#then college was more drawing to focus on lectures. and drawing in pen during work to destress

[mejomonster]

I admire all you people who can simply WRITE as an activity any day you want. There might be effort involved in writing what you desire to come out, or for it to be what your goal is, but just the act of sitting and getting yourself to start writing is easy. Wild.

I realize i'm like that with art. I realize even if i go months without drawing, if i grab a piece of paper and a drawing utensil i can get Something to come out of my hand within a few minutes, and some concept at least with potential to become what I'd like within several minutes. It probably is cause Ive been drawing since I could hold anything to draw, because I drew on nearly every assignment in school I ever had growing up, because I probably drew from a few to dozens of pictures many days of my life. So while i still have my days "off" drawing, or my busy parts of life where I don't do it at all? If someone says please put a chalk mermaid on a sidewalk, or sketch a faerie for someone to trace for stain glass, or draw dragons fighting, or draw some cute anime girl lol? It takes me a minute to sketch a draft up real quick, maybe 5 for a mock up of poses and angles a person could pick from, then after that I can just immediately jump into drawing the fully realized idea. It might take a few more minutes, or a few hours if its a huge drawing, or several hours to days if I've got to paint it or do major work besides drawing. But I dont get the block with art, that i get with writing. Art simply will pour out, if i make my hand move for a few minutes some ideas will be envisioned. Seeing other visuals in life always gives me new ideas to consider trying, and if i want to draw something i cant draw then i know i can look up reference when im done with the concept mock up and do a decent rendition based on references.

Writing is nothing like that! I can stare at a document for hours! No draft, no idea how to rearrange and continue a scene, the other writing ive read in my life not always fresh enough to think of how others have expressed similar scenes or moods or written clearer. But mostly just: some of yall really can just sit and WRITE whenever you will do to so. Incredibly cool skill. Maybe you have to write daily for years before it gets that easy?

[blackhairandbangs]

So You Admit It

Kim Seungmin x Reader

info/masterlist

genre: Angst, but pure cat and mouse flirting

summary: college!seungmin has been getting under your skin since day one, but you soon find out it's for a good reason

warnings: seungmin is actually a dick, arguing, lots of flirting!! he is a FLIRT in this, little makeout at the end, suggestive words, little bit of cursing

word count: 2.1K

You and your good friend, Jeongin were talking in the back corner of your lecture hall right before class began. He had the class right before, so it became a tradition for him to wait for you and catch up during the in-between of your two classes. The two of you exchanged a laugh as Jeongin showed you a funny picture he had taken on his phone earlier in the day. Right as your professor walked in, Jeongin began to stand up from his seat, allowing you to focus on the beginning of class.

"Hey, I'll see you later, okay? Have a good class!" he waved, walking out the back door, exchanging a glance with the boy entering at the same time, taking the seat next to you he was once sitting in.

Kim Seungmin now occupies the seat once held by your friend, slowly becoming a part of your daily routine. Jeongin gets up before class begins, and Seungmin walks in just about a minute late to take the empty seat.

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking to that guy?" he scoffs, not yet making eye contact as he takes out his laptop to start his notes.

You cross your arms, eyeing him down slightly, "and why should I be listening to you?"

Seungmin smirks, his gaze flickering to your arms before meeting your eyes, "Because I can make your life a living hell if I really wanted to…" he trails off, allowing you to look away and ignore his comment, trying to focus on whatever today's lecture was about. You don't feel his gaze leave your face, so you look back up, waiting for him to say something.

"Besides, don't you enjoy my company more?" he asks, a grin sneaking up on his lips.

"No, I'm not quite sure I do," You turn away from him once more to face the front of the lecture hall, "So can you please stop bothering me so I don't waste my tuition here?"

Seungmin smirked, leaning close to your ear to make sure you could hear him.

"I'm sure we could could make a deal here. How about you focus on your studies today, and maybe later I could even help you out…when we're alone…" he allows his sentence to linger, his hot breath just behind your ear.

"I don't need any tutoring, thank you," you reply to him coldly, knowing tutoring could not have been what he was referring to.

"You're right," he huffed, leaning back in his chair, "Good thing I meant something else entirely." A flush falls on your cheeks. This guy has been bothering you for weeks, but not once has he made a comment like this.

You let out a huff of air, "Maybe if you stop acting like a dick all the time, we could talk about it." You continue looking at the lesson, twirling your pen in between your fingers as a distraction from the boy next to you.

Seungmin gives a small laugh to your comment.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm not always a dick, you know?" He flashed a disarming smile at you. The kind that would make other girls fall to their knees for him, "I promise I can be quite charming when I want to be."

You allow yourself to look at him after his last comment, a small laugh escaping your lips.

"Now I'm sure this may work on other girls, but I know who you are, Kim Seungmin." Your words spat at him with disgust.

"Oh, really? And who am I, according to you? You seem to know quite a bit about me," He spoke, eyebrows raising in amusement. He had the feeling he had finally got to you.

"Hmm, let's see," you hum, using your hand to create a list, "One, you're self-centered. Two, you're mean. Three, you go through girls like it's a game to you…Should I keep going?" His face goes dark hearing the words that just left your mouth. As the class finally draws a close, you pack up your books and pens. You get up from your seat as the professor begins to make his exit and you head for the back door, leaving a glare at the boy still sitting in the seat next to where you just were.

The next evening, you found yourself sitting in your favorite corner of the library, books spread out on the table in front of you and headphones over your head. The whole library was pretty empty due to it being late on a Friday night. You tended to use this time for studying as the library didn't feel as crowded as normal with students rifling through the shelves, struggling to finish their term papers on time. Your mind was so focused on the work you were completing you didn't even hear the voice approaching behind you.

Ah, the perfect study spot, right?" Seungmin asked, making you jump slightly. He walks around to the other side of the table, pulling out the chair to have a seat across from you.

"Sure, why don't you come join me," you groan sarcastically, gesturing to the already occupied seat.

The boy leaned back in his chair, "Oh come on now, I know you would love for me to join you." His gaze flickered between the books he had brought with him and you. A playful grin yet to leave his lips.

You slam your textbook shut in frustration. This was supposed to be your quiet time. An escape from the disruptions and loud volume the rest of campus tended to carry.

"Now when have I ever possibly given you that idea?" You huffed, not looking up from the table.

God, you just wished he would leave you alone. His intentions were never clear. You had a hard time reading Seungmin all semester. Was he looking for another victim of his one-night stands? Did he want you to fall in love with him and write his essays?

"You didn't have to say anything," Seungmin smirked, "I could tell from the way your heart skipped a beat when I walked in." He laughed lightly, enjoying the little game of back-and-forth you two were having.

You roll your eyes at his comment, unable to really look him in the face.

"Or, that could've been the fear of you sneaking up behind me in an empty library!" you say, still not giving him the attention he desired. Seungmin sat up in his chair, resting his elbows on the table to lean closer to you.

"Oh come on," he started, giving you a smile. "You know you love it when I'm around! I mean all you do is talk to me." His voice was soft but carried an underlying tone of need. You look up at him for the first time in minutes, eyeing his lips. A flush falls slightly over your cheeks as his words tear into you.

"Sure, I'll let you believe that," you speak, looking away slightly as to not show him the effect his words were starting to have on you. Seungmin gets up to walk over to your seat on the other side of the table.

"Fine," he huffed allowing himself to lean down behind you, his mouth lingering close to your ear. "I'll just have to find a way to prove it to you." His hot breath sent a chill down your spine. You drop the pencil you were holding as you feel yourself get slightly flustered. "What are you-"

"There!" Seungmin said with a smirk as he straightened himself back up. "You couldn't even handle me being that close to you, could you?" He let out a small laugh, seeing how his teasing was starting to eat at your mind.

"What I can't handle is you interrupting my study time!" You say, feeling yourself become a flustered mess. What was he doing to you? You allow yourself to recompose, going back to the notes you had been attempting to take.

He laughed, still standing behind your chair. You tried to ignore him the best you could. "Study time?" he asked raising an eyebrow. "Just admit I make you flustered," he teases. "I can see what I do to you, ya know?"

You stand up from your chair, finally deciding you have had enough of his games for today. "Why the hell would I ever admit something that stupid?"

"Oh I don't know," he replies, shrugging nonchalantly. "Maybe because it's true?" He uses this time to inch closer to you, still leaving a bit of space in between where the two of you stood. "Or maybe you're just too shy to tell me," he coos, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Your cheeks are hot, a shiver running down your arm feeling his sudden touch.

You push his hand off of you, not knowing what would happen if you let him continue. "Or maybe, you're just too much of an asshole to see not every girl is on their knees begging for a chance with you." You scoff at him, turning your body away slightly.

He lets out a breathy laugh. "It's alright. I know deep down you really, really want me." His words cut straight through you, and you felt yourself filling up with anger. A need to prove yourself. You suck your teeth, debating on the right thing to say.

"Fine," You begin. "If I want you that bad, why don't you come and kiss me! And when I have no reaction, will you finally just leave me alone?"

Seungmin's eyes widened at what he was hearing. You knew this was a dangerous game to be playing. You didn't want to admit it, but everything that let you up to this moment just proved how much you really did need to feel his body against yours. He knew what you were doing.

"Alright," He spoke, raising his hands almost to surrender to the offer. "Go for it." He spoke through gritted teeth, just wanting to have his way. He stepped closer, allowing his lips to hover near yours. His heart raced with anticipation and fear. The moment felt stretched out as the tension teetered on the edge of cruelty and desire. You close the gap, leaving a quick kiss on his lips, knowing anything longer would leave you wanting more.

"See?" you started to speak and Seungmin's eyes widened in surprise before narrowing into slits. "Absolutely no reaction-"

Before letting you finish, he grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you back to him. His lips crashed against yours in a rough desperate kiss. His tongue forcing his way into your mouth. His lips demanded more.

You allow yourself to finally give in to the second kiss, praying that he wasn't trying to just play with your emotions. The kiss was rough, but still felt sincere, letting you loosen up a bit against him. You wrap your arms around his neck, finally admitting to yourself you wanted more. More than the back-and-forth you have played all semester.

"Mmph," Seungmin moaned into your lips, his hand snaking down to slip under the hem of your shirt, tracing shapes on your back. He pulled away from the kiss slowly, his breathing heavy.

"So you admit it." It wasn't a question, but rather a smug statement. You catch your breath, forehead leaning against his. "Don't let it get to your head."

"Oh, I already have, love" he chuckles darkly, leaning down to leave small kisses along your jawline. "But that doesn't mean I'll stop." You let out a small moan before pushing him off of you, snapping back into your reality.

"Not here…" you trail off, remembering you are still in the library. It was empty, but that still wasn't a chance you were willing to take. "Fine," Seungmin pouted, walking back to throw his bag over his shoulder. "But this isn't over."

He began to walk out of the library, leaving you standing against the back wall, your hair looking a bit tousled. His eyes held a strong mix of need and sincerity as he gave you one last glance. "You're mine now, doll. I'll see you tomorrow."

a/n: I hope you guys enjoyed my first SKZ fic! My inbox is open for requests if anyone would like to submit anything. I want to try and get back into writing more.

[sevlgi]

opposites

requested: yes

group: blackpink

pairing: rosé x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst

contents: college!au, good girl!rosé, bad girl!reader

warnings: none

synopsis: They say opposites attract, and when the campus’s resident sweetheart falls for a bad girl, Rosé discovers just how true that statement is.

a/n: I’M SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME OMGGGG  hope you enjoy, and I’m glad you like my blog ❤

word count: 3.6k

Chaeyoung has never quite believed that opposites attract.

To be fair, she doesn’t have much experience to go off of. Despite being attracted to basically every person she meets, she hasn’t actually dated much. (As her friend Jennie jokes, she’s not bisexual, she’s by herself.)

And obviously, she’s not only attracted to people soft and sweet like herself. Especially in college, it’s more likely to find people in sweats and ratty T-shirts than people in pink sweaters and cute dresses.

It’s no secret that Chaeyoung is a hopeless romantic, convinced that she’ll find someone who she just works with. It’s also no secret that she’s determined to find someone similar enough to her that a relationship would actually work out.

Imagine her surprise when her next crush is the complete opposite of her.

You’re utterly fascinating to Chaeyoung; every little detail about you absolutely contradicts her, and she thinks her parents would faint if they saw you. Unlike Chaeyoung’s usually well-styled hair, you look like you’ve just rolled out of bed to go to class. Your leather jackets and heavy denim look stiff to the touch, and your dark circles, tattoos, and piercings are enough to ward all your classmates away.

But somehow, all of it just draws Chaeyoung in more. She’d never dream of dying her hair as much as you do, or getting as many tattoos as you have, but for some reason, you intrigue her.

She still doesn’t believe opposites attract. You might be gorgeous, but Chaeyoung is sure that your personalities would clash, and a relationship, however imaginary it may be, would never work out.

Of course, she’s also not willing to admit that she’s wrong to her friends, all of whom insist that opposites do attract. She just knows Lisa would gloat, and Chaeyoung is never giving her friends that satisfaction. 

“Who’re you staring at today?”

Chaeyoung pouts at Yeri, who slides into the seat beside her with a knowing smile. Joy, on the other side, is already following where Chaeyoung’s eyes were earlier. “Hey. I’m not always staring at people.”

“Yes, you are,” the two other girls chorus. “Come on, you’re always searching for ‘your other half’ or whatever,” Yeri rolls her eyes. “You barely focus in class because of it.”

Studiously ignoring where you sit in the lecture hall (3 rows ahead and 2 seats to the left), Chaeyoung scowls and twirls her pen. “Rude.”

“You know I am,” Yeri smiles, beginning to scan the room as well. “So, come on. Who’s your pick of the day?”

Joy narrows her eyes; Chaeyoung’s a bit panicked to see that her friend is already zeroing in on you. “Wait… it can’t be her, right?”

“Who?” Joy whispers in Yeri’s ear, and the youngest girl’s eyes widen. “Chaeng, it’s not her, right?”

The blonde attempts to play it cool, asking nonchalantly, “Who are you even talking about?”

Both girls point at your back, the dark leather of your jacket and the two empty seats on either side of you making it unmistakable that you’re the one they’re pointing at. “Y/N Y/L/N. It’s not her, right?”

Y/N Y/L/N. Chaeyoung tests it out on her tongue silently before realizing her friends are still waiting for an answer. “It… maybe, what’s it to you?”

Yeri groans, and Joy shakes her head in what seems to be disappointment. “You have the worst taste, Chaeyoung. I mean, she’s cute, but…”

To be honest, the most surprising part of the entire conversation is that her friends aren’t even teasing about the whole ‘opposites’ thing. “What’s wrong with Y/N?” Chaeyoung can’t help but feel a bit defensive; after all, it’s her taste in girls that was being attacked.

Joy leans in conspiratorially now, despite the professor clearing his throat at the front of the classroom. “Okay, so, she’s kind of the designated bad girl? I don’t really know, but I heard she’s killed someone.”

“What? No, she set a building on fire,” Yeri argues, rolling her eyes when Joy opens her mouth to disagree. “Whatever, whatever. Anyway, she’s bad news. She’s a serial dater, too, and she doesn’t like cats. Who doesn’t like cats?”

Chaeyoung’s eyebrows scrunch together as her friends argue. It’s probably not likely that you’ve killed anyone or set a building on fire, but still… a serial dater? None of it sounds good.

“Anyway, she’s the polar opposite of you,” Joy sighs, patting Chaeyoung sympathetically on the arm. “You know, you’re sweet and soft, and she’s… her.”

Suddenly, the professor clears his throat again and raises his eyebrow at where the three girls sit. “Ms. Park, Ms. Kim, the other Ms. Park? Anything important?”

“No, sorry, sir,” Chaeyoung blurts out, cheeks red. She’s not even blushing because she’s been put on the spot, though; it’s because you’ve finally turned around to look at her.

Maybe it’s the eyeliner, but something about your gaze feels like it sees right through her. With the tiniest quirk of the corner of your lips, you turn back around and leave Chaeyoung fully flustered.

Yeah, definitely a player.

Every day, Chaeyoung attempts to work up the courage to sit a little closer to you. She’s not making much progress; to be fair, you can’t blame her, when you’re usually given a 3 foot radius of empty space by everyone.

However, she discovers something new about you every day. She discovers that you drink black iced coffee (she drinks tea), and that you use mint flavored chapstick (she uses strawberry). You prefer cinnamon gum (which Chaeyoung thinks is a bit gross), and you only ever wear black socks (she wears white).

Joy really wasn’t kidding when she said you were Chaeyoung’s opposite.

Of course, it’s just the blonde’s luck when the professor announces a group project, and your name is the only one out of 40 that Chaeyoung knows.

It takes a lot of energy for Chaeyoung to approach you after class. “Hey,” she smiles; you don’t return it. “So, I was wondering if you have a partner for the project? If you don’t, I was thinking we could be partners…”

You look startled at first, though it settles behind a mask of calm indifference immediately. “You don’t have friends?” At the blonde’s wince, you roll your eyes, lips quirking into a smile. “Kidding. Sure. Let’s work together.”

“Great!” Chaeyoung beams, looping her arm through yours. You look even more surprised now, but it’s cute. Everything you do would probably look cute. “I’m Roseanne, but you should call me Chaeyoung or Chaeng.”

“I’m Y/N,” you offer. Your voice is quieter than Chaeyoung had imagined, but that’s probably her fault for thinking your voice was demon-like or something. “You’re a sophomore, right?”

“Right.” Chaeyoung has no idea how you know how old she is, but she can roll with it. “You?”

You nod, looking anywhere other than Chaeyoung face. “Yeah. Same. So, do you have any ideas for the project yet?”

“No, sorry.” She can’t help the smile on your face, still shocked that you’re holding a conversation with her and not murdering her already. “Let’s get coffee? We can talk about the project. If you’re free, of course.”

“I am.”

And that’s all it takes for Chaeyoung to grin again, grab your arm, and lead you to the nearest coffee shop.

Chaeyoung likes the way you’re honest about what you want. When she offers to order, despite knowing what you want, you quietly ask for the iced black coffee and hand her 10 dollars even when she tries to protest.

You don’t ask about what she ordered, and you make sure she tipped the extra before opening your laptop and asking for ideas.

As the afternoon goes on, you seem to grow more comfortable, and Chaeyoung can let go of some of her slightly forced enthusiasm. She actually finds herself enjoying your dry sense of humor and sarcastic comments, though she can’t really make any of her own.

By the time she has to go to her next class, Chaeyoung’s actually making jokes of her own, and she has your number stored in her phone.

All in all, a successful day.

“Hi.”

You look surprised (or as surprised as you deign to look) to see Chaeyoung sitting next to you in the lecture hall the day after the project was turned in. “Uh, hey.”

“How do you think we did on the project?” the blonde asks, taking out her laptop. She ignores the way you stare at her, hoping that you didn’t want to just forget her existence after the project or something. 

“Pretty good. You’re smart, I just helped a little bit.”

Chaeyoung laughs softly, swatting at your arm. “No way, come on. You’re smarter than your leather jackets let on, too.”

“And you’re smarter than your overly sweetened tea lets on,” you tease, a smile twinkling in your eyes.

She scowls and swats at you again, but you dodge this time. “I thought we agreed never to mention that again!”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Chaeyoung misses the way you smile at her after she turns to the board.

It becomes sort of a routine to sit next to you during lectures and copy off your surprisingly comprehensive notes. Chaeyoung can’t help but fall deeper and deeper at your ever-tentative smile, at each offhand, yet sweet comment.

All the little details about you, the tiniest things you notice, only make Chaeyoung fall harder. You buy non-cinnamon gum especially for her and keep 2 packs in your bag in case she wants some. Sometimes, you show up with a cup of so-called ‘overly sweetened tea’ next to your own coffee.

You see everything about her, and you both make the most subtle changes so that the two of you complement each other absolutely perfectly. Chaeyoung starts carrying blue pens because you prefer them, while you carry black ones in case either of you forget. You even carry a strawberry chapstick just for her.

Even Chaeyoung starts unconsciously enjoying the smell of your sweet mint chapstick; she wears it sometimes, not because she likes it more, but because she’s curious how it’d taste on your lips.

It doesn’t need to be said that Chaeyoung doesn’t just want to be friends anymore.

At first, she just wanted to understand you a bit better, to relieve her own fascination with you, but the more she learns, the more Chaeyoung is pulled in. It’s more than just a crush now, more than simple butterflies in her stomach.

Now, it’s an unconscious smile always tugging at her lips when you’re not with her, laughing at a joke that wasn’t necessarily actually that funny. It’s adapting to fit with you, and it’s accepting that maybe opposites do attract after all.

The only thing left is to introduce you to her friends.

“Are you ready?”

You frown, tugging at the sleeves of your leather jacket. Chaeyoung’s heart warmed when you offered to tone down your look for her, but she didn’t want you to change anything about yourself, so you just went with your jacket. “Sure, I guess.”

“Great!” the blonde beams, waving at Yeri and Joy, who she sees a few yards away from the huge table the two of you occupy. Behind them, Jisoo, Jennie, and Lisa lag, though they’re too far away to clearly see you.

Yeri’s expression isn’t exactly favorable; she stops right in her tracks to talk furiously to the others, and Chaeyoung frowns at the unreadable expression on your face. “Um… don’t worry, Y/N-ah. They’re probably just… talking about what to eat?”

“Sure,” you mutter, looking down. As the other girl has discovered, despite all your bravado and sass, you’re quite self-conscious. “It’s not like pizza is the only food this place offers.”

There’s no time for the blonde to reply; Jisoo, ever the tactful one, sits first and offers a tight smile. “Chaeng, good to see you. And you are?” 

“Y/N Y/L/N.” If Chaeyoung didn’t know you well enough, she wouldn’t be able to see past the mask of bored confidence you put on. “Jisoo, right? I’ve heard of you.”

The oldest girl flushes and nods. “Um, these are Jennie, Lisa, Yeri, and Joy.” They raise their hands or nod when their names are called, though their expressions are hostile.

Just as Chaeyoung opens her mouth to try and break the awkward silence, Lisa leans forward with her eyes narrowed. “So. What do you want with Chaeyoung?”

“Lisa!” The younger girl is usually sweet and puppy-like, but she’s also notoriously protective of her friends. Chaeyoung doesn’t miss the way your eye twitches just the slightest bit, and she resists the urge to put her hand on your arm. “Stop it.”

“What? You can’t deny this feels an awful like you’re introducing your girlfriend to us, and she’s the worst girlfriend you could have,” Lisa scowls, crossing her arms.

You sigh, shaking your head and standing up. Joy actually lurches back in her chair, as if expecting you to beat her up, but you just toss a quick smile to Chaeyoung, picking up the leather jacket slung over the back of your chair. “I think we’re done here. For your information, I’m not dating Chaeyoung, even though it wouldn’t be any of your business if I was.”

All the other girls stare at you, including Chaeyoung, as you continue, “You don’t know anything about me, so don’t assume. I appreciate that you care for Chaeng, but this is not the way to show it.”

With that, you’re gone, a light brush of your fingers on Chaeyoung’s shoulder the only way for her to tell that you aren’t angry at her.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, though, she scowls at her friends, hissing, “What the hell, Lisa? It was not your place to say any of that.”

The younger girl looks sheepish now, rubbing at the back of her neck. “I… I’m sorry.”

Jennie, though, rolls her eyes. “Come on, Chaeyoung. It’s what’s best, you don’t want to be dating her. She’s only going to break your heart.”

“I’m not that fragile, are you serious?” It’s honestly pretty uncharacteristic for Chaeyoung to actually be mad, but she can’t seem to control her words when her relationship with you might’ve been ruined. “It’s not your business anyway.”

Jisoo bites her lip, reaching for Chaeyoung’s hand across the table. “Chaeng, please. We just want what’s best for you, and Y/N isn’t that. You understand, right?”

No, I don’t. I don’t understand any of it. “Sure. I understand,” Chaeyoung exhales, sitting back. Despite everything she wants to say to her friends, she knows that they have good intentions, however misguided.

She’ll talk to you tomorrow. 

You don’t show up to class the next day, and Chaeyoung sits alone in her usual seat, feeling empty when you’re not quietly making snarky remarks beside her.

It’s odd, and it really shows how much you’ve ingrained yourself into her life.

After a day of thinking, Chaeyoung has come to realize that, despite all her friends’ warnings, she does have feelings for you. She wants to be with you, to enjoy the little things and the small moments together, and she thinks you might feel the same way.

Obviously, she’s still too cowardly to actually go to you and tell you.

After you don’t show up for the next 2 classes, Chaeyoung dials your phone. You don’t pick up there, either, and she’s left to frown at her phone in the middle of the road.

She’s not a passive person, so she fully intends to do anything she can to make you talk to her.

On Monday, she decides she’ll text your roommate Miyeon, but she gets caught up in classes. On Tuesday, Chaeyoung thinks she’ll bring you some notes, but she forgets to write an extra copy. On Wednesday, she catches a cold and Lisa refuses to let her go anywhere.

A week passes exactly like that.

Finally, 9 days after the disastrous lunch, she manages to get your dorm room number from the office lady she bribes with homemade cupcakes. You’re always home for lunch, probably because you don’t eat with anyone but Chaeyoung.

Her heart thuds in her chest as she rounds the corner to head into your hallway, the buzz of other students around her drowned out by the ringing in her ears. She knocks three times- one, two, three- on your door and she waits.

You look terrible when you open the door.

The permanent dark circles under your eyes are ten times darker than usual, and your lips are dry and chapped. You wear a rumpled Disney shirt that Chaeyoung would tease you about if she wasn’t so concerned. “Um… cupcakes?”

“Thanks for coming by.”

“No problem.” The blonde watches you pour out some cheap, college-student coffee at the tiny desk in the corner of the dorm. “I was just concerned. You haven’t been to class in a while, you know?”

You sigh and hand her a cup of piping hot tea, already sweetened just like Chaeyoung likes it. “Yeah. I know.”

“Hey.” Leaning over, Chaeyoung places her hand on yours, ignoring the way her heart skips a beat at the skin-to-skin contact. Judging by the blush on your face, you feel the same. “You can tell me anything, okay? We’re friends.”

You almost seem to wince, though Chaeyoung doesn’t know what for. “Yeah. I’m fine though.”

“Was it my friends?” the blonde persists, her eyes searching yours for an explanation. “I know that they were really rude, but I promise I don’t care about anything they say, okay?”

Scoffing, you stand up, seemingly to get more coffee, even though your mug is full. “I’m not that shallow, okay?”

“Then what is it?” Despite knowing she sounds desperate, Chaeyoung’s mind is racing for an explanation, anything that could tell her why you’re avoiding her. “Please talk to me.”

The beat of silence that passes only makes Chaeyoung feel more anxious, like her brain is spinning in circles inside her head, and she almost jumps when you speak again. “Do you… do you like me?”

“I… of course I do! You’re my friend, I like you very much.” The blonde is well aware that that isn’t what you meant, but she can’t help but avoid what she really wants to say as she babbles on, “Why? Do you want me to show my platonic love for you more often?”

“Chaeyoung.” You place your hand on hers and lean forward with a serious expression on your face that honestly scares Chaeyoung. “I know that you won’t tell me honestly any time soon, so I’m just going to say it first. I like you. A lot, and not as a friend.”

As the other girl’s jaw drops, you continue on, the overly quick speed of your speech letting Chaeyoung know just how nervous you are to say all of this. “I know that I have a reputation, and I know that I’m too closed down or boring, but you’re nothing like that. You’re so sweet and gorgeous, and I just… really like you. And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” Chaeyoung reaches for you again, eyes searching yours for any sign of insincerity. She doesn’t find any. “You’re not boring, Y/N, not in the slightest. And I like you too, every little thing about you.”

“I don’t think you know enough about me to say that,” you try to deflect, but the blonde shakes her head.

“You’re so sweet to me, Y/N, and it’s not your fault that no one else can see it, but I do. I see all the little things you do for me, and I fall for you more every day. Maybe I don’t know enough about you, but I want to learn. If you’ll let me.”

A short pause occurs before you exhale quickly, swiping away tears Chaeyoung didn’t notice were about to fall. “Okay. I’d love that.”

“Great.” Chaeyoung sits back again, but just as you’re about to get up, presumably to busy yourself with a drink or something, she blurts out, “Can I kiss you?”

The surprised look on your face is so endearing that she’s already grinning when you smile softly. “Of course you can.”

The moment that you bend down and press your lips to hers, so soft and gentle, is the best of Chaeyoung’s life. She can finally taste the sweet mint of your chapstick, mixed with the unique taste of you, and feel the way your lips are slightly chapped against her own. When you pull away, Chaeyoung loves the flush to your cheeks that mirrors hers, and she can only grin when you move away to get your coffee.

Maybe opposites do attract after all.

“Hey, can I ask you something again?”

“You already did,” you joke, then laugh when the other girl pouts. “Sure, Chaeng. What?”

“Do you hate cats?”

An offended gasp escapes from you, matching your expression. “No, who hates cats? I think that’s the worst rumor about me yet.”

The blonde protests, “What about the one about you murdering someone?”

Sniffing and sitting with your coffee, you say, “I stand by my case.”

Cupping your face with her hands, the cuffs of her sweaters brushing up against your cheeks, Chaeyoung presses another kiss to your lips. The taste of mint and coffee, strawberry and tea, is the most perfect combination she could ever imagine.

[xxsanshinexx]

Dick Boy

Characters: Felix X reader (featuring Ateez)

Genre: Crack/Fluff

Words: 3809

Synopsis: Your soulmate just wouldn’t stop drawing dicks on your arm

~

You were told growing up that soulmates were a special thing. It was the person who your soul was tied to, who could make you the happiest you could ever be, it was someone everyone in their lives wanted to meet at least once. Your parents were lucky enough to have found each other early on in life, some of your friends had found theirs while on the playground at recess and others were still idly searching for their second half. People said that when they realized who they’re soulmate was, an intense feeling of euphoria flowed through them; however, you were skeptical that you would have such feelings towards your soulmate. 

They just wouldn’t stop drawing dicks on your arm. 

Soulmates were attached by drawing on the skin. Whatever you wrote down on yourself would become plastered to your soulmates skin until you removed it. So when small doodles showed up on your skin as a child you were rather fond of the scribbles. There were small drawings of dogs, of singers, and occasionally a poorly written hello which you barely had time to respond to before it was washed away. Those sweet drawings from childhood had washed away entirely by the time you had reached middle school, high school, and now college. Instead of “hello” or “good morning”, it was “what’s 34 to the 3rd degree” or “What else is in a cell all I remember is mitochondria”. While your soulmate was endearing, he was also annoying. 

Especially now as a rather large dick began to mark the top of your arm, for everyone in your morning lecture to see. You were jolted from your adapt note taking as the shapes began to take form, making your face heat up in embarrassment as you tried your best to cover it. On most days, you even brought a jacket no matter the weather to hide the embarrassing images that appeared on the skin of your body.

“Another dick pic?” Jongho, a friend you had made on the first day of your college experience due to another unfortunate placage of phallical drawings, laughed as you pressed your hand against the desk trying to cover the growing amount of drawings.

“This little shit has an obsession I swear!” You quietly grumbled as you tried to focus back on your lecture and notes, but the ghost of a pen marking your skin was hard to ignore; especially as it creeped up your arm.

“Damn this one is bigger than the last,” Jongho traced the outline of the shapes trailing up your arm, “This one is incredibly vivid as well… maybe your soulmate is just a really good dick drawer? Ever thought about that? Art majors are weird in inexplicable ways.”

“Just give me a marker and shut up.”

Jongho scoffed and rolled his eyes, focusing back on the professor who seemed to still be on the same topic, “What makes you think I have markers on me.”

“There’s literally a coloring book out in front of you.” Indeed, Jongho never failed to bring some childish activity to do during your morning lectures. He found them too boring to pay attention to and would much rather listen to them on his phone later when his brain was up to it. 

He sighed in defeat and handed you a bright red marker, a contrast to the black on your arm, “I’d rather you not expose me in front of the entire class.”

“Trust me, you’re doing that to yourself right now,” You uncapped the marker with you teeth and took another look at his book, “Is that Hello Kitty?”

“Leave her out of this you dick fanatic.” His comment made a few people around you turn their heads and you ducked, the redness of your cheeks brighter than the marker in your hand. Jongho wasn’t lying though, your soulmate really was a dick fanatic. Lifting your arm back onto the table, it was nearly entirely covered in phallical images, some more vivid than others, and it made you grit your teeth in annoyance; even more so at the fact that they had the audacity to do so in all the colors of the rainbow. 

“Can you not draw dicks on yourself at 10 a.m. please, I just want to get through my classes.”

There was a reply no less than a minute later, but it was in a different handwriting than normal, “Ah so your his soulmate. We didn’t think you’d see all of these.”

You scoffed at the reply, scribbling back angrily, “Do you not know how soulmates work?? Now go wash him off or something I have to give a presentation and I DO NOT want dicks on my arms.”

“You’re no fun, your soulmate thinks it’s funny.” 

“I’m sure he does now please wash his arm.” You paused as you looked up, noticing a few eyes trailing your arms and to the frantic scribbling of your pen, “This is embarrassing.” 

“I’m so drawing more, when’s your presentation? I’ll draw one right on his forehead for you <3”

You decided in that moment that you hated whoever your soulmate associated himself with, “If I ever find out who you are I swear to God I’m going to kill you.”

 “Those are big words coming from someone with dicks all over their-” the words were cut off abruptly, with a smudged trail of ink following them. You frowned at the sudden lack of words until more began to appear, this time in an all too familiar handwriting, “I'M SO SORRY ABOUT MY FRIENDS I GO SHOWER RIGHT NOW.”

“Just wash the dicks off your arm please… and stop letting them draw on you.” you sighed as you capped the pen, leaning back in your seat avoiding the amused stares from your classmates. 

Jongho chuckled at your flustered state and took the pen from your hands, “So you get through to them?”

“It’s a he apparently,” You leaned your forehead against the desk, all motivation to follow along in today's lecture entirely gone, “And he has very awful friends.”

“Sounds more like he’s in middle school than college.”

“You act the exact same way, hello kitty boy.”

“Shut the fuck up y/n,” Jongho hissed, hiding his coloring book in his lap, eyes darting around for anyone who was listening in. Of course your other classmates were having a field day watching the two of you interact, the lecture long forgotten though it didn’t seem like your professor noticed. They never seemed to really care after the third week.

“Chill Jongho, i’m only kidding.” You frowned down at your arm, watching as the drawing began to fade one by one. You wished you knew more about your soulmate than just his friends being obsessed with drawing dicks and him being a he.There were certain things you couldn’t share through ink on sink, such as names and locations; and so the two of you had never really shared information as simple as gender, identification, or even a nickname. Neither of you really initiated any form of talking, mainly communicating through drawings, doodles or odd questions neither knew the answer to.

“You’re worse than San I swear,” He laughed, referencing his older friend who you had met on a few occasions. “And speaking of San,” He turned to you with an eyebrow raised, “Are you going to his party tonight?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“I mean, no, me and Yeosang would drag you there no matter your answer, but I was trying to be polite.”

“Overall, no I do not want to go. His parties are loud and overcrowded for such a small apartment.” You huffed, feeling as though your opinions would not be taken for granted. 

“Yeah but here's the thing “ He gestured as if he had just connected two dots, “maybe dick boy will be there”

“Will you please not call my soulmate dick boy.” You huffed, hiding your face in embarrassment again as the person turned to look at the two of you with a curious glance. 

“Only if you go to the party.”

“That’s not a good bargain.”

“Guess I’ll just call him dick boy from now on and assume anyone with a dick drawn on them is your soulmate!” Jongho announced loudly, but not enough so that your teacher turned away from their whiteboard; however, the rest of your classmates began to giggle. No doubt they had been listening in on your whole entire conversation, maybe even from the beginning itself. 

“Goddammit fine I’ll go to your dumb party just shut up!” You grumbled trying to escape the embarrassment by hiding your head in your arms. 

Jongho never seemed to be embarrassed though, not as he leaned back in his seat with a proud and triumphant smile, “See? That wasn’t so hard. Maybe you’ll meet dick boy tonight.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Love you too,” You looked up to see Jongho blow you an overly flirtatious kiss, “Me and Yeosang will be at your dorm by seven.”

That is how you ended up outside your apartment at six fifty-eight dressed in a nice outfit and a frown on your face. The night was too cold for a party and perfect to stay in your bed, binging a show or catching up on sleep. You couldn’t believe that you actually agreed to the party, at least if Jongho had dragged you from your home without your consent you could be angry about it; but now you could only be annoyed at yourself.

“There’s our little ray of sunshine!” Jongho laughed as he and a stone faced Yeosang got up from their spot on the gate on the sidewalk. The both of them had cleaned up nicely; however, that still didn’t mean that San’s party wouldn’t be a mess. He was notorious for having some of the messiest, loudest, and overall drunkest parties on the entire campus. It was a surprise he hadn’t gotten in trouble yet. 

“I’m not happy about this.”

“Your smile says enough about that,” Yeosang laughed as you began to walk down the street, San’s house, or rather the home they all shared, was only a block or so away. 

You rolled your eyes at Yeosang’s sarcasm, “Hello to you too Yeo.”

“Oh lighten up Y/n,” Jongho wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was already buzzed, “I have a feeling dick boy will be there!”

Yeosang spit on the drink he had been sipping on at the words, “I-what!? Who?”

“My soulmate has friends who likes to draw dicks on his arms.” You scoffed, pulling up the sleeves of your jacket to reveal yet another dick drawing that was in a, thankfully, more discrete place. No doubt your soulmate hadn’t noticed it yet but you couldn’t go out anywhere decent without a jacket now; his friends words from earlier almost made you tempted to wear a ski mask. At least then no one would see the phalics drawn on your skin. “It’s really fucking annoying.”

“That’s goddamn hilarious. I need a pen immediately.” Yeosang began to rummage through his pants pockets while hearty laughter flowed from his lips.

You smacked his moving arms with annoyance written clear across your face, “Dick drawing is my soulmate’s thing! Be a little more creative would you!”

“So you like having dicks drawn on you?”

“I do not-” You groaned in annoyance at the cocky grin on Yeosang’s features, “I hate both of you.”

“Why me!? I didn’t even bring anything up!” Jongho huffed in annoyance and you were almost thankful as you came to a stop in front of San’s house, flashing lights and loud music already emitting from it. 

“You’re the one who gave him that God awful nickname.” You gave both the boys on each side of you a little glare, “Now don’t you dare say anything about dick boy to Mingi or San. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“As long as the nickname sticks, I really don’t give a shit about the rules.” Jongho grinned, grabbing you by the upper arm and pulling you in the direction of the steps. “Now let’s go party!”

The party was exactly what you imagined it being. Loud, overcrowded, and entirely full of drunk college kids. You were even sure they’re were some professors in the mix; seeing as San was cozy with literally everyone on the campus. If he wanted, he could probably even get the administrators to come and dance with him. Instead, for this party, he had to settle for Yunho and Mingi; the three of them dancing their lives away to a bass heavy beat. San was lucky enough to be friends with Bang Chan, the aspiring DJ and producer, who would play parties for a little fee; even smaller for his friends. 

“So any sign of dick boy? Any more genitals drawn on your arms?” The sly voice of Seonghwa said as he came into view, leaning against the counter top that you sat on top of. 

You groaned and clutched the solo cup in your hand a little tighter in annoyance, “Did Jongho tell everyone?”

“Nearly, he’s kept his promise so far not to tell Mingi and San… though given how drunk Yunho is they’ll probably know by the end of the night.” 

“Just fucking fantastic, the last thing I need is Mingi teasing me for all this!” You downed the rest of the contents in your cup, feeling more tired than uplifted by the alcohol. 

“Don’t drink your worries away yet, Yunho hasn’t said shit to them. Besides, I’ve got some tea.” You rolled your eyes at his words as you played with the rim of your cup. 

“Please never use the word tea again.”

“Guess you don’t want to know who your soulmate is than.” The simple sentence brought a panic into your bloodstream. There was no way Seonghwa could know who your soulmate was. There were billions of people in this world, there was no absolute way he could have figured it out; and certainly not from just a simple dick drawing. 

You tried to steady your suddenly ragged breathing, “There's no way… just… don’t play games Seonghwa.”

“I’m not, Y/n, I wouldn’t lie about this,” He huffed, like he couldn’t believe you thought so little of him. “I really think I know who it is.”

You frowned a little more at the words, and even more as your heart began to speed up in pace. Maybe it wasn’t panic, maybe it was more excitement but all of it made you too dizzy and scared to comprehend. This was your soulmate he was talking about, this person that was tied to you forever; you didn’t know if you were even prepared for the speculations about who it would be. “Hwa, I just.. I don’t really want to know who it is.”

His eyes turned sympathetic at your conflicted features, “I won’t tell you directly than… but know he’s in the living room and has blonde hair.”

“Never really saw myself with a blonde.”

“Never really saw you with a dick drawer either, but the universe is surprising.” He chuckled and you gently hit his arm, thankful to him for trying to brighten up your panicking state. 

You gave him a soft pat on his forearm and let out a quiet sigh, “Thank you Seonghwa.”

He grinned at you and patted your hand in reassurance, “No problem-”

“CHANGBIN I TOLD YOU TO FUCKING STOP YOU KNOW THIS DOESN’T JUST SHOW UP ON ME!”

The loud shouting came from the living room, where laughter and general uproar was happening. Some of the party goers, you and Seonghwa included, paused their actions to watch a figure with their hood up, obscuring their features, run through the kitchen and down the hall. Even without having seen their face, something within you tugged at your body. Something that told you Seonghwa really hadn’t been lying and that you needed to get off your ass. 

“I wasn’t lying.” Seonghwa said and chuckled even more as you turned around to face him, “The dick on your forehead just proves it.”

Your eyes widened in alarm and your hands went up to cover your forehead. While you couldn’t entirely feel the drawing you knew it was there due to the newfound cold feeling of ink. This only caused the panic in you too intensify. 

“Go get your man, Y/n.” Seonghwa pulled you from your spot on the counter and nudged you in the direction of the hallway, while you still covered your forehead. “At least this way you both don’t have to worry about appearances. If you can look pass the dick on your foreheads you’re golden.”

“Oh my God Seonghwa you are not helping!” you whisper screamed, but your eyes were focused on the hallway. Your soulmate was down there. 

“Just go get him, Y/n. You don’t know if you’ll ever meet him again.” Seonghwa wisely told you and you nodded, trying to steel your shaking body. You hated that he was right, hated that your body moved without your thought until you were right in front of the bathroom door. You couldn’t remember how you got there, it was a blind stumble through the crowd who had resumed their partying antics. 

You pressed your ear to the door, trying to both eavesdrop and calm your nerves. Hopefully whoever was behind the door wasn’t the boy, even if your soul itself wanted it to only be him. The faint cursing from the other side solidfied the fact that it was him, “Fucking Changbin… god dammit I told him not to… why won’t this come off!”

Your hand was on the doorknob in an instance and you took a deep breath as you realized what you were doing. Like Seonghwa said, it was now or never. The door creaked open, the light pouring into the dark hallway, and making the boy glaring at the mirror jump.

“Hey sorry this is occupied-” His heavily accented voice faltered as the two of you made eye contact, or more specifically, your eyes made contact with the dick drawings on each others foreheads. Even if it wasn’t for the drawings you both harbored on your foreheads, the intense feeling of belonging was enough for you too know this was real. 

“So,” you breathed out, after the initial tingling feelings passed over you, “You’re dick boy.”

His face tinted red and he covered his hands with his face, “This is not at all how I wanted to meet my soulmate.”

You couldn’t help but scoff at him, but a smile was making it’s way to your lips. People hadn’t lied about the euphoric feeling rushing into your system at meeting you soulmate. “Do you think I really wanted a dick drawn on my forehead either?”

“I’m so sorry about Changbin, I can’t even apologize enough oh my god I’m so sorry I just-” He took a deep breath and finally managed to pull his head away from his hands, eyes catching on the curve of your lips. “I’m really sorry for all the dick drawings. I would’ve never done that too you… I’ll go make sure all my friends apologize to you and everything.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that flowed from your lips at his rambling. He was rather cute, you had to admit, and just maybe blondes were your type with the way his hair bounced with his every movement. “Let’s just get this one off our foreheads first, okay?”

A smile finally made its way onto his lips and you couldn’t help but be entranced, “That… that’s sounds good.”

You nodded and grabbed one of the towels lying around, noticing the one the boy in front of you had drenched in water discarded in the sink, before lathering yours with soap and water. The boy just watched you work quietly before you turned to him again, the proximity close, and he wished that he didn’t have a dick drawn on his forehead in this picture perfect moment. 

“Your friends really did a good job on this one,” Your voice was quiet as you pushed aside his hair, noticing how red his forehead was from his frantic scrubbing. Still a majority of the drawing still remained, “What the hell did they use.”

“Seungmin made a custom stamp,” he mumbled, staring at your eyes as they focused in on gently scrubbing his forehead, “Semi permanent ink and everything… that’s what they used on me this morning.”

“Well… I’ll give them props for dedication.” You hummed, holding the side of his face with your hand as you worked, missing how his face turned scarlet. “You might want to be a little more careful around your friends.”

“Trust me I tried, they just sneak up on me.” He sighed as you let go off his face, pulling back slightly to examine your work. There was little of the drawing left, nothing no one would notice at first glance. Your eyes trailed down to meet the boys in front of you and you had to stop yourself from gasping at the sparkling of them, and the proximity. “It’s what happened tonight. I was just lying on the couch and then bam… Changbin stamped my forehead.”

“I’ll be sure to give Changbin hell than,” You mumbled still caught up in his features, now transfixed on the lovely freckles dotting his cheeks and nose. The universe had been exceptionally kind to gift you with such a handsome soulmate.

“What’s your name?” His breath fanned against your nose and broke you from your staring.

“Y/n…” You muttered before looking back up at his eyes, not missing the cheeky gleam in them, “and you?”

“Felix.” He grinned down at you and in that moment you truly felt happy, in a way that was wholly unexplainable to any other person. No one who just met should make you fill with joy the way that Felix did, but the universe worked in funny ways. 

“Well,” You started, cupping his cheek in your hand once again as you took in his features. You already knew you would never get tired of them, “I’m glad I have something other to call you than dick boy.”

He laughed, whole and hearty at your response, before taking his own leap of faith and leaning his forehead against yours. “You’re still going to call me that… aren’t you.”

“Oh totally.” You grinned, mentally thanking this Changbin for being so extreme with his dick drawing.

[peanutjellyboy]

Tips From A College Student From Their First Semester Part Two

Double Check All Your Assignments:  This doesn’t just mean make sure you’re doing all the assignments you’re supposed to, this is making sure you’re not missing anything or freaking out about unpublished assignments.  What am I talking about?  I can happily explain:  some teachers will have one class but depending on when the class it’ll be different versions.  My Western Civilization class had this problem, one cycle the research assignment would be about Jack the Ripper whilst the other is about the Holocaust.  Depending on which cycle you take the class there’s different assignments leading up to this project.  In classes there’s your gradebook, the agenda they show, and then the modules (if you’re like my college).  The gradebook has ALL the assignments listed, including ones you won’t be doing that class period.  Be sure to check out the modules when the teacher publishes them and make sure you’re following along with what assignments they want you to do.

Laptop or Paper Notes: This was an important decision I make during the first week of classes.  Some classes it’s better for you to write everything down on paper because the teacher wants you to write down examples, draw something, or even just listen more than note take.  Then there’s the computer.  For me, the computer works really well, I’m able to write down stuff faster, I follow along better, and I keep more knowledge retained.  Then there’s students who will write down their notes and then go home to transcribe their notes onto Google Drive (or where ever you type everything down).  There’s even an app on iPhone where if you take a picture of your notes it will put it all on a document that you can look at later on.  In my publick speaking class I typed everything up, unlike in my Western Civilization class where I wrote down notes and then I would type up everything afterwards.  But really, what you choose to take notes down with is yours.  The only exception is if your professor bans computers then do what I did in my Anthropology class: I audio recorded all lectures then I listened to it back going home and wrote stuff down afterwards.

Create a Study Area in Your Place: I’m not talking about your bed and I’m definitely not talking about the living room in front of your TV.  I’m talking about a place in your home that is designated only for work/study and nothing else.  The reason I don’t say your bed is because your mind will become confused so if you spend hours studying there and then try sleeping, your brain will be confused and you won’t be able to sleep like you did before.  In my house I have a spare bedroom that I turned into my work room, during the week it’s my study room though.  I have a desk set up, all my pens and everything I recommend you don’t bring with you to school.  Hopefully I can make it more of an office one day, but my setup now will suffice.  Having a place where it’s only for studying will extraordinarily boost your motivation to study and focus.  Does this mean completely empty out a room for this purpose?  No.  If you only have like a bedroom for yourself just getting a desk to put in the corner really helps, or anywhere else in your house with a big table surface where you won’t be distracted (e.g. the dining room?).

Form A Study Group:  Because my classes are only six weeks I don’t really do this, but I know a lot of you have semester long classes, so this definitely awesome.  Not only do you have a reason to spend more time with classmates you like, it helps you get focused and make better grades and even receive help on stuff you find hard.  I used to do this all the time in high school and honestly if my friends were in classes with me I would definitely do one again.  Even an online study group is great too.

This got really long, but I’ll be sure to do another part tomorrow!

[stachmousworld]

Lie to me in my eyes

 Pairing: Stuckony and an original black (man) character 

Summary:  (No AU) Steve just got back from his first day at his Arts college. His boyfriends, Bucky and Tony, have both always been supportive. Was that the truth or an act?

Words: 2485 

“Do you think he was serious?”

That was Bucky’s voice. Steve approached silently enough. He was holding his first real canvas and tools and couldn’t wait to show them what he bought for himself. His smile was hurting so much. He hadn’t been able to wipe it off since he went to his first classes and after he bought his tools on his way back.

“Arts school?” Tony’s voice rose, dubious. “Yeah, didn’t think he’d really do it.”

Steve stopped walking. He unconsciously held his stuff closer to him. They were talking about him?

“He always was interested in arts, but it was in the 30’s. We didn’t have enough money and his little sexy drawings (Tony snickered) helped us when things were too tight. But now…” Bucky was moving around the living room. Steve who had been frozen, rush to hide behind a wall.

Normally Bucky would have been able to hear him. He could pick up any kind of noise which made him the first one to greet Tony or Steve. Tony had called him “puppy” because he’d jump onto them, nagging them about their day and wouldn’t let go until he was sure everything went well.

His fear that something could happen sometimes overrode all of his conditioning and for a few minutes the young Bucky was back.

The canvas in Steve’s arm cracked. He dropped his head hiding his face behind it. Tears threatened to spill, and at this point he’d be able to hide. He tried to sniff and wipe his eyes.

“And you were the one to offer him to pay for his tuitions as a gift,” Bucky added sarcastically. “You should have known he’d accept it.”

“Hey! Don’t put the blame on me!” Tony heard was louder than before. Steve heard his footsteps getting nearer. “If you’d told me that he was dead set on going back to university, I’d never offer.”

What? Steve blinked away the tears. Some escaped and rolled down his pale cheeks. He tiptoed to the elevator, breath shuddering so loud he was sure they’d hear him. The doors opened before he could press any button. He silently thanked JARVIS.

The last words he heard was Tony’s voice, “Captain America, in art school, I better call Pepper before the press get heard of it.”

The door closed on Steve’s trembling body.

 Steve didn’t come back. He walked in the streets, canvas and gouaches under his arms. Every time he passed by a trash bin; he felt compelled to throw everything away. The more he went and the heavier everything became. He knew that it was in his head. His tools didn’t weigh that much and there was no scientifical reasons for them to gain a significant amount of weight. Steve could almost hear Tony reasoning in his head. They may not have seen eye to eye in the beginning but even back then Steve has appreciated the way his brain worked.

Steve stopped walking and looked around. He didn’t recognize the neighborhood. It looked residential which meant he wasn’t near the Tower. He wandered a few minutes before giving up. He sat down on a bench, laying his stuff carefully next to him.

He caressed the plastic protecting his canvas and sighed.

“Guess, they are right. That was ridiculous…” he laughed, his heart breaking at the mere thought of letting his dream go. “Yeah…that-.”

“Mister Rogers?”

Steve’s head snapped on his right. His body was already tensed and prepared to tackle the – Steve shook his head and smiled.

“I knew it was you,” the man, Jonah, continued, a smile stretching his plump lips.

Steve flushed embarrassed, under the intense gaze of the man. He looked at his belonging and stopped caressing the canvas.

“Yeah, I wanted to walk.”

Jonah raised an eyebrow and walked closer.

“To walk? If I remember correctly you live in the big phallus in the middle of the city.” Steve chuckled at the coincidence. The first time he’d see the Tower he’d compare it to a penis too. He may or may have not based his private report on Tony based on the building. Something to compensate, he remembered thinking. “Here it is back.”

Steve raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“You literally shone with the brightest smile I’ve seen in a long time. Most of my students are pretty much depressed, between the tuition and the workload most of them quit before the end of the semester. But you, you seemed not to care. Although I do know you were able to pay the tuition in full, the workload didn’t faze you. And it seemed to me that you still have to save the world between classes,” he joked.

Jonah paced in front of him looking around with inquisitive eyes. Steve sputtered some words. His blush was intensifying and the man in front of him didn’t seem aware of it. Steve’s thoughts were scattered around. He hadn’t been able to formulate a single coherent thought since Jonah stood in front of him.

The purple light from the sky wrapped the man in such an ethereal way. His dark brown skin glowed as he basked under the rays. An angel. Steve blinked, shocked by his thought. He shook his head and cleared his throat.

“Thanks,” he answered.

Jonah barked a laugh, startling Steve. He had already heard the man laugh during the lecture but to witness it up close was…intense. Jonah had a deep, raspy voice which didn’t really match his body. He was tall and lean. Steve knew that he had some prominent muscles under the layers of clothes and yet his voice has shocked him to the core.

His laugh reverberated in the empty street. Steve couldn’t help but join him, although his were more contain.

“Don’t thank me kid.”

“Kid?!” Steve exclaimed, almost indignant. Didn’t Jonah know that he was from the thirties?

“I have read your story, kid.” Jonah winked at him. ���You were in your late twenties when you were gone, then 70 years later, poof! Here you are. So mentally and physically you are still a twenty-something boy, compared to me.” Jonah opened his jacked and took it off. He folded the soft looking material over his forearm.

Steve’s laugh surprised him. He didn’t know where it came from, but it rattled his entire chest and left him breathless.

Jonah stood there, looking at him, with soft eyes. It took a long time before Steve stopped. And even then, he had some quick chuckles. A boy? It’s been a long time…a long time he hadn’t been called that.

“So care to tell me why you were so down? A boy like you was made to smile, not to frown, but it seems to me that you are more used of the opposite.” Jonah walked closer. He raised his hand and tapped his forefinger on Steve’s forehead. His eyes fluttered under the soft touch. His entire face scrunched before relaxing.

He had seriously thought that Bucky and Tony would be happy to see him go back to university. They never complained or tried to reason him for the last few months. Maybe that’s why it hurt so bad…to think that they certainly laughed behind his back during the entire process filled him with anguish.

“My boyfriends lied to me. I thought they were supportive of me going back to school. But they only pretended…” Steve dropped his head and closed his eyes. The presence of Jonah weirdly anchored him. “I came back earlier and eavesdrop their conversation.” He swallowed with difficulty. The words, thanks to his eidetic memory came back raging in his head. “They thought I’d eventually come to my senses and recognize how ridiculous my idea was.”

Steve crossed his arms on his chest and slowly raised his head. Jonah wasn’t looking at him but on his right, where his newly acquired tools were.

“Why did you choose arts, Mister Rogers?”

Steve looked at him perplexed. What did it have to do with what he just revealed? Before he could properly think about it, the answer spilled out of his mouth.

“I have always loved arts under all its forms. Bucky always thought it started out of pure necessity. I used to sell sexy drawings to a newspaper, and it’d help us at the end of the month. I was sick and frail, almost like a burden first to my mom, then to Bucky. But arts…arts have always been something I could do. It didn’t demand any efforts, but it’s not only that. I could take a pen and draw anything. I could reinvent the world and create smiles where they were long gone. Draw people who died…or capture the moment,” he added quickly. He should have never talked that long. Jonah was practically a stranger. And what if he talked to the press, his heartbeat rose. He grabbed his thing and stood up, wobbling dangerously due to the lack of food.

“Whoa whoa Mister Rogers, calm down,” Jonah helped him out. “I can see how your brain works and no, I’m not going to talk to the press about any of that. And I guess you only have my words, huh?”

Steve’s brain short-circuited. The warmth of the hand on the middle of his chest seemed to burn through his clothes. He took a deep breath and relaxed. Somehow.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, cheeks still flaming red.

Jonah shook his head, a small amused smile playing on his lips. “So polite,” he muttered, to himself. Jonah took a few steps away and Steve mourned the comforting feeling.

“Have you told them what you used to do, mister Rogers?”

What?

“When you talked about your past, I couldn’t help but notice how you talked about dead people, how you drew them. Why didn’t you tell your lovers...” the word coming out of Jonah’s mouth sounded sinful. “what it truly means for you to go to school and achieve your dream.”

Steve dropped his gaze to the ground. The meaning of Jonas’ words passed right over his head. He knew what he said was meaningful and supposed to help him get better. Why couldn’t he focus! Instead his thoughts were getting on a dangerous territory. Just this morning he was waking up with Bucky and Tony by his side, thinking that it was a sight he’d never get tired of, and now he was getting flustered by his teacher. Fuck…get a grip, he thought with conviction.

“I already have.”

Jonah hummed while playing with his beard, which covered what seemed to be a sharp jaw. Steve closed his legs as the phantom sensation of a soft hair bruised his inner thighs. He didn’t dare close his eyes to face the perverse images which were crossing his mind.

Had he been cursed? Maybe a lust potion? Steve scratched the back of his neck and took a deep breath.

“You know what. I’m going to give you one good advice. Go for it. If you end up not liking it or being bored then…change major. You have all your life in front of you, Mister Rogers, don’t be a secondary character to your own life. And if your lovers can’t understand that, maybe it’s time for you to move on, as painful as it is.”

Steve opened his mouth. Then closed it. The idea of losing Bucky and Tony constricted his heart. And at the same time, he didn’t imagine himself giving up on his dreams.

“Oh, no, what have I done?” Jonah exclaimed dramatically. “The frown is back.”

Steve huffed, chastised. He massaged his forehead to let go of some tension.

“Sorry,” he mumbled again.

“…the death of me,” he heard the man whisper. Steve tensed, eyes bulging and mouth agape. He wasn’t supposed to hear that, right? He cleared his throat and fidgeted with the gouaches.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” Jonah groaned and put his head in his hands. “I’m really sorry, Mister Rogers. How unprofessional of me.”

Steve wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans.

“We are outside the classroom. And if it is really a problem, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear anything.”

“I trust you, Mister Rogers.” Jonah winked.

“Steve,” he corrected him, without thinking.

Jonah whiskey eyes gleamed. There was something quite familiar and dangerous in his eyes. “Steve,” he repeated, tasting the word on his tongue.

Steve hid his sudden moan behind a cough. His face was not hell warm. Probably a lust potion. Someone – Clint- must have slipped something in his drink. It was the only solution. Jonah checked his watch and groaned. Steve felt instantly sorry. He hadn’t meant to talk that long to him. He must have

“I’m sorry, you must have a lot of things to do and –.”

He trailed off when Jonah got closer to him. Steve eyed him with unconcealed curiosity. Jonah extended his hand to probably shake Steve’s. As soon as both of their palms made contact, Jonah bent forward and kissed his palm. At this point, Steve’s control over his emotion crumbled. His heart went haywire. He wasn’t sure if it was healthy, but his heart missed a beat. Actually he was a 100% sure it missed at least one if not several beats.

Jonah stood straight and stared into his eyes. “You sure are going to be the death of me, Steve.”

On these last words, Jonah let go of his hand and started walking down the street. Steve stayed frozen at the same place, eyes still on the other man. As he was getting far enough, Jonah turned once back to wave at him.

 After that, Steve ran. He vaguely noted that it took him less longer to come back. Actually, he was so distracted that he almost missed the Tower.

He didn’t know what would happen. One part of him, wished it was a misunderstanding, that Bucky and Tony were genuinely happy for him. But the words…what he’s heard wouldn’t be easy to explain and he wasn’t sure to be ready to argue with his lovers.

There again time went by fast. He barely had the time to formulate a somewhat intelligible speech that he was in the penthouse.

He slowly made his way to the living room where Bucky and Tony were. Bucky jumped to his feet, as usual, when he saw him and smiled happily, arms already open to hug him.

At this moment, Steve was ready to throw any of his resolutions away. Maybe it was just misunderstanding after all. Bucky has always been with him and had his back more than he could count…

Then, Bucky eyes went to his canvas and his smiled dimmed before coming back a little too tight on the corners. Tony who just got up eyed him curiously. When his eyes found the canvas, he looked away.  

Steve smiled sadly. “We need to talk.”

 Fin

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Confessions of a Coffee-Eater | 02

Genre: Smut, College/University AU

Pairing: Student!/Poet!Namjoon x Student!/Poet!

Warnings: sub!Namjoon gets a handjob in the classroom during a lecture, allusion to smoking

Summary: It is in hard times beautiful things can occur and the addiction of primal instincts be suppressed in their proximity. However, when two souls from different social worlds meet in a poetry class, any former urges gain a new direction.

Some of which are sensual in emotion.

And may not be reciprocated.

Masterlist

Previous part / Next part

There is a lyric which dictates that “sorry” seems to be the hardest word and last night while pondering a way to offer sincere apologies for the unintentional harassment the true meaning came forth as the song played on the radio. Replayed itself again and again as a pen twisted between fingers free from the engraving ink on skin, waiting for any potential customers. The last of the twilight cigarette smoke dissipated before settling into the corner of the back office to catch a few hours of sleep since the last hours of the night shift are dead in business.

The sole idea is offering a cup of anything but fantastic coffee from one of the machines spread around the building and hope a listening ear will be given to a remorseful poor man from Ilsan. A concept that becomes more and more terrifying with each step advancing towards the university building outside the city centre that both students and professors complain about, especially with having to attend and give morning lectures.

The cafeteria is bland like the rest of the dated interior which makes one think more of a high school than a proper academic environment, the only attempt at enlivening the area being the crisp white picnic tables standing in a neat row against an ugly brick wall between the stairs and the guard’s booth. Across from the still empty benches sits the wronged woman, engrossed in noting something down and thus not paying any attention to the anxious onyx beanie passing by towards the tiny coffee corner.

Ignorant to the split second of stopping to simply gaze for a little bit at how flowing hair falls over the shoulder clad in nighttime fabric, the outfit of the day not out of place in an office as the blouse on top of monotone pants and made more interesting with golden accents in the form of a belt and watch radiate a chic mood.

She’s way out of my league. But still, I have to apologize.

Bearing the thought in mind, begotten in that instance of allowing romantic fascination without perverse intent to overtake body and soul, the debit card with little money on it is used to pay for two cappuccinos. Fortunately, last night’s tips make up for the expense so some groceries, later on, will have to be paid for in cash.

The coffees in hand, slowly the table at which Y/N is still working on something is approached while trying to keep breathing under control and composure steady. Notwithstanding, it crumbles to reveal a hint of panic when the busily scribbling pen is put down and eyes look from the page to the steaming cup of caffeine to a well-meaning man in a denim jacket beneath a grey vest with a brown collar.

A slim finger points at one of the bright yellow cups on the table. ‘Is that for me?’

‘Y- Yeah.’ A hand automatically rises to rub the back of the neck, gaze slightly averted to hide cheeks burning as the temperature inside seems to rise. ‘I want to say sorry. For yesterday, because what I- I shouldn’t have done what I did bu- but I couldn’t-’

‘Namjoon. That’s your name, right?’ The inquiry halts the apologetic stammering waterfall likely leading nowhere, a brief nod confirming the assumption. ‘It’s fine.’

‘But I looked at-’

‘Really, it’s okay.’ A welcoming hand gestures casually at the chair of which the back has been unconsciously gripped tightly, knuckles turning white. Strangely, though it could have been due to still being half-asleep, the same motioning fingers appear to want to reach out but can barely withhold themselves. A silly idea, judging by the even voice continuing to speak. ‘Have a seat. We still got a bit of time before we need to go. If you want to, of course.’

Without a second thought, any outerwear is draped over the offered seat before rapidly plopping down. Apparently doing so with much eagerness for a stunned breathless laugh escapes the girl about to take a sip of the peace offering. ‘Thank you, Miss.’

‘Miss?’ An inquisitive eyebrow raises, the unconsciously made mistake only realized too late.

Lips part in panic, wanting to protest yet all words fail to string themselves into a proper excuse. ‘I- I mean- I didn’t mean to- Y- Y/N, I swear I-’

‘Namjoon,’ kind digits wrap around the nautical map covering tensed muscles bared from beneath denim, ‘take a deep breath. Like that. There you go. Good b- Good.’

The slip of the tongue is laughed off, locks shaking slightly in unjust embarrassment fueling a heart truly wanting to shrink before vanishing from the earth entirely. 

Or so it did want to, the warmth in the chest now spreading its rosy glow throughout while repeating the error over and over mentally.

I’m pleasing her. She wanted to say I’m her good boy. I can be. I am. I am your good boy, Y/N.

‘Uhm, are you alright?’ The digits that retracted in a fashion wrongly perceived as trembling reach out again, slightly shaking the feather resting eternally on skin. The warmth of the palm perfectly enveloping it is comforting, a steady beacon guiding consciousness back to reality. 

Away from the perverse thought of that same hand pinning an absent-minded poor soul to the mattress in the same manner. Henceforth, albeit with a suppressed jolt of surprise as if waking from a dream, sight gradually focuses on the beautiful woman wearing a concerned expression. ‘Huh, what?’

‘You were spacing out.’ A whimper can barely be silenced before being made audible at feeling the light squeeze asking for attention, fast-beating heart skipping beats. Once again distracted by the contact and the lips that want to be experienced from up close instead of far away. 

Yet sharply sane enough to muster a half-hearted excuse blaming the morning for the ridiculous behaviour. ‘Oh, ehm, yeah. I’m fine. It’s early.’

What am I doing? She doesn’t know me and I don’t really know her. I need to get a grip on myself.

‘Fortunately, there’s coffee to wake us up.’ The worry melts away into gentle kindness, leaving digits creating a cold wake as they wrap around the bright yellow cardboard cup bearing the university’s logo. But not chilling the honest man turned into a lovesick puppy mimicking the normalcy of drinking coffee while ignoring the pooling heat below.

We still have some time and I can’t move until I’ve calmed down. She shouldn’t know what she does to me, not yet. Not... ever.

‘Can I ask you something?’ To keep the conversation flowing, an innocent desire appears to form the lead to follow. Awkwardly shuffling to hide the strain in jeans, voice is kept as steadily as possible regardless of shyness overtaking demeanour slowly. 

‘Sure. Fire away.’

‘What were you penning down earlier? I- I saw you... uhm, just now- I saw you write something in your notebook.’

Why did I stutter? Why is she looking like that? Oh God, what do I do?

‘And you don’t suppose it actually has to do with the course?’ The sarcastic chuckle on the rim of the cup has a strangely flattered undertone, almost to be called endeared. 

Withholding innermost personal emotions. 

That circulate beneath the indecipherable surface of breathtaking affectionate irises locking gazes with genuine curiosity. ‘Why would it at this hour? It’s just a random thought more than a poem but then again, so is all my poetry. If it can be even called that.’ However, all playfulness fades into under-the-breath muttering as melancholia takes over and Y/N’s focus moves away to finish the cheap warm drink. ‘Just an amalgamation of thoughts.’

A loathsome sight to a boy with love for a woman whom he barely knows yet wants to ensure the happiness of. 

Without being aware of it, a hand glides over the thigh clad in obsidian as speech becomes urgent. ‘Hey, don’t talk like that. I’m sure it’s good.’

And moves away as if burned by fire when the intimacy is noticed thanks to a tilt of the head, enchanting eyes leaning to the side in rather odd fascination. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. Still, may- No, what am I saying? Y/N, I didn’t-’

‘Namjoon, it’s alright.’ Softly smiling fingers brush over shivering honey skin, gliding over it and drawing intricate calming patterns over inked stories to still the panic. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘Y- You don’t?’

‘No, I don’t. Please, say what you wanted to say.’

The bottom lip is briefly worried between teeth, a sigh rolling off the tongue when deciding to speak up at last in spite of wanting to disappear, be swallowed whole by the onyx beanie hiding earthly brown locks in dire need of a cut. ‘May I read it?’

‘Promise you won’t judge? You seem to know a great deal more than I about the genre.’ Mayhaps unaware of it, the palm resting on the place formerly deemed forbidden is enveloped as much as possible by a smaller one as a tiny thumb caresses the back of it.

Thus for a few seconds stretching into moments we sit, newly met strangers already of a bond with one another that does not touch grounds with that of lovers nor mere friends. It is of a different indescribable nature, testing the waters of uncharted territory.

But it feels safe.

Trusted.

Like a safe haven the map on the arm leads to.

She is my anchor. 

Which is shown by flipping the tables enough that Y/N’s hand rests between those of a poor sod from Ilsan on foreign soil. And it takes all inner strength to not put it on the cheek, to bask in the kindness. ‘Tell you what, I’ll let you read mine if you let me read yours. ‘Fair?’

The last sip of coffee is quickly gulped down before answering with the same confidence that shines bright in illuminated irises. ‘Fair.’

That dim when noticing the time. ‘We have to go.’

For nine o’clock on a September Tuesday will always be too early to analyze poetry.

But never too soon to see her.

‘Let’s go.’

Nine o’clock on a September Tuesday will always be too early to analyze poetry.

But never too soon to see him.

To lean against the deep-voiced mixture of nicotine and cologne wearing glasses with a thick black frame that others shun, ignorantly afraid of the person they deem a delinquent. However, they cannot see the gentle soul beneath a prejudiced exterior, not feel the fast stiffening of muscles that melt away at a pleased hum.

‘Are you still awake?’ A low giggle resonates in the baritone inquiry, having a chance to talk in a short ten-minute break after processing a ton of poetical and theoretical analysis. 

Judging by the sloth-like sensation spreading throughout, the information might not be committed to memory until notes made on the automatic pilot are read through. ‘Barely.’

‘Want to get another coffee?’

‘Mhm, I’d rather sit here.’ A pleased smile naturally carves itself into lips. An odd thing to happen, but there is something in the subdued scent of soap beneath the heavier aromas of musk and tobacco or perhaps the combination of the three that creates a small piece of happiness. ‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’ Regardless of not being able to see Namjoon’s face, lashes fluttering shut, the quizzical look can vividly be imagined behind closed eyes. And it enhances the sense of kind joy, glad to be in the company of a good friend.

Or more. No, less. What are we? What do we mean? Hm, doesn’t matter now. Gods, should have drunk another espresso before heading out the door.

‘For letting me lean against you like this.’ As a sign of honest appreciation and to be more comfortable, the warm tribal jungle of aquatic blue and emerald green is further snuggled up against. ‘I like it.’

‘Don’t fall asleep, though. We’re halfway there.’ For a split second, there is the curious wish or, rather, expectation for the statement to be sealed with a chaste kiss on the top of the head. Withal, to unjust disappointment, it does not come for. It would have been absurd if it had, of course.

And yet the desire keeps gnawing on the inside. 

‘If I do, please wake me up before the professor sees.’ Fortunately, inner sensations can be suppressed by taking on a playful tone barely shy of badly lying. Nevertheless, a sudden memory of a promise erases the thought of being like this outside of the university, huddled together on a couch.

Or between the sheets.

The timid giant spent in the arms of a girl turned weirdly mischievous as of late.

Eyes languidly open, brought back from the equally as sudden and vibrant recalling of the awkward shuffling to apparently hide the endearing hardened shape in jeans. Voice remains even, luckily, when reminding the buff sweetheart of what is due to him as well. ‘Oh, right. I promised I’d let you read my new poem. Hold on, let me grab my notebook.’ 

Perhaps thanks to the fear of being caught red-handed with furiously blushing cheeks, locks immediately duck under the table to rummage around the backpack that is hardly filled with anything. Notwithstanding, the opposite is acted out until the rampant thoughts of a racing heart have calmed down. 

Only to almost start anew when bumping into Joon’s hand upon rising from beneath the piece of furniture.

‘I- I didn’t- Just making sure you wouldn’t get hurt.’ Swiftly, composure crumbles appealingly into haphazard helplessness as the shield against injury is retracted while actively trying not to stutter. 

‘Much appreciated. Truly.’ To quiet the doubt in the fellow poet’s behaviour, an assuring tone naturally slips into soft-spoken smiling speech. And works effectively as a rapidly breathing chest falls slower. 

Once more, comfort is sought by leaning against the jungle-shaded arm, leafing to the correct page before closing eyes again with the risk of falling asleep. ‘Here you go.’

Without waiting for another cue, Namjoon starts reading the poem in the only manner one should read poetry.

As much shame as it may cause.

It has to be done out loud.

‘Youth shouldn’t think

About Death yet it

Contemplates its very

Existence and the relation

Between them.

Why fear something distant?

Distant.

But incredibly close.

Lurking in effervescent ever-

Present shadows.

Waiting patiently.

For Age.

For Chance.

For Fate. 

For Opportunity.

For Time.

For Me.’

A breathless laugh attracts the tall man’s attention. ‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ In spite of partially meaning to mock oneself for the quality of the writing, the sudden outburst is mostly due to the surprising effect a voice, Namjoon’s voice has on the piece of writing. A hand unconsciously comes to rest on a muscled thigh, basking in the warmth and the slight movement leaning into the touch by pressing it against the one secretly wanting more. ‘I just like the way you read poetry. You have a good voice for it. It’s nice to listen to.’

‘Y/N,’ breath hitches in a beautiful whimper when the palm moves slightly upward, ‘people are looking.’

A shrug dismisses the worry, not bothered whatsoever by the ones who have silently cast a peer out on grounds of appearance. None would admit this outright, of course, but it is obvious in behaviour during seminars and lectures. ‘Don’t care.’

‘What if they think we are... you know... together?’

‘We’re all adults here, grownups with a sense of what a relationship entails. Besides, does it matter? Let them think whatever, Namjoon.’ As languidly as a cat, eyes open again to blink a few times before looking up at a flustered tanned face. Mayhaps a misperception, but it seems closer than before. 

He looks adorable. No, what am I doing? Focus! He read your poem, so this is not the time for fantasy.

Moving away a little bit from the intoxication caused by the combination of musk and tobacco, enhanced by the sensation of a big palm enveloping the one wandered more towards the inside of denim, speech is endeavoured to be made steady. Nevertheless, the attempt only succeeds in part as careful guidance testing the waters beneath the table leads to an intenser heat. ‘But what did you think of it?’ 

And ends in boldly being spread out across clothed hardened skin of which the ego rapidly grows breathless. Especially more so when willingly applying pressure, thoroughly enjoying the parting of plush lips risking being heard and expression contorting into laboured concentration. ‘Come on, don’t be shy.’

‘I- Is this what you, ah, ehm, think about in the morning?’ Hips slowly rock against the offender, seeking the desperately needed friction as skin begins to pass the state of glowing and grows dewy.

‘“I was a woman who thought of dead things. All the time. I couldn’t help it.”’ Enough mental stability can be gathered to manage a blank stare signifying ignorance as to where the applicable quote stems from. Forcefully, the ability to pay attention is compelled to be enhanced as the waist is suppressed with a smirk into sitting quietly on the chair. ‘Ah, ah, ah. Sit still before someone catches you. Lidia Yuknavitch said this in The Chronology of Water: A Memoir. And I’ll be honest, I got that quote from Tumblr.’

‘D- Don’t stop.’ All attention is returned to the movements below that have not stopped in the meanwhile, teeth biting down on the lower lip succeeding in nullifying the groan that wants to become audible. 

‘Break time is almost over.’ Time for contact is running out, the chatty professor pacing back towards the lecturer with a steaming cup of cheap coffee. Every second ticks away faster, but the steps in the race towards craved oblivion are too little. On the other hand, it would be a just punishment for the public brashness. 

‘Could we- Can we g-get lunch? Together?’

‘Is that what you want? What you think about?’ The absurdity evokes an amused low chuckle, truly finding joy in seeing the tough yet submissive poet struggle. ‘We just met, Joon.’

‘Y- Yet you let m- me do this, Miss.’ Digits free from tribal ink wrap around the wrist, willing it to remain out of sight beneath the table without stopping. 

What are we doing? We’re basically strangers. But... he held my hand and now we’re doing this. We both want this. This is ridiculous and yet, with the way he calls me that, the power is intoxicating.

And held onto a tad longer, mischief triumphing long enough to find pleasure in the whine at being left hanging high and dry after the squeeze that could have invoked embarrassing euphoria. ‘Not for long, bad boy.’

‘Alright, so! Where were we? Ah, right, why rhyme pleases.’ The professor has returned from the momentous coffee break fully, yellow cup empty and the little caffeine forming enough fuel to make it through the last three quarters filled with poetic analysis. 

Forty-five minutes of swatting away secretive undecorated hands trying to find release, as shameful as it is, by themselves.

To, perhaps, play the part of the devil to the end.

And maybe, just maybe admit to something.

To desire bordering on young love.

To a tribal jungle and nautical map on muscled buff arms.

To him who is clearly struggling.

To Namjoon. 

[suicidalcatz]

DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 4

AN: Hello ! In this chapter we go on an investigation! But also we get closer to God Jake. I’m writing the 7th part at the moment, and I think the 8th one will be the end of my dream, but not of this fanfic. Let the fluff begin !

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Genre: College AU

Previous parts: Prologue ; Chap 1 ; Chap 2 ; Chap 3

Masterlist : here

Chapter four : Need a hand ?

It became obvious to both Mandy and I that I was starting to have a crush on Jake. How could I not ? For a far as we knew him, he was perfect in every way.

At first it was discreet. My new hobby of staring at him during lectures was unnoticed by both of the Kiszkas, or if Josh noticed something, he at least thought it was me waiting for his next paper ball notes and getting impatient. Regarding my class daydreamings, they weren't new so classmates and teachers didn't think much of it. Although it became very apparent something was up when I started unintentionally drawing his face several times in the workshop during portraits studies. Even though my photo reference was Kurt Cobain. It could've been easily mistaken for a very bad observation job (and it did), if it weren't for Mandy who saw me coming home after a long day with a painted 50x70cm Jake canvas under my armpit. Judging by my defeated look, she didn't address it, but she knew.

It's a few days later that we had that talk. It was getting so bad that I began mistaking people in hallways for him, smiling or even giggling to myself as I was remembering stuff he did or said, and again, drawing him.

- I can't focus on anything, I sighed defeated. I have this assignment due to next week and I can't draw any character right. I even dreamed of us doing grocery shopping.

I let my head bump loudly against the dining table as she made me a cup of tea/coffee and placed it in front of me. She knew perfectly how I felt because we all went through the same, that's why she softly pulled the chair opposite mine to sit and have a chat.

- You should talk to him more, get to know him, she encouraged. He's nice and now we sometimes hang out so it's not that weird wanting to know him better.

She was right. Sooner or later I'll had to talk to him and even tell him how I feel anyway. Not now though, it was too soon. I kind of got struck by lightning when I first laid my eyes on him and it got worse when we spoke, but it still rarely happened for people to fall instantly like that. There was no way he'd understand if I just confessed my feelings out of the blue. I should wait and see if there's any chance that my feelings are shared, because there was no way in hell I'd tell him if I wasn't sure I had a chance to date him. Speaking of which...

- Should I ask him out on a date?

As an answer, Mandy smacked my head accross the table with an empty box of biscuits.

- Are you out of your mind ? I just told you to wait ! I know you're impatient to get into his pants but think about all the times you rushed things and how many times it worked.

Raising my head to rest my chin against the plastic flowery tablecloth, I considered it, looking at her munching on chocolate biscuits, browsing a fashion magazine for inspiration. Defeated once again, I let out a sigh and shifted so my cheek was against the table.

- First of all, I don't want to get into his pants- Not yet. Second of all, you're right. I don't want to screw up this time because it'll be so awkward afterwards.

She closed her eyes and quickly nodded because she knew she was of good advice, as usual.

- You forgot something essential boo. You don't know if mister doe-eyed guitarist is single.

Fuck, that's right. Neither of them mentionned it but it's not something you just blurt out. We exchanged a look, and she grinned at me in a knowing way.

- Let's investigate.

The first thing to do was to go on his Facebook. It did seem a bit wrong searching him like that instead of asking straightforwardly, and as if karma thought the same, we found that his infos were set on private. We didn't even bother searching for instagram or twitter as nobody puts their real full names on these, so the second thing to do was to go on the field.

Despite all the departments, the school was small so buildings were close to each other and all communicated (except for the fashion workshop). I kind of knew where everything was, since you could tell just by looking at the people hanging around. And as cliché as it sounded, it was true. Illustration students were always carrying ridiculous amounts of art supplies. Entire bags of paint, books and pencil case in their backpacks, giant portfolio under an arm, A3 sketchbooks in the other, and somehow they still found a way to carry their coffee cups. Architecture, Carpenters and Furniture Design students were often seen with big mock ups and models in their arms, tools or wood. Photo and Fashion peeps were carrying the less stuff since they worked mainly on computers in the Photography dep and let all their mannequins and fabric either at home or in the Fashion workshop. It was as easy to spot dudes from the Music dep, with their guitar on their back, hanging around the Architecture building, smoking, chatting, and drinking soda or coffee.

Their building was near the park, so they were mostly seen in that area. And thank God because I would've look so stupid passing by purely « by chance » in an area where no one ever went except for the people who actually studied there. The park was great. A lot of us used to play ball, sit on the grass to drink, chat or have lunch. It was big enough that the Architecture jocks built some cabins in a corner of it to host parties. I still don't understand how the school allowed that, but anyway, the plan was simple, make a little detour to see if I could spot Jake.

It was so cold outside that students were just hurriedly passing by, quickly making their way inside where it was somewhat warm. As a result, there wasn't many people in the park at this hour of the day and I wondered if Jake was in the dorms or in class before catching a glimpse of his hair in the corner of my eye. Okay time to be discreet. I put my bag down near the trash to fake looking for something while watching him. Fuck he looked good with a scarf and head covered with a beanie. Aside from his looks, he seemed rather bummed. Passers by kept shaking him off as he tried to hand them yellow papers. Probably flyers.

- Jake, I'm taking 5 !

Some guy just beside me doing the same task called him loud and clear, and I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes when Jake turned around to reply and locked eyes with me. I instantly felt very dumb, crouched next to the trash with my hands on my bag. The mental image I had of myself at that very moment was that of a raccoon. Running away was out of the question since he was approaching my way already, one hand holding the flyers and the other in his jacket pocket.

- Hey.

- Hi, I replied without moving an inch.

- Need a hand ?

Shaking out of it, I got on my feet by myself and lied about just passing by. Karma really was a bitch, wasn't it ? Henceforth no more weird MI6 strategies for me. Avoiding staring at the blushed tip of his nose, I gazed at my hands and saw his in the process.

- Are you giving out flyers ?

- Oh yeah, for the Christmas school festival, but no one is either interested or invested in it unfortunately. It's a shame, I think it's gonna be great. I don't know what's holding them, he added while scratching his beanie, it's free and there's gonna be music and food and booze, what more could we need ?

To be fair I understood both parties. Jake was right but some students probably had exams or homework, and it was freezing and they were doing it outside. Well if we were honest it never stopped anybody from partying so maybe the event wasn't the issue.

- I saw people displaying posters, I remembered, can I see the flyers ?

Without missing a beat he handed them all to me and dear lord I almost got blind just by looking at them. That yellow and black and these awful drawings weren't doing anything good for the event. He must've saw it on my grimacing face because he sighed.

- That bad ?

- Honestly ? It looks like a Bee Movie add.

It actually made him let out a chuckle before puting a hand to his heart.

- That hurts.

That flawless smile made my cheeks burn, thank god they were already red because of the cold. His thumb brushed mine when I handed the flyers back to him, and at this moment I knew I was gonna act without thinking again, because my brain went on vacation the second his skin got in contact with mine.

- I can make you new ones, if you want.

His eyes searched for any traces of a joke on my face before realization hit him and his brows frowned lightly.

- Are you sure ? 'm not an expert but this looks like a lot of work.

As backup to his words, he shook the big bundle of paper between his fingers. Jake genuinely looked worried about me, and all the work it'd put me through. Deep down I knew there was a little voice in my head screaming that helping him only meant more sleepless nights but all the other parts of my brains ignored it when two gentle brown eyes stared at me with concern.

- It'll be fine, I assured with a smile. I'm working fast. I just have to do one design and the rest will be printed, right ? No big deal.

Hand on his hip, Jake let out what sounded like a relieved breath and cracked a smile.

- Thanks, I really appreciate it. Do you have a pen ?

Of course I did, I even got one on my coat pocket for some reason. Things I just forget to remove. He gave me the flyers for me to hold while he uncapped the black marker and took my free arm.

- I'm giving you my number, so you can text me if you're having troubles for the design, and show me some pics if you need advice.

With cold fingers, he gently grabbed my wrist and pushed back the fabric to expose my already shivering skin, and started writing numbers on my veins. It tickled, and I got goosebumps, mostly because of the cold wind but also because of his hand around my arm. The soft touch of his calloused fingers felt right on my skin, replacing the freezing feeling of his digits by a sweet wave of heat and I unconsciously held my breath to focus on the new sensation. He let the ink dry a bit before covering my arm again, raising his chin to meet my face.

- I could've write it on one of the flyers but I got a feeling you would've lost it, wouldn't ya ?

A playful smile danced on his face and once again I found myself mesmerized by him, nodding and chewing on my lip in a childlike manner. Jake tapped me on the shoulder to thank me again, saying he'll make it up to me, but I was too absorbed by the burning feeling of his skin on mine.

- I have to go, he said after sliding the marker back inside my breast pocket. My band's playing at the christmas party by the way, I hope you'll come!

[wroteasongabouther]

fratboy!harry - part 3

thanks for all the love so far guys!! get over to my ask box and request any kinda blurb from this college world i’m living in or any questions you’ve got either!

fratboy!harry tag >> story page

First week of classes and you already felt like dropping out. When you got here to your second year of uni, you were excited but now you were trying your hardest to write out even a page of notes during this lecture. Scribbling down another point from your professor, you blink a few times at your page and try to comprehend what you wrote. After a moment, you shake your head and look back up to the front.

Only a few minutes pass by, and one more point is written on your notebook, when your phone lights up beside you. It’s a notification from Snapchat, from a certain someone who can’t seem to leave you alone these days it seems. You bite down on your bottom lip to quit from smiling at Harrys name - which of course he added an angel emoji after, makes total sense since he’s the furthest thing from an angel. 

Snaps from Harry consisted of a few things. Sometimes they were selfies - both hot as hell or making stupid faces. Other times it’s artistic, using the pen tool in any colour to make a masterpiece that makes you laugh every time. As you tap your screen, you find out it’s the latter of the two predictions your had. 

Harry too was in his morning lecture, sitting rather close - which you know wouldn’t have been his choice. His professor is an older man wearing glasses and dressed in pants just a little too high, he’s reaching to write on the white board to finish an equation. Harry snapped the picture and coloured away on it. Having a stick figure grasping the prof from behind, seagulls above him, and Harry draws a big white boat for the prof to stand on with ‘TITANIC’ on the side. The caption read ‘I’ll never let go Jack’, and Harry had you chuckling in the back of your class yet again. 

You double tap his name and get the front facing camera, rolling your eyes and hitting the screen to take a photo. After putting a filter over it and typing out ‘Forever shipping them’ - pun intended - you set down your phone and look back to your professor. You’re not completely surprised when Harry responds rather quickly. 

“Hey,” a voice whispers from beside you. You look up and see a bright white toothy smile from the boy sitting beside you. “Did you need notes from today?” He asks, it’s a nice gesture considering you barely had any from the whole lesson today. 

“Uh, yeah,” you nod while looking over at his Macbook, full of notes it seems, “that’d be really great actually,” 

“I could email them to you, if you’d like? I just noticed you were kinda out of it today,” he gives you another smile while clicking a few times to share his notes from today. 

As you type out your email in his laptop, he’s watching you - you could just tell. Once you put in your info, you lean back in your seat and take your turn to watch him. He’s cute, short brown hair, brown eyes, great arms, definitely a football player if you were to take a guess. As an email notification comes on your phone, you get the name of the stranger beside you.

“Thanks, James,” you say with a smile.

“No problem, Y/N,” he says. 

He’s about to talk more to you when your professor raises their voice to remind the class about the assignment due at the end of the week - which was two days away. You shut your eyes and tilt your head back, knowing very well you hadn’t even started the assignment. Looks like you were about to pull another late night.

Class ends and you sit back in your chair while getting your things together. You can see James taking his time beside you. Everything inside of you was hoping he wasn’t about to stick around and flirt your ear off. Thankfully, god was on your side today, and James simply threw his backpack on. 

“See you around,” James says. 

“Yeah, thanks again for your notes,” you smile and give him a quick wave before he walks off. 

As you’re walking out of the lecture room you open Harry’s snap. This time it’s a selfie, the angle working well for his jawline of course, with the caption reading ‘Punny one’. You snap a blurry selfie of you smiling and respond ‘Thanks I’ll be here all week’ before making your way to the closest coffee shop - Starbucks near the main doors of the building.

It was only 10:30 and you were going to need a venti size iced coffee to survive your next and final class for today. So with your coffee in hand, you scroll around on your phone and walk across campus to your next lecture hall. The sun’s shining high in the clear blue sky, the heat getting to you as you get only half way to your class. You unzip your sweater and set down your backpack on the ground to slip out of your sweater, tying it around your waist.

Once you’re back on your way, you get another snap from Harry. The snap is blurry, but you know who it’s of - zoomed in as you fix your hair after tying your sweater at your hips. It was a good picture, flattering of your body honestly. Harry’s artistic skills are flames around you this time.

“Creep,” you mumble to yourself before sending a snap - eyes rolling and swiping a filter on.

Thank god for that coffee, or else you wouldn’t have made it through your class. After grabbing lunch, sitting with your laptop open while going over some notes and eating a sandwich, you decide to head to the library to get started on that assignment you hadn’t touched yet. As you walk through the rather busy building, you notice a familiar figure.

Harry is sitting on a couch, notes beside him while he wrote in another note book. He looks focused, brows pulled together while he rolls his lips into his mouth. A week later, and you still couldn’t stop thinking of how hot he was. You two had only bumped into each other once after he drove you to your dorm - first day of class, very brief but very flirtatious. Otherwise it was Snapchats or text messages, never really planning to see each other either. Not that you were completely complaining, but you were sort of happy to see him sitting there alone.

You must’ve been standing still for too long. Harry’s eyes slowly lift up, finding you a few feet away. You catch those dimples immediately and chuckle while walking towards him. Dressed in a mustard yellow vintage looking tshirt, black jeans with a rip in one knee, vans upon his feet and a mess of hair atop his head - he sure did look good.

“Hey,” you say once you’re standing in front of him.

“Long time no see,” Harry smiles.

“Been busy, classes are really kicking my ass,” you sigh and feel the weight of your backpack.

“Sit,” Harry orders, pushing his notes aside for you to join him at the other side of the couch he had taken to himself. For a moment you second guess it, thinking of declining and finding your own space far away from the hot frat boy. But instead you nod once and plop down on the couch.

“Whatcha working on?” You ask while unzipping your backpack.

“Network algorithms,” Harry answers in a monotone voice as he goes back to his work. Your eyebrows fly up at his words, you were expecting something like some bullshit business class. Not network algorithms that was for sure.

“What are you majoring in?” You question. Harry looks up from his work and brings both his arms back to stretch behind him. Again, it was pretty hot.

“Computer sciences and programming,” he answers.

“Actually?” You can’t seem to register that this hot Brit who you met at his fraternity house while drinking beers all night was in computer sciences.

“Uh yeah,” Harry chuckles and scratches the back of his head, “what did ya think I was doing?” He asks, a smug look on his face as he seems to gather the fact you’re rather impressed with his choice of degree.

“Open studies, probably just here for some athletic program,” you shrug.

“Well, y’got half it right,” Harry smiles.

“So, you’re like really smart or something like that?”

“Yeah, got the brains and the beauty,” Harry winks. And there’s that cocky frat boy you knew. Rolling your eyes, you focus back to your things and open up your laptop to find your assignment.

Harry doesn’t say anything for the few minutes it takes for you to set yourself up, instead he just watches you with his dimples on display. And once you’re all situated, Harry goes back to his algorithms. Only about twenty minutes pass before you’re over thinking everything and lean back against the arm of the couch with a big sigh. It should be relatively easy, but somehow your prof has you all confused. 

“Anything I can help with?” Harry asks, causing you to look away from your laptop, “now that y’know I’m so smart, you should really take advantage of it, little bird,” 

“Take advantage of you, huh?” you joke, flipping the switch and you smirking at him this time. 

Harry isn’t as quick with a comeback as you thought he’d be. Instead he sticks his tongue out to lick his lips before adjusting how he’s sitting on the couch. When he’s eyes are back on you, they are just as desirable and flirtatious as usual. You give him a big smile of triumph - you had just made Harry speechless. 

“What are you working on?” Harry asks. 

“An assignment for History of Psychology,” you state, eyes back on the description of the assignment, “my prof just sucks at explaining some things,” you add while scanning over your notes to find what this assignment was even for.

“Who do you have?” 

“Professor McGallen,” you frown. 

“Oh yeah, had him in my first year,” Harry states while grabbing a half full water bottle from the floor beside him, “he’s a real pain sometimes,” 

“Big time,” you sigh and glance back at the assignment, “I’m sure I’ll figure this out, I’m not like really struggling in the class and it’s the first bit of work so it should be easy, right?” 

“I believe in you,” Harry smiles. You narrow your eyes at him, wanting to roll them at his cheesy line. Instead you grab your pen and notebook and prop up one knee to be able to write. 

Another hour goes by with the both of you hard at work. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t glance over at Harry when you got a chance. It was only fair though, because Harry did the same thing. Didn’t take an idiot to know there was plenty of tension between you two - the sexual kind, to be exact. You bite down on your pen while working out some of the notes James had emailed you earlier and get going. All is well, till a group of rumbustious guys walk up towards the couch you and Harry were seated at a while later.

“Harry, my man,” a large man - tall and muscle wise - came out of nowhere with two more behind him. You notice he has some large tattoo on his dark skin, he wore a white hat backwards and was dressed in all black. He was pretty attractive too, couldn’t deny it. 

“Hey guys,” Harry smiles and give each of them one of those half assed bro high five hug things. And after each one, the three boys all look your way. 

You lift up a hand and give them a short wave. Talk about awkward, something told you these were just a few of Harry’s frat brothers, and something else told you Harry wasn’t the kinda guy to just casually hang out with a girl. 

“Uh, guys this is Y/N,” Harry introduces you to his friends, “this is Eddy, Mark, and Brandon,” he runs through each of their names quickly. 

“Lovely to meet you, missy,” Eddy, the large man who decided shouting in the library was cool, coos out while grabbing ahold of your hand and placing a kiss to the back. 

“You too,” you chuckle at his gesture. 

Brandon and Mark just stare before bringing up some sort of time change for their morning practice - so you were right, Harry did some sort of sport here. Only made sense though, since he was your typical hot frat boy, not adding jock to that description would just be absurd. The boys continue to be rowdy as you try your hardest to stay focused on your assignment, which you had barely done half of through the couple hours here now. 

“Heard Lins is pretty pissed with you lately,” Eddy says to Harry, you glance up through your lashes to look at the boys again. Eddy is nudging Harry, his brown eyes wide as he makes it seem like whoever this Lins person is being pissed is a real bad thing. 

“Lindsey? Wasn’t she literally over just last night?” Brandon asks, furrowing his brows at Harry. 

Why did it feel like someone just stabbed you in the gut? You swallow and tuck a piece of hair behind your hair. You catch Harry’s eyes flashing towards you, but you’re quick to look back at your laptop and act as if you weren’t listening in. You shouldn’t be so surprised, of course Harry had girls at his feet. 

“Y’know, it’s Lindsey,” Harry says - how very vague of him. 

And why were you suddenly so angry? You bite the inside of your bottom lip and type out a sentence for your assignment. Eddy lets out a hollowing laugh, slapping Harry’s shoulder before leaning forward as he sat on the arm of the couch. 

“You’re fucking crazy, man,” Eddy laughs. 

“Hey, Lindsey may be a handful but she’s fucking hot,” Mark states. 

The others all say some sort of agreement, while Harry just keeps quiet and nods once. You don’t even notice how much and how roughly you’re biting on your bottom lip till you taste the tangy blood in your mouth. As the boys keep talking beside you, you decide it’s time you left. Wether it was their obnoxious voices in the library or this talk of who Harry’s sleeping with, but you wanted to leave now. 

“Oh, no, don’t leave,” Eddy says as he notices you packing up, “we’re leaving soon anyways,” he adds. 

“No, it’s fine, really,” you stuff your laptop into the big pocket of your bag before zipping it up and grabbing your phone from the couch cushion. “I’m getting hungry anyways and have food in my dorm I should eat,” you say with a tight smile. It wasn’t a lie, but it was a good cover up. 

“Oh, okay,” Eddy smiles back and nods while jumping around to take your seat beside Harry now. “See ya around, missy,” he grins. 

“See ya,” you wave and just before you’re about to walk off, you look at Harry. 

He rolls his lips into his mouth, wetting them, before speaking, “text you later, good luck with the assignment,” he says. 

“Yeah, bye,” you mumble out before turning on your heels and leaving behind the bitter feeling that couch was giving you since a certain conversation had begun. 

As you are walking out into the fresh air outside, your phone vibrates in your hand. You expect it to be Harry, for some odd reason, but are proven wrong as you see it’s a notification for an email. Squinting as the setting sun gets in your eyes, you check being crossing the street that your dorm building was on before opening your phone to check the email. It’s from James. 

A smile tugs on your lips as you read it, ‘how are the notes treating you? need any more pointers?’, how thoughtful. You type out a quick reply ‘maybe, tomorrow after class?’

Once you’re inside your dorm, throwing your backpack on your bed and then flopping down beside it, you get a response from James. He agrees to sticking together after class for some help, and you’re actually really thankful because his notes from today were a lot more helpful than yours were from the rest of the week. Plus, thinking of James got out the thoughts of Harry and some crazy chick named Lindsey.

[stationerspk]

7 Must Have Student Stationery Supplies In High School

Every student in their college life needs essential stationery items to perform at optimum level. The blog lists out seven basic stationery supplies that every high-school student must have in their backpack to succeed in daily college work in a proper and well-designed way.

[freya-a-smith]

Evaluation !

Since September, I have been working on the first project of my year two graphics communications course which was titled PAGE TO SCREEN. This project was about famous books that have been turned into a movie and creating artwork from them. I had to create alternative book covers and film posters for my selected theme, which was The Jungle Book.

I was pleased with my selected book/film as I knew I was going to be focusing on the audience of children. This would mean many different colours were going to be incorporated into my project and also an element of education was going to be brought in my artwork as well.

For a lot of my outcomes, I used Pinterest for inspiration as I wanted to see what had been done before so I could create unique results that would stand out.

When you look at my outcome, there are elements of the jungle throughout all of them as one of my goals was to focus on grabbing my audience's attention. A fair amount of the features were animals. The reason for this was because my target audience being children I wanted my artwork to educate them on animals that would be found in the jungle.

There was a lot of trial and error within the project as I was experimenting with different styles such as thresholding, halftoning, extra. One of the processes that helped me get over mistakes was having the pieces of artwork up on my desktop and then create the same thing again on photoshop but changing the bit that didn't look right. Still, by doing this, it allowed me to have better outcomes than the first and also made me learn a lot more, and by learning, I was able to broaden my skill base. Alongside this, there was a lot of research. Not just artist research I was researching the author of the book Rudyard Kipling and also researching about the jungle, the jungle book originated from. By doing this, it allowed me to look at colours and animals for inspiration, and by doing this, my artwork came out well.

Within my project, I created five book cover designs, and 11 movie poster designs within all these designs I was making illustrations to use on them including digital images drawn on photoshop and procreate and also hand-drawn work using pens, paint and pencils.

When I was given the jungle book, I was excited to start creating artwork. As I got into the project, I began to find it hard as I had problems that I didn't think of such as showing expressions through an animal's face and being able to create cartoon looking animals to represent the 1968 animation film but soon realized it was hard so, during my project, I decided to focus more on the real-life jungle book that was made in 2016. This made it slightly more manageable as I was able to use an image of real animals to work from and not having to create my animal from scratch.

Other issues that I had to approach was the colour pallet at the beginning of my project. I was focusing on the colours of the jungle as I wanted the colours to represent it, but then all my work started merging into one, so I decide to use a website called coolers.Co this was a colour generation site, and by using this, I was able to use unique colour pallets that made my outcomes stand out. First, I started adding different colours in slowly then completely didn't use green, and the results came out well. My final book cover design had no green on it at all, which can show progress has happened, and I have worked on targets. 

The journey of the project had a high at the beginning due to my interest and excitement to create but then went downhill but soon lifted again after I had the problem solved and come up with solutions this made it run more smoothly.

With having been doing the concept and topic of page to screen the jungle book I knew it was going to be children based as I said at the beginning, I knew my aim was to make fun, unique, educational pieces of artwork. Nowadays I feel like children are more into movies as technology is overriding the classics such as books that is why I have made many different movie posters as that is what I feel children would be more drawn too now. However, there are still children who love books hence why I always focused on creating book cover but just not as many as the posters, I was still focusing on the educational bit for both of them, But mainly the book as that is something you pick up and really absorb whereas with a movie poster it is something that you look at to get an a fell of the movie and get a feel for what's to come and with my outcome, I think you can see that being portrayed.

This whole project opened my skill base hugely as I was learning new skills every day and not just the skill I was being taught. I also learnt skills about organization preparation but mainly understanding of my target audience. I feel that out of the skills I learnt from college understanding my audience and how important it is to understand and get on the same wavelength as your audience. This will give you the best outcomes as you are putting your self in there shoe's. It works well and makes you want to do more artwork as it gives you a lot of inspiration. But overall, it also helped me with this project.

Page to screen project was a project that consisted mainly of computer-based work. This included the materials of photoshop and illustrator and in my case also procreate there was also the element of practical workshops such as typography, collagraphy, screenprinting and illustrations(continuous line drawings), my favourite media that I used was probable the digital art as I like the effects and texture I was able to create, and how I was able to bring a piece of artwork alive, the only thing that wasn't as enjoyable about the digital art was having to constantly create layers, so you were able to move them around even though it helps a lot when you want to manipulate the outcome, its frustrating when you get to the end and realize its all on one layer but when that has happened, I have always been able to sort it out eventually. My favourite part of the practical workshop was probably the illustration workshop as it was a challenge having to keep the pen on the paper the whole time to create the illustrations were hard but what I drew was terrific illustrations.

With each book cover and movie poster design I had to select the right size for both of them so throughout the project this became a prosses I had to do every time I wanted to create an outcome. With the book cover, I have to prepare an a4 horizontal white page on photoshop making a 2cm gap in the middle for the spine of the book with the rulers and then with the movie poster I had to create an a3 white page on photoshop.

Another process I had to use throughout the project was looking and planning my design to do this, I went on to Pinterest and had a browsed at different book cover/posters for inspiration.

A technique that appeared in this project was animating. I had done this technique in another project before last year; this benefited me as I was able to crack on with it. The only thing that was different was the animation have a different topic/concept. Animating was an old skill to me, but I managed to learn a new skill within it which was another way of animation I learnt that you were able to create an animation without having to do the process of moving and saving this helped as it was an easier but effective way of animating. 

With the current situation of COVID19, we were asked to create a blog on Tumblr this was to ensure us that our lecturers were able to see our work in case of other national lockdown and also minimizing cross-contamination of passing our journals back and forth. I really have enjoyed having tumbler as our alternative sketchbook and journal as to me look a lot nearer than my previous projects, and with my specialism being graphics communication, I can present my work in a high-quality way compared to last year, and with Tumblr, I was able to look at my blog as a whole project. I was also learning about aesthetic as you could transform your blog to link to your topic. My blog contains a lot of work, including research. The research was a big part of this project as I needed to learn about The jungle book but not just the storyline, but about the background of the jungle book, this helped me a lot as I was able to plan colour pallets layouts and general inspiration and overall enjoyable to me. It helped me with my target audience a lot. As I am on the topic of research there was research on my blog about the artist that inspired me the main artist that inspired me to do my final book cover design was Coralie Bickford smith she is an amazing illustrator for book cover designs, and I just fell in love with her work and I was able to create outcomes using inspiration from another artist that help me more with digital illustration, his name is Roy Lichtenstein he inspired me with my halftone work, and I can happily say it some of the favourite work I have created.

One of my the pieces of primary research I did was creating my own mood board using objects to help me understand the topic of the jungle book, and I used Jordan Bolton as my artist inspiration for this as I wanted to link to back to an artist.

I have really enjoyed this project of the page to screen and can happily say I am pleased with my outcome.

My outcomes are very strong and show planning, and the main thing is catered to my target audience I feel like they could be a genuine poster and book cover, but there are also some weaknesses, but the weaknesses were not with my outcome because I am happy with them it more about my blog side to the project if I was to work on something it would be delving into more artist research and even though it was hard to find an artist that inspired me I still feel like I could have done some more but still happy with what I have achieved.

With this project, I feel like was to be harsh on myself, and I did this as it made me work harder what I mean by this is when I looked at my work I reviewed it as two people one of them was saying the good thing and the other picking up on things I wanted to change, and this helped me and was an effective way of self reviewing and help me at the end with outcomes.

To me my outcome show progress as from the start of the project from the 16th of September to now you can see my work has grown and this is down to workshops such as halftone, typography workshops and these were only in the first couple of weeks on the project, and there were many more, but you can see it has helped me grown as a designer and learn, I feel the workshop that has to help me the most was the typography because it made me understand how much can be conveyed through typeface and also helped me understand how important it is.

Overall my outcome has worked well there have been displayed on my blog along with my research, other outcomes and problem-solving. The way my work has been displayed is in a unique way I have placed my book cover design onto a book, so it looks more realistic as with my poster I have made sure I have a high quilty picture and has been put onto a mock-up on to different billboards in different areas.

My whole project shows the progress of my skill and how my outcomes have been created and that is what I wanted for my blog to portray and I am excited to use the skills that I have learnt in my future project as they are very useful and I know I have a lot more knowledge on the audience and that will help me plan and create better and significant outcomes in the future.

[commonappessayprompts181]

paper writer

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[fanfiction-fanfriction]

The History Textbooks (Will Write About Our Love)

Pairing: Stucky, Background Relationships Rating: E Words: 10716 Summary: Bucky was a smart guy, he got into SHIELD College after all, and scholarship nonetheless. In his second year there he decided to take an American History class as part of the breadth requirement. He should know American history, he is American. He was expecting the cut and dry method of history, so dry that it could probably preserve meat for the winter. But, he wasn’t expecting a blonde with a contagious laugh, the habit of rambling about things he is passionate about, and that looked so amazing in blue button ups. His name is Steve Rogers, new professor of American history and Bucky is so fucked.

A/N: Shout out to @stevestuckyonbucky who spent like three days with me planning this monster of a fic out! I want to apologize for anyone who reads this on Tumblr, I send my condolences. 

Ao3 Mirror

(please leave comments, I live for them)

Bucky was a smart guy, after all he did get into SHIELD College on a scholarship, and for mechanical engineering nonetheless. That’s no small feat even for a smart guy like Bucky.

It was his second year, it was a warm September when he stepped into the small classroom in the back of one of the Humanities Wing of the school.

He had to take a course outside of his degree, what they call a ‘breadth requirement’, it forces students to go out and ‘try new things’ as an overly excited grad student put it during orientation. Bucky put off on it until Sam told him that if he did all of those requirements in his last year, it would probably sink his GPA.  

So he took his luck with an American history course that focused on eighteen seventy-seven to present day, he knew enough about America, he is American after all. He was expecting for it to be dry, dated, important figures and events.

But, he wasn’t expecting this.

He walked into class to find a blonde man at the front, wearing thick rimmed glasses and a navy blue button up shirt. His hair looked tousled like he had been running his hand through it just moments prior.

He was writing on the large chalkboard, a long line of white chalk cut horizontally through the board with dates being listed in blue chalk and the important events written in pink. Overtop of it was various drawings. From the far right was muskets, the hat of a union soldier and chains being broken. This trend of iconography through the most important events including a sign that read, “I Am A Man” during the Civil Rights Era to the ribbon associated with the AIDS epidemic of the eighties (done in pink chalk as that looked like all that was available), and then at the far end, a drawing of the American flag with the question, “Where do we go from here?”.

“Wow.”

The man looked up, “Hi, I’m Steve Rogers. I’m your professor for the semester.” His gaze wandered to the clock close by, “You’re a bit early, but you can take a seat.”

“Did you draw this?” Bucky asked as he took another step inside.

Steve wiped his brow with the palm of his head, leaving behind some chalk residue, “It’s no big deal.”

“It looks like a big deal.” He looked back at Steve, “Oh you have a little something.” He gestured to his forehead.

“Oh shit.” Steve wiped his forehead with his clean hand, “Thanks Mr?”

“Barnes, James Barnes. You can call me Bucky, everyone does.”

“Alright there Bucky, take any seat you like, your classmates should be showing up soon.” He smiled, it made Buck's face suddenly feel warm.

This was going to be fun.

A few girls walked in and said hi to Bucky, their flirty skirts and seductive eyes didn’t stray the young man from looking at Steve with his own glances. He gave them a slight wave and a “hey” that resembled more a sigh than anything.

The class started soon after and Steve went through the syllabus.

“Alright, there will not be a midterm.” There was a collective sigh in the class, “But three times this semester I will do a notebook check which will count for your participation marks, and two quizzes that’ll make up part of the mark that would have gone to a mid term plus two papers.” Then there was a groan.

“I know, I know, but it'll be spread out. I won’t be that professor who pushes everything till the last minute. My office hours and listed on the syllabus and you can always send me an email. That includes sending me rough drafts of you papers.” He wrote his email on the board ‘steve.g.rogers@mail.shieldcollege.com’, “I’ll try to get back to you within twenty four hours.”

Bucky quickly wrote it down despite it being on the sheet in front of him. He couldn’t wrap his head around how this professor made him feel. He wasn’t like the cranky, bitter, old professors that are only here because of tenure, he was excited with a smallest tint of nervousness.

He didn’t know how confident Steve could have gotten until he opened his mouth to recap the Civil war. It was if what he was teaching was in his veins instead of blood, able to pull up maps, artistic renditions and charts. Everything was so organized because he knew this content so well, and he looked amazing doing it. The ripple of muscles under that blue button up, how his eyes were framed by those glasses and his smile that shined through while he spoke.

Before Bucky could blink the two hours were over, and Steve said, “Alright, please remember to pick up Eric Foner’s book. It’s one of the best contemporary history textbooks out there and it’s on seventy dollars so it’s a steal.” The blonde gave a small laugh, he looked a bit more nervous now, as if he used all his confidence in his two hours lecture.

Everyone piled out, but Bucky took his time packing away his belongings, he maintained eye contact with Steve.

“Mr. Barnes, what can I help you with?”

Bucky shrugged, “Nope, just getting my things, you know you can call me Bucky.”

Steve looked away for a moment to turn off the computer, “You’ve been staring at me since class ended, do you have a question about the syllabus?”

“Just curious.”

“About what?”

“About you, you spent most of the lesson going on about how art was depicted in the Civil War, isn’t the first class supposed to be an introduction, that’s why my friend, Sam isn’t here.”

Steve shook his head, “The best way to enjoy history is to just jump right in. It’s like looking at a painting, there is no preface for it, any language to describe it is an after thought. That’s why I’m here almost every day, to allow students to have those afterthoughts with me.” He looked up, “Also, tell your friend Sam that he should be coming to every class.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him anything on the syllabus, tell him to find it on his own.” Bucky packed away the rest of his belongings and laughed, “Do we have to call you Steve? Isn’t that a little informal?”

Steve chuckled, “Well, I don’t have a Doctorate and Mr. Rogers makes me sound much older than I am, as you can see I don’t wear sweater vests and asked you to be my neighbour.”

The laugh warmed Bucky, “I guess that makes sense.” He took one last look at Steve’s form, how the first few buttons of the man’s shirt was undone, exposing just the tiniest bit of muscle.

He walked out of class, closed the door behind him. He wanted Steve Rogers.

Shit.

-

He ended up not giving Sam the syllabus, keeping to his promise. He chose to wear a tighter shirt to class the following week.When the two walked in the following week, Sam muttered, “I can see why you keep talking him up like he is some sort of god.” Which earned him a jab in the side from Bucky and forced to sit in the front with his friend.

Steve gave Bucky a once over look, his cheeks stung a little red before he began the class,  “Alright, class. Last week was just a warm up. If you want to focus on the Civil War, please next semester take the class with professor Stark, I know, the man is in the sciences, but he can tell you all about the Civil War and everything that lead up to it. He likes to give different perspectives and playing devil’s advocate, but it’s a good learning experience. There’s debates and group projects, everything. However if you do take part in the debate, people have fought in the parking lot over it.” Steve finished writing on the board the course code.

Steve turned around, “Last week we discussed the beginnings of reconstruction and looked at Eric Foner’s book which I hope you had the chance to pick up. We will be discussing America’s Gilded Age. Now can anyone tell me where this term comes from?”

Bucky shot up his hand, “Mark Twain’s work.”

Steve nodded his head before he took down the screen and started up the computer to project the lecture slides, “Yes, it came from Mark Twain, I am going to assume you know who he is.” The first slide of the power point is the infamous portrait of him.

Steve continued, “But today we will be focusing more on what the gilded Age really meant in terms of American society rather than through the lens of a man who really loved cats.” The class gave a small laugh, “I don’t dislike Twain, but if you want to talk about him more there are enough English classes to give you that.”

Sam poked Buck's arm, “Hey man, should we be taking notes?”

Bucky nodded his head, “He does notebook checks.”

Sam gave him a confused look, “We are adults.”

“Does it look like anyone in this twelve person class is really going to be participating in a ten a.m. lecture?”

“Shit.” Sam grumbled before taking out his notebook and a pen from the bottom of his bag.

“This age last from the last eighteen seventies to around nineteen hundred and is often characterized by its corruption and the growth of capitalist greed, as we see in this depiction.” He clicked to the next slide with a satirical comic highlight the greed of factory owners by depicted tired workers carrying their bosses onto the shore.

“However in the more quote unquote ‘art world’ it was overlapping with the impressionist movement, both started around the same time. We get artists like James Abbott McNeill Whistler and his painting ‘The Yellow Room’. Art does hold an important role in American society, that without it we would not have the basis of the traditional sense of culture. Impressionism was and still is the same across all borders, it was a bold approach to capture the emotion of a scene. It was characterized by relatively small, thin, yet visible brush strokes, open composition, emphasis on accurate depiction of light in its changing qualities. It was often accentuating the effects of the passage of time. It focused on ordinary subject matter, inclusion of movement as a crucial element of human perception and experience, and unusual visual angles.” He took a moment to scan the class, before he rolled up his sleeves. He gave a small cough, “Sorry. Anyway back on topic. I won’t be testing you on the role of art in american history, but I find it helpful to view it through a visual lens and how what we perceive as American culture is actually a mix bag of many different cultures, art, ways of life, and so on. And that’s  good thing.”

Bucky kept staring at him with complete fascination. He watched the blonde wield the same power as he began to describe how the impressionist movement affected American culture and rounded back to the historical significance of the gilded age.

He was broken from his thoughts when Sam leaned over and whispered, “Do you think he’s off topic.”

Bucky shrugged, “Don’t know, he’s the professional here.”

After class, Sam asked a few questions about what happened last week, using the “I wasn’t feeling too well” excuse while Bucky stood close by.

When Sam finished, he watched Bucky talk with Steve.

“I found that really interesting, how the laws targeted immigrants from very specific countries. I also really liked how you used those illustrations to really highlight those issues and the feelings at the time. ” Bucky got a little closer, “I guess public school is really good at hiding that.”

“Well, I guess that’s my job then. I- um- well I find it important to document the impact of immigrants, my mother was one and I find it helpful for students to have a connection to the stories and facts they are reading. I tend to look at an immigrant narrative and think of my mother, how given the right opportunity she was able to thrive.”

“Where was your mom from?”

“Ireland.”

“So I guess you can hold your liquor then.” Bucky winked.  

Sam knew Buck's tactics like the back of his hand, he knew how he’d go in and sweet talk, but this wasn’t some guy at the bar, it was their professor.

“Bucky, we have to meet up with Nat, remember we have to be guinea pigs for her psychology assignment.”

“See you later, sir.” Bucky gave Steve a smile before he was practically dragged out of the room by his annoyed friend.

Once outside the class, Bucky made a noise that could be compared to a disappointed dog, “Oh come on, Sam.”

“No, bad Bucky, bad. No flirting with the professor.”

“Can I a little bit?”

“No, Bucky, this is a professor, a man who went to school to teach.”

Bucky stopped him right there, “He was in the army and got this job soon after being discharged.”

Sam gave him a concerned look, “How do you know this? How much trouble did you get into last week?”

Bucky shrugged as they went down the stairs to the main quad, “Nat knows a guy, who knows a guy, who once knew a guy.”

That was code for Natasha got into the system files again. Sam wondered how much Bucky paid Natasha to do that, or what he offered in return, probably some of that nice vodka that they sell in that fancy store off campus.

They found her sitting with her textbook by the steps that lead from the main quad to the science wing.

“Hey Nat!” Sam called which caused her to look up.

“Hey!” She called back before she shut her book and stood up.

They met in the middle of the quad and Bucky handed her the bottle of the nice vodka from that fancy store off campus. Sam was right in his assumption and was proud of that.

“You’re taking bribes now?”

“When wasn’t I taking bribes?” Natasha responded as she put the bottle in her knapsack, “Now come on you two, I have to ask you a bunch of questions about stress during the early months of the semester.”

After they ran through the questions they all got beers at the bar down the road, called “Fossil”. It was a bit grimey around the corners especially around the windows, not the kind of place someone would take a date, but it was cheap and usually had pints on the cheap.

“So about this Steve Rogers guy.” Natasha stated.

Sam rolled his eyes, “He’s like a love sick puppy.”

“I’m trying to play it cool.” Bucky argued as he playfully punched his friend in the arm.

“So try to make a move, he can’t fail you if you hit on him. Plus, it’s a little cute.” Natasha suggested a smile played at his lips.

“Nat, stop encouraging him.”

“Sam, come on, let the guy dream. Who knows maybe you’ll be the number one bachelor on campus if he gets Mr. Hot For Teacher.”

Bucky hid his face, “Don’t call him that.”

“How about Mr. America?” Nat suggested, “Anyway, Sam you’ll be the most eligible bachelor on campus, that title should bring some people willing to throw bird seed in the park with you.”

Sam pointed out, “We all know I got my sights on one person, so it isn’t that most of the female and a large percent of the male population wants him that is the problem.”

Bucky and Nat said in unison, “T’Challa.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Thank for telling everyone in the bar about it.” He gestured over his shoulder to the about four people in the bar, “It’s just, why can’t you go for the people who want you?”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders, “He’s fascinating, I want to know everything. I want to know him and I want him to know me. I like spending time with him and I want to know how far down that blush goes.”

“So, you wanna get him naked and show him a good time?” Natasha asked.

“No there would be cuddling afterwards.”

Natasha nudged him in the side, “You’re getting soft.”

“Shut up.” Bucky drank his beer and tried to come up with a plan to make a move.

-

Bucky made his first move the week after, after he convinced Sam to let him flirt with Steve and ask questions after class.

In exchange Bucky would help Sam gain the courage to talk to T’Challa. Sam couldn’t get a good understanding of him hence it made him nervous, but not nervous enough to ask for Natasha’s hacking assistance, unlike some people.

After class, Sam shot Bucky a look as he left the classroom. He wasn’t entirely happy, but this was the happiest Bucky had looked in a long time. He just didn’t want his best friend to get in trouble, but he had to remind himself that he doesn’t have to take the wheel. If Bucky wanted to fuck Steve that badly, that’s his choice.

“I assume you have more questions, Bucky.” Steve said as he packed his belongings away. He made quick eye contact with Bucky before he turned off his laptop.

“Well, just a few. I know that the next class has to get in here, so let me walk you to your office.” Bucky grinned as he picked up his bag. He must have sounded like a high schooler asking a girl to walk her to her locker, but he couldn’t help it.

“Yeah sure.” Steve pushed up his glasses and put his bag over his shoulder, “So what questions do you have?”

They both exited the classroom and Bucky began to ask, “Well why exactly was the city such a central element in progressive America? Also how did labour and women’s movements challenge the nineteenth century meanings of American freedom?”

“Getting ready for the first paper.” Steve chuckled, “Well.” He began to give an explanation, citing the textbook as a good source to narrow down the idea.

Bucky watched his talk, the way his mouth moved. How he smiled when he cracked a small joke or referenced an art movement during this time period. He watched how his cheeks got warm and moved his glasses back up his face every once in awhile.

He was so enamoured that he didn’t even notice the girls that walked the opposite direction greeting him, he only noticed because Steve gave them a small wave, but Bucky didn’t mind with them.

He nodded along to what Steve had to say and piped in when he could, he did do all the readings after all. He enjoyed hearing what his professor had to say, he looked so happy and in turn that made Bucky happy. It was a warmth that blossomed in his chest and melted through his veins like syrup.

When they got to his office, Steve looked at his watch and his eyes went wide, “Oh shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’d let you stay, but I have to go to a meeting. I realize that emails won’t cut it, here’s my cell number.” Steve quickly got out a shred of paper and a pen from his pocket. He quickly wrote down my phone number, “If you have any questions or concerns or if you’re having issues in general let me know. You’re a good guy, Bucky and college can be hard for everyone.” He gave Bucky a smile

Bucky dubbed the ‘All American Smile’, it was pure, innocent and made him want to salute it. The other man nodded his head, “Yeah, sure, of course. Holy shit, thank you.” He grabbed the piece of paper from Steve.

“Have a good rest of your week, I hope to see the outline of your paper. Remember to tell Wilson that the first notebook check is coming up at the end of the month.” Then walked away from Bucky to the faculty wing of the building.

Buck couldn’t help but have a little pep in his step. He raced back to meet up with Sam at the library to show him what got from Steve, a ten digit phone number that allowed him to talk to Steve anytime. It couldn’t get better than this.

He of course texted Steve that night.

To Steve: [7:05 pm] Hey, it’s me, Bucky. I was wondering how you were doing

He got a response almost instantly.

To Bucky: [7:05 pm] Enjoying the last little bit of time I have before assignments get handed in

To Bucky: [7:06 pm] The football game on television, The New York Giants are playing.

Bucky smiled to himself as he turned on the radio in his dorm to find the sports channel, he wasn’t able to have a television as the room was too cramped, but he made do with the small battery powered radio that he bought at a garage sale before moving in.

To Steve: [7:07 pm] Fox Sports right?

To Bucky: [7:08 pm] Why, are you watching?

To Steve: [7:08 pm] Yeah, New England just got a touchdown.

To Bucky: [7:08 pm] Don’t remind me :(

Bucky laughed as he put the radio closer to him and took out his textbooks from under the bed. They continued to text one another throughout the game, most of the time not even talking about the game unless the Giants got a touchdown, while Bucky sat on his bed with his textbooks scattered across it as he began to do his assignments for his other classes. Once he got through his work and the game ended, he was going to call Sam about this.

They continued to talk long after the game ended, small casual things about home, interests, the sci-fi novel that Bucky was attempting to get through but had to stop due to school work.

To Bucky: [1:04 am] Goodnight, good luck on your project for that engineering class, I hope the work for my class isn’t interfering with your other assignments, and I don’t mean those old garage sale pulp books, haha.

To Steve: [1:04 am] Don’t worry, I’m a student, I could bullshit my way out of a paper bag.

To Bucky [1:04 am] That’s not very assuring, I am an educator, specifically your educator, remember?

To Steve [1:04 am] Don’t worry, I never bullshit your class. You make it too interesting to bullshit :)

On the other end of the line, in a small apartment close to campus. Steve lied in bed with the small television blaring in front of the bed, turned to his side and faced his phone while his golden retriever, Scamp, get comfortable on the other side.

Steve blushed at the recent text, the compliment that was propped up as a joke made his face feel warm and his heart stagger in pace, a small uptick for a moment.

He thought about the last text when he put his phone down and turned to face the other direction, “Hey Scamp.”

The dog’s ears perked up at the mention of his name.

“That student, Bucky, he wouldn’t have a crush on me, would he?”

Scamp made a noise and curled up onto the bed. Steve rolled over his back and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. He felt a twitch under his skin, in his fingers to reach for his phone again and send one last text, to be the last text Bucky read before bed.

Did he want Bucky to have feelings for him? Was he really that gone for the student with the long hair and the stunning grey eyes. The realization began to bubble up in his chest, that Bucky wasn’t being nice, he wanted Steve. But Steve was questioning if he wanted to be with the other man and if so, how badly?

Steve reached down and petted along Scamp’s fur before he laid back down and fell asleep.

-

Bucky felt so close to Steve's body, his arms were loosely around Steve’s waist as he kissed up along his back. The kisses were soft, wet marks across the other man’s pale shoulders and the muscular expanse of his back.

It made Steve shiver and his cock jolt to full mass. Steve sighed dreamily, “Bucky.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Don’t wear it out.” There was another kiss placed on the junction between his shoulder and neck, a sweet spot that always made the blonde squirm.

The mess of hands along his skin made Steve’s head feel full of a hazy lust, how they felt sliding up his chest, down his back, along the junction of his thighs, even as it brushed up against more sensitive areas, the places that gave him goosebumps.

“You ready?” Steve questioned as he looked over his shoulder.

“I don’t know, are you ready?” Bucky smiled, that charming smile that made Steve want to groan but also kiss him silly.

He got a good look at Bucky and saw the toned muscle that poorly hid under those tight shirts he wore to every class, how he’d bend over and pick things up once in awhile that drove Steve up the wall out of pure want and need for the other man.

“I’ve been ready for this for a while now.” The words tumbled out of Steve’s mouth as he buried his face deeper into his pillow. The soft cotton of the case felt good against his hot skin.

Bucky knew how to push his buttons. Wind him up like a toy and send him off, with those cute smiles and informed questions. He knew that he was just taking this course for a requirement, but he cared so much and even asked questions about the rambles Steve went on about art movements and their importance. Even to smaller points like brushstrokes and angles. He was so damn charming that the feeling of his hands along Steve’s skin sent his brain into overdrive as it clouded with lust. Like a fan trying to get rid of fog from a fog machine only to fail and become consumed by it.

“That’s good to hear.”, Bucky slowly slid into Steve and kept a steady hand on the bottom of Steve’s back. He gave it a soft pat as he fully inserted himself into the blonde.

Steve’s hole clenched around Bucky’s cock, it felt like heaven with every nerve ending coming alive, his whole body buzzed with want.

“I think I love you.” Bucky’s voice was close to Steve’s ear. Hot breath against hotter skin, the blonde was so flushed by their intimacy.

Bucky’s hand trailed down and brushed along his cock before he took a full grasp of it.

“You’re beautiful. I’m love with you.”

“I think I love you too.” Steve whispered.

Steve quickly woke up, the t-shirt he wore stuck to his body along with the blonde hair to his forehead. He felt painfully hard and it didn’t go away as he laid back down. He groaned and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. Everything felt so real and so good.

Fuck, he really was gone for James “Bucky” Barnes.

-

After class two weeks later, Bucky walked with Steve to his office again. Steve was reluctant at first, but realized that Bucky had some interesting questions and preferred to have the discussion in his own office where he wasn’t interrupting another class getting in. Steve thanked him for carrying his bag and took it from the other man. He took a look at how Buck's shirt fit across his chest, how nicely the fabric pulled across it.

“Hey, I was wondering if I could stick around. It’s been hard to find quiet places to work and I want to get started on this assignment.”

Steve unlocked the door to his office and said, “Fine by me, but you can’t look at the upcoming quiz, got it?” He attempted to give Bucky a stern look.

“Don’t worry, I won’t cheat.” Bucky flashed him a blinding smile before he followed Steve into the office.

Inside the office was rather spacious, with books that lined the bookshelf and canvases that rested against the wall.

“You’ve got some nice art there.”

Steve smiled, as he gave a quick look at Buck's ass before trailing up to the other man’s back, “I painted them myself, I haven’t had the time to hang them up yet. The first two are from my apartment window and the other two are from the park. I used to paint a lot more, but I’m just content with sketching now.”

“I’d love to see more of your work one day.” Bucky smiled as he put the canvases back in their proper place.

Steve blushed and put his bags by the door then closed the door behind him. He took out his folder labeled “Quiz #1” and placed it on the desk along with his laptop. He yawned before sitting down.

“So what are you studying anyway?”

“Engineering.” Bucky shrugged.

“And you’re taking a history class?” Steve looked away from his laptop to the student sitting in the chair across from him.

“I like you, you’re a really good professor.”

Steve looked down as he felt a blush forming on his face, “Oh, thank you.” He had to be professional about this.

After a half an hour passed of small chit-chat before there was a knock on the door, Steve got up and answered it. On the other side was Dr. Bruce Banner from the chemistry department.

“Oh, hey Bruce.” Steve smiled as he exited the office.

Bucky looked away from his textbook to overhear their conversation, the door was open so it wasn’t private.

“How is your first few weeks going?”

“Better than expected, I didn’t realize the classes were so small, printed out a hundred outlines before I even for my class list.” He chuckled.

“Well, if you don’t change anything you’ll eventually use all of them.” Bruce responded with a chuckle of his own, “Am I keeping you from anything?”

“I have a student in my office, I was thinking of maybe trying to see if I could get some lunch.”

Bucky leaned a little closer.

“I forgot it at home and I don’t want to take the time away from him, he’s a good student and I don’t want to deprive him of that.”

Bruce made a soft noise, “I can’t advise that considering-”

Steve shrugged, “Teaching is more important, these kids paid good money.”

“Kids? You’re not that much older than some of them.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “You know what I mean, why is tuition so expensive.”

“Not all of us got our education thanks to the military and grants.” Bruce responded, “Just take care of yourself Steve, I don’t want to find you in the clinic because you passed out.” He looked over Steve’s shoulder to Bucky, who quickly looked back down to his book, “Well, I’ll leave it to you, remember Steve, you might be strong, but some of those illnesses are still there.”

Steve returned and closed the door behind him, he sat back down at his desk and continued to go through the quiz questions.

Bucky needed to do something about that, he can’t let Steve starve like that! He felt this urge deep in his gut to provide for Steve, take care of him.

“Hey, Steve.” Bucky started.

Steve looked up, “Yeah.”

“Is it cool if I grab some lunch real quick?”

Steve nodded his head, “Go right ahead.” He gave Bucky a smile that made the other man’s heart leap.

When Bucky left, Steve covered his head with his hands. He had to be professional, he had an inkling that Bucky was hitting on him.

He knew the reputation that Bucky had, many people wanted him. They thought he was handsome, smart and a little mysterious, and Steve couldn’t disagree with that. Despite been nervous about having Bucky around, he actually enjoyed it. He was a straight A student that asked the right questions.

He realized that the sharp smiles, nice gestures and complimentary words were getting to Steve’s head, but the thing is that Steve didn’t mind, at least the emotional, irrational side of him didn’t.

Buck soon returned with not one burrito, but two in hand along with a drink and a small salad.

Steve looked at the food back to Bucky, “You sure do eat a lot, well I guess you must work out like what, eight times a day.” He chuckled. He swallowed hard for a moment when he got a good look at the curl of Bucky’s arm as he carried the food.

“Oh, this isn’t all for me. I got something for you, I didn’t know what you’d like so I stayed away from the spicy stuff.” He placed one of the burritos on the desk along with the bottle drink, “I overheard what you said to Doctor Banner about you forgetting lunch.”

Steve smiled and gave a nod of his head, “Thank you, I may have changed a lot since my time in the army, but I’m still in a few ways sick, so I appreciate this.”

Bucy acted surprised, “You were in the army?”

“I got discharged and ended up finishing my masters in history, Doctor Banner is the reason why I got the job, thought I’d make a good change for the faculty, considering I think most of the other history professors saw the German invasion of France.” He chuckled as he unwrapped the tin foil from the burrito.

Bucky chuckled along with him before he took a huge bite into the burrito, he kept an eye on Steve.

“Have you begun studying for you quiz yet, and made sure your notes are in order. They’re both next week.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already started, it’s covering everything before world war one right?”

“Yeah, we will be spending a few weeks on those two wars. Those were my specialties in school.” Steve looked away, slightly flustered.

“You know you sound really confident when you talk about.

“It’s like I forget how nervous I am, it’s like when blowing up a balloon, but eventually I deflate and I enjoy just having one on one conversations with students.” He shrugged before he bit into the burrito.

“Well, you’re doing a good job. Best class I have this semester.”

“Thank you, Bucky.”  Steve blushed and it really made Bucky want to know how far that blush went down.

When they finished lunch, Bucky said he had to get ready to go to work.

“Thank you visiting me, Bucky. I hope to hear from you soon.” Steve held up his phone, “I don’t think anyone has ever texted you as much as you have.”

Bucky broke out into a grin, “Well, I hope to continue my record.” Then walked away.

Steve closed his office door behind him, he think he might just be gone for Bucky.

-

Bucky found Natasha in the library without Sam.

“Where’s Sam?”

She looked up from her textbook, “Finally got the courage to talk to T’Challa after class, two of them are grabbing lunch.”

Bucky sat down beside Natasha, “I think I should ask Steve out.”

“You know Sam said that exact same thing to me, I’m glad you are all figuring your shit out.”

“I mean it.”

“Then what’s stopping you.”

“I’ve gone in too deep, I spend practically every office hours with him and it’s not even like we’re talking about history, he’s this artist, like he paints and draws and does all kinds of amazing work. And, it’s not like he’s hard on the eyes either, it’s like I want to congratulate him on his face.”

“Then take a chance, figure out your battle strategy and then congratulate him on his face.”

Bucky chuckled, “Thanks for the pep talk.” then sat across from  Natasha and began to text Steve about next week’s office hours.

To Steve: [3:30 pm] You have office hours next week?

To Bucky: [3:31 pm] Yep, same time, same place. See you then :)

-

The following Monday came by and everyone handed in their notebooks for marks and were handed the quiz in return.

Bucky spent the last week coming up with his ‘battle strategy’ and decided to be bold about it, it wasn’t like him to beat around the bush so why do it when asking Steve out.

He finished his quiz quite quickly, but remained at his seat. He began to doodle along the edges of the page. He couldn’t get how beautiful Steve’s artwork was, beautiful work for a beautiful man Bucky thought. When he took notes in class he’d have his own little sketches, he was a bit hesitant at first to hand in his notebook, but he managed to incorporate it into plan.

Steve sat up at the front, making quick work to go through each of these notebooks. Anyone who had more than one page of writing would get a student full marks.

For a moment he realized that he didn’t have to really go through Bucky’s notebook, but for appearances sake went through it anyway. He noticed that one of the pages had a pretty well done sketch of himself, even getting the details of his hair and glasses right.

Bucky did have feelings for him! He closed the notebook quickly and gave him the extra marks. He looked up to the other man to find those grey eyes staring back at him. He gave him a smile as he felt his pulse racing under his skin.

Once he went through the books he had some time, he took out his own sketchbook and began to do his own doodling once he saw Bucky not looking at him.

They kept up the routine of Bucky going to his office. Steve brought in leftover Chinese food for the two of them as a way to thank him for last week. He only mentioned it after the quiz so Bucky could keep focused on the task.

He’d was now keenly aware of the feelings that Bucky had for him, and he knows his own feelings for the other man. But, he wasn’t expecting for it to be brought up so quickly.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out on a date with me?” Bucky asked trying to capture a casual tone.

Steve took a forkful of the greasy noodles and sighed, “Bucky, I can’t say yes.”

“But why, we make such a good team, we have fun together, I’ll take you somewhere nice.”  Bucky gave his award winning grin. It made Steve’s knees a little weak, but he had to be firm on this.

He didn’t want to Bucky’s academic success riding on the fact that they were together and he didn’t want to lose his job.

He gestured the fork to Bucky, “How about this, you ace the second quiz and the finals and I’ll take you out to dinner.”

Bucky leaned a little closer, “You mean it?”

Steve nodded his head, “It’s good to give students a little motivation.” He was totally gone for James Barnes, and honestly if they can make it through the rest of the semester he’ll be okay with being with him. That didn’t discount any teasing. They couldn’t make out on campus, but he could give Bucky a little nudge to do well.

And thus began the devilish streak that Bucky would have never suspected this hot blonde of a  history professor to have.

-

To Bucky: [11:45 am] Two weeks till finals. You nervous?

To Steve [11:47 am] Nope, just busy.

To Bucky [11:47 am] Can I send you something?

To Steve [11:47 am] Sure

To Bucky [11:50 am] (Photo attachment sent)

This had been going on for a few weeks, Bucky was so used to the timid, blushing professor he wasn’t expecting the little devil that was inside of him. It started out with cute little text messages, giving him motivation to do well on his papers, assignments, quizzes and everything. Usually countdowns made him nervous, but they were always attached with a photo, the closer time came, the more suggestive they were.

Bucky quickly opened the message to find a photo of Steve, lounging on his couch on his stomach, wearing just his boxers, the shot showed his half smile, bareback and, covered ass.

Bucky was so fucked.

He never thought he could masturbate or study as hard and as frequently as he did.

He quickly got another photo, this time Steve stood in his underwear, in the full length mirror in his apartment. He can see every muscle on Steve’s body, how good the blonde looked.

Bucky remembered when Steve was nervous about sending photos, until Bucky sent some of himself with the text, ‘if we go down, we go down together. I’d rather lose my scholarship then lose out on dating you’, and ever since then it had been nothing but teasing from Steve.

To Steve [12:00 pm] I think I’ve created a monster

To Bucky [12:00 pm] What do you mean?

To Steve [12:01 pm] I mean that I thought you were some cute professor, I didn’t know you were some kinky fucker

To Bucky [12:01 pm] Well, I can’t wait to take you out somewhere nice, to see you again. As you said, if we go down, we go together. I think that was the last straw.

To Bucky [12:01 pm] I really like you, and I want you. I Haven’t been with anyone in a long time.

To Bucky [12:02 pm] (Photo attachment Sent) I want you, Bucky, and I can’t wait to say that to your face.

The photo wasn’t one in a sexual nature, it was of Steve sitting at his desk, chewing on the edge of a pen with his glasses on, he looked like he was working now. Yet, the photo was still arousing to Bucky as he laid out on his shitty bed, cock hard in his sweatpants. He pulled down the sweatpants and quickly took a picture of his hard cock with the caption, ‘two more weeks until I ruin you with this, then you can tell me how much you love me to my face.’

To Bucky [12:05 pm] Can’t wait till the final exam, I hope you can ace it ;)

-

The day of the final exam came, end of the semester. Somehow, someway Bucky had been able to pull of doing well not only in Steve’s class, but also in all of his others. Sam joked that he did have a habit of thinking with his cock.

He wanted Steve so badly, the teasing and the texts, along with the photos were driving him up the wall, he had two folders on his computer filled with photos that Steve sent him. He was still surprised by how once Steve got into it, he really got into it.

“Alright, class. I am so thankful for having you this semester and I hope you continue your journey in the humanities or whatever field you are in. I am proud of you and I know you’ll do great on the exam. You’ll have two hours to complete it, starting… Now.” He hit the time for two hours and every began to frantically write on the paper.

Within the first hour a few people had already began to hand in their exams and file out, the look on their faces told them that they had given up, but Bucky wasn’t giving up just yet. He had this, it’s just that getting an A on an exam takes time.

Bucky couldn't help but let his mind wander when he’d occasionally look up at Steve. Last night he sent Bucky a picture of him in a jockstrap and Bucky thought he’d never orgasm again after how hard he finished when he masturbated to that photo.

Bucky swallowed hard and scratched at his collar as he circled another multiple choice answer that asked him about the main social movements of the nineteen sixties.

He knew he had to focus, but he couldn’t help it. Steve looked so good even with his head buried in his phone. How soft his hair looked, how kissable his lips were, how easily he could wrap his arms around the blonde's waist. He was a dream come true and he could only make it a reality if he aces the exam. But he knew he was getting a treat after he finished the exam, just a little taste of the blonde and that gave him motivation to finish a little faster.

He finished in an hour and forty minutes. A grin plastered on his face as he wrote down the last sentence.

Bucky slammed the test down on the front desk loud enough that most of the students looked up. He gave Steve a stern look, he mouthed, “Your office.” Before he went back to his seat to grab his pencil and school ID. He picked up his bag from the front and left to Steve’s office.

Steve felt flustered as he went back to mindlessly examining his papers, Bucky really didn’t mean that right?

-

When he walked into his office after the exam was finished, he found Bucky in tight red and black briefs and socks. His feet propped up on top of his desk as he gazed down at leatherbound book. He looked up and smiled, “Hello, sir.”

“Bucky, why do you have no clothes on. I thought you were joking.”

“Nope, I’m here to finally take you.” Bucky said nonchalantly as he turned the page, attention back on the book.

“Bucky, you should probably buy me a drink first.” He gave a slight tease, still surprised by seeing his very attractive student with such little clothes on. He quickly closed the door and locked it.

Bucky reached down, his gaze back on the book, and held up a bottle of wine from the corner store.

Steve rolled his eyes, “Are my lines really that predictable.”

“Not really, things like this took me off guard.” Bucky turned the book to face Steve.

It was Steve’s sketchbook.

“You’ve been thinking about me.” Bucky smirked as he dragged a finger across one of the sketches of himself that littered the page.

Steve blushed, it ran down his neck and across his chest, Bucky could only imagine how far it spread. The blonde teacher stammered, “It’s not like…” He sighed, “Yes I have been thinking about you, I’m pretty sure the hundreds of text messages made that clear. But, I’d like to wine and dine with you before I get in your pants.”

“Oh come on, sir, you promised.”

“I promised a date, not sex.” Steve put his belongings down by the floor.

Bucky put the bottle back down on the floor and got up, “You’ve been teasing me for weeks now. We both want it, why not live a little.” He rounded the desk and backed Steve up against it.

“Fine, but I’m in charge.” Steve tried to establish.

Bucky ignored him and pressed a filthy kiss against his lips, caging the blonde against the desk.

Steve trembled with desire and from holding back for so long. He tried again as he gazed down at Bucky’s wet lips, “I’m… I’m in charge.”

Bucky chuckled and grabbed a hold of Steve’s blue shirt and pulled him into another kiss. Bucky was in charge this afternoon.

Steve whimpered and melted, he was immediately ready to give up any chance at dominating the situation. He was putty in Bucky’s strong, calloused, amazing hands. The kind of hands that were an artist’s wet dream and thankfully for Steve he was an artist.

“Up on the desk, Steve.” Bucky purred.

Steve made quick work of getting things off of the desk so he could lean over it.

Bucky licked his lips at the display of Steve’s ass.How round it looked in this tight dress pants, he had taken a liking to the look of the blonde’s ass, he had seen it enough times clothed or partially clothed to develop a taste for it and wanted to see more.

“Pants off, baby.” Bucky went to his bag and dug around for the lube and condom he put in there, thank you on health services.

Steve groaned at the nickname, it had been a long while since someone called him that with such affection. He made quick work of his belt, tossed it onto his chair, and kept his underwear and dress pants on one ankle. He spread his legs out and looked over his shoulder.

“Shirt too, I want to see how far that blush goes.” Bucky chuckled as he pulled off his underwear. He lubed up his fingers

Steve groaned as he stood up and slowly unbuttoned his shirt before he folded it neatly and placed it on the chair. He bent once again over the desk and wiggled his ass for effect.

“Now you’re just teasing me.” Bucky groaned at the sight before him.

Steve rolled his eyes, “Guess you’re not so cocky anymore, maybe I should top.”

Bucky chuckled, “Not today, I’ve been having fantasies about this ass for the longest time. It’s just amazing.”

Steve blushed and buried his face in his arms.

“There’s that blush.” Bucky smiled, he saw how is trailed all the way down the blonde’s neck and chest, “Wow, it really does go far down.”

Bucky slowly lubed up his fingers before at an equal pace pushed into Steve, he earned himself a muffled groan and the sight of the blonde’s arched back. Like an angel out of a renaissance painting.

“Ever done this before?”

Steve nodded his head, “Just not in here.”

“Well, I’m honoured then to be your first and hopefully your only.” He began to move his fingers quickly, they didn’t have all the time in the world. Even though the university was next to dead, someone could come in.

And that turned Bucky on even more.

Bucky continued to finger him, slowly opening up his hole until Steve was whining under him. He inserted a third finger which caused the blonde to buck his hips up in the hopes of getting more of the sensation that was crawling all over his body.

“You’re so tight, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to fit my cock in here. But, I think I might stand a chance considering how well you’re opening up for me.”

“More, more. Please, Buck.”

Bucky added a fourth finger, moving at a quick pace this time, but kept aware if Steve started to show any discomfort.

“Bucky, fuck you feel so good. I don’t think I’ve ever been fingered like that.” Steve groaned.

Bucky chuckled, slowing down his pace just slightly to earn a moan from Steve, “Aw, don’t inflate my ego like that.”

Steve opened an eye at Bucky, “I wouldn’t bet on it.” But let out another moan as Bucky picked up his pace once more. Little jolts of pleasure shot up his spine with every thrust of Bucky’s fingers, they were like a work of art.

Steve could paint Bucky like this and never get it right. The passion that Bucky held in his eyes as he continued to finger him, the careful precision as he stretched Steve to accommodate his cock. Don’t get him started on how his cock looked, Steve had seen his fair share of the male form both in school, in the army and being on the internet, but never had he wanted to sketch, paint, examine and showcase how amazing Bucky’s cock looked in art. It sounded cheesy, but his mind was slowly getting dragged into the warm of pleasure.

“You ready for me, Steve?” Bucky’s voice brought him back as he slowly took out his fingers.

Steve groaned at the sudden loss, “Yeah, come on, fuck.”

Bucky chuckled, “Have I ever heard you swear before? I don’t think so.”

“Don’t tease me.” Steve arched his back.

“It’s only fair considering that you teased me.” Bucky gripped onto Steve’s ass and gave it a tight squeeze. He rounded the man to get a good look at his face.

“That was all fun and games, plus we don’t have much time. We really shouldn’t be doing it here.” Deep down Steve wanted to do it in his desk.

Bucky kissed Steve’s cheek, “Don’t worry, I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll feel like time is slowing down.”

“Oh, stop that.” Steve buried his face in his arms in an attempt to hide the darker blush that was growing across his face.

“Words like that get to you.” Bucky smirked.

“Shut up.”

Bucky licked his lips at the sight of the blush, it growing darker the longer the two of them spent like this. He slowly stoked his cock as he covered it with lube.

“You look amazing.” He sighed out as he continued to rub his cock.

“You tease.” Steve mumbled into his arms.

Bucky stopped and got back behind the blonde. He slowly pushed his cock inside of Steve, the tight feeling around his cock made him harder. It was a feeling he had never felt before, he’s been with guys and girls alike, but the situation and the build up had lead up to this and it felt so damn good.

“We shouldn’t be doing this here.” Steve groaned as he was being pushed up against the desk even more only to be dragged away immediately after, keeping in pace with Bucky’s thrusts. His self preservation was almost gone as he felt himself grow harder at the sensation, at the feeling of Bucky completely dominating him.

“Yet, we’re here. You’re all nice and bent over and I’m fucking you right into the wood.”

Steve responded, “Next time, I top.”

Bucky gave Steve a nice swat on the ass, “Alright, baby, whatever you say.” Then gave a hard thrust, his cock nudged against Steve’s prostate. Steve scrambled to cover his mouth as he let out a sultry moan. It felt so good and sparked this small fire in his stomach, to do something wrong and inappropriate. After spending so much time in the military maybe he needed to something on the wrong side of ethics, not illegal just frowned upon. At least with the semester over he was able to do more of this, except maybe in the comfort of his own bed and not the hard wood of the desk.

“If you top next time, you’ll still be making those same noises you’re holding back now.” Bucky purred, his voice was hot against Steve’s already burning ears.

“Shut up.” Steve squeaked out, his voice was a little too high pitched from his liking, thanks to another brush of Bucky’s cock against his sweet spot.

Bucky smirked and began to thrust harder, “You like that?”

Steve felt his knees begin to shake as he nodded his head, not confident in his ability to pronounce words.

Bucky dipped his head and began to kiss at Steve’s skin, it felt sweaty against his lips, but it didn’t matter to him. After months of pining over this man, he was finally getting what he wanted, to just have Steve Rogers close to him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He groaned as he nipped at the skin.

“Shit, Bucky, please.” Steve croaked out. He felt his body tense up as he got closer to orgasming. He didn’t want Bucky to stop, his head felt clouded with lust and a need for the other man.

He never thought he’d ever get this far with him, he was too skittish for a while, but those beautiful eyes, soft hair and shining smile had him weak in the knees, and it wasn’t like this kid was dull. Cracking jokes, flirty gazes and always asked the right questions. After being on his own with Scamp for some time, it was everything Steve needed in a companion, a partner… A boyfriend.

“You’re amazing, you feel so good.” Bucky groaned.

Bucky thrusted, his hands planted against the smooth, pale flesh of Steve’s hips. His eyes casted down to how the blonde’s ass looked as he fucked him harder. The slight jiggle of his ass with every thrust caused an electric feeling to run down his spine.

Fuck, he was perfect.

He picked up the pace, going fast enough that he knew that Steve’s beautiful thighs and hips were going to be bruised tomorrow morning due to how hard he was being pushed up against the hardwood. The desk moved ever so slightly forward with each thrust.

Steve began to feel the pleasure washing over him in larger waves, ready to pull him under and make him orgasm. He was surprised by how well Bucky knew how to maneuver him, how to make him feel so good. Maybe Steve was a simple man with simple ways to get off, but his mind wasn’t to that. It was instead focused on the orgasm he was chasing.

“Buck, Buck.” He groaned out as quiet as he could like a mantra.

“Yeah, baby, I’m here. I’m going to make you feel so good.” Bucky said as he took a tighter hold of Steve’s hips. He loved how smooth the skin felt under his touch, how pale it looked as it was always hidden under tight fitting dress pants.

“Bucky, I’m gonna, I’m gonna come real soon.” Steve groaned out, his socked toes curled as Bucky’s cock brushed against his sweet spot again.

Bucky grinned, the slight desperation in his voice only encouraged him to fuck Steve hard, making sure to aim for the sweet spot just to give Steve that edge he needed. He could imagine himself doing this more often. To bare witness to how beautiful Steve looked when he let his professionalism down and acted a bit on the risky side. Only he got to strip away the edges of the blonde, beautiful history professor and see the tease that haunted his dreams since the day they first met.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Bucky kissed along the shell of the other man’s ear, he felt how hot and red it was against his lips. How the blush he always fantasized about went as high on his body as it did low. It only added to the undeniable charm that Steve had, even if he never noticed it, “I’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you.”

“No I’m not.” Steve gave a feeble response.

Bucky gave an extremely hard thrust, it caught Steve off guard, “You’re beautiful and don’t forget it.”

Steve only responded in a groan, wrapped up in his goal to achieve orgasm.

Steve quickly covered his mouth with his hand, gritted his teeth as he jerked his hips to get him over the edge, to reach his climax. He let out a strained moan as pleasure washed over him and he came all over his stomach and the desk.

He brain felt fried, his cock sensitive and his body was still shaking. Fuck, he was wrecked.

“That’s it, that’s it, baby. I’m close behind you.” Bucky sighed into Steve’s neck as he continued to thrust his hips. Steve felt so laxed against him, but yet his hole still clenched around him.

Bucky kissed along Steve’s neck, tasting the salt on his sweaty skin. He felt heavenly, better than any fantasy he could ever come up with. With a few more hard thrust of his hips, he lets out a low groan before biting Steve’s neck, leaving a nice red hickey just above where the neck and collarbone meet.

“Bucky.”

“Yeah, baby.”

Steve turned his head as much as he could as smiled, his expression looked so blissed out. With his eyes shut and breathing that came out is hard pants along with the mess on his abdomen.

“Oh baby, fuck yeah.” He groaned out as he felt a shiver crawl up his spine and his orgasm caused his head to swirl.

Steve let out a blissed out sigh and mumbled, “Fuck that felt good.”

“You could say that again.” Bucky responded as he wiped the sweat away from his forehead.

“I’m keeping you that’s for sure.” Steve chuckled, “I think you’re stuck with me for good.”

“Sounds like a plan.”, Bucky slowly pulled out, feeling the stickiness of the lube and his own cum coat his cock. He was still feeling the after shivers of orgasm. He peeled off the condom and wrapped it in tissues.

Steve panted as he grabs some tissues off the desk, “I never, ever want you to take a class with me again.” He wiped away the cum on his stomach and off the desk. That desk was going to smell like cum for the next semester, even if it doesn’t Steve would still it does.

Bucky looked a bit disappointed, he felt as if his heart had begun to break. Did Steve only want him for this one time? Was all the lead up to this and that was it?

“I don’t mean it like that.” He reached out for one of the papers on the stack still on the desk. It’s an academic map, he handed it to Bucky, “If you want or do take anymore history courses here’s what you can take. If you don’t take a class from me you’ll graduate faster and then we won’t have to hide this.” He sat up on the desk, “I don’t want to do that to you.”

Bucky broke out into a grin, “I knew you were into me, but that was really bad post-sex talk.”  before he leaned over and pressed another filthy kiss on Steve’s lips which made the blonde moan.

“Sorry about that, but hey, you got me.” Steve smiled finally catching his breath.He reached for his sweater put it back on, “So, how does seven o’clock next Thursday at the McGilligan's pub sound? All the students will be back home by then.”

“Sounds great! So what are you doing for the holidays?”

Steve shrugged, “Home with my dog, my folks are long gone by now. What about you?”

Bucky pulled on his red henley and zipped up his hoodie, “Not on the best terms with my family so I’ll be in my dorm.”

Steve thought about it for a moment, “When the semester is done and we had our first date, would you want to maybe spend the holidays with me? You don’t have to say yes, I know you have some friends who you’d probably wanting to hang out with.”

Bucky shook his head, “Sam’s out in DC to see his parents. Nat is going back to Russia to see her mom, Clint is going with her and we all have bets to see if he’s going to come back alive.” He lightly chuckled, “So I’m pretty much by myself with enough hot ramen and plums.”

“Plums?” Steve chuckled.

“They were at the last farmer’s market in the quad, they taste good okay.”

Steve pulled up his pants and walked over to Bucky, there was a slight limp in his step. He kissed Bucky on the lips and wrapped his arms around his waist, “Well, bring whatever you need, I’ll be taking care of you this holiday season.”

“I like the sound of that.” Bucky smiled, he was a little smug at Steve’s slight limp, knowing that he alone caused that. He snaked a hand down Steve’s back and groped his ass, “Christmas morning there better be a bow around this.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Still snarky.”

“And you’re still so gone for me.”

Maybe history wasn’t as dry as Bucky originally thought, especially when he got the bright red “A” a few weeks later and the directions to get to Steve’s apartment.

[eddiekasp]

Must Be a Better Word- Ch10

Love. There must be A better word. -Adam Gillon

OMG I’m so excited to share this next chapter since there are so many new It/Reddie fans on here after the movie came out!! And as always, sorry for not updating for a bit. I promise I’ll always be continuing this though!

My writing is also on ao3 if you wanna check it out there!

Richie’s room was perpetually messy. The floor could only be seen in small patches, the way sun peeks through leaves in a forest. The rest was covered by a thick sheet of clothing, candy wrappers, notes, papers from school dating back six years ago, comic books, video game boxes, and half-filled water bottles that crunched softly if stepped on.

Richie’s mother never bothered to tell her son to clean his room any more than she ever told him to brush his hair. She never bothered more than she bothered to do… well, anything really. And his father never looked up for long enough to notice. Because of this, the only one to even comment about his disorderly living space was Eddie.

Richie tried to clean up every time he knew Eddie was coming over. His bathroom, which was attached to the wall on the left side of his bed, had a trashcan in which Richie could quickly gather wrappers and bottles to toss into if needed. He could gather papers together into a haphazard pile to shove into the corner of his room. He could kick the sea of soiled shirts and pants into a crevice under the bed frame, and there was his hardwood flooring.

He often wondered to himself why he didn’t just do this daily. Somehow-- he truly could not give an explanation of how if he tried-- his room would return back to normal about an hour after each time his boyfriend would leave. He would toss the clothes into the middle of his room while searching for a particular pajama shirt to wear to bed, and somehow papers from the 5th Grade that he would have no reason to be touching would end up right on top of the clothes. There was no explanation for it.

Eddie could only stay out of the know for a couple weeks before Richie stopped cleaning his room in preparation for his arrival. When Eddie first walked in, he had to step gingerly on his tippy toes not to crunch on a chocolate wrapper or get his feet caught in the leg of a pair of jeans. He could see Richie’s curly locks remained unbrushed as well, sticking up left and right, as he sat on his (unmade) bed waiting for Eddie’s arrival.

“Sorry, Eds. I know it’s pretty gross. Stan would have a cow if he ever saw it, don’t you think?” Richie said comfortably, with a smile perking up the corners of his mouth. He admittedly felt a bit guilty, hoping Eddie would never have to see the full extent of the squalor Richie usually spent his time in, but Eddie didn’t mind, besides the fact of wanting to help out.

Eddie laughed too. “Yeah, definitely. Do you want me to help you clean up?”

Richie looked around his room, and raised his eyebrows. “I think that would be an all day project, my love. Maybe more than just one.”

Eddie sat down on Richie’s bed next to him, not bothering to take off his sneakers after seeing Richie had his own on. He crossed his knees under him. “I don’t really mind. We don’t have to if you… like it like this, though.” Richie laughed at the boy’s attempt to be subtle and spare his feelings. “God Eddie, you’re such a cutie, y’know that?” He broke into his Southern Belle voice. “You ain’t gotta help lil old me! Why, you’re just as sweet as sugar, sugar!” He fanned himself with a copy of The Great Gatsby that sat open on his bed, two pages in the middle nearly crumpled into balls.

Eddie smiled subtly, feeling heat burn softly in his face as Richie scooted behind him to sling his arms around Eddie’s front. Eddie looked around the room again. “I think if we actually cleaned everything, it might help you stay clean after. If we do it together we can go see Jurassic Park at the Aladdin after.”

Richie cheered at that idea before asking if Eddie could brush out his hair. He was lazy and the feeling of Eddie touching and running his fingers through his hair gave him butterflies. Eddie liked doing it too, so he grabbed a comb and slowly brushed out the dark mop on Richie’s head. It had grown out long by now, a bit past his ears, and tangled almost as quickly as it had been brushed. Eddie had to be watchful, as the red plastic comb bent and buckled under the pull of knots and tangles; he did not want the thing to snap in half. Eddie loved it though; it was effortlessly soft and always the perfect place to rest his hands. Richie quipped a couple times that Eddie was pulling his hair, so Eddie went slowly, needing to wet certain pieces in order for him to make any progress with the comb.

After his hair was detangled (and left with a bit of a strange appearance; some wet pieces hanging limply and dripping onto Richie’s dark blue sheets while others turned frizzy from repeated brushing), the first order of business was picking up all of the wrappers that were shoved under cabinets and into desk drawers. Eddie took a garbage bag and filled it, telling Richie to go take it out once it was repleted with potato chip bags and soda cans. While he was gone, Eddie began to pick up clothing and place them in piles.

He quickly organized them into lights and darks, but his heart sank as he saw Richie grab both piles together and sling them into one basket near the washing machines. Richie wondered out loud how he would find what to wear the next day, considering his drawers were nearly empty and the floor had been his personal walk-in closet for the last several months.

Eddie changed the sheets and made the bed while Richie began to clean out his desk drawers. Eddie soon sat down next to Richie to observe the contents in each drawer. “Oh my God, Rich, you always say you don’t have enough pens but there are like… dozens in here!”

It was usually Eddie’s job (by his own volition) to bring Richie any pens he had scavenged while in school, whether they be left on the desks from previous classes or kicked into the corner of hallways. Richie loved to doodle; he said that it helped him focus. During tests or while a teacher was lecturing, Richie would always have a piece of 3-hole punched college-ruled filler paper on the right side of his desk. His pen would work quickly, staining the sheet with lines of blue or red. Eddie even learned what his scribbles meant: if he made quick strokes up and down between the lines of the paper, he was having a bad day and was probably stressed. If the sheet filled up with tiny loops and swirls, he was having a good day.

Richie also had the same habit of doodling not only on his paper, but really any surface he could find. Desks, bathroom stall doors, pages of library books (much to the dismay of Ben and Mike), and his favorite, Eddie’s hands and arms. There was only so much he could fit on Eddie’s small baby blue inhaler, and the only thing that still remained was a small, faded black heart drawn in Sharpie that Eddie had never washed off.

But on his arms, the canvas space was far from limited. During Physics, which they sat together for in the back of the room, lunch, or times when they would sneak out of class (often to the auditorium when it was out of use, or the locker room), Richie would draw on Eddie’s small hands and fingers. Eddie did not mind, as long as he was able to wash it off before he came home and had his mother see the (often crude) images.

After a day of school, Richie would accompany Eddie to the bathroom near the back entrance so he could wash off smiley faces, swirls, dicks, stick figure men on trampolines that jumped when Eddie opened and closed his hand, and fancy S’s made out of straight lines. They littered Eddie’s pale skin almost daily, but Richie never thought they lost their humor. Eddie had to admit they were funny sometimes, too.

On days when Eddie would wear a long sleeve shirt to school, he’d allow Richie to write secret messages that could be easily hidden, usually to avoid smirks and nudges from the other Losers. Under his sweater sleeves were bubble letters reading “ILY” or RT+EK with a heart around it. During class, Eddie would shift his sleeve down slightly every five minutes, reading the small letters and feeling a blush creep all the way down to his chest. Those, he tried to preserve as long as possible. They were worth hiding from his mom and friends.

Because of all of this, though, Richie’s pens exhausted their supply of ink rapidly. Richie gasped at the nearly full box of black Bic pens that had been shoved to the back of his desk drawer months, perhaps even years, ago. They continued to go through his desk until it was nearly cleaned, and Eddie moved over to sit in front of Richie’s open closet door. He hung up clean shirts that had fallen off hangers and onto the floor, and piled up his shoe boxes (including one where Richie kept his secret stash of snacks, cigarettes, and condoms; Eddie made sure to put that with the rest of the boxes so it would be even more inconspicuous). Under a large sweatshirt he assumed could only be Went’s old college shirt, Eddie found another hair brush, a lighter, a really old pack of Gushers, and a marble notebook.

The corners of the cardboard cover were frayed, showing the brown underneath the peeling black and white pattern. The little asymmetrical spots of white that splattered on the cover were colored in with pink and yellow highlighter, and the white box in the middle had Richie’s name scribbled messily in the center. Eddie turned around to glance at Richie, who had laid out his newly found pens on the ground and was counting them, and hoped that he wouldn’t mind Eddie looking through the notebook.

As soon as Eddie opened the book, his heartbeat sped with each turn of the page. Richie’s scrawl of a handwriting filled each page, some short jokes that he was writing (with the addition of some sad ones: “I came home one day chewing gum I had bought at the gas station. I walk into the kitchen to say hi to my Mom, and she goes ‘your breath smells like Fireball!’ I just look at her and say, “Well, it’d just smell like cinnamon if you weren’t an alcoholic.’ Eddie almost wondered if that conversation had actually happened), lists of new voices he’d have to practice. Some pages had notes for school, about WWII or Of Mice and Men, while other pages had lists of assignments he had to complete with check marks written in red Sharpie, bleeding onto the next page. There were also some drawings in there, one of his beloved record player that sat on his desk (probably the only thing that he kept completely neat and organized in his room) or of the stuffed bear he always kept on the right side of his bed. Some graphic drawings as well; Eddie had to stifle a laugh. Richie was horny as ever, even in Middle School.

And then there were the dozens of pages about Eddie. Eddie’s eyes, lessened to small slits in intense concentration, read each word and scanned every line on the pages about him. He looked back to the front of the cover, the date written in the corner saying 1989. All the way back then? His stomach felt warm and fluttery, the way you feel after taking a shot of whiskey (not that Eddie would know) and his cheeks hurt from smiling for that long. Richie practiced his script lettering by repeatedly writing Eddie’s name. Nearly every line was filled; those that were not up to his satisfaction crossed out. One single “Eddie Tozier” mixed in with the countless other words, also crossed out. Seven pages later, a debate Richie had with himself over which side of the bed he and Eddie would sleep on respectively, who would make breakfast and who would clean up (the final decision was that they would alternate days; he had been correct about that all the way in 8th Grade). Eddie’s face was burning.

A couple of diary entries about days they had spent together intertwined with entries about Richie’s fear of telling people he liked boys besides just girls. Or how Eddie would never liked him back. Some writing about his troubles at home, especially with his mother, and one page filled with huge letting that screamed that he was “so gay”.

He stared at each page, turning the book back over to read everything from the beginning again slowly. He was taken out of his absorption of the pages in front of him when he felt Richie place a peck on the top of his shoulder before sitting down next to him. Eddie looked panicked, sure that Richie would get embarrassed of his findings and angry at Eddie for intruding, but instead Richie beamed vibrantly, the setting sun dancing and reflecting off his glasses through the window across the room.

He chuckled quietly. “You found that in there? That’s probably from like, what, four years ago?”

Eddie looked up at the taller boy sitting next to him. “You liked me… all the way back then?”

“Of course I did! How could I not have? I liked you the first day I met you.”

Eddie leaned up to kiss Richie, a feeling that felt, by now, familiar but still made him red in the cheeks each time. He supposed he liked him all the way back then, too.

[hanawabby-blog]

A 3-Tier Learning System: For Destructive, Easily Scared Students in an Apocalypse

If you are going to high school or college/uni and or if you’re searching for a study system that will help with bulletproofing yourself for exams, this is a great way to start off and you can change it to maximise the benefits to you.

Before class

Check your syllabus

 If you are allowed or given the syllabus by your teachers or professors, make sure to use it carefully. Syllabus tells you the structure of the course, explain which books to get, when assignments are due and when to have chapters read. This is an important step for you to schedule in the due dates of assignments, projects and even small tests (the worth of these that total up to your result by the end of the semester). Then, also check on the list of books recommended and try to find cheap copies of the books. Most importantly, use the syllabus to keep track on early reviews before classes and lectures - which I will explain the next point. 

A not-so Cornell Notetaking System I have heard a lot about the Cornell Notetaking System and how it has been a great useful way to stumble through the semester and ace the test, HOWEVER, for certain case of people (like me), I don’t like how structured and fixed it is. And I’m lazy when it comes to doing the summary. I also don’t really like using it to review for a test. Instead, I decided to revise the system to a better, simpler way of taking notes. It will be used as review materials (where you go back to it and put it away once you got the answer, same as slides or textbooks). Lectures are important and it should be the number ONE material you seek when you are studying: Lectures > Slides > Textbooks

Once you have received your materials (slides, textbooks, etc.), skim through the whole materials. 

Jot down main points, keywords, equation, main-sub points, new words and start to derive questions from those words using the 5W1H: Who, What, Why, When, Where and How.

Then, grab a piece of paper and I suggest to use the landscape layout and divide the paper into two columns (the left side a little bit smaller than the right side). In the left corner, write down all of the questions and close the book. Go to sleep.

During Class

Bring the paper that you have prepared just now and go to your class. During the lecture, write down all of the answers to your questions. You need to use number (so that if you use this note for reviewing purposes, you can find the answer to the question).

If the teachers brought up new topics or concept or new words, write down the new questions and the answers.

For points that are emphasised by the teacher, use a RED PEN and draw an asterisk (*) or an exclamation mark (!) on the question and write the answer in RED PEN.

For definitions, use one highlighter colour and highlight the question of the definition and the definition itself. After class, if you are an avid user of flash cards, you can easily find them because they are highlighted and transfer them into your flashcards.

After Class

Thank you to Sir Feynman, we are gifted with this technique which is known as Feynman Technique and I will teach you how to use it and how it can benefit you. This should be done after class (it can be directly or indirectly).

     If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough

                                                                                          -Albert Einstein

Take a sheet of paper or prepare a book for this, whichever your choice and write the name of the concept/topic you learned just now.

Explain the concept in your OWN WORDS as if you were teaching it to someone else. Make sure to use simple, plain language and it is recommended to work on a few examples as well to show how you’re understanding the concept.

For parts that you can’t remember/shaky with, draw asterisk (*) with RED PEN and move along to the next part that you remember. Leave some space for later.

Review your explanation and identify areas that you are shaky at (the one with the asterisk) and once you have pinpointed them, go back to the source materials (lecture notes, slides, textbooks) and fill in the part with a different coloured pen. Let’s say, I usually used a black pen to write, red pen is already used for marking purposes so I can use BLUE or GREEN or any OTHER COLOUR PENS as a review of your explanation.

If there are any areas in the explanation where you used a lot of technical terms or complex languages, rewrite them in a much simpler term. 

The idea of this technique is to explain it like you’re explaining to a child who does not have any single basic knowledge about the topic. A child would ask a lot of questions, for example: Why does this formula work? How can you know it always work? How did that happen? Can you explain this to me once more? I don’t understand it still and prove it!

Spaced-Repeat-Exercise

This next technique in the system is the derivation from the spaced-repetition technique. It is easily one of the best technique to use. Make sure to review these as much as possible for a month or 21 days before your big exams. For reviewing purposes throughout the entire semester or school year, you can use the printables from @studyquill which is the Curve of Forgetting which helps to remind you when you should go back to review the topic or concept itself. 

If you don’t have access to past year questions or couldn’t find practice questions (you can choose either one): 

Use flashcards + Leitner System I suggest using Cram.com flash card app as it uses the Leitner System through the cram mode. You can also use other flashcards apps that you’re accustomed to but if you’re new to the Leitner System, check out this short video from Thomas Frank.

Use flashcards + Leitner System + Feynman Technique This may sound impossible because you are including not only one but two techniques at the same time but I believe this is the easiest yet effective way to refresh your memories and ace the test - it doesn’t take too long too. Now, you can grab your flash cards or open any flashcards apps out there and make a set titled: EXAMS (SPECIFIC SUBJECT). Write down the name of the concept/topic on the front of the card and write down the points on the back (make these short yet covers the topic as a whole). While going through the cards, teach yourself by explaining it to a wall or using a paper or whiteboard and check the points at the back of the card. If you are able to cover and explain the whole topic precisely, put the card in the second box. If not, leave the card in the first box. This uses the Leitner system.

If you do have access to past year and or practice questions:

Prepare a calendar of 21 days or D-21 On the D-21, take a practice test and evaluate your score and result. Find the part where you’re struggling at. Check your timing as well and if you completely chucked the time away while answering the practice test, take note on it as well. Once you have deduced your mistakes and parts that you have to improve, go back to the first two techniques I have shared above. On D-14, take another practice test and do the same whole thing, evaluate your score, find your weak parts and deduce how you can improve your timing and score and go back to the two techniques. On D-7, take the last practice test and do the same whole process until the D-DAY. However, I encourage to lessen the reading or cramming activities on D-1 and focus on preparing your items, documents and just try to relax. Eat healthily and go to sleep early.

This is my system to study in school and university and I hope that it would be a great help for those who decide to use this system for themselves and for those who decide to use it and improvise the system themselves. Don’t just leave your notes and put them away until a week before exams. Use the links I have provided for the Curve of Forgetting to help you continue to remember or just put a notification for yourself every 3-4 days to review back. Have fun and have a good day.

[rowanstories-blog]

The Path of Ink

Finally, a moment's peace. Kian leaned back in his dorm room chair and pushed his shoulders against the wooden frame, stretching them apart in preparation. Any physical activity required some form of warm-up; bodybuilders, endurance runners, swimmers, golfers, they all let their muscles stretch out beforehand for maximum efficiency. Sure, he wouldn't be running a two minute mile or two hour marathon sitting on the rickety chair of a dimly lit room, but he still planned to be active, just in a more focused, precise manner.

He leaned forward, letting his eyes fall onto the unopened sketchbook before him. It sat under the single desk lamp's spotlight, almost glowing with how white its pages still were. That would soon change. Kian had to make that change. When Kiara from class AR101 asked him about his artistic history, his mouth made some big claims before his brain could remember that anything more than a stick figure never turned out right on the page, and even the stick figures had about a 40% success rate. He sighed. If Kiara saw his current work ability, she'd realize his lies and never see him the same. If he was to keep up his position in her eyes, he'd have to do a lot more practice than the homework required.

With a triumphant breath in, he grabbed the pen, borrowed from his art-loving father, and flipped the sketchbook open. The pen's side glinted in the light as his hand positioned it for optimal drawing, the symbols on its side almost flashing with the movement. Kian took a moment to appreciate that he had access to pens that were far more fancy and expensive than those that banks and other school sponsors gave out by the fistful. This pen didn't need to advertise anything on it, not even itself; it knew it was good quality. The glyphs on the side were a decoration, nothing more.

The pen glided across the paper as Kian lightly sketched out the shape of the tissue box hidden in the shadows of his desk. At times he wished for an eraser, but the professor of AR101 made it very clear on the first day of class that learning to draw without an undo ability would help them greatly in the end. He focused on remembering all the advice that the professor gave during her lecture, about the basic forms of objects becoming refined over time as the strokes became darker and more defined.

A phone alarm beeped, signaling the end of his hour of drawing. Kian leaned back again, taking in the full view of his sketch. It was awful. Truly hideous, even by his standards. The lines of the box didn't match up right, there was no sense of perspective, shadows seemed random at best and intentionally misplaced at worst. He considered trying again, but once his pen stopped moving, he felt a deep ache in his hand. He clearly hadn't stretched enough for this feat after all.

With a defeated breath, he decided to try again in the morning, before class. If he woke up early, he would have time for a second attempt before AR101.

---

Kian did not wake up early. He made the mistake that all freshman of college do: believing that their still-growing bodies will accept being jolted awake by a phone alarm at a ridiculously early hour to get work done. By the time that his body accepted wakefullness and let his eyes open, he had twenty minutes to get to the art studio on the opposite side of campus.

As he slipped through the studio doors five minutes late, he tried to calm his heart, beating quickly both from running and the worry that Kiara would see his work. That was an unfounded worry, he reasoned to himself. He just needed to not sit next to her, so she wouldn't see his sketch as the professor went around.

"Kian Ruker," the professor called out as he tried to slide into a seat in the back. "There's no need to be shy on the second day. Come up here, sit with the rest of the class."

Professor Romera tapped her pen on the front of an open spot at one of the studio tables. Kiara's studio table. Of course.

He could say no, or just leave, he thought. But no, in reality, he didn't truly have those options. His body would never let him be so free-willed, and his brain would shut down from the social pressure of rebelling. After a moment's pause, his feet brought him to the free seat, slumping down in an attempt to be as unnoticeable as possible.

"Kian, you made it!" Kiara whispered to him as Professor Romera continued talking about expectations and whatnot. "I can't wait to see what you did."

He gave a quick nod and turned away, trying not to let her beautiful eyes see his face turn red.

After ten minutes of talking that felt like an eternity sitting on an electric chair, the professor announced that she would be looking at the hour-timed practice sketches from the night before. A uniform rustling of papers sounded out as the students pulled out their sketchbooks. Kian briefly considered claiming to have lost his.

"Here you go, Kian," Kiara said with a glowing smile, handing him his sketchbook from under his seat.

"Thanks," he stammered, plan ruined.

Professor Romera towered above them, looking down in judgement. "Kiara, good work. You really have an eye for form. Your shadows are a bit disjointed, but that's nothing that practice won't fix. Try to use a very harsh light to get a good idea for where they land next time." She turned her head. "Kian, please open your sketchbook."

The thoughts of refusing, running, or even eating his terrible work came up in quick succession, but his hands betrayed him through their obedience of authority. The sketchbook opened, cover slapping down on the table, reminding Kian of what a guillotine would probably sound like as it thudded on the wooden block beneath its victim.

"Oh my..." Professor Romera said.

"Well, I-"

"...this is excellent work!"

Kian jolted a bit, completely caught off guard as he stared up at her.

"You clearly have a lot of practice with art. Honestly, you may be above what AR101 can teach you. What's your experience?"

"He was the senior art lead at his high school," Kiara said, echoing his lie from their last class. "Now I see why!"

"I do as well," the professor said with a chuckle. "But don't get cocky now, there's always ways to improve." With that, she continued down the line of tables, giving feedback on all the sketches in the open books.

Kiara gave him a light hit on the shoulder, catching his attention. "You really are talented! To be honest, I didn't think of you as the artistic type before, but maybe you could teach me some tricks later?"

Kian stammered out an agreement, and Kiara giggled happily. Was he crazy? Why did everyone think his terrible drawing was good? Did he really understand art so badly that he somehow made a great art form, like Picasso? He turned away from Kiara and looked down at his sketchbook to try and piece together the puzzle. Instead, he saw another mystery.

A near perfect photo-rendition of his tissue box filled the page. Light cross-hatching of lines, evenly spaced, filled the areas of shadow in a way that balanced perfectly with the lightening of lines in highlighted areas. It looked less like a drawing and more like an Instagram filter designed to make photos look hand-drawn.

Professor Romera began addressing the class again. She told them to put their sketchbooks away, so they would focus on her lecture. Kian did as instructed, but his brain wandered the entirety of class, trying to find some explanation that made sense.

---

As Kian sat down in the back of the campus cafeteria, he pulled his sketchbook out from his bag and flipped it open to the perfect drawing. Did he somehow switch sketchbooks with someone? No, this was clearly a rendition of his tissue box, bent side and all. To be sure, he pulled the cover back over the drawing. Clear as day, the name section read KIAN RUKER. A green sketchbook, 100 pages, opening from the top, with his name, and his tissue box's likeness. It was his, all right.

He pulled his pen from his pocket and decided to draw something new. The pizza slice in front of him looked like a good choice. He had no plans to eat it; he grabbed it out of habit but lost his appetite from the whole sketchbook business. For the next half hour, he focused intently on transferring its likeness to the page, experimenting with the cross hatch method the new tissue box drawing used. It turned out terribly, of course, but it did look a bit better than the attempt from last night.

"Hey!" a voice called out from behind him. He closed the sketchbook immediately, turning back. The table behind him greeted a passerby, the group shouting at each other about fraternity plans and annoying professors.

Kian sighed, mentally reprimanding himself for being so jumpy. He opened the sketchbook to resume his pizza drawing. There was no need to finish it, he quickly learned. Just like the tissue box drawing, the pizza had become photo-realistic. This time, however, there was another change. Just beneath the pizza, Kian saw the words "looks good" written in a handwriting completely unlike his own.

He paused, considering what to do. His rational brain said to throw the sketchbook in the trash and be done with it, but he felt a deep curiosity well up from places in himself that he hadn't felt in years.

"Thanks, it's pretty good," he wrote on the page, just below the previous comment. He closed the sketchbook, waited a moment, and opened it back up again.

"It's been a while since I've had pizza," a new comment read.

His heart skipped a beat. He looked around, seeing all the people around him. He felt a strong mix of concern and security; he worried that someone would see what was happening, but felt safe knowing that if any strangeness happened, he would not be alone in the dark woods or the basement or something. After all, what horror story begins in a crowded cafeteria? Well, he didn't actually know the answer, seeing as he hated horror, but he had a good feeling that they didn't favor crowded and brightly lit areas.

"Who are you?" he wrote, closing the sketchbook and opening it again.

"Did you like my work earlier? Kiara liked it, I bet."

His heart sank into his stomach. "How do you know about that?"

"Relax, I'm helping, aren't I? It gets awfully boring where I am."

"Where are you?"

"You wouldn't understand, so stop asking."

Before Kian could reply, his eyes caught sight of the clock, arms pointed at ten past one. MA100 started five minutes ago! All thoughts about the talking sketchbook flew out of his mind, replaced with the hurried rush of putting everything away and sprinting to the lecture hall.

---

That night, after journaling in his personal marble notebook, as he did every night, Kian pulled out the sketchbook. He felt afraid to in the darkness of his room, but he had to in order to do his homework. Plus, despite the fear, the deep curiosity still bubbled within him.

"Way to just run off on me. I thought we were bonding," the writing said on a new page. A small but very accurate drawing of a frowning face punctuated the sentence.

"Sorry," Kian wrote, thinking to himself how silly it felt to apologize to a piece of paper. "I was late for class."

"It's fine. I'm used to not doing much. Are you going to give me another crap drawing to fix?"

"No need to be rude about it."

"Realistic, not rude. It's just not your talent. We all have things we're crap at."

"What are you crap at?"

"Having a physical form, for one," the reply read, next to a small drawing of a laughing audience.

So it has a sense of humor, Kian thought to himself. "What should I call you?"

"Whatever you want, I don't really care."

He thought for a second. "I want to call you something. Is Estes okay?" He remembered the name from an art history project from high school, belonging to a photo-realistic painter.

"Cool, I have a name now. Estes it is. Whoopie." The final word had droplets drawn on it. It took Kian a moment to realize it was a visual version of words 'dripping with sarcasm.'

Before Kian wrote down his reply and closed the sketchbook, the ink of the page shifted, creating a reply before his eyes for the first time.

"Anyway, if you'd like me to keep helping out with Kiara, I'm gonna need a favor," Estes wrote.

A favor? Kian felt a sudden chill through his spine. "What kind of favor?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to steal your soul," Estes wrote next to a drawing of a devil with an X over it. "We can talk about that later. Just say you'll be open to it, and I'll keep helping with your drawings."

Kian paused. On the one hand, offering a favor to a sketchbook sounded like a really bad idea. On the other, if the drawings suddenly turned back to crap, Kiara would never look at him again, and he'd have to suffer three times a week in class with her on top of the constant suffering of losing any chance with her.

"Okay," he finally wrote.

"Great," Estes wrote. "Now let's get drawing."

---

Over the next few weeks, Kian became rather fond of Estes. He already loved journaling, since he had done it every day for several years, but being able to write to something that replied immediately gave him so much more satisfaction. He kept up the personal journal out of habit, but opened up to Estes about some aspects of his daily life. Estes had a dry sense of humor, which Kian enjoyed, and while it never said so outright, it seemed to really appreciate having a view of the world outside of "the formless place," as Estes called it.

The drawing plan worked perfectly with Kiara. He sat down next to her each class, showing her the drawings that he started and Estes refined. He worried when she followed him into the cafeteria the first time in order to watch his methods, but between him distracting her with conversation and Estes working fast to fix his lines, she didn't seem to notice anything strange happening on his paper. She continued going with him to the cafeteria, less for drawing practice and more for just speaking with him.

After two months of hanging out casually, Kian was ready. With some encouragement and advice from Estes, he managed to keep his cool with her enough to ask her on an official date.

"Of course!" she said with her glowing smile. They arranged for a dinner that evening before the clock forced her to leave for class.

"Estes!" Kian scrawled down, hurried in his excitement. "She said yes!"

"I told you confidence is key," Estes replied, the words circling a drawing of a key.

"Thank you so much," he wrote back, feeling like a superhero with a secret ally.

"Do you remember what I asked of you before?"

Kian paused. The words from their last conversations had turned into later replies and drawings, so he couldn't look back to see.

"I asked if I could have a favor, in exchange for helping with Kiara. You're going out, so I think it's favor time, don't you?"

The memory came back to him. The last time he saw Estes ask about a "favor," he felt his heart freeze and race all at once. Now, however, he considered Estes a type of friend, always knowing what to say to help him out. "I remember," he replied. "What is the favor?"

"Come closer," Estes replied.

Kian leaned close to the page, expecting some tiny written humor from Estes.

His vision suddenly filled with the face of a wolf, lunging at him, teeth bared and mouth opening as it rushed toward his face. Kian flinched in shock, his hand jolting and sending the tip of the pen into his arm.

The wolf vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the image of a laughing child.

Kian pulled the pen out from his lower arm, shaking off bits of blood on the tip from where it pierced his skin. "Not funny!" he scrawled, the black ink mixing with the red.

"Sorry," Estes replied with a sad wolf image. "Just trying to prepare you for anything. Dates can be stressful, after all."

"There won't be any wolves."

"But there will be a romantic interest, and that's even scarier."

He rolled his eyes. "What about this favor?"

"I was just joking about that," Estes replied. "Go have fun."

Kian caught sight of the clock, noting that it was getting dangerously close to math lecture time. He continued to chitchat with Estes for the remaining few minutes he had before packing everything up and heading off. He spent the trip thinking about his later date, ignoring the throbbing in his arm where the pen had stuck into him.

---

The sun set and evening arrived, and with it came a feeling of absolute panic for Kian. His sketchbook laid open as he searched his dorm closet for something presentable, something that would really wow Kiara on their first official date. Estes filled the visible pages with types of acceptable formal wear for Kian to match with his belongings, since he never learned the names and functions of each type of clothing he owned. Like many college students, this was the first time he had to dress for a formal event without his mother's eye ensuring he didn't make a fool of himself.

Once he felt properly dressed, he wrote out a goodbye to Estes, with an added thanks for the fashion tips.

"No need for goodbye," Estes replied, "I'll be around."

Kian rushed out the door and made it to the pre-determined restaurant, a sushi place just off campus. As he arrived, he saw Kiara approaching.

"Hey," she called out, her blue dress shining under a nearby streetlight. Her smile shone like a beacon, out-performing every light source in the vicinity, and her eyes bore deep into him as they stared with what could only be described as pure, unquestioned happiness.

He stammered out some formalities as they entered the restaurant and took their seats near the back. Instead of sitting on opposite sides of the table, the two sat on the L-shaped bench so they sat close to one another, as they did in the cafeteria so many times.

"I always like the back," Kiara explained, "since it lets me see everything that's going on. I hope you don't mind."

"No, I like it too," Kian said, trying to control his smile.

As they looked over the menu and made some small talk about their classes for the day, Kian noticed the pain in his arm return. He felt a sudden throb and winced.

"I'm okay," he explained to Kiara's concerned look. "Just jabbed myself with my pen. Well, it was my dad's, really. But I carry it around for good luck." He pulled the pen from his pocket, letting the glyphs sparkle in the dim lighting.

"That's so sweet! Will you be able to see him over the break?"

"Well..." he paused, deciding how to phrase his next words. "I haven't seen him for a long while. He was an artist, but I guess he got too caught up with his work. He left one night and never came back." He quickly resumed his smile. "It's okay though, I was only one year old when that happened, and my mom is very good to me."

"That's such a shame," Kiara said, with not pity but empathy, which warmed Kian's heart. "I guess that's where you get your artistic flair though, huh?"

"Yeah," Kian lied with a laugh.

Dinner resumed, with the two talking as they waited for the sushi they ordered. In the middle of Kian explaining an event from high school, Kiara jumped a little and blushed.

"Kian! That's a bit forward, don't you think?"

He didn't understand what she meant at all; how is a story about high school forward? He noticed her eyes staring down, and he followed her gaze to her lap, where he found his hand gripping the top of her thigh. He jolted his hand back, feeling a throb in his arm.

"Sorry! I didn't, I mean-"

"Let's take it slow, okay?" Kiara said, red but smiling.

"Of course," he stammered back. She started talking about something else, but he couldn't stop thinking about what just happened. He had absolutely no intention of grabbing her, he wasn't drunk, or high, or too tired... so how did he not notice himself doing that?

"So be honest with me," Kiara said with a flirtatious glance. "How long have you liked me for?"

Kian paused to think of how to answer this question. The right answer was since he stumbled onto her Facebook profile through the college freshman's Facebook page, and that he saw a lot of her posts since she left them public. He couldn't actually say that, though.

"Woah, really! Wow, you really are something, you know that?"

Kian came back out from his thoughts to find himself speaking without his awareness. "I know it's creepy, but I just couldn't help myself, and it was all public," his mouth said for him. He grabbed his water and drank it, forcing himself to stop talking. Was this what people meant by first date nerves?

After several more lines of conversation, Kian now controlling the words he said, the food arrived. The waiter placed the large sushi boat on the table in front of them, and they stared in awe at all the sushi options that the boat offered.

"Time to taste test," Kiara joked as she clicked her chopsticks together.

Kian opened his mouth to agree, but found it suddenly filled.

"Wow, too hungry for chopsticks, huh?"

It took Kian a moment to realize that his mouth was filled with one of the sushi pieces, grabbed and moved by his hand. He took his other hand and pushed it down, quickly chewing and swallowing the piece so he could speak. "I'm just nervous I guess," he lied. "I need to go to the bathroom though, I'll be right back."

Before she could reply, he rushed away from the table and into the back, which thankfully had single-stall bathrooms. The lights of the bathroom were much harsher and brighter than outside, momentarily blinding him. He shook his head, as if shaking the light away, and opened his eyes to look at his hand. His heart froze.

Extending out from the pen injury, hidden away by a single bandaid, his veins rose up to to the surface of his skin, appearing to be a dark reddish color, creating a network of black branches reaching down to his hand and up his arm. He looked around the rest of his body, raising his shirt and pant bottoms, and found other areas with slightly dark veins, not as affected as his arm but clearly different than they should be. He looked up and stared in the mirror to inspect his face. As his eyes scanned his cheeks and lips, he noticed movement in the corner of his vision. His eyes moved just in time to see his affected arm, with his hand holding the pen, jab it down into his chest.

He yelled out in pain and stumbled back, pen sticking out of his body. Blood poured out as the inch of pen stuck inside of his muscle moved around with his jolting, leaving an expanding red stain on his nice shirt. He tried to move his hand to grab the pen and pull it out, but his hand stopped right before it, and refused to move and further.

"Sorry about this," he heard a voice say.

"What?" he said out loud, looking around for a source of the voice.

"You said I could have a favor. It would have taken far too much time to explain. I'm sure you understand." Kian realized as the voice spoke that he didn't hear it from around him, but inside his head, as thoughts his mind was having but that couldn't be controlled.

"Estes?" he asked, barely above a whisper. "But... but I didn't bring you here..." He racked his brain, but was completely sure that the sketchbook remained on his desk, where he said goodbye just before the date.

"You did, though." Kian felt his eyes move down against his will to the pen sticking out from his chest, throbbing with pain. "And you said I could have a favor, right? I just want to experience a few things, things that only a body can get you. You don't mind, of course."

Kian tried to move his mouth to protest, but his lips wouldn't move. He decided to try thinking. "People will notice," he tried to threaten with his thoughts. "They'll know something's wrong with me."

"No, I don't think so," Estes replied as Kian's body pulled the pen from its flesh without a flinch and began cleaning itself up. "I know everything about you, after all. I have years of information all saved up. All of your personal thoughts, all laid out for me."

Years? But he only had the sketchbook for a few months! The only place he had his personal thoughts, other than his mind, was his daily journal, but how could-

"Besides, it's not like I'm taking hold forever," Estes said with exaggerated assurance. "Just until the fun is over. I haven't had a joy ride since... how old are you again? A year less than that, I didn't keep track."

A year less than his current age. Kian's heart sank as his body threw the bloody shirt in the toilet and bandaged itself. His thoughts wandered to his father, to his nightly journal, to the pen, to Kiara...

Kian's body, no, Estes' body, gave a swift turn and returned to the restaurant, telling an elaborate lie to Kiara about tripping and hurting himself while getting a bandage from the waiter. Kiara snuggled up close to him, pouring sympathy for his situation and offering to help him eat. He felt an arm reach around her and hold her close. He wanted to shout out, to tell her that he was trapped, but he no longer had control.

"Besides," Estes added in thought as Kian felt his body smile. "You'll be able to watch and feel it all, so it's not like you're missing out!"