sure it’ll look really cool!” the middle blocker grinned at you to which a sudden wave of monarch butterflies attacked your gut. you could even feel the heat coursing through your cheeks and all the way to the tips of your ears until they were as red as tendou’s hair.

“hopefully,” you modestly commented, eyes then falling upon tendou’s wrapped wrist and couldn’t help but be filled with curiosity. “what happened to  you?”

the middle blocker shook his head dismissively. “i tried blocking one of ushijima’s spikes again, but as you know, it is a bit impossible and i ended up hurting myself. it’s no biggie, though.” he shrugs.

“t-that’s amazing.” you breathed out before you could catch yourself. and you swore, you saw the light pink hues of blush upon tendou’s face had darkened.

how cool, you thought with the stars in your eyes. the thought was a bit controversial, but you couldn’t but find tendou satori cooler than ushijima at that very moment. the fact that he knew very well how difficult and painful it was to block his spikes, tendou still attempted it to the point at the cusp of being injured. you began fiddling with your fingers for far too long as you’ve come to realize how long you were standing there for no more reason. you mentally face palmed as you cleared your throat, “anyway, if you guys do have any preferred ideas let me know before friday.”

before the boys could even say a proper goodbye, your legs were already carrying you towards the exits of the gymnasium as if it was running on autopilot. she did hear their shouts of good lucks from across the room as your long strides pushed you to quickly leave.

why was i so awkward for?

in retrospect, perhaps you were more nervous than you thought. it had been an entire week since you had received the assignment to create a club poster for the volleyball team and there hadn’t been a night filled with peaceful sleep. instead, they were brimming with 2am moments of inspired antics. working on the large poster filled you with nothing but utter confidence even after it was finished, but now that you were actually at school with the rolled up poster of the incredible volleyball team, you couldn’t help but feel waves of reluctance and insecurity.

it was always like this with you. where everything was fine and your confidence within your works were expected, but the moment you did have to present such things, you couldn’t help but think of what you should’ve done differently. you assumed that you could’ve improved your mixed media skills by a little bit as there wasn’t much you could’ve done either way in that murky little head of yours that obviously lacked sleep.

the hallways of shiratorizawa were still pretty empty as it was still quite early in the morning. most of the students were outside anyway, so you quickly took this chance to unroll the large poster. taking some push-pins from the side pocket of your school bag, you hung the poster up in it’s place. 

you breathed out one last sigh of ichor before picking up your bag and walking away from the masterpiece.

throughout the entire day, you had come across dozens of stares of others as you walked through the hallways, bringing your endless sea of nerves to heighten until you were dragged upon its tides. there were whispers everywhere. they were probably talking about your poster for the volleyball club and immediately you felt drowned in sorrow.

within a snap, had already thought of the worse possible outcomes that others were talking about how terrible of a job you did. perhaps that leap of faith, that tiny step out of the box when creating your poster was too much of a risk that you ended up falling to your own demise.

“(y/n)!” a voice called from behind you.

turning over your shoulder, you saw a familiar redhead making his way towards you in a bright amble. you immediately felt your heart drop as you whip your head back around and started to walk away. 

shit, shit shit. you thought, tendou was definitely not the first person you wanted to talk to you when the possibilities of what he had to say to you was tangling in your psyche. as if they were tangled vines yearning to be untangled for his closure and yet, you refused.

your shoes clicked rapidly against the floors of the school when suddenly your wrist was pulled back, turning towards his familiar tall figure.

your direct gaze was on his chest, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up upon his eyes. you couldn’t, at least. as if you were, your face would resemble something similar to a tomato.

“listen, tendou.” you muttered, still not attempting to meet his gaze. “i’m kind of late for class, but if you want talk later then we can—”

“no, i want to talk now,” he stated seriously, almost too seriously as it caused you to look up to him in surprise.

your mouth gaped to say something, yet nothing seemed to come out.

“i just wanted to say thanks for the poster.” tendou says as his breath almost hitched from the mere sight of you. he could recall the rushing feeling of blood coursing towards his cheeks and ears the moment he stepped upon school grounds and saw your poster. there his painted figure was, stood more prominently than the rest of his team. it was as if he needed the taste of sweet-tongued cough syrup just to ease his aching cheeks from smiling so hard.

the feeling was amazing. that from the smallest little action of you focusing on him rather than what he thought was going to be ushijima (like always) it was you who chose him. the loud middle blocker over the incredible ace of shiratorizawa. he knew validation wasn’t everything, and yet, his immense feeling of being at the top of the world certainly didn't help the fact that he had always been in love with you. you and tendou had the same class each and every year, that each first day of school, he would always sit giddily at his desk just so he could watch your angelic figure walk in.

in spite of it all, from his loud and upfront nature, he could never bring himself to even talk to you everyday besides an occasional ‘good morning’ whenever you would walk in. perhaps seeing this poster of himself was a little push into the deep end—to finally grow the guts to spill his unspoken epiphanies of built up feelings for once.

“usually, it’s ushijima who’s the face of the shiratorizawa team, but it’s nice seeing a change.” continued the middle blocker on the cusp of rambling, “i really didn’t expect you to focus it on me though, so that was a surprise... which by the way,” he hesitates as if he was do embarrassed to even ask. “why did you choose me?”

you pursed your lips the moment your breath was snatched from your lungs. “um,” you sighed, your mind speedily trying to come up with a plausible answer—something other than perhaps inevitably revealing you feelings for him, “i just think you’re really cool.” was all you could come up with and quite honestly, you wanted to face palm yourself for how stupid it probably sounded.

but to tendou, it was an absolute godsend. his heart thumped rapidly against his rib cage as his cheeks reddened into crimson wine. he didn’t know what else to say afterwards as that was his final push. it was then the idea popped inside his mind. a cheeky smile melted upon his lips as he patted your head gently.

“you’re an amazing artist, (y/n).” he complimented, amused by the fact he was the one who caused your reddening face before turning his heel and waving, “see you tomorrow!”

“u-uh, see you?” you stammered over his sudden departure, briefly waving before hold your hand to your chest. you felt as if your heart was to inevitably combust at the sudden overflow of ardor and vehemence of tendou satori’s actions. 

a sigh left your peachy lips, why am i feeling like this?

tendou could’ve sworn he had enough time to make it back to practice before stirring up any suspicions from his team, but the unfortunate tides have come across and drenched him in ill-fate—all gross and sticky.

ever since seeing your poster of him the day before, the thought of you had been on the middle blocker’s mind enough that even ushijima noticed his change in demeanor.

“what’s up with him?” the captain asked semi as they watched the redhead stumble into the gym.

“i think it’s about (y/l/n),” he answers in a hushed voice in case the disorganized tendou somehow heard. “he’s been in love with her since first year and seeing the poster of him is finally forcing him to make a move.”

ushijima refrained from chuckling, “so all it took was a poster with him as the center instead of me?”

“yeah, pretty much.” says semi.

tendou had been non-stop running back and forth between his classroom, the gym, and the art room after that burst of serendipitous ideas clouded his brain until it was all he could focus on. he had already missed the beginning of practice just so he could do something special for you for when he does muster up the courage to confess.

it was something along the lines of returning the favor of what you did to him, but he was well aware of the fact that he was a volleyball player for a reason and not an artist. honestly, most of the work was done with the help of you friend from the art club to which she basically did the drawing and tendou just colored it in. however he liked to think that it was the thought that counted, either way.

“sorry i’m late,” the missing middle blocker finally appeared. he was trying to catch his breathe as he rested his arms upon his bent knees. perhaps he quite disliked how gigantic the shiratorizawa campus was when it came to this. “i had to take care of something.”

ushijima gave semi an amused look before hardening his gaze on tendou, he tried not to laugh as he cleared his throat to hide that fact. “what’s more important than volleyball practice?” perhaps in the ace’s rarity, he was in the mood to tease the guy. “a girl?”

and immediately, the look on tendou’s face—of complete and utter fear that his captain would potentially punish him with extra conditioning was going to be the death of him—was instead replaced with chuckles him ushijima and semi.

“i’ll leave you off the hook as this was your first time missing a practice, not to mention you missed it for a girl you’ve liked for three years now.” said ushijima surprisingly out of character, than even he found himself shocked by saying it. “but if you miss another practice for (y/l/n), you’ll have extra conditioning everyday before and after school.”

tendou nods rapidly, “yessir!”

the rest of the day was filled with the sound of firm volleyballs being hit and slapped across the gym before falling to the floors with a coupled thud.

and despite trying his very hardest to focus his mind upon the practice game, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander to you in your bright enormity. his mind was on you, and yet he was playing the game harder than ever with each and every block he endured. perhaps it was the nerves, the aching adrenaline that flowed through his veins at the mere thought of  confessing to you by the time practice ended fueled his fire.

even if this was just a practice game against his own teammates, he was going to win for you and leave the gym with a confident aura enough to give him the guts to walk up to you.

the thing is, the game had already ended before he knew it. his side of the court had won and reached 25 points before he could even blink with the fact that he was in a ready stance even after the whistle had been blown.

“tendou,” ushijima called out to the redhead. “good luck.”

with that, the middle blocker’s head had cleared as he gave a smile to the setter. he walked over his bag, snatching it up and over his shoulder as he grabbed the rolled up poster within his clammy hands.

god, i’m was nervous. he thought to himself as he walked out of that gym.

the loud, boisterous guffaws from the rest of his teammates faded and echoed into oblivion as he walked the opposite way from everyone else. as the rest were going home, it was him who was on his was to your classroom. he had heard from your friend that you had cleaning duties today after school and it was the perfect time to just swallow his pride and just say.

but his actions were definitely faster than his thoughts as he had impulsively slammed the classroom door open without thinking.

you had thrown a shocked glance at the redhead at the sudden harsh action as he had thrown an embarrassed smile at you. chuckling at that adorable look on his face, you quickly set you mop aside. “tendou? what are you doing here? is your practice over already?”

the redhead nods, “yeah, just a couple minutes ago—um, i-uh just wanted to uh—”

he sighed frustratingly. this was the first time that the tendou satori—the third year infamously known for his innate way of speaking to others in such bright confidence for once, had his tongue tied. the reason why was obvious. it was because of you and your beaming eyes and that godforsaken smile of yours that made him go utterly crazy.

he was still trying to find the right words to say when your gaze fell upon the rolled up poster within his shaking hands. “what’s this?” you asked innocently as your hand reached for the poster and took it out of his hands without much force.

“w-wait! that’s—!”

you unrolled the poster, honey glazed your irises as your mouth gaped slightly.

it was you. a painting of you sitting under one of the large trees on one of the campus’s courtyards, sketching who knows what along with tendou’s large handwriting sprayed at the top:

WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME, (Y/N)?

you breath was snatched out of your throat as you flickered your widened eyes up to him. red and pink hues adored tendou’s cheeks and ears, scratching the back of his head as his chestnut eyes refused to meet yours. if he were to look at you then and there, he would immediately melt into a puddle of blossoming cherries.

“did you make this for me?” you asked gently, still absolutely moonstruck at the poster. it was a simple painting that was definitely not drawn entirely by tendou as you could tell your friend had something to do with it, but you couldn’t help but be absolutely astonished that he even went out his way for this. “i love it,” you whispered, capturing tendou’s attention.

“y-you do?” the redhead huffs in disbelief.

tendou was closer to you, more than you were comfortable with, but you didn’t fight it off. you didn’t bother giving a little space between you two. “i was serious when i always thought you were cool. you were the only one out of that group of popular kids to talk to me and was actually nice about it.” you suddenly professed. your consciousness mentally slapped you over and over again from the embarrassment of saying such a thing. and yet, the signal in her mind didn’t releasse itself until the moment you felt your eyes fall upon tendou’s chamomile lips. and to your peachy ones, did tendou even dare to think of the impossible, of the serenity that filled them under your blushing cheeks,

“i really like you, (y/n)... and i have for a while now.” he muttered.

you bit your lip at the sudden downpour of feelings that you didn’t even notice yourself clutching and perhaps accidentally crumpling the poster he made. “me too,” you said in a mere whisper, your gaze flickering back down to the floor. “and to answer your question... yes, i will go out with you, tendou.”

the redhead felt his breath hitch in his throat, pausing with his eyes almost wide and doe-like when he looked at you underneath the last rays of the setting sun. he let’s out a bright chuckle, “cool.” he attempted to act casually only to break the moment he found your embrace.

you gently laughed as it muffled within his chest, “cool.” you repeated.

[iheardarumorxxx]

Midnight Sun, Chapter Ten - Theory

Alright, time to jump back in. Took a couple of days off, refreshed my brain, now I think I can handle more of this asshole.

instead of answering my demand

See that? See how Eddie just goes ahead and tells us that he’s being a demanding little shithead? More shades of that controlling tendency that he has all throughout the series, outright stated. This is literally the first sentence of the chapter, and he’s not even pretending to be subtle about it.

describe it so that she would understand.

Yes, because ‘I can read minds, but only if they’re relatively nearby, and it gets easier to pick out voices as I become familiar with them’ isn’t clear in the slightest. See that, Eddie? I just explained for you with 23 words, instead of going off on some dumbass tangent metaphorthat takes up an entire paragraph  like you do here because you think that the human mind is so small and weak that it can’t possibly comprehend cut and dry explanations.

The fact that Eddie thinks he needs to explain things in analogy for Bella because she won’t get it if he doesn’t really goes against this supposed idea he has about her being smarter and so above the other pitiful hooman folk. Either she’s too human to understand like everyone else, or she’s smarter and more rational and would get it without the metaphor. Pick one, Eddie.

I will say, one thing that I took from the Twilight series that still sticks with me is the phrase ‘Holy crow’. I do, in fact, use it unironically. It’s absolutely stupid, but I like the way it flows off the tongue.

Anyway, Bella just shouted it because Eddie is bending the car to his vampire physics again and going 100MPH, which, I would like to point out, she would have absolutely realized before now if she wasn’t so blatantly unobservent. She would have felt it, it wouldn’t have taken looking at the spedomoter to realize it.

“We’re not going to crash.”

Eddie is absolutely certain of this fact, and I am too only because SM would never let anything like that happen to her little woobie vampire and her SI Mary Sue. However, let’s apply real world logic to this for a sec. Just a sec because this story can’t handle real world logic for too long, but. They are presumably on a highway, going 100MPH at let’s say 930 to 10ish PM. I’ve never lived in Washington, but I’m going to make the presumption that there probably isn’t too much traffic this late, though, perhaps a bit more if it’s a Friday or Saturday night. Perhaps Eddie can keep perfect control of his own car, even going that fast, while most likely paying little to no attention to the road because he is constantly looking over at Bella in the passenger seat. He has his mind-reading power, which he probably uses to help him drive, and maybe there isn’t another car directly behind him based on how fast he’s going. 

He’s still not taking the other drivers on the road into account. What if the car in front of you that you are rapidly coming up on because you’re going so fast sees a turtle or a deer or some other kind of animal in the road and swerves to avoid it. Since this is real world logic, even if you see it coming with your mind reading power, you can’t make your car stop on a dime going 100MPH. You’re going to crash, and since you are going so fast, it’s gonna be a pretty nasty one. Your vampire body can handle that, because you’re a marble adonis god, but Bella over there is squishy and human. You slam those breaks, seatbelt aside, she’s gonna end up through the windshield or strangled to death by that seatbelt. 

He’s assuming that his vampire magic strength and perfectness is gonna be enough to protect him from literally everything. It will, because this book is not realistic in the slightest, but he’s still a dick for not taking into account the other drivers on the road. And not taking into account the fact that Bella is clearly upset and terrified that he’s going so fast.

Two and a half paragraph rant over one line. Check.

Bella spills about how Jacob told her the old story about the Cullens being sparkley, evil vampires who aren’t allowed at La Push because the wolves will eat them. And I have to say, because this story is the entire basis for Bella knowing that Eddie and his ilk are vamps, how the hell does it take her so long to figure out that Jacob is a werewolf in New Moon? Like, I know it’s because she’s stupid, but since she’s supposed to be wise beyond her years and smart and shit, why did it not click that both sides of the story must be true.

Rant for a different book, but.

I supposed this meant I was now free to slaughter a small, defenseless tribe on the coastline, were I so inclined. Ephraim and his pack of protectors were long dead.

This is it. This is the line I’ve been waiting for. I knew it was coming and it STILL pisses me off so damn much reading it. Do you see that? Do you see it? Eddie is talking about straight up genocide. He is literally talking about killing hundreds of people just because some teenage kid told an old folktale to a girl he thinks is cute to try and impress her. I would like to remind you of that line that Alice said earlier: “It helps if you think of them as people.” IT HELPS IF YOU THINK OF THEM AS PEOPLE, EDWARD!!! These people have done literally nothing to you! If you wanted to go, say, beat up Jacob Black for spilling your secret, that’s one thing (A terrible thing that is bullshit, even if Jacob gets a jerkass makeover in a few months) but you are literally la de fucking da over the idea of going down to the reservation and murdering every man, woman, and child there because of some bullshit technicality broken treaty. HOW THE FUCK DOES ANYONE THINK THIS GUY IS THE HERO? HOW DOES ANYTHING SEE HIM AS A GOOD LOVE INTEREST? HOW IS HE A PROTAGONIST? HE’S A FUCKING MURDERER, PLAIN AND SIMPLE SPELLED OUT RIGHT THE FUCK THERE! It was spelled out pretty damn well in that first classroom scene, but here we are reinforcing it, and this is the guy that SM said she was willing to leave her husband for. THIS GUY. 

I hate it. I hate him. I’m not a happy camper.

And I’m gonna move on before I burst a blood vessel from how mad it makes me.

Bella goes on to tell Eddie that she flirted the story out of Jacob, and that she doesn’t care. He replies with “HOW CAN YOU NOT CARE! I’M A MONSTAH!” and she just shrugs and pops her gum. Eddie is just absolutely shocked by this because how could she not care? He even wonders if there’s something wrong with her. The answer is yes, she’s clearly a hybristophile, but that’s beside the point. 

The ‘how old are you’ ‘17′ ‘how long have you been 17′ ‘a while’ exchange is actually kind of cute, on it’s own. Had it been in a better book, it might have made me smile a little. But in Twilight it just felt like forced comedy, and here with Eddie being all Emo about being a monstah and also being condescending and clearly angry about Bella knowing his secret, it comes off a lot darker in tone. It could have come off as a playful exchange between people getting to know one another, and instead, it’s a darker tone and it’s almost uncomfortable. The movie had this problem, too, where they made it all dark and angsty instead of just being a cute little exchange that it should have been.

“I can’t sleep.”

This is more of that thrown away world building that SM does. First it was the Vampires never Change thing and now the can’t sleep thing. It could have been so fascinating to explore what not being able to sleep does to the psyche of these Pires. How different vampires get used to that sensation over different periods of time. Did it unsettle Eddie at first when he was turned and just couldn’t sleep anymore? Was Jasper already a night owl who barely slept, so it wasn’t much of a change for him anyway? What do they do to fill their time? If their hobbies and interests never change, it seems like they wouldn’t be using all that newly acquired time to learn new skills and hobbies, even if that particular ‘never change’ plot point isn’t explored either and never actually seems relevant to them. Has a Pire ever tried to sleep anyway? Just lay down and closed their eyes and waited for eight hours to pass, hoping they would drift off? This is interesting lore. It’s something that could have given depth to the vampires instead of being a throwaway plot point so Eddie could watch Bella sleep at night. I’m disappointed. I want a good idea to actually be used well.

Edward calls Bella observant and to that I can only say ‘Ha.’ 

Eddie finally realizes that Bella has the hots for him too and it’s so UWU and trite, but he has to go and bring up that stupid Hades and Persephone metaphor again and piss me off in the process.

The get to Bella’s house and take forever with their goodbyes, and right at the end Eddie goes on about how he’s got this new hunger in him just looking at Bella and feeling how warm she is and shit and it’s just him being horny again, but nothing happens and Bella heads inside. But don’t worry, Eddie assures us that he’ll be in his usual perch in the rocking chair later that night to stalk her and watch her sleep, so everything is well.

She couldn’t love me the way I loved her

GET IT? BECAUSE VAMPIRES ARE BETTER THAN YOU(tm) AT EVERYTHING INCLUDING HOW HARD THEY LOVE? Seriously, so damn sick of this idea that the vampires in this universe just do everything and see everything and smell everything and feel everything just so much more intensely than the pitiful hoomans. I still have a rant about it. It’s still coming. Don’t worry.

A casual throwaway mention of the Voltouri here, AKA the vampire Mafia that make and enforce the rules. They don’t actually matter or have any real power in this series, and they suck, but nice little nod to the audience as a reminder that there is supposed to be a governing body in the vampire world.

Carlisie and Eddie boy are off to take care of the rapist who almost got Bella, and the entire fucking drive, Carlisle is just sitting there thinking about how wonderful Eddie is and how he deserves happiness and it’s such bullshit for him to be thinking that way when he KNOWS that Eddie can read his thoughts. He’s literally just showering him in compliments for the sake of it just so that Eddie can hear them and puff up his ego. I don’t buy that it’s just passive thoughts. He wants Eddie to hear them.

We all know who Carlisle and Esme’s favorite child is.

We end the chapter with Eddie going back to Bella’s house to watch her sleep, deciding to take it upon himself to wander around her house uninvited, and the rambling on about how Bella clearly doesn’t have a guardian angel because she crossed his path and no guardian angel would allow that. Then he makes some crack about being her guardian vampire, talks about how, oh, it’s actually a good thing that he took it upon himself to break into her house to watch her sleep because he got her another blanket because she seemed cold, and smiles to himself when she mumbles his name in her sleep. 

That’s it, chapter done, I’m tired. I’m gonna try to crank out another one (maybe two) tonight, but no promises because this one really took a lot out of me. These characters just suck. Anyway, as always, feel free to message me or DM me to talk about the book, recommend future projects, etc. And you can always buy me a snack using the CashApp tag in my bio. Until next chapter, good damn bye.

[chemicalpink]

Bonding(M)♡ Park Jimin

Pairing: Stripper!Jimin x Dom!Reader

Genre: Smutttt , Steamy(ish), Stripper!AU, College!AU

Summary: in which Jimin is known (and fawned over) for being a stripper, whereas the reader is secretly working as a dominatrix for both money and research on her psych major, until Jimin discovers her and asks her for a favour in return to not spreading her secret.

Word Count: almost 3k

Warnings: honestly… some dom on dom action and a bit of plot if you look closely

A/N: It started with a kinda ehhh plot, got lost in the middle, ended up being smut af, and the end… i just idk I kinda want to make a fluffy part 2 if you like this mess. Also, please bear with me, I just recently got into a fandom again after 5 years on hiatus. K love u. Oh! and requests are always open!

You can read Part II here!

“I heard that just by looking at you once, she has you all hardened” some guy gushed over to his friend in a quiet voice

“But nobody has really seen her face” another voice joined as you rushed by to get to your Behavioural Analysis class. 214...214….This was the third time you were late to class, work has just been too much lately, not that you were complaining, money-wise it was great, the word was getting around pretty fast, and research was just as good but sometimes you wondered if it was really worth the sweat dripping down your back as you ran from the bus station to get to class. 

The door made a creaking noise and you flinched a little as you took a seat at the back of the room, next to a platinum-haired boy you, unfortunately, knew too well. 

“Miss (Y/N)” the whole room seemed to turn to look at you as the professor acknowledge your presence and you felt your heart skip a beat, anticipating the worst “Its the third time this week that you try to sneak into my lecture” you wouldn’t normally care about some man’s piercing eyes towards you, it was actually a part of your job to step over that type of confidence, but this was just… not your stage, you turned to look down, his gaze somehow becoming overpowering 

“I overslept. My apologies” a stifled giggle made its way from your left side and you felt the sudden urge to roll your eyes at who it belonged to… Park Jimin. It’s not that you hated him. You just hated the fact that of all places, you had to coexist with him in the same class, same campus, the same era in time. 

You really weren’t sure what evil you had done that the universe just seemed to get you back ten times stronger. Having to share a classroom with Jimin was bad enough already, he seemed to make your inside bubble every time he talked, but when the professor asked for you and him to be involved in a differential, it just had to be a payback for always arriving late. You were 99% sure at any time you would implode. The case was pretty simple tho, Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Which seemed to fit perfectly to your classmate, so you thought about playing your cards in front of everyone, maybe if you were that someone that just shook their little brains, they would finally comprehend they were praising an egocentric little bitch. 

You could feel Jimin’s eyes waiting for you expectantly as soon as the teacher called out your name “Well NPD would pretty much sum it all up” and there it was, the same stifled giggle from before 

“Childhood trauma would also do it, Y/N” his tone was teasing you, and you knew better than to get involved but it was just not your day, your whole body turned towards him and a teasing smiled crept its way to your face 

“I thought you would know better, Jimin” his eyes squinted at you “Exaggerated feelings of self-importance, an excessive need for admiration, and a lack of empathy toward other people… sounds a lot like you” the whole class seemed to quiet down as you said it. No one had ever dared to talk to THE Park Jimin that way… not with his status on campus.

“Should I keep going?” you felt your heart beating faster as you tried to keep up with his eyes-that were glued on you as he clicked his tongue and bowed his head as if asking you to proceed “Self-perception of being unique, superior, and associated with high-status people, Sense of entitlement to special treatment and to obedience from others-” 

“And that would be it for today, you are dismissed” your eyes were still locked with Jimin’s as everyone gathered their things, you heart not slowing down and a boiling feeling within you, much to your surprise, Jimin was the first one to break eye contact, getting ready to stand up and leave the classroom, his right hand was already pushing the door open when he turned around to face you, still packing up your things.

“You know, Y/N, it's so brave of you to talk that way taking into account what you do for a living” you felt your heart rate quicken and you began to breathe rapidly. He-no. he couldn’t. Could he? No. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about” “Sure you don’t” stop the overthinking Y/N. He doesn’t know. No one knows. 

“So tell me… where should I pick you up if ...you know, I want your services” you could swear your heart stopped beating for a second just before the boiling sensation of rage took over and venomously spatted “I’m not like you” he chuckled 

“Of course not, kitten. I dance for a living. You make people cum” something took over you as the last word left his mouth.

 That side you didn’t use except for work, just happened to overdrive your body and within seconds you had THE Park Jimin pined against a wall. Yes, the same guy that was way too famous for making all the girls swoon over him during Friday nights after class, in a small strip club just outside campus. The Park Jimin was an overly famed dom and took pride in it. 

And you- well you had your fair share of fame, but in a legend, almost mystic type of way. No one was supposed to know you were the famous dominatrix that attended every. single. need from the people visiting her small studio-like office, a few blocks away from where the boy danced his life away. 

“So I guess its true then” he smiled that teasing smile of his, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make your knees just a little bit weak “you do make any guy harden at your touch” you let your hand fall from his chest and quickly turned away as you tried to steady your breath 

“Listen… no one can know about this” he smirked as his eyes somewhat darkened. You knew this look. You would have to pay the price of his silence

“Just tell me already how much its gonna cost, you perv” your tone was kind of desperate as you stole a glimpse of the classroom’s clock and realised that you were already late for work. “a hundred? I’ll get them by the end of the week” 

“Actually” he paused as he looked at you as if something seemed funny to him about this whole situation “Social service will do this time. I’ll stop by your dorm tonight” you slowly felt whatever it was that possessed you a while ago. Rage? Indignation? Both? Whatever it meant that he would stop by your dorm, you weren’t having it. 

“I have work tonight” 

“So do I” so… there really was no way around it 

“Listen, money is no problem Jimin” 

“I know. But unless you’d like the whole campus to know who our beloved and mysterious dominatrix is… I’ll see you… let’s say, 2 am?” he bit his lip as he exited the room. Not giving you a chance to even consider manipulating him into getting your way, which was indeed, your speciality. 

The thing was, between attending evening classes, late-night work, homework and maintaining a somewhat normal social life, Jimin stopping by to whatever he meant by ‘social service’ meant you’d have to cram your studying time.

Work went by pretty quickly. And you couldn’t help but keep on wondering what was waiting for you with Jimin. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of what you did for a living… but it would lose its spark if people knew who you were.

Your head started to ache as you started getting ready to leave. It was already 1:30 am, which meant that it would take you around 20 minutes to get to your dorm and hopefully have enough time to change out of the red kinky thigh-high leather boots your work required that day. 

But boy were you one to get the times wrong. 

As you entered the hall of the unit, your eyes fell on a very glittery Jimin sitting on the floor outside your studio, unbuttoned black shirt and phone in hand. 

You walked up to him, exhaling loudly as an attempt to calm yourself down. You nudged his side with the tip of your boots. He looked up. 

“I was about to call you, but then I realised that I didn’t have your number” great. so he was an asshole and also had lame pick up lines. You really wondered how exactly did he have so many girls falling for him 

“And you’re not getting it” you opened the door and motioned for him to enter “Come on in, and may I ask, how exactly you got into the girl’s unit?” 

“Ah… little Y/N. I can get any girl to do whatever it is that I please” you closed your eyes as another wave of pain hit you 

“Yeah… you stay here. I’ll just go grab an aspirin” the dorm wasn’t big, as a matter of fact, your bed was just a few steps from the ‘living room’ where you left Jimin, but it did what it promised, let you crash. 

You could have sworn you were gone less than a minute before encountering a semi-naked Jimin propped up on your bed, striking what he might have thought of as a sexy pose, patting the bed by his front side for you to sit “Okay. I’m done. Get out”

He sat up “No, wait. I really need this. And you too, Y/N” he smiled at you, but not that smirk you had been used to seeing, the smile that radiated confidence and ego but one that almost seemed friendly, one that made him look innocent, cute, dare you say it. 

“A favour for a favour. As classmates that do kind of the same for a living” You grabbed the chair from your desk and sat in it, crossing your arms. Willing to put on a fight for as long as it benefited you 

“Fine. Be quick” 

“I’m just asking for a few minutes of your night, once a week. I need help with my show. And who knows? you might end up liking it” and there it was, every ounce of liking towards him that he built with the friendly smile and appealing to the sentiment of belonging to the same team. Gone 

“No way”

“Fine. Then just be ready for your little secret to come out” Was it really worth it? He did say, just a few minutes every week. But the thought of having Jimin over, dancing and doing who know what in your dorm, was unbearable. Then again, he did say he needed it. 

“Just a few minutes every week?” 

“Yeah” 

“Fine then stop by tomorrow. Same time” he smiled brightly at you “Now get lost. I need sleep”

What happened the next night though, nothing could have prepared you for it. Your assistant told you you had a new client coming, so as per usual, you were ready to test him out from simple to more complex things. You heard the door closing as some footsteps approached the bed behind you 

“Just stay there. I’ll be with you in a second” 

“God. those bunny ears really do suit you, Y/N” you could have sworn that your heart skipped a beat as you felt heat building up inside you, from rage. But this was somewhat to your advantage, he had just stepped in the lion’s den and had no idea 

“I thought we agreed on meeting in my dorm” you said as you walked up to the bed, taking a seat behind him, with his back between your thighs 

“I thought this might be more fun” of course he was more than excited to play this game, but you weren’t going to let him win. 

Something flashed in his eyes. Something you have become very familiar with. Lust. And then Jimin pushes you against the wall, his fingers laced with yours, your back against the cold wall that held all of your work tools. And you saw what he was going for. Tying you up. But you were having none of it. In a matter of seconds, it was him pressed against the wall, his eyes reflecting the pink led lights from the room. You held tightly on his crotch as he tried to gain dominance over you, keeping him in his place. He just smirks.

You stay there for a moment, him locked under you, and the two of you stare at each other like you’re waiting for someone to make a move. A stalemate. And then you can’t tell who breaks it first, but somehow your lips collide in a hungry, urgent kiss. He kisses you deep, hungrily, desperately, like he wants to consume you whole. As you let your firm grip go, his touch is rough, his fingers grip so tight against your hip that it hurts, and the pain just spurs on the arousal beginning to pool in your belly. 

Jimin bites your lower lip as he pulls away, his eyes scanning over your face. The room felt silent, steamy like the bright lights were invited you two to step it up, taunting you to take it forward. Your breath hisses in involuntarily as you look down at the bulge in his pants, your eyes flitting back up to Jimin’s face. He has a cocky calm look on his face, and it occurs to you that you had never expected Park Jimin the stripper to be like this. 

For a moment you consider stopping, standing up and strolling out. This is a bad idea, the rational side of your brain chides. He’s… himself, the single-cell brained asshole that always sits beside you in class, the self-centred stripper Park Jimin, this is so wrong. But when you look into Jimin’s dark eyes and see the way he licks his lip while staring you up and down, the confidence that emanates from him. And all reason flies out of your head. You want him.

“C’mon spread those legs for me” he whispers to your ear and you can feel his hot breath tickling your neck. He knows what he’s doing. He knows what to say. Saying it without cockiness or nastiness but stating it firmly and calmly… sweet God. 

But this is a game you are not allowing yourself to lose. The hand you have been keeping on his crotch rapidly makes its way into his pants, stroking him over his underwear. He lets out a suppressed grunt and the sound makes you smile. 

Your smile widens when you stop stroking and grab him full in your hand and feel his thighs stiffen. Somehow his lips find their way to your neck, placing you in his previous stand, bot of your bottoms soon discarded, as he held both of your hands behind you, you felt a warmness near your pussy, followed by his voice.

“Tell me how much you want it”

“I don’t beg” everything that had gone thorough between you two in the past few minutes was better than anything you could have imagined. But the way he seemed so bothered by you not sticking to his dominant side’s orders just made you even wetter and weak in the knees. 

And then Jimin slides inside of you.

The last thing you see before closing your eyes and succumbing into pure please was Jimin’s jaw clenching, his platinum hair all messed up. He takes it slow, likely on purpose, and you let out a cry at the feeling. His cock is thicker than what you’re used to, and it stretches you out. It’s been such a long time since you’ve had sex, and when you did have time in the past, it was always rushed. You, dominantly riding a guy until you had a quick, mildly satisfying orgasm. But it was never this – dominated, teased, sprawled under a man with plump lips and a silky smooth voice. 

When he’s finally all the way inside of you, you release a long breath that you didn’t even know you’d been holding in. You hear Jimin let out a stuttering breath, the two of you are still for a moment, just feeling one another, you exchange silent glances to which you weren’t quite sure the meaning of and then Jimin starts to thrust.

He is fucking into you hard, his pace steady and at just the right speed to have you crying out his name while shutting your eyes and drawing your nails into his back for balance, or maybe just to somehow be able to feel him closer. The blood is rushing to your face and you’re slightly dizzy from the mask you have on but all you can feel is him, the loud slap of skin resonating between the four walls of the small room as he slams into you. 

You can hear the vocalizations he makes with every thrust, grunts, growls, and then small soft mewls as he arches upwards and hits you at different angles. Each push of his cock leaves you a writhing mess beneath him. Just as you feel an unavoidable heat forming in the lower part of your belly, he stops. He completely stops. Steals one last glance at you, adding his signature smirk after pulling his pants on and leaves you there. All worked up against the wall, your mouth hanging open as he walks out. If you didn’t hate Park Jimin before, you were sure as hell you did now. 

[bumblesimagines]

Sick

Request; Yes or No

Trigger Warning: Depression, schizophrenia, self harm

I'm not sure how old Kurtz was but I'm gonna say 15-16. (Y/N) is 17-18.

If anyone with schizophrenia feels offended or wants to inform me on it, please feel free to message me and I'll fix whatever needs to be fixed. Please remember that I don't have schizophrenia so I can only learn from the people who do. Also, please be mindful of the fact that I'm not saying all wards are bad, some are good while others aren't, it really depends on you and how you view your experience.

(Y/N) rested his head against the window, staring at the blurry trees. He could hear Lucie's distant chatter as she tried to start a conversation.

"What happened to Kurtz?" He asked, lifting his head and looking at her. The boy he was supposed to protect, his younger brother, was dead. Lucie swallowed, hazel eyes flickering over to him.

"He.. Some crazy guy killed him." (Y/N) looked at the road in front of them. (Y/N) had lived on the Northside with his aunt after his parents deemed him crazy. His aunt took him in, having the disorder as well. She passed over giving in to the tumor in her brain and Lucie, his older cousin, took custody of him. During that period, (Y/N) had learned that his parents had overdosed and that his brother got addicted. Those two things combined with his disorder drove him to almost end his own life but Lucie found him in time. Sheriff Keller advised her to send (Y/N) to a psych ward until he was better. He didn't feel better.

"We can go to Pop's, get a burger and a milkshake." Lucie said, offering a smile. (Y/N) stayed silent. Her smile dropped.

"Please.. Talk to me, (N/N). I haven't seen you in almost a year." Lucie begged, glancing at him.

'Who's fault is that?' (Y/N) chuckled. Lucie shot him an old look before realization took over.

"You haven't taken your meds, have you?" Lucie sighed, one hand gripping the wheel as she ran a hand through her hair.

'Grab the wheel.'

"No." (Y/N) mumbled. Lucie licked her lips, thinking about what to say.

"What are they saying?" She asked. (Y/N) shifted his attention onto the trees again, choosing not to respond. Having dealt with her own mother being schizophrenic, Lucie was used to hearing someone talking to themselves or seeing things. She wasn't used to a completely emotionless person though. The doctors called it flattening.

"Okay, how about this, I go get some Pop's and you can rest at home. Sounds like a good idea?" She asked.

"Okay." Lucie smiled, happy that she got a response.

"Great. Maybe Betty could keep you company? She was your friend, right?"

"No." Lucie glanced at her cousin, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"Well, she asked about you." Lucie pulled up to their house, giving him a small smile. (Y/N) got out of the car, getting his stuff and taking the house key from her. He walked up to the porch, unlocking the door and entering. Everything was still the same. With a sigh, (Y/N) went up the stairs and entered his old bedroom. It was clean and tidy. On his bed lied a small note and a jacket. He picked it up, looking at the note.

'Welcome home! From Betty C.'

(Y/N) looked at the jacket. It had a design of a band/singer he liked.

'Burn it.' (Y/N) rolled his eyes, ignoring the voice. He looked over at his window, approaching it and gazing at Archie's house. Betty and Archie sat on the steps, chatting. Betty turned her head, noticing him. She gave a small wave. (Y/N) closed the curtains. He fell back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, looking at Kurtz. The male stayed silent, arm draping over the stomach of his older brother. Even if Kurtz was dead, (Y/N) could at least see him in his hallucinations.

"I should've been there for you."

'He's dead because of you.'

"I should've stayed."

'You were a terrible brother.'

"I love you." (Y/N) whispered. Kurtz pressed a kiss to his forehead, disappearing when someone knocked on the door. (Y/N) stayed in bed, hoping they'd go away.

"(Y/N)? It's Betty!" (Y/N) grunted, getting up and leaving his room. He headed towards the front door and opened it, looking at the two friends.

"Can we come in?" Betty chirped, tilting her head. (Y/N) wanted to say no but maybe the two would keep the voices at bay. He nodded, stepping back and letting them in. (Y/N) closed the door, going into the livingroom and sitting down.

"Did you get my gift?" Betty asked, smiling. (Y/N) hated how positive and energetic she was.

"Yeah."

'She doesn't care about you.'

"I know." (Y/N) mumbled, fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie. Betty and Archie glanced at each other.

"How was the psych ward?" Archie asked. (Y/N) stared at the ginger.

"Boring." He replied.

"Well, at school we're thinking about starting a club for people with mental illnesses to feel accepted and know others are here for them." Betty said, glancing at Archie.

"We were wondering if you wanted to join? Talk about your experiences?" Betty asked. (Y/N) looked at her.

'They're scared of you. You're a threat.' (Y/N) shrugged.

"Okay." Betty's eyes lit up.

"Great! We'll see you at school." She smiled, standing up. (Y/N) leaned back, letting her know that he didn't want a goodbye hug. Betty and Archie left with small waves. (Y/N) stayed seated on the couch, not really knowing what to do. He was used to being isolated so being able to leave the house was weird. (Y/N) curled up on the couch, ignoring the small shadowy figures that he saw out of the corner of his eye and stared at the tv as if it was on. A sight to behold when Lucie returned.

(Y/N) stared at the school. The people who knew him watched him or whispered to their friends.

"Have a good day." Lucie called. (Y/N) ignored her, hearing the car drive off. He took a deep breath in and pulled down his hoodie sleeves. (Y/N) kept his gaze low as he walked up to the school and entered. Newbies who didn't know him were quickly told who he was. People steered clear of his path. (Y/N) got his schedule as the bell rang and went to class. The teacher knew who he was.

"I'd like to welcome back Mr. (L/N) to Riverdale High." The teacher flashed a pity filled smile.

'Strangle her.' For once, (Y/N) wanted to do exactly what the voice said.

"Please take a seat bedside Mr. Fogarty." She said, motioning to a Serpent.

"Do I have to?" He grunted. The teacher blinked, glancing down at her seating chart.

"Um.. I can change your seat tomorrow." She said, a little nervously. (Y/N) hummed and approached Fogarty, taking a seat beside him. (Y/N) opened his notebook, taking some notes but eventually resorted to doing doodles of the shadowy figure in the corner of the room.

"Dark." The tan male beside him mumbled. (Y/N) looked at him blankly.

"I'm Fangs." Fangs said, extending his hand. (Y/N) looked back at his notebook.

"My brother almost killed you." Was all (Y/N) said. Fangs blinked and it clicked in his head. (Y/N) rested his head on his fist. His mind was blank and he wasn't processing anything the teacher was saying.

"I can give you the notes." Fangs offered suddenly. (Y/N) blinked, looking at him. His gaze shifted onto Kurtz, who stood behind Fangs, looking rather annoyed. (Y/N) looked back at him, searching for some sort of pity in his eyes but only found kindness.

"Whatever." (Y/N) replied, noting that the shadowy figure had disappeared. He stood when the bell rang and went to his next class. Nobody spoke to him. Some people glanced and whispered. It was like that until his last period. (Y/N) looked at Jughead when the male sat besides him.

"Hey."

"Go fuck yourself." Jughead decided not to speak with him for the remainder of class. (Y/N) was relieved to hear the bell but it was short lived. Betty, Archie, and some chick entered the classroom and greeted him.

"You must be (Y/N), heard a lot about you." Veronica said.

"All bad things probably." (Y/N) replied, making it clear he wasn't interested in a friendship.

"Well, I brought the idea up to our principle and we got the all clear." Betty said, smiling. (Y/N) really couldn't care less. His eyes flickered to the figure in the corner.

"What's your disorder again?" Veronica asked.

"None of your fucking buiness." (Y/N) replied automatically. Veronica blinked, taken a back.

"Okayy, let's go to the club room we were able to claim." Jughead said, trying to ease the arising tension. (Y/N) crossed his arms. What a shit show.

[dakotacrisis]

Transferred (2)

I am back with the salt!

                                                            ---

After explaining what had happened in the classroom, the principal gave Marinette three days detention. If Lila was there she probably would have talked Mr. Damocles into a full blown week of detention. Why stop there? Lila had already dragged her down far enough that she probably could have gotten Marinette suspended.

Mr. Damocles dismissed Marinette back to class. She wasn’t ready to head back into the belly of the beast yet and made a detour for the locker room. She laid back on one of the benches and stared at the ceiling.

“Marinette?” Tikki popped out of her purse, “Do you want me to pull up your ‘Feel Better’ playlist?”

“No. Thanks though, Tikki.” she held the kwami close, “I just need some time to breathe.”

“Why don’t you say something? What is happening to you can’t be justified by any means.”

“It’ll just be my word against Lila’s. I may be the one with the deeper history with my classmates but she knows how to turn the situation around to look like the victim. She’s like a more manipulative Chloe. Everyone knows Chloe is full of it so they aren’t taken in. With Lila though they only know what she’s shown them. What she’s shown them reflects back on me like a funhouse mirror.”

“Marinette? You in here?” Tikki disappeared back into Marinette’s purse. Adrien walked into the locker room. “There you are, I got worried when you didn’t come back to class earlier.”

“I’m fine,” Marinette sat up, “Lila got to me is all.”

“I saw that.” He sat down next to her, “I’ve seen you get mad before but to rush her like that…”

“That’s not how I am. Even at my angriest I’ve never resorted to violence as a means to vent my rage. It’s like she’s getting in my head. Pushing all my buttons in the perfect way so I explode.”

“It won’t be like this forever. The truth will come out and then she won’t have a leg to stand on.”

“How much longer though? I can’t keep going on like this, Adrien.”

“I can’t say. But you’re strong, stronger than all of us. Our everyday Ladybug, remember?” he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “No matter how much she tries to distort the truth you’ll always have me in your corner.”

Marinette’s brain was short circuiting at the contact. She still had enough sense about her to listen to what Adrien was saying though. “Thanks, Adrien.”

They walked back to class and Adrien politely nudged Nino back to the desk with Alya. Everyone else was staring at Marinette like a fairy tale villain. Truly that stunt with Lila had tilted the scales in her favor. Adrien had enough foresight to keep her shielded from the worst of it by keeping her close. Her own shining knight.

Adrien even walked her home to make sure no one accosted her.

She’s strong. She can be strong. Even when she’s not Ladybug she can do anything. No weakness. No sadness. She can’t fall prey to Lila’s attacks. She won’t!

As the days went by Lila’s assault was unending. Every incident was at best inconvenient or at worst horribly damaging to her psyche and/or reputation. Marinette kept a brave face and didn’t let it break until she was alone. The process of holding everything in was grating on her already shot nerves. If things didn’t get better soon Marinette wasn’t sure how long she was going to last.

Another day dawned and Marinette gathered her courage as she walked into the school building. “Marinette!” Rose ran up to her, “Look at what a fan of Kitty Section made us?”

Marinette took the little pencil topper out of Rose’s hand. Each one was meant to look like a little chibi of each member in their band gear. “These are adorable, Rose! Kitty Section has really taken off since that tv concert, huh?”

“It is really exciting.” Juleka smiled.

“Excuse me ladies,” Max walked up to the group, “You wouldn’t happen to have seen a travel charger anywhere have you?”

“No. Did you lose yours?” Marinette asked.

“It was in my locker but now it’s gone.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for it.” The girls promised and they all went to class.

It was a shame that Max had lost his charger. Maybe it was just a boy thing. Nino’s headphones went missing yesterday too.

The next day Mylene was in mourning since she couldn’t find her favorite headband. It was a birthday present from Ivan and it had disappeared without a trace. Even the Kitty Section pencil toppers Rose and Juleka had been showing off to their classmates had vanished. There was no way this could be a coincidence. There was a thief among them. Marinette’s immediate hunch was one Lila Rossi but she didn’t say anything. How could she? She didn’t have any proof outside of her distrust of the girl.

“No! No! No!” Lila was in her seat at the back of the class looking frantic as she deposited the contents of her bag out on the desk.

“Something wrong, Lila?” Alya was the first to ask.

“My phone is gone!” Lila sniffled, “I need it on me at all times in case of emergencies. I’m one of Clara Nightingale’s emergency contacts. If she gets hurt I’ll have no way of knowing!”

Marinette scoffed. An emergency contact to Clara Nightingale? Marinette was sure Lila had never so much had been in the same room as Clara let alone be good enough friends to be an emergency contact. Just another tall tale.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you find it.” Nino grabbed his phone and dialed Lila’s number.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

All eyes swiveled to where Marinette was sitting. Her bookbag was ringing.

No…

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Hesitantly Marinette reached for her bag and unzipped the front pocket. Sure enough there was Lila’s phone.

How had she managed to sneak her phone in there? It must have been when Marinette went to the bathroom earlier. Stupid! You would think that she would have learned not to leave her belongings alone with that snake slithering about.

“Marinette, why did you take my phone?” Lila stuck out her bottom lip.

“I didn’t take your phone!”

“You do realize that you just pulled it out of your bag, right?” Alya eyed Marinette suspiciously, “Also, you kinda have a track record of palming people’s phones.”

“But I didn’t--Hey!” Kim had grabbed Marinette’s bag. “Give it back!” Marinette reached for it but Kim was too tall.

“If you stole my phone then what if you stole all the recent missing items of our classmates?” Lila had quickly gotten over her ‘shock’ of Marinette’s ‘theft’. “I think it would put us all at ease if we made sure you aren’t the thief in our midst.”

Kim unzipped Marinette’s bag and rummaged around. “Look what we have here.” he pulled out a pair of headphones. “These are yours, aren’t they Nino?”

“Yeah, I put that sticker on them.” Nino took the headphones back. “Marinette?”

“I didn’t--I don’t know how those got in there!” She knew perfectly well how they did. Lila.

Kim handed the bag over to Lila. “Look, the Kitty Section pencil toppers, Mylene’s favorite headband, and Max’s travel charger.”

“No!” She snatched her bag back from and emptied the rest of it. There wasn’t anymore pilfered items but it didn’t matter much now. “I swear to you all, I did not steal any of this! I’m being framed!”

“Who would frame you?”

“Lila! She’s been out to ruin me since she got here! All the pranks, my paper being deleted, the wrong name in the newspaper, the thefts. It’s all been her! You’re all just too blind to see it!”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I will not stand to hear your lies about me. I have done nothing wrong. I offered you friendship time and again and all you’ve ever done is yell at me. What have I ever done to you that I warrant this treatment?”

“Cut the crap, Lila! I don’t care if I’m the only one who can see through you, I will not take the fall for your sabotage again!”

“But I’ve never--”

“Liar! For once in your life tell the truth! You stole all that stuff and then slipped it into my bag so that it would look like I took it. I have to have some faith that everyone will see you for what you truly are. You. Are. A. LIAR!”

“I--I--” Lila bolted out of the room.

“Hey! Get back here!”

“Marinette!” It was Alya that snapped, “Just stop.”

“What?”

“Stop trying to make Lila the bad guy here.”

“She is the bad guy!”

“No. She isn’t.” Alya sighed and walked over to her friend, “You’ve been on edge lately and you’ve been taking out all that frustration on Lila. It isn’t fair. She’s here trying to get an education and make friends like the rest of us and you are resolute in your decision to hate her.”

“Alya, please,” Marinette begged, “Not you too. You’re a journalist. You’ve said it yourself that you have to have all the facts before you can make a concrete judgement. What makes more sense? That I would steal all this stuff and blame Lila because I got caught? Or that Lila, the girl you barely know, is a pathological liar and manipulator that hates me?”

“I don’t want to believe that either of you are a bad person. The facts as they are presented paint a telling picture. One that doesn’t portray you as much of a hero, I’m afraid.”

“Please…” Marinette was losing the will to live. Not Alya too. Please not her best friend.

“I’m sorry, Marinette. But I can’t condone this kind of behaviour. We all know why you really don’t like her and projecting your jealousy onto her just because she likes Adrien isn’t healthy. I think you owe her and everyone else here an apology.”

“Adrien? You think this is still about Adrien?” Marinette felt like she was going manic, “Not everything in my life revolves around him! I hate Lila because she is a liar, a thief, a manipulator, and a life ruiner. She has you all wrapped around her little finger and I can’t take it anymore. I will not stand here and be made the villain when all I’m doing is trying to rid the evil from my life.”

“Then how about you go?” Alix said. Everyone else nodded in silent agreement.

Marinette looked to Alya for something. Some kind of support. But she wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Fine…” Marinette stuffed everything back into her bag, “I don’t want to be a part of a class like this anyways.”

She kept a brave face, her heart hardening as she walked to the principal’s office. They talked for a couple minutes and Mr. Damocles started the paperwork for her transfer. After he told her it was in motion she thanked him and started to leave the school.

On her way out of the school she passed Adrien heading in. “Marinette, hey, where’s the fire?” he stopped her, “You’re crying…”

“I--” She sniffed loudly, “I can’t…”

“Shh, it’s alright,” Adrien sat her down on the steps, “What happened?”

“Lila happened. What else would it be?” she spat.

Adrien listened patiently as Marinette ranted and blubbered about how Lila had framed her for stealing all the missing items. How she broke down and chewed Lila out. How the class turned on Marinette because of it. Finally she told him about her decision to take their suggestion and leave the school.

“But that is--” Adrien clenched and unclenched his fists, “This isn’t right! You shouldn’t have to leave. I’ll go in there and tell them all the truth right now.”

“Don’t. They’ll just turn on you too.” Marinette muttered into her knees.

“I don’t want you to go though.” Adrien took one of her hands and squeezed it, “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to make you stay? We’ll move to a different class away from Lila.”

“That means so much but if I’m in this school Lila will still find a way. Being around all these people that think I’m the bad one is wreaking havoc on my mind. All it is going to lead to is even more stress and with everything else going on in my life that’s one thing I don’t need right now.”

“Marinette--”

“I can’t--I can’t--” Marinette hiccuped, fresh tears welling in her eyes, “I can’t anymore. I’m not strong--strong enough. I’m sorry,” she wiped at her eyes trying to banish the tears before they could spill, “I--I’m sorry I can’t be stronger. I’m sorry.”

Adrien pulled her into a bone crushing hug. “No. You don’t need to apologize.” He pulled back enough so he could look in her eyes, “Never apologize.”

She hugged him back burying her face into his neck as she pulled together her last shreds of dignity and strength. She never wanted to leave these arms. She was safe here. Accepted. At least one person still believed in her.

All too soon Marinette broke the hug and took a deep breath.

“You um,” she tried to force a smile, “You should head to class. I’ve been keeping you long enough.”

“You’re more important than a literature lecture right now,” He gave her a genuine smile, “When do you leave?”

“End of the week.”

“I’m gonna throw you a farewell party.”

“Who are you going to invite? All the people that still want to be associated with me?” Marinette joked but the comment was too real.

“It’ll be great...as great as a farewell party can be anyways.” Adrien helped her to her feet. “Are you going back to class?”

“No. Not today. I have to talk this whole transfer over with my parents anyway.”

“Where are you transferring to?”

“Lycee Carnot.”

“Hey, that’s where Kagami attends school.”

Marinette was too exhausted to curse her luck. Of course the school she would be transferring to would have her romantic rival. Kagami was better than Lila by far though. And at least she’ll know someone when she starts there. Even if the two of them haven’t really spoken more than a handful of sentences to each other.

They said goodbye and Marinette went home to explain further what the principal had called them about. Her parents were saddened to hear how horribly she had been suffering. Had they not been paying attention? Was that why she was so reclusive lately?

Marinette assured her parents that this was not their fault in the least. She was in a bad spot and now she was out of it. Things could only get better now that she would be leaving the toxic environment Lila had created. They let their daughter go and rest. After some self care and a heaping helping of her favorite dessert they would talk more about this transfer.

Tikki floated next to Marinette’s head as she laid in bed. “Are you sure about this, Marinette? Lila can be exposed. We can still fix this.”

“This is fixing it, Tikki.” Marinette pulled up her Feel Better playlist and breathed slowly.

Lila had gotten what she wanted but Marinette saw this as her own win. Karma was an unforgiving mistress and in time it would come for Lila. Then Marinette could sit back and watch the carnage with a smile and a snack.

                                                             ---

(1) (3) (4)

[casper-writes-stuff]

Fallen

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20046148/chapters/47471281

Summary: Patton has Roman and he has Dolion. That's about it though, in the friendship department. Not a big deal though, that's all he really needs! Who cares if he gets picked on for his overly cheerful disposition when Dolion isn't around to shoot glares at everyone? Not him! In fact, he so doesn't care what other people think that- Yeah no, he usually ends up crying alone in his room when he feels lonely because Roman is always at rehearsals for some play or another and Dolion prefers to stay in his home alone after school to recharge for the next day.

That is, until he manages to catch the attention of one Virgil Ward, resident bad boy punk at the school who's rumored to have killed someone in the last school he was in and everyone avoids except for Student Body President Logan Thomas and resident biker gang member Remy Sanders.

Special thanks to @thetickleeraven for letting me write a fic inspired by their own fic, Rumored!! 

Patton was a lot of things. He was friendly, he was what Roman described as “soft pastel”, he was a dad joke loving fiend according to Dolion. He was not, however, popular. This was evident by the avoidant students and sarcastic teasing from the more, actually popular, kids.

That was fine though, he had Dolion and Roman and that was really all he needed, right? Wrong apparently, since he usually got overwhelmed with loneliness after school when he was home alone after school, waiting for his parents to get home from work. His mom already starting her twelve hour shift at the hospital and his dad barely coming home because he was a workaholic at his everyday desk job.

It was quiet existence and not exactly something Patton wanted, being the extroverted teen he was, but that wasn’t really something he could control. So, every morning, he’d wake up, put on makeup to hide his red puffy eyes from crying to sleep the night before, put on a bright grin and give himself a pep talk.

“You, Patton Heart, have got this. You’re kind, you love your friends, your friends love you, you’ve got all you need. You’re smart! Getting straight A’s at school and having a four-point-o grade average is hard to achieve and you’ve got that! You’re incredible, you can do this!”

Usually, the pep talk worked and he could get on with his day, but sometimes, like today, the words felt fake. It’s okay though, he could fake it ‘til he made it. He was going to get through today too!

Patton pushed the little voice in his head telling him he couldn’t do this to the back of his mind, grabbed his backpack from his room and headed out the door to go next door before Roman left to pick up Dolion.

The walk was short but definitely needed to pick up Patton’s spirits as he felt his grin grow more genuine at the thought of getting to see one of his two best friends so early in the morning. Roman Prince was already locking up the house when Patton made his way through the gate, beaming at the drama nerd humming some Disney song to himself (was that Go the Distance from Hercules?).

“Hey Ro!” Patton said brightly, making Roman jump and fumble with his keys, the jingle abruptly stopping when they fell through his fingers to the concrete porch step.

Patton snickered and Roman playfully glared at him, bending down to pick up his keys.

“Must you do that every morning, Pattoff?”

“I dunno, do you gotta get startled every morning, Romoff?” 

Roman sighed dramatically, walking past Patton and out to his red Hyundai Ioniq Hybrid (Patton had no idea what that was, but Roman was very insistent on saying the entire car brand or whatever it was).

“Honestly, you’d think with how often you scare me each morning I’d get used to you popping up out of nowhere, but no I’m always in different stages of getting ready when you come over!”

Patton rolled his eyes, readjusting his backpack strap on his shoulder before responding.

“Not my fault you’re inconsistent with getting ready. If you had a set routine I’m sure you’d get more used to it! I always come over at the same time every day, and I never know if you’re going to be still brushing your hair, putting on your makeup, or packing your bag.”

Roman stopped with the driver’s side door open to stare at Patton, as if just realizing something.

“Wow, you really do show up at the exact same time every day. Doesn’t the routine get a little boring?”

Patton shrugged, opening the door on his side and tossing his backpack on the floor before climbing in.

“It’s comforting, I guess? I dunno, I kinda like it though.”

Roman hummed as he climbed into the car with Patton, sticking his key into the ignition but not turning it and turning towards Patton.

“Didn’t you say once that routine wasn’t the healthiest for the human mind?”

Patton shrunk into his shoulders, staring out of the windshield.

“...yeah. The brain needs stimulation, and a regular routine bores the mind and makes depression more likely.”

Roman raised an eyebrow, but otherwise stayed quiet. Patton didn’t say anything else until Roman’s ringtone for Dolion started going off, Fall Out Boy blaring throughout the car.

Roman cursed and dug into his back pocket for his phone until he could answer the call, putting it on speaker so Patton could hear too.

“Yes, love?”

Dolion’s unamused voice came through the tiny speaker.

“Don’t you “love” me, you’re three minutes late in picking me up, Roman. School starts in five.”

Roman cursed again, setting his phone down on the center console while Patton snickered as they both buckled up.

“Did you seriously not even start driving yet? Do you want to be late again?”

Patton felt his heart jump into his throat at the reminder. If Roman made him late again that meant detention for Mr. Lendor because he was late yesterday but managed to get out of the punishment because he’d literally never been late before.

“Please step on it, Roman,” Patton whispered, sinking low in his seat at the thought of getting detention.

Roman gave Patton a weird look, Dolion already having hung up.

“Why? You usually advocate for safe driving.”

“I have Mr. Lendor first period, Roman. I was already late yesterday.”

Roman has a really bad habit of swearing, and usually, Patton would subscribe to the swear jar, but right now he actually agreed with the loud “Fuck!” that Roman let out as he pulled out of the driveway and stepped on the gas.

Patton ran into the school ahead of Dolion and Roman, quietly repeating crap to himself as he ran to the back of the school towards the English hall. Of course his first class had to be at the very back of the school! The bell rang thirty seconds before Patton slid into the classroom, his rubber soles squeaking against the linoleum flooring.

A bunch of kids starting snickering and whispering as Mr. Lendor handed Patton his detention slip, making his heart fall despite the heaving of his chest.

“I gave you a chance, Mr. Heart. I’ll be seeing you in Mrs. Montejo’s classroom after school.”

Patton nodded quietly, taking the slip before making his way to his seat in the front of the classroom, jamming the paper in the smallest pocket of his backpack before he pulled out his English textbook in dejection, opening it to the page written on the board. Today was going to be a long one…

And it honestly was. He’d had to run to every single class to make sure he was on time, getting warning shouts from teachers and angry ones from student’s he’d accidentally run into. He wasn’t usually in this much of a rush, but teachers kept holding him back after class to talk to him about this scholarship or that extra credit assignment and it was driving him insane!

He finally slowed down near his psych class, knowing Dr. Picani would be much more forgiving if he walked in a few seconds late than the rest of his teachers. His constant reference to cartoon characters definitely helped Patton get really into psychology. 

Patton gave a genuine smile at Dolion when he met him in the hall, walking along with him to Psychology.

“You look like hell,” was Dolion’s first comment, making Patton snort at the abrupt honesty.

“I know. I’ve been running around all day. Teachers keep holding me back to talk about my grades.”

Dolion groaned. “You’d think with your perfect grades, rivalling only Logan Thomas, teachers would leave you alone.”

Patton heaved a sigh, nodding in agreement. “I know, but they want me to start thinking about colleges, even though it’s still only Junior year and I don’t entirely know if I want to be a therapist or work with pets!”

Dolion gave Patton a Look. “You’re allergic to cats.”

“Not severely!” Patton defended, entering the open door of the classroom with Dolion, taking a moment to smile at Dr. Picani before sitting in his seat just as the bell rang. 

Of course, a minute after the bell rang, Picani hadn’t started teaching and that was because a certain student usually took two minutes after the bell rang to enter the class.

Patton shifted uncomfortably in the silence, Dolion already doodling in his sketchbook and not paying attention to anything but what he was doing. Patton sighed, resting his elbow on his desk before plopping his chin his hand while he waited for Virgil Ward to enter the classroom.

Virgil had a reputation. He always sat in the back of every classroom, regardless of seating arrangements, he skipped classes he didn’t like or feel like going to (which was saying something that he literally always showed up to Dr. Picani’s psychology class), he almost never spoke up and tended to insult whoever forced him to when he could.

He had also transferred to the highschool a year ago, and the rumor was that he had killed someone in his last school.

Patton didn’t think it was that extreme, otherwise he’d be in jail, right? Still, Patton couldn’t help but believe that maybe he had beaten someone up and gotten expelled or something and that had caused his transfer.

And right on time, Virgil sauntered into the classroom, his bottom lip dipping as he played with the piercing on it with his teeth.

Of course, there was also the fact that Virgil was incredibly attractive, with his piercings and tattoo sleeves and his ripped skinny jeans, his studded bracelets and black shirt and leather jacket. It was honestly ridiculous how hot the teen was.

And, instead of sitting in the very back, he always sat behind Patton.

Patton had grown used to it by now, what with the year being two-thirds of the way over, but it still gave him nervous butterflies. Whether it was from the tiny crush he had on him or the dangerous reputation he had, Patton never could tell.

He was just… he had control. He had friends too! Despite being labeled the dangerous bad boy everyone should avoid, everybody secretly swooned over him, and those that hated him didn’t dare make it known to his face and that was honestly just… so cool! It made Patton envious, but at the same time he admired him so much. He was friends with the actual smartest kid in school, Logan Thomas, and with resident biker gang member Remy Sanders.

Logically, pastel soft boy Patton, who wore pink and was one of the most sensitive kids in school shouldn’t be crushing on bad boy Virgil, but everything about him captivated Patton and he really couldn’t help it.

“Patton?” Dr. Picani said, making Patton blink back to reality.

“Um… yes?” he asked, sheepishly, making Picani raise an eyebrow.

“Can you tell me what HFD is?” he asked patiently, smiling knowingly as Patton flushed, realizing he had spaced out.

“High Functioning Depression. It’s uh… not actually a clinical diagnosis though, falling under Dysthymia instead....”

Dr. Picani nodded. “Exactly! People with HFD are found to be smarter than they were before, some psychologists find that people with HFD tend to throw themselves into their work, most claiming to be perfectionists before diagnosis.”

Patton breathed a sigh of relief when the attention was off him again, though now he was actually paying attention to what Dr. Picani was saying and taking notes. He’d have to ask someone for notes he may have missed, if he can find anyone. Dolion doesn’t usually take notes, and usually everybody else avoids him…

Sighing, Patton listened intently, trying not to let his mind wander off. He’d barely eaten today, so concentrating was difficult, maybe he should eat something when he gets home? His mom should have food ready when he gets home, if she decided to cook tonight. Though maybe not, she did mention having to go to work early today and wanting to get plenty of rest in his family group chat during lunch…

Before he knew it, the class was over and he’d once again barely paid attention, though it didn’t look like there was homework for this class at least. Hopefully he’d get a chance to go over someone’s notes during detention.

“Patton, if you wouldn’t mind staying for a minute?” Dr. Picani spoke up, making Patton sigh.

“Yeah, Dr. Picani?” he asked, forcing on a tired smile for the sake of his favorite teacher.

“Are you okay? You barely paid attention today. You had a faraway look in your eyes almost the entire class.”

Patton nodded, smiling more genuinely this time.

“Yeah, I’m okay! I’m just tired today is all, I was up late working on homework last night.”

Dr. Picani hummed to himself, tapping his chin.

“Can you do me a favor? I want you to research depression tonight, different types, as much as you can handle after all of your homework. Then I want you to come see me Monday after school and talk to me about what you learned, okay?”

Patton, feeling slightly confused, nodded. “Sure, Doctor. Can I ask why?”

“We’ll talk about that on Monday, Patton.”

Nodding, still confused, Patton turned to leave the room after Dr. Picani gestured for him to leave.

And then he noticed the time and he took off running through the halls again to get to the Spanish building outside. God, why was this school so big?

He barely made it into the classroom with a minute to spare, his rushed entrance gaining the attention of everyone there, including Virgil and Remy, the latter sporting a black eye that couldn’t even be completely covered by his shades. The former had bruised knuckles, and there was a third kid closer to the front of the classroom with a swollen nose and split lip.

“Kind of you to finally join us, Mr. Heart. Why don’t you take a seat next to Mr. Ward in the back and we can get started. I certainly hope you don’t make being late a habit.”

Patton bit back his response that he wasn’t late this time, deciding he didn’t really want to gain a reputation of fighting teachers and did as he was asked.

The butterflies in his belly returned, this time stronger, now that he was sitting right next to Virgil instead of in front of him. God help him, detention was going to be hard until he was able to focus on something else.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here, detention has officially started. You’re not allowed to do anything except sit there and think. You all know the drill. I’ll be back here every fifteen minutes to check in on you.”

Patton held back a groan, slumping forward and hitting his head against the table. Being forced to think with nothing to do? Bad idea, Mr. Lendor. If he heard Patton’s regular thoughts when he was crying himself to sleep at night (not that he’d do that here, too many people), he doubted the teacher would make him do nothing.

“I know this is something you’re not used to, Mr. Heart, but you do need to face the consequences of your actions.”

Patton sat up to stare at Mr. Lendor in horror at being sought out, the snickering from the other students making Patton’s cheeks burn.

“Yes sir,” he muttered, sinking low in his seat as Mr. Lendor left the room.

The second the authority figure was gone, Remus, Patton’s regular tormentor switched desks from the front to the one right in front of him, sitting backwards in the chair with a wicked grin.

“Well helloooo~ Pattoff!”

Patton flinched, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Please don’t call me that, Remus.”

Remus pouted, pushing his cheek into his hand so one side of his face squished up.

“Awww, why not Pattoff? Aren’t we friends?”

Patton didn’t answer, staring at his desk and picking at a loose thread on his pastel yellow jean shorts.

Remus huffed at the lack of a response.

“So, what’d you do, baby? You’re never late to class, surely Mr. Lendor was sparing you? Did you get in a fight? Finally grow some balls and punch someone? I knew you were faking that ridiculous sensitivity of yours.”

“Leave him alone, Burke,” Virgil snapped, making Patton look over at the other in surprise, Remus doing the same.

“Aww, Virge sweetie, I’m sorry. Am I bothering your little toy? I didn’t know you laid claim on him,” Remus purred, only to jump in surprise when Patton stood up abruptly, smacking his hands against his desk.

Patton was glaring harshly at Remus, tears in his eyes.

“I am sick of your gross comments toward me Remus Burke. You have anger issues and an obsession with sex? Fine, but leave me the hell alone.”

And then he stormed out of the building, adjusting his route so that he could head home, whether or not Mr. Lendor was gonna give him another detention on Monday or not.

[teamfreewill-imagine]

Stuttering Hands

Summary: You go through college pretty much unnoticed, keeping to yourself and getting on with classes, until you bump into the object of your daydreams and your college experience is changed for the better Words: 4.1k Sam x Deaf!Reader (Stanford!Era) Warnings: none

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You sighed as you watched him, a few seats away from you, take notes and listen intently to the lecturer.

He was in your Art History class, and Psychology, and American Literature.

It seemed that everywhere you went you were faced with this handsome stranger, as if the world was pushing you together.

Sam.

That was his name.

Well, you were pretty certain, anyway.

You’d never actually spoken to the guy.

People around you started to pack away their laptops and books, and you realised that you’d probably missed the bell.

You shoved your computer into your bag, picking the rest of your stuff up in your arms as you quickly made your way out of the lecture hall, furious at yourself that you’d daydreamed another class away.

Just as you crossed the threshold out into the hallway, you bumped into someone, sending books flying across the hall.

You groaned, bending down to pick them up and almost knocking heads as the guy tried to do the same.

You ignored him in favour of picking up all of your books, and it wasn’t until you were stood up that you realised he was talking to you.

And, holy shit, Sam was even prettier up close.

You focused on the movement of his lips, trying to figure out what he was saying as you came into the conversation half way through.

“...mean to, are you okay?”

You nodded, not wanting him to hear your voice if you tried to answer verbally.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and you nodded again. “You look pretty spooked.”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes to work up the courage.

“I’m fine,” you told him, hating how the words felt in your mouth.

He nodded, looking entirely unconvinced.

“I’ve gotta go to class,” he admitted, patting your shoulder. “See you in Psych tomorrow?”

You nodded as he squeezed your shoulder and left, standing dumbly in the hallway until you realised you were in the way.

The movement of his lips was etched into your brain.

‘See you in Psych’

Was that really what he’d said, or had you misunderstood?

You’d never met before, never spoken, yet he knew who you were, knew you were in his classes.

Your mind was whirring as you made your way back to your dorm.

You’d attempted to get some work done when you got to your room, but your mind was over-active so you didn’t get much further than opening your books.

It didn’t help that, when you opened your Psychology textbook to try and get some preparation for the next class done, you saw that you’d picked up the wrong book.

Sam Winchester was written in a neat script in the top left corner of the inside front cover.

At least you had his name right.

Plus, having his book gave you another reason to talk to him.

Just the thought of talking to him, however, was giving you anxiety.

It was obvious, from the way he was talking to you earlier, that he didn’t realise that you couldn’t hear him. He was speaking to you as if you were a normal, albeit a little odd, person.

You knew that the moment he realised you were deaf, he’d treat you differently.

Everyone did, and you didn’t blame them for it, either.

You got sympathy that you didn’t want or need, or people stopped talking to you altogether because they didn’t know how to interact.

You rarely spoke aloud anymore because the only thing you could hear was your own annoying voice, and very few people on campus knew ASL. You were somewhat of a recluse, but that was okay. You’d get your degree without distraction and you’d get out of there.

This ‘Sam Winchester’ was just another distraction that would disappear the moment he found out about you.

That didn’t change the fact that you had to talk to him before your next class, though.

Unsurprisingly, your anxiety kept you up that night.

You jumped as a hand touched your shoulder on your way to class the next morning, and you were grateful that you weren’t holding any books this time.

Looking up at the owner of the hand, you sighed in light relief that it was Sam and not some stranger grabbing at you.

He frowned down at you, letting go of your shoulder to adjust the strap of his backpack.

“You okay?” he asked, and you nodded. “Only, I was calling you…”

You bit your lip, deciding to just get this over with.

“I’m deaf,” you told him, signing as you did so.

His frown turned into a smile, which caused you to frown in turn.

“Oh, so you weren’t just ignoring me?” he asked, and you shook your head.

He didn’t do the typical hearing-person thing of over-moving his mouth when he realised you were reading his lips, rather annunciating clearly and keeping the movements small and natural.

“I was starting to think you hated me,” he admitted, and a surprised laugh left your lips, making him smile wider.

“I barely know you,” you replied, willing yourself not to cringe at your own voice.

Sam didn’t even flinch, offering you his hand to shake.

“I’m Sam,” he told you, and you nodded.

“I’m Y/N,” you replied, pulling his textbook from your bag. “Wrong book.”

You were trying to get your point across in as few words as possible, but he seemed to understand anyway.

“Yeah, I picked up your copy,” he admitted, pulling yours out of his bag and swapping them. “Sorry about that.”

You shook your head, smiling.

He smiled back at you before something made him jump - the bell, maybe.

“We should get to class,” he told you. “Pearson won’t be happy if we come in late.”

You nodded, as the two of you started walking towards the right classroom.

To your surprise, Sam sat in the front row with you during the lecture, letting you copy down his notes when you got distracted or when Dr. Pearson was talking with his back to the class.

You had a dictaphone and speech-to-text software on your laptop which usually came in useful if you missed anything, but Sam helping you out meant that your post-lecture recap time would be cut in half.

You couldn’t quite believe your luck.

It became somewhat of a routine; meeting up with Sam before a class you shared, sitting together, helping each other take notes.

For the first time in the eighteen months you’d spent at Stanford, you finally had a friend; someone who treated you as equal rather than ‘less than’ because of your disability.

Three weeks after that first Psych class, Sam nudged you while you were packing up from your last class on Friday afternoon.

He waited for you to look at him before he started to speak.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” he asked. You raised an eyebrow, so he clarified. “With me?”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry.

“Like… a date?” you asked, hating the fact that even your hands stumbled over the words.

He shrugged, still smiling.

“If you want,” he told you. “If you’d rather go just as friends, that’s okay too.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to portray your trepidation through your expression.

“I want to take you out on a date,” he insisted, his smile losing a little hope. “But if you want to get dinner as friends instead…”

“No,” you said, and his face fell. You shook your head, frustrated at yourself. “Not as friends.”

Sam looked back at you, hope once more trickling into his expression.

“As a date?” he clarified, and you nodded.

His grin was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile back as you put the rest of your things into your bag.

“I’ve gotta put my stuff back in my dorm,” Sam told you as the two of you walked out of the class, and you nodded, grateful that you wouldn’t have to bring your books out with you. “Meet you on the quad at six?”

You looked at your watch. That gave you 45 minutes to get ready.

You nodded, looking up at him once you got out into the hallway where you would have to split up to go to your dorms.

“Dress code?” you asked, and he shrugged.

“You look great now,” he told you, causing you to blush. “Casual, comfortable. I want it to be the real us.”

You nodded again, gasping slightly as he leaned down to kiss your cheek.

“At six,” he repeated, waiting for you to nod before smiling and walking away.

Despite what Sam had said, you changed your clothes anyway.

Nothing fancy, but you went for an unwrinkled band tee and your favourite pair of jeans.

Slipping into your boots, you looked yourself over in the full length mirror that hung on the back of your door.

You looked good - not dressy, but not quite as ‘everyday’ as usual - the jeans hugging your ass just right.

You didn’t have time to do your full ‘night out’ makeup routine, but you touched up your foundation, putting on eyeliner and mascara to try and emphasise your eyes.

You let your hair out of the braids you’d put them in all day, loving the waves they had created and spritzing some dry shampoo to add a little volume.

Grabbing your purse, you took one last look in the mirror before making your way back down to the quad.

Your heart was hammering with every step you took, the closer you got to the meeting point, the more real it was becoming.

This was your first date in over a year, your first date with a hearing person, period, and you were nervous.

The fact that Sam was drop-dead perfect and you actually wanted everything to work out with him didn’t help to ease your anxiety.

Once you stepped outside and saw him waiting, looking equally nervous, some of the anxiousness started to slip away.

He smiled as he saw you approach, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that probably helped him calm some of his nerves.

You took in his appearance, noticing that he too had opted for a slight change of clothes.

It wasn’t such a surprise, this time, when he leaned in to kiss your cheek in place of a greeting, and you managed to smile up at him without blushing too hard.

You pulled once, lightly, on the front of his jacket as you raised an eyebrow, hoping he understood what you were trying to say.

“Yeah, well you got changed, too,” he told you, and you smiled.

Right from the start, he always seemed to know what you were trying to say through your actions rather than your words.

It was a rare occasion that, when you really didn’t want to speak, he had to ask for clarification. Somehow, he understood your reservations in talking without ever asking you, and it was something that you appreciated beyond explanation.

“You look great,” he told you, and you dropped your gaze for a moment so you could hide some of your embarrassment.

“So do you,” you replied, looking up in time to see him smile.

Sam was the first hearing-person outside of your family that you allowed yourself to feel comfortable around.

The first date had gone incredibly.

You didn’t go anywhere fancy, but he made sure you got a booth towards the back so that, should you want to talk, nobody but Sam would be able to hear your voice.

You loved that he’d been that considerate that early on, picking up on your insecurities and being sure not to enhance any of them.

It was a Saturday night, four months since that first date, that you were in your dorm room with Sam beside you, watching a movie while sprawled comfortably on your bed.

The subtitles were on, of course, and Sam’s arm was around your shoulders, his cheek resting on the top of your head.

Finals were over, and you were both confident that you’d passed all of your sophomore classes, so you’d decided to have an evening in to celebrate.

You’d quickly realised that both of you were much more comfortable to stay in, playing board games or watching a movie suited you better than going out and joining the typical college scene, so this became a regular date-night activity.

Sam had chosen the movie this time, claiming that after the stress of exams you needed some light comic relief.

He wasn’t wrong.

You found yourself laughing, really laughing, for the first time in what felt like forever.

Sam, who had been slightly shaking with laughter, stopped, moving his face from resting against your hair.

You pulled in a breath, still smiling as you looked up at him.

He was smiling down at you, his eyes warm and inviting, his dimples pressing into his cheeks.

“What?” you asked, and he shook his head, pushing your hair back behind your ear.

“Your laugh,” he said, and you bit your lip.

“Too loud?” you guessed, suddenly embarrassed.

“No,” he insisted, shifting to face you so you didn’t have to strain your neck. “It’s good. I love your laugh.”

He smiled, a little shy, and you offered him the same in return.

“I wish I could hear yours,” you admitted, “Hear your voice at all.”

“It’s annoying, whiney,” he lied, trying to make light of the situation. “Why do you think I don’t have many friends?”

“Because you’re dating the weird deaf girl.”

The words stumbled out before you could stop them, and you regretted them instantly.

You hadn’t been in a situation where you could speak without thinking for such a long time, and now you wished that you hadn’t been so comfortable.

“Y/N,” Sam said, his expression almost pained as he grabbed the remote and paused the movie before looking back at you. “You… do you really think that?”

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to talk anymore.

Sam leaned in, bringing his hands to your cheeks as he pulled you in for a firm kiss.

“Nobody sees you as the ‘weird deaf girl’,” he told you, firmly.

He pulled back just far enough that you could read his lips without going cross eyed, but kept your face in his strong palms.

“Nobody thinks that,” he assured you. “I bet half the class doesn’t even know you’re deaf. I didn’t, remember? I just thought you kept to yourself.”

You nodded, bringing your hands up to hold his wrists.

He looked like he was about to cry, and you weren’t doing much better yourself.

You weren’t used to having people care for you - to your self-deprecation hurting anyone but yourself - and you hated that you’d managed to upset him.

“I had more than a year at college before I got a chance to talk to you,” Sam continued, closing his eyes as he spoke. “My lack of friends has nothing to do with you, okay?”

He opened his eyes in time to see you nod, and he pulled you in for another kiss, softer this time.

When he pulled back, he was smiling slightly, teasingly.

“It has everything to do with my whiney voice,” he told you, and you laughed softly, letting go of his wrists as he let go of your face.

“Your voice isn’t whiney,” you replied, causing him to frown in confusion. “It’s low. Probably sexy.”

You watched him let out a surprised laugh, but there was a question in his eyes that he was unsure whether to ask.

“Low frequency,” you explained, rather than waiting for him to ask. “When we… the… your…”

You didn’t know how to word what you were saying without being too crude.

You rested your hand against his chest.

“Speak,” you requested.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I’m speaking.”

You nodded, feeling the slight vibration in his chest as the words left his lips.

“So, when we’re… together,” you told him. “I can’t hear you, but-”

“You can feel it?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Lower than mine,” you told him, and he nodded.

“I wondered,” he smiled. “You’re very tactile.”

You started to blush again, a natural response whenever you spoke about the physical side of your relationship.

It had developed quickly, probably due to the fact that you were around each other every moment you could be, and it was incredible, but any conversation about it made you bashful.

“It’s good, I like it,” he told you, leaning in and kissing you again.

Your insecurities faded as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your palm between his shoulder blades as you laid down onto your bed, Sam holding himself over you as he kissed your jaw.

He pulled back, smirking down at you as one hand trailed under the hem of your tee.

“Let’s make some noise,” he murmured, and you rolled your eyes as you pulled him down into another, deeper, kiss.

Months of dating Sam, spending almost every day together, made being apart for summer even more difficult.

He was staying on campus, his brother coming to visit for a week but the rest of the time just working, while you went home to be with your family.

You kept in contact via text and Skype; this new video calling technology that Sam had found a public beta version of.

There was often a lag, which meant reading his lips was hard, but it was good to be able to see his face a few hours a week.

Your mom had a lot of questions about your new boyfriend and, although you spoke about him modestly, she could tell you were totally infatuated with him already.

“Does he sign?” she asked you, and you shook your head.

It was weird, being at home and around someone who just naturally signed as she spoke.

You always did, even when the person you were speaking to didn’t know ASL, but other people doing it had become a rarity in your life.

“I’ve taught him small things,” you replied, not bothering to use your voice because you knew she could understand you without. “He knows his name, my name, and greetings.”

Your mom pulled a face, and you sighed.

“What?” you asked, folding your arms while you waited for her to reply.

“You deserve to be with someone who speaks your language,” she told you, and you groaned, throwing your head back.

“We’re at college. We have enough classes to deal with already,” you argued. “And he works, too. He’s busy.”

“It’s important to you,” she replied. “He should make time.”

“I can read lips,” you reminded her. “And it’s not as if deaf guys have treated me well. Let me have this, Mom. He’s a great guy.”

She agreed to drop it on the condition that she could speak with him when she took you back to Stanford in August.

Not wanting to carry on the conversation, you agreed to the conditions and shot off a text of apology to Sam.

Sam’s charm seemed to have just as powerful of an effect on your mother as it had on you.

You went out for lunch after you’d set up your dorm room, and your anxiety had been growing as their first meeting drew closer.

Sam had offered to help you unpack, but your mother had shot it down - not wanting to have a boy in your room and ignoring the obvious fact that she knew he’d been in there countless times the last semester.

Once she’d met him, though, the guard she’d put up fell almost instantly.

She was fiercely protective in a way that you couldn’t really blame her for, seeing as she’d helped you fight off ablist bullies of all shapes and sizes throughout most of your life.

However, Sam managed to break most of that away within the first two minutes of meeting.

You were sure that seeing your joyful reunion with him after weeks, months, of only seeing each other on a screen helped in some way, but his polite and gentle nature was the real winner.

By the end of your meal, they were laughing and joking together as if they were old friends.

You caught the bits of conversation that you could, your mom helping by signing while she wasn’t eating, but you were just happy to be in such good company.

When the bill arrived and Sam reached for it, your mom playfully slapped his hand away.

“Don’t be silly,” she told him. “You’re a college student. I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure?” Sam checked. “I’ve been working all summer-”

Your mom deliberately blocked her lips as she interrupted him, saying something that made Sam blush and nod in defeat.

“That was mean,” you complained, nudging your mom’s foot under the table.

She shrugged, unwilling to explain what she had said as she smiled at the waiter to take your payment.

Your mom left that afternoon, hugging you tight and reminding you to text and email her at least once a week, to let her know that you’re alive, before getting in her car and starting the drive home.

Almost as soon as she was gone, you got your phone out to text Sam and tell him to come up to your room.

You mean my new best friend is gone already?

You rolled your eyes at his response, typing out your reply one handed as you let your hair down from its bun.

I mean you can get your cute ass up here so I can kiss you properly for the first time in forever.

You threw your phone down onto your bed, quickly changing your clothes into sweatpants and a comfortable tank before grabbing your cell once more.

You’re being dramatic

But sure

Open up, drama queen.

You laughed, putting your phone down on your desk before opening the door to him.

“Who are you calling ‘drama qu-’”

Sam cut off your teasing jibe with a kiss, and you melted into him straight away.

You stepped backwards, still kissing him as you moved further into your room, letting him kick the door closed behind him.

You laughed softly, breaking the kiss, as his hands playfully squeezed your ass, stepping away and lightly slapping his chest.

“How’s that for a proper kiss?” he asked, and you grinned.

“That was great,” you answered, earning a grin in response.

“I’ve... “ he didn’t finish his sentence, making you frown as he motioned for you to sit on your bed.

“What?” you asked, but he just shook his head, standing in front of you.

The rise and fall of his chest told you that he was taking a few deep breaths, your concern growing as he closed his eyes.

“Don’t judge me, okay?” he requested, opening his eyes once more as he raised his hands from his sides.

“Hello,” he signed, his hands shaking slightly. “My name is Sam Winchester.”

You smiled.

“You’re getting fast at spelling,” you told him as he paused after his surname.

He smiled weakly but didn’t stop, mouthing the words he was signing now.

“I study at Stanford University. I am trying to be a lawyer. I have a girlfriend.”

You were grinning as you watched his stuttering hands show you what he wanted to say, pride welling in your chest as he carried on.

“Her name is Y/N,” he continued. “She is beautiful, and she is shy. Her voice is the best sound I have heard. She thinks I lie, but her laugh is beautiful. I have taken ASL class all vacation to learn to tell her this.”

He paused, clenching and unclenching his fists as he took another deep breath.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Your heart was racing as you got to your feet, stepping towards him.

“I love you, too,” you breathed, smashing your lips against his.

You could feel yourself begin to cry, your eyes filling with tears of joy as you broke the kiss and buried your face in his neck.

Sam’s strong hand rubbed circles into your back until you pulled back, smiling wide up at him.

“You took classes?” you asked, and he nodded as he pushed some of your hair behind your ear. “For me?”

“I wanted to learn your language,” he explained. “I wanted to show you how much you mean to me.”

You took his face in your hands, pulling him into a soft, loving kiss.

“I love you so much, Sam Winchester,” you whispered, your lips brushing his as you spoke.

He pulled back, just enough to remove his arms from around you and free his hands.

“I love you, too.”

Tags: @wicked-gen, @jessilliam-caronday, @redeyed-winchester, @danijimenezv, @thelittleredwhocould, @i-worship-food, @howling-at-that-moon, @sunflowerbouqet, @samwillchest, @justme-noonebutme, @starswirlblitz, @its-a-pair-o-docs, @ihavesympathyforthedevil, @prideandprejudiceandbrendonurie, @latishiante1001, @kittycat-cas, @typicalweirdbookworm, @cdg174, @hillface89, @taritrash, @mereka18, @ellietvdmad, @blacksiren, @ruined-by-destiel, @latinenglishfandomblog

[speedybasementcollection]

The Rookies.

This is my Finn balor/The demon king x Reader x Enzo amore poly relationship fic. It’s gonna be my first series.

Part 1/13

Words: 4,402 

Chapter 1

Dr. (L/N)                                                                                                                I’m watching                                                                                                          I want what’s mine                                                                                                That baby you’re carrying belongs to me                                                              Take good care of it                                                                                             Daddy 

(Y/N) POV

I stared at the snow-speckled piece of paper in my hand. Images of each boyfriend I had during high school and college when through my brain. Of course. none of them could be the father. I’d married when I was 25, and unlike philandering husband, I hadn’t felt the need to betray my vows with a lover. And since the divorce over 2 years ago, I hadn’t felt the desire oto get that close to any man again.

Or maybe it was just my judgement in men I didn’t trust anymore.

At any rate, Daddy’s message was just a cruel joke. There was no father to speak of, no man who could lay claim to the miracle growing inside of me.

“Jerk.” I said wadded up the typewritten note I’d found stuck under my windshield wiper and stuffed it into my coat pocket. This was just a stupid, tasteless prank. Still, I couldn’t help but survey the dull gray grounds and concrete buildings around me to see if anyone actually was watching.

Through the snow had stopped for the time being, the February morning still held the damp chill of a Missouri winter. The students, staff and faculty members hurrying transport huddled with their chins tucked inside their collars, or were bundled up beyond recognition beneath scarves and hats.

No Peeping Tom’s. No unwanted daddies in disguise. I shook my head at my own foolishness. Someone was just trying to get a rise out of me. A disgruntled student, no doubt. The set of papers I’d returned at my last Community Psychology had been less than stellar. True, I found a few germs. but I’d also given out Ds and Fs. Including one plagiarized titled “Psychoses of Inner-City Youth.”

That’s what this was about. Attack the pregnant professor where it hurts the most. Get your jollies at my expense my lectures. “ That’ll teach me to challenge them to think beyond my lectures.” I inserted my car key into the lock, exhaling a sigh of relief. “What was I thinking? Expecting them to take notes and read the text.” I raised my eyebrows in mock shock and opened the door, addressing the imaginary student. “Ooh, you got me this time.” 

With as much grace as a belly-heavy woman could manage, she bent across the seat and retrieved the stack of lecture notes she’d left inside her Buick. She shifted her balance back over her hips and straightened, relocking the car behind.

I braced my gloved hand of the roof of the car. I’m watching

So much for not letting the note get to me.

A sudden shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature cascaded down my spine. I huddled inside my long cocoa-brown wool maternity coat and turned to look beyond the Holmes Street parking lot toward the heart of downtown Kansas City.

Someone was watching me.

The creepy sensation sparked along my nerve endings and made my spin around an embarrassing 360 degrees.

 The bustling energy of a city campus kept everyone moving quickly along the sidewalks and makeshift shortcuts. Sometimes alone. More often in chatty pair or small groups who animated conversations created a cloud cover of sorts in the air, preventing me from really making eye contact with anyone.

“Get a grip, (Y/N).” I scolded myself.

I rubbed my distended belly, cradling my hand against the tender muscles where my miracle baby loved to stretch and kick. “Imagine.” My voice slipped into that breathy pitch reserved for mothers speaking to their unborn child.  “Calling you an ‘it.’ That probably why Daddy isn’t doing very well in my class.”

Right on cue the baby kicked against my hand. I smiled, imagining a shared high-five between mother and infant. My tension eased with a cleansing breath.

There was no daddies in our lives, I reminded myself, slinging my leather tote over my shoulder and heading towards class.

As far as I was concerned, the father of my baby was 93579. A brown hair Caucasian with excellent heath, and high I.Q and interests in classical music and Jayhawk basketball.

The dark hair and intellectual pursuits were to match my own. The clean bill of heath was prevent any future need to contact the donor of the sperm I selected from the Washburn Fertility Clinic.

I paid good money to ensure anonymity. That stupid note meant nothing. This was my baby. No one else’s.

It’s wasn’t the way I planned to have a family. But it was the way it had to be. 

Enzo POV

(Quick A/N Finn and Enzo are already together)

Finn and I sat in second row of our Community Psychology class, I watch our professor, Dr. (Y/N) (L/N), rub the small of her back. It was a subtle movement done with her left hand, hardly noticeable considering the way her right hand flitted through the air with the grace of a exotic dancer, emphasizing each point she made as she lectured. 

He watching her mouth, too. Her lips were tinted with a frosty neutral shade of lipstick. They were full and sensual, and they moved with the same fascinating grace as her hand, in spite of all technical jargon and graphic examples that flowed between them. Her eyes were (E/C) and a perfect foil for her dark-brown hair. As rich as sable pelt, it fell thick and straight to her shoulders in a boxy cut that swung back and forth each time she lifted her face to look at the students sitting behind me, near the top of the banked, theater style lecture hall.

But the best thing about her was her breasts. Ripe. Full. Sensuous treasures that could’s fill a man’s hands and spill over my fantasies. 

With the cold of winter, she wore smooth-knit tunic sweaters that emphasized the shape and size and beauty of her breasts.

I breathed in deeply, slowly, slightly. Savoring the gentle course of heat that raised my body temperature by several scintillating degrees. My psych professor was a hottie.

A very pregnant, and very off-limits hottie. Despite the fact she wasn’t wearing a ring on her left hand. I wondered about that last observation. I’d heard the pregnancy drew couples closer. But (Y/N) (L/N) seemed to be conspicuously alone.

My own sister-in-law had given birth Paul Donald, his cousin and boss---whom I considered my eldest brother--had mellow for sure considerably. Sure, falling in love in the first place changed Paul from a hard-ass workaholic into to much more grounded-though no less tough-precinct commander.

But with the baby...Hell,Paul and his wife had been downright frisky at the family Christmas get together. Always touching, holding hands, sneaking kisses, and cooing over their newborn and each other.

Where was Dr. (Y/N) attentive mate? Was her pregnancy the accident of a misguided affair? The leftover burden of a messy divorce? The last memory of a deceased husband?

Why was a woman that beautiful and that smart walk around unattached? I couldn’t imagine any sane man not staking a possessive claim on the mother of his child.

Or those luscious breasts. Those eloquent hands. Those beautiful (E/C) eyes. Those come-kiss-me lips.

Stupid Bastard.

“Mr. Amore.”                                                                                                         My heart skipped a beat at the sound of his alias. as If I’d been caught condemning the unknown father out loud. But no, professor wasn’t telepathic. And I hadn’t been broadcasting my appreciation with an admiring glance. Had I?

It still took me  a split second to assume the persona and make myself think like a coed, even after a month and a half of campus like. But without allowing more than a smile of acknowledgment to crease his face, I pulled myself from the politically incorrect yet inevitable trail of my thoughts to listen to Dr. (Y/N)’s question. 

“What do you think?”                                                                                             Though I’d just turned 30, I knew a movement of juvenile panic. I broadened a smile until it dimpled on either side, buying myself some time to think. Technically, I’d been paying attention. I just hadn’t been listening to what she had been saying. But I was getting better covering my mistakes. I rolled the dice and gambled that I could fake my way through this. 

“I agree with you.”                                                                                                 My answer earned a few snickers from my classmates. Dr. (Y/N) shushed them with a upraised hand. Oh great, what did I just agree to?

She stepped closer, moving her hand from the small of her back to the curve of her belly. “You think training in classical music and the arts is way to help the young, displaced teens to stay away from gangs?” 

I shifted in my chair, straightening from my slouch. Lady Luck was with me today. I could do more than catch up with the discussion. I took the topic and ran with it. 

“Sure. If the arts is something that  interests her or him, that’s the way to go. For others, it’s sports.” Like the group of teens I volunteered with my neighborhood youth center. “ Some do well helping out younger kids as a mentor or tutor. They like that sense of responsibility.” I braced my elbows on the tiny piece of Formica that passed for a desk and leaned forward. She’d touched a issue near and dear my heart. One the put a seat in her classroom in the first place. “There’s no way to reach every kid. But something clicks with each and one of them. It’s a matter of finding the time and the patience and the funding to discover and supply that thing that clicks.”

I began moving my hands the same fluid way she had.” If they had nothing to live for or work towards then the gangs and the drugs are waiting for them. They all want to connect with something positive. Unfortunately, the trouble is usually easier to find.”

Too easy, I thought, remembering my other life. The life before this one. The one in which one teenage boy could lie lifeless in my arms and another could damn me gesturing hand into a fist and silently consumed his anger. The grim memories threatened to steal my ability to even fake a smile.

Such a waste.                                                                                                       A smattering of applause and a couple of appreciative whistles gave me the opportunity to look around the room. I nodded at the blood girl sitting two desks over Summer, I thought she said. Nine years younger than me though she seemed to think he was eligible material-judging by the hooded sweep of her bright-blue. I grinned and she giggled. 

I looked beyond her, at the end of the aisle, two rows back. Baron Corbin. A long hair loner who wore a black leather jacket to class every day. 

To my left, I glanced at Seth Rollins, king of the class, surrounded by two think-necked jocks, a nerdy looking accounting major and a changing variety of pretty girls. Today there was a red head, On Friday, his conquest had been a brunette. And on my right was my partner Finn.

Behind me, probably dozing in the top row now, I’d find Larry, Moe, and Curly. Okay so I knew they really Big E, Kofi, and Xavier. But the nicknames fit them only to well. 

 I was watching them all. Slowly but surely getting to know each student. There were other in the class. I recognized every face. Knew them each by name. But those were ones I wanted to know better. 

One of them I wanted to get to know better than I knew myself.

Because one of them could lead to a killer.                                                        But not today.

Today I’d do well to keeping mine and Finn cover intact.                                  

“I don’t think I can top that speech,” Dr. (Y/N) clapped her hands together and commanded their attention. “Don’t forget that Wednesday you have your next quiz. Be sure you’ve read all the chapters and reviewed notes.”

An answering medley of moans and groans made me smile again. I added my own complaint to the chorus for good measure and reached for my backpack to load up my books and pen. 

“Seth?” As the students filed towards the exit, Dr. (Y/N) singled out the self-proclaimed leader of the class and motioned him down the stairs. “Could I speak to you for a moment?” Judging by the tight expression around her mouth, I figured that Seth wasn’t going to like what she had to say. She thumbed over her shoulder towards the door behind the speaker’s platform that led into a wing of smaller, private rooms. “ In my office?”

Seth Rollins was a wiry young man in his twenties with dark-brown eyes. He stood a head shorter than either of his pseudo-bodyguard buddies though I suspected he possessed the explosive strength of a bantamweight boxer. His face was nothing remark able to look at, but today he seemed clingy I supposed Seth was heartthrob material in a future C.E.O kind of way.

I noted the lack of visible tension in the young man’s body. His laid-back nonchalance bordered on rudeness.

While I zipped my shut and reached for my leopard print coat. Seth nudged his girlfriend du jour  up the stairs and nodded to his linebacker friends. 

After Dr. (Y/N) had gathered her things at the podium and exited through the rear door, the three men traipsed down the stairs. Before the door closed behind them, I noted Seth’s hand signals his buddies. 

Strange. What kind of college student needed the protection of two oversize jocks stationing themselves like guards at the end of the hallway. 

I zipped up my jacket and lingered a moment, noticing that Finn had left already. I start digging into my pockets for the matching black leather gloves. The commonsense of Lieutenant Micheal  told him this is none of his business. Curiosity told him otherwise. 

Trusting my instincts over my training, I grabbed my backpack and hurried after them. 

I pushed the locking bar on the door and entered the oldest part of the building, onto which the lecture hall had been added. Sure enough, Jock 1 and Jock 2 were pacing like sentris at the water fountain across from Dr. (Y/N)'s office. 

Boldy testing my theory, I walk right up betweem them and took a drink. They stood their ground as if ordered to do so, instead of scattering to the polite distance. 

I was definitey sticking around to figure this one out. Stepping back, I pulled my reseach paper out of my backpack and crossed the marble floor to Dr. (Y/N)'s office. 

I had the doorknob turned before Jock 1 tapped on my shoulder. "You can't go in there."Jock 2 framed Jock 1 on the opposite side. "Yeah, the professor's got somebody with her right now."I grinned with my best good-ole-boy smile, pretending I hadn't heard the threat in their helpful comments. "No sweat, I can wait." 

I sat on the bench next to the office door and evaluated the would-be guards. Intiminding in size, perhaps, but not terribly observant. I'd left the door nugded open a crack to hear what was being said inside. If the twin jocks had the brains to go along with the brawn. I would have had my hands full justifying his presence. As it was, they dismissed my unassuming slouch as I faded into the woodwork. 

"You can't kick me out for that." Seth Rollins's too-cool voice shrilled with an unexpected whine from (Y/N) (L/N)'s inner office.

 I snuck a peek at Seth's protective cohorts. They'd heard the same protest. They traded confused glances. Maybe no one had ever challenged their fearless leader autonomy before. I gave a mental thumbs-up to (Y/N) and whatever law she was putting down.

"Yes, I can." She raised her volume a notch to command Seth's attention. "That's is the school policy. Read your handbook." 

"But I need this credit for my major."

 Seth's protest was followed by the screech of wood against wood, a chair sliding across the floor. I tensed all the sudden, forceful sound. Was it a burst of anger or a defensive maneuver? Was Seth making a threat? Or was the doc standing her ground?

Either way, I wasn't supposed to notice. I couldn't maintain the laid-back demeanor of my cover and show a reaction. I silently counted to ten, waiting for some sign to lessen the impusle to barge in, Dr. (Y/N) defense, to see if she was all right. A door swung open open inside, making her words crysal clear. "You don't understand Seth. Plagiarism probationary offense that can lead to expulsion from the university. I'm turning you in to the Dean's Office. You'll be required to appear before a review board. If you'll lucky, they'll let you stay in the school."

"We'll see about that. I'm talking to my advisor. He'll listen to my side of the story."

 "Do that," she challenged.

Seth's temper seemed to dissipate as quickly as it has flared."Is that all ma'am? I need to get to my class. I assume I should continue my regular schedule until I hear otherwise?"

The outer door to the hallway opened wide, and I sat up straight, more suspicious of this sudden more change that Seth's initial burst of anger. One of the bruisers standing guards at the fountain took a step closer. I stood, surreptitiously blocking the young man's pathto the doorway. "Of course," Dr.(Y/N) answered after a slight pause as if she, too had noticed the reinforcements heading her way. "Someone from the Dean's Office will be contacting you."

 "Got it." Seth brushed past me and sauntered down the hallway towards the outside exit. He disappeared through the double glass door. His goons followed close on his heels. 

In the sudden emptiness of the marble hall, I heard a small catch of breath. 

I turned and down at the pale color of Dr. (Y/N)'s cheeks. Without thinking, I let my glaze slide up to meet hers. Her eyes had blanched to the dull gray-green color of a lake on a sunless winter's day. The vibrant energy that had animated her during her lecture was absent in her current sag of her posture. 

I felt my body turning, shifting towards her. She seemed tired, spent, emotionally drained. She looked like she needed a shoulder to lean on right about now. I had two, size extra large. And I was willing to accommodate her. 

But then she broke our mutual glaze and retreated towards her office. 

I debated for a moment, hovering in the open doorway, wondering if I should say something. Worrying that I should stay to make sure she’d be okay after that unpleasant encounter with Seth Rollins. 

She stopped and turned. “Do you need something Mr. Amore?”

“Uh, no, ma’am. It can wait.” 

“Catch the door on your way out okay?”

“Sure.” 

She closed the door to her inner office, dismissing me the way she did to the other teens and twenty somethings. 

And why not? I chided myself. If she saw me as a student, and not a fellow adult, that meant I’d created a convincing cover. Besides, she probably had a friend her own age whom she calling right now. Someone whose sympathetic ear would mean something to her. 

Adjusting my bag on my shoulder, I turn my back on (Y/N) (L/N) and headed down the hall. 

It felt wrong to turn my back on someone that in trouble. But I had a different job to do right now. 

And this time I’d play by Cass’s rules and get it done right. 

(Y/N) P.O.V 

I locked my door and sank into my office chair. I stood up again,  just as quickly, as the baby protests to change positions. 

“Give me a break, little one.” I rubbed at the tender skin on my left side, where the baby liked to wedge her foot under my ribs. “Sorry about Mommy’s blood pressure. You know how it files when she loses her temper or get upset.” 

And that confrontation with Seth Rollins had really upset me. Of course with my hormones so out of control I never know what was going to set me off. And there was that damn note. 

I blinked and pinched my nose shut, fighting off the rush of salty tears that stung my eyes. I would not let that stupid prank get to me. But I could barely remember what I’d discussed in class today. I’d spent half my time sizing up each student and wondering which one could be crass enough or desperate to threaten my precious baby.

The three deadbeats in the back row didn’t seem to have enough brainpower between them to come up with something so devious. No, when I thought of devious, I thought Seth Rollins. Acting as if I was lucky he’d given me a moment of his time. He knew darn well what the consequences of his illegal actions were, and he had the arrogance to accuse me of persecuting him! And then walk off as if stealing someone else work’s work and claiming it as his own was no big deal. He definitely had the brains and the audacity to threaten someone. 

But I’d received that note before he’d learned of his certain probation and possible expulsion. I released my nose and blew out a weary sigh. So much motive. 

I pulled my planner from my bag and read through the  the names on the class roster. Baron Corbin? He certainly was quiet and mysterious enough, sitting there class after class in his dark jacket and never saying a word. He was pulling a C. But at he was doing his own work.  Summer? I shook my head. She were more into men in class than in anything. In fact, Summer had latched on Seth’s arm today. Not the wisest move, in my opinion. But a bad taste in men certainly wasn’t a criminal offense. 

I laughed out loud and shared the joke with my baby. “If it was, I’ll be in jail right now.”

I fallen for Dean Ambrose’s dark good looks that first day of residency at the private psychiatric center in Topeka. After working side-by-side for a year, sharing research and steamy nights of passion, we’d eloped to Las Vegas. 

I’d loved his intellect, his sense of humor and his worldly ways. 

I hadn’t loved the strings of affairs that started before our first anniversary. 

With backgrounds as therapists, they couldn’t help but attempt reconciliation. But unltimately, our marriage had doom to failure. I wanted children. Dean only wanted the fun that came in making them. 

We’d parted amicably enough, splitting our successful practice and their life fifty-fifty. 

I closed my planner and dropped it onto the desk. I looked around at the spotless organization of my office and drifted to the window. Pressing my hand against the cool mental frame, I look outside at the bustle. Students hurrying to class. A pair of professors talking intently. There was even a group of young men dodging and diving in the wintertime ritual of a snowball fight. 

Fifty-fifty. Half a life. That’s how I felt for so long.

I cradled the precious being growing within me. I was honest enough at admit the fear of a life half-lived as much as the loud ticking of my biological clock, had prompted me to visit the fertility clinic. Since I couldn’t trust a man to make me happy, I’d turn to my work and my unborn baby. We will have a life together. A safe life. A life full of love, where an adult made commitment and saw the relationship through, no matter what.

Satisfied with the choices I had made. I ignored the baby’s protests and sat down to review my notes for an upcoming counseling session. Gradually, the chill from outside worked its way in to the room. I pulled my coat from the back of the chair and shrugged it around my shoulders. 

The comforting rush of warmth reminded me of similar feeling I’d experience  in the hallway. The idea of a warm hug made me think of Enzo Amore. 

The big, brassy haired  student who distracted more than one set of female eyes my lectures had hovered outside my office. I’d been relieved to find him standing there, strategically positioned between her and Seth’s buddies. Had I imagined something more than idle curiosity had prompted him to stay and witness the exchange with Seth Rollins? As improper as the thought might be, I'd been grateful that he had hung around.

If Enzo Amore hadn't been there I would have been alone with Seth and his friends. The prospect was more unsettling than my fears of being simply alone. 

Once Seth left the office, I’d felt Enzo’s gaze on me. Like that warm hug. And a moment of weak relief, I’d ensnared myself in the bright blue sky of his eyes. Those eyes had seemed older than they had in class when he pulled that BS answer out of his hat. They seem kind. Concerned. For me. He been concerned for me. 

I shook aside the notion for that soft tended feeling overtook me again. Enzo Amore have been raised right, that was all. The young man had compassion. No doubt I'd project some damsel-in- distress pheromone that had prompted him to hang around. 

Whatever his reason was, I was glad he had been there. For those few brief minutes in time, I’d hadn’t felt quite alone. I’d felt safe. I’d almost thanked him. No, I’d almost run into his arms and asked him to hold me. But the rational thought had kicked in. Enzo was a student.  I was his professor. It would be hardly ethical for me to turn to him for any personal sort of comfort.

I’d handle this threat--if there really was anything to it--alone. If I could raise a baby by myself, I could handle a disgruntled student. I could tackle a piece of paper stuck to my windshield. 

Shoving aside any lingering fears or fantasies, I reached for my planner again and thumbed to the page of phone listings. By the time I’d punched in the numbers for the fertility clinic, my usual confident had returned.

It was high time to found out who Daddy was.

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[sqrt-ed-in-ghana]

Riddle Me This

Even though women constitute a substantial proportion of the world’s population, it is common knowledge that women are disadvantaged socially, economically, and politically. Women in Africa have always played an essential role in African culture, especially in patriarchal societies. There is a great burden placed on women to take care of and raise the children, maintain the household, and provide nutritional food for the family. Women are the backbone of providing necessities for their families, as well as the main source of food production.

Even as I write this, teachers still try to convince girls that their only career options are teachers or nurses. While there is extreme merit and validity in these professions, it is imperative that we inform our girl children that there is so much more. By investing in the education of a girl, their entire world will open. It’s no secret that more educated girls lead to reduced rates of child marriage, smaller and more sustainable families, a decrease in child mortality and maternal deaths, an increase in economic growth, an improvement in women’s wages and jobs, and it results in healthier and better educated children. As an educator, I do my best to foster a student friendly environment that encourages both boys and girls to take ownership of their learning and to be fully engaged, as well as address any gender barriers/issues I see within the school. We need to talk to women and girls about how their gender identity might affect their businesses if they chose to be entrepreneurs and business owners; ensure that financial services, agriculture trainings and extensions reach women, especially in rural communities, while also encouraging the boys and men to be supportive in such endeavors.

I was sitting at a spot (local drinking bar) in the company of others completely unaware of the conversations going on around me. Once again, there was a hiccup with the girl’s empowerment camp, Camp GLOW/BRO, I was in charge of organizing. For the umpteenth time, the budget needed to be repaired and time was unforgiving so once again, I was doing damage control. Eventually, the company I was with realized that I was pretty engaged with my phone and typing furiously. One of the Trainees required my attention for a riddle he had shared with the rest of the group earlier while I wasn’t paying attention, and he asked me for two minutes of my time. Half listening, he had to repeat the riddle three times before I saw the exasperation on his face until I finally gave him my full attention:

A boy and his father are driving and they get into a horrible accident. The boy’s father dies at the scene, but the boy is critically injured. They transport him to the nearest hospital for surgery. The surgeon walks into the operating room and says, “I can’t operate on this boy. He is my son”. How is this possible?

Now, I hope you thought of the solution to the riddle.

As I was racking my brain in the moment, I thought “so if the father is dead, could the surgeon be Jesus … No, Jesus isn’t a surgeon, he could also not be dead cause he’s everlasting”, then “Of course, the son had two dads. It only makes sense”. From the excitement on his face and the uproar from the rest of the table, my assumption was “Yes, I’ve finally solved it. Now I can go back to what I was doing”. Unfortunately, although that was an answer he’d never heard before, and one he informed me was “technically correct”, It was not the right answer for the lesson of the riddle. After what felt like 5 very long minutes, I grew weary and anxious because with every passing second, I knew my camp planning committee was waiting for my response, and here I was wasting it on riddles. I, along with those I was with, gave up and asked for the answer to the riddle. As soon as he said it, all the feminist molecules in my body died a thousand deaths.

The SURGEON was the MOTHER.

I sat there livid and feeling like I’d been cheated. My anger, at first, was directed at him, then in a self-reflective moment, I realized I was enraged at myself. He explained how deeply entrenched patriarchy and gender roles are engrained into our psyche, so much so, that unconsciously, we cannot even entertain the possibility that a woman, can be a surgeon.

Most of the countries and communities I’ve visited and lived have been ones in which, historically, they don’t value the girl child. Women and girls are seen to not have any value in the community, let alone the society, so they are treated like objects, even currency. Knowing this, I’ve consciously done my best to make women and girls know their worth, even when I often questioned my own. The women in my life made it easy to provide examples of strong and resilient women. When I’m teaching my classes, I encourage the girls to answer questions, offer them leadership opportunities during class and through extracurricular activities, while also engaging the boys to think about gender roles. In Ghana, girls are culturally in charge of sweeping the classroom and collecting the water for the school in the morning, while boys oversee cleaning the compound before classes begin. When we are short on time, or when the girl in charge of sweeping the class that day is late, I often have the boys take the brooms and start sweeping the class because to me, it doesn’t make sense for school to start late because one girl was late doing her chores while there were other capable hands that could have done the job.

I believe that female empowerment, of the masses, and more importantly of the self, is my life’s purpose, my calling. In my opinion, this is best achieved by investing in the education of girls. Most of my collegiate and life experiences have led me to working towards empowering women and girls by providing and improving financial literacy as well as including women and girls in financial practices. Not surprisingly, It’s the reason I chose to be a Peace Corps Volunteer, and even more fitting, my community requested someone that would help them empower the girl child. So, why did the fact that the SURGEON was the MOTHER escape me? Why wasn’t that my first instinctive answer?