#this is the only dance i’ve been wanting to go to since freshman year

[oncamelliastreet]

guess who can’t go to prom because it’s the exact same day as my SISTERS FUCKING WEDDING.

[coichii]

BABY, ITS COLD OUTSIDE ✭

—(🎧)—> your visiting your best friend, about to head out for the evening. it’s all changed by a seemingly instant blizzard. now that you have to spend the night at his, could this be your chance to tell him that you love him?

pairing - bsf!hyunjin ♥︎ fem!reader

genre: bsf to lovers, comfort & fluff

word count: 1.8k

warnings: mutual pining, sleeping in same bed(non sexual) before dating

series note : hello !! welcome to part four of my winter series, “winter records of love” where there will be 8 individual short stories for each member :) these stories are based off of songs I deem “winter” feeling ! this story is based off of “Baby, it’s cold outside” by Frank Sinatra. enjoy!

“Hyunjin? Have you seen my coat?”

The weather? Absolutely ran through with snow.

It’s a nice winter day, no less than 20 degrees outside. The wind blows flurries of snow across the sky, piles of it building up and overflowing the grass and roads. A winter wonderland, if you will.

Hyunjin had invited you over to his, knowing his place had a fireplace and yours didn’t. He didn’t want you to suffer in the cold, knowing you would be to shy to ask yourself.

Deep down, Hyunjin knows he asked you to come over for a different reason. Yes, he was worried about you being cold and possibly getting sick, but, he also has a massive crush on you.

Ever since freshman year of highschool, he’s been insanely into you. Seeing you walk past him on your way to class to talking to you every single day in and outside of school, only confirmed his love.

He loved how you supported him when he started his idol career, cheering him on from hellevator to chk chk boom. He loved everything about you, but he wasn’t sure if you felt the same.

How wrong could he be. You’ve loved him ever since high school too. You loved the way his eyes lit up every time he would rave about dancing. Melting when he would show you his absolutely beautiful pieces of art. Honestly dying every time he even looked at you.

You love him, but he’s a world famous idol, and you’re just some nerdy college student. You shouldn’t succumb to such feelings, you’re just going to get hurt.

“Oh, uh.” He looks around. “I can go look.”

You hum at him as he scurries off, searching around his tiny apartment for the beige, wintery coat you decided to wear to his.

You don’t want to leave, but it’s getting late. The sun sets early and the snow is picking up, and you wouldn’t want to worry anybody about your safety.

Hyunjin walks back into the living room empty handed. You swear you can see a blush on his cheeks but you’re not all to confident.

“I checked, couldn’t find it.” He looks out the window. “You can’t leave in that.”

You mirror his actions, turning your head to look out the window.

It might as well be a blizzard outside.

The snow was now coming down in herds rather than flurries. Snow piling up hiding the foundation of houses just across the street. You’re not even sure if you can see the orange of the sky anymore because all you see is white.

“Wow.” Is all you can mumble out as you continue staring. “How am I going to get home?”

“You can stay here for the night, I won’t mind. It’s too dangerous for you to leave anyways.” He argues, looking in your eyes for any sense of discomfort.

“O-oh uh… are you sure? I mean I don’t want to be a bother.” You stammer, hands flinging in a distinct motion.

“Y/n, I’ve known you since high school. I promise it’s not an issue. Besides,” he looks out the window once more. “what can you do.”

You think for a moment, but you know it’s pointless. He’s right, what can you do. The snow is here and it’s here to stay. And it’s not like you don’t want to spend the night at your handsome crushes house.

“You’re right.” You sigh. “I hope I won’t be a bother.”

“Y/n.” He says sternly, grabbing your hands. You ignore the burning in your cheeks as he ignores the burning in his. “You aren’t and will never be a bother.”

You can hear the sincerity in his voice as you nod, taking note of the look in his beautiful, black eyes.

“I’ll set it up so that you can sleep.” He smiles, letting go of your hand and walking towards the one bedroom’s door.

You’re positive you’re flushing red.

Staying over??? At his house??? The sweat might as well have been pouring down your skin at this point.

You’ve known him since Highschool, and you’ve been over plenty of times both when he lived with his parents and after he had moved out. You practically have the entire place mapped out in your mind. But, you had never slept over before. Blame your strict parents and nervousness for that.

You ignore the bubbling anixety in your chest as you follow hyunjins steps, walking towards his bedroom.

Inside you see him cleaning up anything that had been left on the floor, decently clean for a man. You also notice him having a new pair of sheets in hand.

“Oh? Where are you going to sleep Hyunjin?” You nervously ask, heart rate spiking when he turns around and faces you.

“I’m going to take the couch. Want you to be well rested for when you drive back in this weather.” His voice is low, almost as if the darkness from outside was making him tired despite it being no later than 5pm.

“You’re sure?” You ask, and he just hums in response, mind too focused on pulling the sheets past the corners of the mattress. “Why don’t you shower so you can be in bed soon. I know you’ve had a long day.”

You hum back at him as you find the linen closet, grabbing a soft pink set of towels and moving to the bathroom.

◂—♥︎—▸

It’s been about two hours since you had showered, and about an hour since you had fallen asleep.

The sheets are beyond comfortable, feeling equivalent to a cloud as you soak up its warmth. You should be dreaming like this, comforted and relaxed.

But in your head, you’re experiencing one of the worst nightmares you think you ever have.

A reoccurring one at that. You’ve seen it time and time before as a child, the vision severed into your mind permanently. You don’t know why, but this one is particularly vivid.

Colors flashing, noises loud, lights blaring. It’s terrifying, so you can’t say you’re exactly pissed when you wake up in a cold sweat, hand clutching at the loose shirt hyunjin gifted you for you to sleep in.

Shakingly, your sweaty hands reach for the tiny lamp that’s resting upon hyunjin’s nightstand and flick it on, exhaling sharply as the once dark figures in the room start to take shape.

The dream is over, and you know it, but you still can’t get that eerie, unsafe feeling out of your heart and stomach.

You know what you need to do.

“H-hyunjin” your voice is low and quivering as you creep into his living room, seeing hyunjin sprawled out of the couch with a thin blanket cloaking his body.

“Jinnie?” You nudge his body, him groaning and twisting. “Jinnie, p-please wake up.”

Hyunjin pries his eyes open, squinting until he processes the sight of hot tears cascading down your cheeks.

“Woah woah, y/n. What happened.” He moves his hand to wipe the tears away with his soft thumb. You ignore the turning of your stomach as you lean into his touch.

“I-I’m sorry this is s-so embarrassing.” You sniffle, moving your hands to hide your reddening face.

“Ba- I mean y/n. If it’s making you cry like this, then it can’t possibly be embarrassing.” He gently pries your hands from your face, forcing you to lock eyes with him. “Tell me what happened so I can help you.”

“I uh, just had a nightmare. It was vivid and s-scared me.” Hyunjin coos at your response, rubbing his finger against your cheek.

“Oh, y/n. You’re safe now, y’know.” You nod. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

You think for a moment, heart still racing uncontrollably. You know you won’t be able to sleep anymore with this feeling in your chest, and you also that hyunjin always helps to calm you down.

“I-if you’re not u-uncomfortable. C-can you sleep in bed with me?” Your soft voice hits his ears, and he immediately smiles and sits up.

“Of course, y/n.”

◂—♥︎—▸

A stream of light breaches a small crack in the blinds, hitting and warming a slice of your face.

In bed lies you and hyunjin, his arms found their way around your waist in the middle of the night, his head buried into the crook of your neck.

You hear him groan beside you, your body growing hot as slightly tightens his grip around your body.

“Mhm.” He groans, eyes slowly prying open. It takes him a while to process his armed wrapped around your waist, face turning red as he moved it back to his side.

“y/nnie, good morning.” He grumbles, voice slurred with sleep. “How’d you sleep?”

He’s moved back to his side of the bed now, the area he had been in when he first got in bed with you.

He doesn’t know how he moved from there all the way to your side, but he’s not complaining.

“Well thanks to you. Seriously, you have no idea how much it means to me.” You mumble in response, burying your face back into the cold, satiny pillow.

“You don’t have to thank me at all, y/n. I do it because I lo-“ he breathes in. “Y/n? Can I tell you something?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, heart dropping and picking up speed. “Y-yeah sure. What’s up?”

He sighs, “You don’t need to thank me because I love you. I’ve loved you since I’ve known you. I would help you again and again and again no matter what. I’m sorry if it’s sudden, but I never want you to question why I would do something for you.”

Your silence frightens him as you soak in every single word that he said, looking in his eyes as yours begin to sparkle with tears.

“C-can I kiss you?” He ask, bringing one of his soft palms to your cheek. You sheepishly nod as he brings his face to yours and presses his lips against yours.

It’s soft, delicate, and sweet. Lips mold together seamlessly, each press deeper bringing a wave of blissfulness. It’s better than anything you have ever felt, warmer than any kiss you have ever experienced.

Pure love.

◂—♥︎—▸

“So, date next week?” You ask as he throws your coat over your shoulders. He smiles as he turns you around to face him. “Mhm!”

“Okay then. See you then, jinnie.” You smile, making your way to the door as he suddenly grabs your wrist from behind.

“Heyyy. No goodbye kiss?” He pouts, lip sticking out in an annoyingly adorable fashion.”

“Okay, okay. C’mere.”

And wow, does it feel amazing to press your lips against his. To not be drowned in doubts or uncertainties anymore. To know the man you’re in love with is in love with you too.

It’s the warmest, most beautiful feeling in the world, and you would have it any other way.

[itsmarsss]

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before AU: Chapter 1 - Out [Eli “Hawk” Moskowitz x fem!Reader] (Cobra Kai)

You have been writing these love letters since seventh grade, but what happens when they somehow get sent out?

Warnings: high school (lol i wrote this one when i was in high school but im rewriting it now that im like three years out of it so it feels weird and i feel like it warrants a warning, definitely senior year tho.), hardcore crushing on miguel, mentions of a crush on moon so if ya don’t like women too then idk, uhh mention of smoking weed.

Word Count: 4,060

Your letters were your most prized possessions: yours, and yours only.

You wrote one when you had a crush so intense you felt like you needed to snap out of it or otherwise you’d collapse.

So, you wrote letters to try to find closure. Intricately detailed letters that contained every single unfiltered thought and embarrassing feeling you could find in yourself. Everything you noticed about them, everything you wished you had with them, everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.

It started a long while ago.

You never sent them, of course. That idea was completely off the table. They remained stored inside the little blue box with the white ribbon buried deep in the back of your closet, from where you would occasionally take them just to read them again and reminisce on the thoughts a younger version of you once had about all those different people.

They were all properly sealed, stamped and addressed in pretty cursive letters, but never, ever posted.

They were six in total, addressed to five different people.

The first one ever written had been for Eli, from seventh grade. Adorable little Eli, who was one of the biggest nerds you’d ever seen, always too shy to talk around others, but who would go on excitedly about a tv show or a comic book series he liked for hours around you after getting paired for a project got him to warm up to you.

Adorable little Eli, who trembled like crazy before kissing you in a dumb game of spin the bottle, right before running home crying because some girl thought it would be hilarious to comment on how she wouldn't have let him kiss her with "that mouth" if she were you. You, in turn, couldn't feel more different from that bullshit comment of hers after that messy seventh grade first kiss that lasted barely a couple seconds but fed your crush on him for months on end after.

That letter was followed by a new one, addressed also to him, but the new him this time around, many years later, in your sophomore year- to Hawk, not Eli. However that worked.

To Hawk, who had decided to “flip the script”, as he called it, by changing his entire aesthetic and his whole demeanor, showing up to school on a random day with a blue dyed mohawk and a brand new attitude. You liked it.

Confident Eli seemed happier even though he sometimes acted like a bit of an asshole and, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, he looked really, really hot. He was still Eli, but this Eli wasn’t afraid to flirt with you, which evoked brand new feelings in you.

Therefore, a new letter.

The second letter you ever wrote was addressed to Demetri, from eight grade, who you met around the same time as Eli.

Demetri, who would talk to you about superheroes and binary language and would be so excited about it that you didn’t care to tell him you couldn’t understand a word of what he said.

Demetri, who was so kind as to go to your house to help you with your part on the biology project you were partnered with him in because he knew it was stressing you out, who would offer to tutor you when you told him you were having a hard time with a subject he was good at at school, and who you got closer to when randomly put in many classes together.

The third letter you ever wrote was addressed to Robby Keene, who you became closer to after ditching the homecoming dance in your freshman year to hang out by yourself at the bleachers, despite Sam and Aisha’s protests, only to find out it apparently was Robby Keene’s favorite smoking spot.

Apparently high school dances could be pretty lame, no matter what all high school movies from the 80's had been telling you all your life. You had asked if you were interrupting something when you noticed his presence and he told you it depended on whether you'd be snitching on him or not, and suddenly freshman homecoming didn't suck all that much anymore, because you managed to make friends with the most unlikely acquaintance you could ever have.

Robby, who at fourteen years old got detention for threatening to beat up the kids who made you cry because they kept making fun of you during a presentation, which was about substance abuse, ironically.

The fourth one had been written to Moon, who you used to despise because she used to hang out with Yasmine- who, for the longest time, had loved to pick on you and your friends- especially Eli and Demetri.

But Moon, who turned out to be so sweet after she started doing and saying things for herself as opposed to whatever her friends wanted her to and started hanging out with your friend group.

Moon, who would excitedly invite you to sleep overs and braid your hair as you gossiped about people you barely knew from school, who would do your makeup for you and take you shopping and call you pet names platonically, making you blush furiously and putting you in the verge of short-circuiting by being so casually affectionate now that you’d become friends.

And, lastly, the most recent one had been written to Miguel Diaz, of course.

Miguel, who was your best friend in the whole entire world, ever since he moved to Reseda and you first befriended him at school.

Miguel, who was currently dating Sam, who you’d drifted apart from, but couldn’t for the life of you hold a grudge against.

Yeah, Miguel.

But before he became Sam’s boyfriend, he was your boyfriend. Well… boy-friend. A boy who was a friend. And things were good as they were.

But then things started changing.

Things started changing when Miguel asked Sam out and you realized you didn’t like that. When the first thing he did when he got home was to tell you all about it, and you felt a pit in your stomach as he went on about how well things had gone.

Until you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore and had to face the reality that the reason it all made you feel so awful was that you were jealous.

It was even worse to figure out why: as much as you could try to lie to yourself and pretend you were just jealous that she was spending time with your best friend, you knew you had to face it: it all came down to the simple fact that you were in love with him.

You didn’t know when it happened, or what was the turning point for that, but you were. Utterly and irredeemably.

And, in hindsight, it seemed obvious.

But then they started dating, and they didn’t want you to feel left out, so they would you and Aisha everywhere, which made things so much worse.

And then they broke up, and things got, somehow, even weirder. Now it was all you and Miguel again, and, even after all of that, you still had those stupid feelings for him. But you weren’t a complete bitch, or insensitive. You’d never make a move, you’d just have to live with it.

Which didn’t mean there was nothing you could do about it: you decided to try to put an end to it, your own way.

Hence, how letter number six came to be. Signed, addressed, stamped, sealed and stored in the blue box under all the others.

Maybe after this you’d be able to move on. Maybe after this things would go back to normal. How you craved for things to go back to how they used to be.

It seemed reasonable enough to just wait on your feelings to die out.

But a certain day came when then Eli- well, Eli, who was Hawk now, marched up to you in the middle of your gym class.

“Y/n?” He called your name, and you stopped running your laps, turning around to face him, eyebrows knit together in confusion. What was Hawk doing in your gym class?

You let him approach you. “What’s wrong?”

“Look, I appreciate it but it’s… not gonna happen. Like, you know we’re friends, and you know I'm still like… hung up on Moon, or whatever. Right? I know the power of the Hawk’s pretty irresistible,” he smirked, quickly going back to his stern expression, “but you should cut it out.”

You really had no idea what the hell he could be possibly talking about. “Dude… what?”

“C’mon you don’t have to play dumb, it’s cool that you think my scar makes me look cute or whatever but like. I uh. Don’t have any feelings for you now.” Wait, what did he say about the scar? He kept on. “And like it’s- it’s pretty cool that you liked me before and now too but this would just- this would be weird. You know that, right?”

You just weren't getting it.

And then you saw it: in his hand, signed, addressed and stamped, were two open envelopes with two different names written on them in your best cursive handwriting. Fuck.

“Hey- woah are you alright? You look like you're gonna pass out.”

You felt like you were going to pass out. You couldn’t even form a sentence in the midst of your shock.

And then, Miguel came into your line of sight. Because of course things had to get worse.

“There’s no fucking way,” you muttered, incredulous. He was walking up to you, a red envelope in hand.

The letters got out the letters got out the letters got out.

He looked confused. He obviously, and much understandably, wanted answers. Answers you’d much rather get hot by a bus than giving him.

This could not be your fucking life.

“No, no, no, no, no, oh, my god,” you looked around frantically as he got closer, trying to figure out what to do. Hawk surely thought you were crazy now.

And then Miguel made eye contact with you and he had that fucking look of pity on his face and you panicked. And so you did the first thing that came to your short-circuiting mind, which was possibly the dumbest thing you could have thought to do: apparently all you managed to think of was jumping Hawk, tackling him to the ground and kissing him in the middle of gym for Miguel to see.

How maturer and over him you were! Incredible!

The kiss was over as soon as it happened, and you pulled away as Hawk stared at you with two wide eyes and shock all over his face.

You could sympathize with the guy- getting this as a reaction to your rejection was probably really confusing.

More important things going on, though. You got a glance of Miguel stopping in his tracks at your little theatrics, making you realize it definitely didn’t do anything other than make things more awkward for you.

“Uh. Thanks. Sorry or… whatever. I’ll see you in bio!” You told Hawk, patting his chest before standing up and booking away from him, running past Miguel way too quickly for him to be able to approach you and ignoring his call of your name, and locking yourself in one of the stalls of the closest bathroom you were able to find, trying every single breathing exercise you’ve ever come across to calm yourself down.

This was it. Miguel hated you, surely.

No, worse: he pitied you. Because obviously he didn't feel the same and obviously receiving a love letter so embarrassingly honest from his closest friend was weird. Now your friendship was going to be weird, and it was all you fau-

“Y/n? Are you in there?”

No. No. No, no, no, no, no, no. This can't be happening, there was no way.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

Goddamn Robby Keene.

“Oh my god,” you muttered to yourself. Maybe willing him away in your mind would alter reality so he wasn’t there in the bathroom with you.

If only it were that easy.

Resting your head in your hands as you tried to convince yourself this was some sort of nightmare, you heard a noise come from really close to you and opened your eyesto the pink envelope being slid under the stall to you.

“I thought you’d want it back. Seemed pretty personal.”

“Robby, holy shit, I’m so sorry. You do know I wrote this like years ago, right?” He had to have figured that out, didn’t he? You weren’t even close anymore.

“Yeah! Like freshman year right? When we smoked together while everyone was at the dance.” He didn't seem to be mocking you, didn't seem to be angry. Just pointing it out. You sighed and opened the stall door, deciding facing Robby wouldn't be as bad as facing Miguel. You walked out.

“Yeah it was- it was pretty cool. Better than whatever was going down in the dance.”

“Yeah, I taught you how to smoke that day!” He smiled. “Thinking back on it makes me think you shouldn’t have been hanging out with me back then, actually,” he points out.

You could only let out a small laugh. “I guess not.”

“Look, I don’t know why you decided to send this but uh. I feel like I should tell you that Sam and I are like. Together.”

They were? “Oh. Right! Duh. Obviously. I knew that.” You most definitely did not know that. “I don’t know how this got out, really. I never meant for you to actually see this.”

“Look, we can still be friends. You’re pretty cool. Even with… you know…” he motioned vaguely, “the whole Cobra Kai thing”

“Okay! Yeah, definitely.” He was only being polite, because that’s how he is. But this was much better than having him think you were trying to get with him. You let out a nervous laugh. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah.”

Jesus fuck.

[. . .]

You looked everywhere. Everywhere. The stupid fucking blue box just wasn't anywhere. You tried asking your mom about it, but her answer was short and simple: It probably went with the Goodwill box you’d made last week.

How, you couldn’t figure out, but it seemed to be the only slightly plausible possibility.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. That meant there were five people out there total, five people you still saw every single day, who you were friends with, who had received a fucking love letter with your name signed all pretty on it.

This was hell, it had to be.

You were sure of it when you heard a knock on your front door, accompanied by Miguel’s voice calling your name.

Shit, shit, shit, you were not ready to have this conversation. Why did he have to be your next door neighbor on top of everything? It had always been convenient to live so close to each other, but right now it seemed everything but.

So you did what any sane, responsible person would do: you got out by the kitchen window. Naturally.

Miguel would think you just weren't home.

Again, very mature and totally normal and over it of you.

You decided someone would probably be at the dojo and the last thing you wanted right now was to accidentally encounter someone else who had a letter by surprise. You figured it was too early for someone to be at the diner nearby, so there you went.

You ordered yourself a milkshake and tried to reason with yourself. You couldn't avoid Miguel forever. He’s obviously find a way to talk to you at some point. And then what would you do? Admit you were in love with him even though to him you were just best friends? Let him tell Sam you were in love with her (well, at-the-time) boyfriend? Get politely rejected by him and go around pretending being pitied by him for not being corresponded wasn’t pathetic? It all seemed to come down to terrible endings.

You were so lost in thought you didn't notice him sit beside you at the counter until he spoke up, ordering some fries.

Oh, shit.

Hawk.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him, annoyed.

“Went by your place. Miguel said you weren't there. Things felt preetty awkward I’ll be honest with you. But you weren't at the dojo either so I thought I’d find you here.”

“Okay. And why did you wanna find me, exactly?”

“Look I just wanna make it double clear that nothing’s gonna happen between us. Nada.”

“Eli Moskowitz I am not trying to date you.”

He seemed to cringe at his own given name, but didn’t complain out loud about it. “Then why would you write me a love letter?”

“It was in 7th grade!”

“No, you talk about me as Hawk though.”

“Last year! Right when you did… that,” you motioned vaguely to his mohawk.

“Okay I hear you but like. Your mouth is saying one thing… but then your mouth said… something… else. To my mouth. Directly.”

“What? Ew!”

“You jumped me!”

“I was panicking! And I’m like, actually sorry.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

You let out a sigh, defeated. “Miguel was walking over.”

“And?”

“And he also got one of those,” you motioned with your head at the letter in Hawk’s hand, “and I cannot deal with that right now.”

His expression shifted. “Wait, I’m not the only one who got a letter?”

“No.”

“Huh. You really think you’re special.”

“Are you not, like, surprised about Miguel?”

“Oh, no, it was pretty obvious. But damn you get a love letter and think you’re the man but then you find out she wrote to another guy too?”

“Oh there’s six of them, so don’t go feeling too special.”

“Six of them?”

You then realize you’d spoken too much. He doesn’t need to know all of this. “Nevermind.”

“Damn y/n, fuck yeah, you're a player! Who were they for?”

“No one! It’s none of your business.”

“Come on, I deserve to know! You did kinda jump me in front of a bunch of people.”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“I mean I wouldn't- I wouldn't want people to find out you think my scar looks hot. Or that when you look at me you think about ‘kissing the annoying smirk off my lips’- I mean who knows what guarantees you don’t have a tattoo of my face on your ass-”

That was embarrassing enough. “Okay shut up! Shut up. Fine, if you wanna know so bad. So two for you. Then uh. Demetri, in-”

“You had a crush on Demetri?”

You kept on. “Then Robby Keene, on freshman year.”

“What, do you have a thing for LaRusso’s boyfriends or…?”

“How did you know they were together? I didn’t know!”

He just shrugged, and you continued. “And then there was uh-” you glanced at him and back to your milkshake. “Moon, after she uh. Started dating you, and hanging out with us.”

He let out a snort. “Right.”

“Sorry. I uh- I know she broke up with you-”

“What, are you gonna make a move on her? Is this what you have a thing for, crushing on your friends’ partners?”

“No. And you asked me about it!”

He looked sorry. He didn’t say it. He sighed. “Fine. Is that everyone?”

“With Miguel, yeah, that’s everyone.”

“Okay. I was the only one to get two letters though.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. Of course he’d make this be about feeding his ego. The two of you finished your food in an awkward silence before he spoke up again. “Did you walk here?”

“Yeah.”

“You want a ride?”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s fine.”

“Okay.” After paying, you walked outside, getting on his motorbike. He surrendered his only helmet to you.

Holding onto his waist the whole time after all this was definitely weird but you didn’t let yourself think about it too much, instead thinking about a bigger issue: you really, really hoped Miguel wouldn’t be there when you got home. You got to the parking lot, getting off the bike, taking off the blue helmet and handing it back to him. “How do you even put this on with your hair?” You questioned.

He laughed. “I just like. Push it back.”

“But how does it not ruin it?”

He shrugged. “Power of the Hawk.” He smirked, full of himself.

“Oh, come on. I bet you walk around with a little bottle of hair gel so you can fix it when you take it off.”

“Magician never reveals his secrets-” he looked off at something behind you that caught his attention. You furrowed your eyebrows together in confusion, turning around to see what it was.

Miguel. He hadn't noticed your presence yet, but there was no way he wasn’t going to.

What do you do now? You felt paralyzed.

Hawk seemed to think of something before you could. He placed his helmet on the handle of the bike, very obviously making sure to make noise with it to attract attention, and leaned in, pulling you into a kiss. A… rather passionate one.

He pulled away, wordlessly leading you in the direction of your front door. You got the hint, walking to your place without turning around, and unlocking the door. He pushed you in and closed the door behind him with his foot, loudly. You stayed like that, with him leaning on the door and your bodies flushed together, in silence, trying to listen if Miguel was walking towards your door or not. After a couple seconds, you figured he was not, and you pulled away from him.

“Sorry,” he looked at the floor, sheepish. An usual sight for the new him. “First thing that came to mind.”

“Why is jumping each other the first thing that we think of when we panic?” You laughed.

Hawk laughed along, more at ease knowing you weren’t mad at him. “You did it first.”

You sat down on your couch, but he stayed standing. “Sorry to pull you into this. And thank you for helping out just now. Think I’ll just pity myself ‘till I sleep and then die of embarrassment tomorrow when I see him or something. You can go if you want.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll- yeah.” He started walking to the door, but stopped midway, turning around to face you again. “Hey what if-” he tried to find the words to explain his idea- “um- he probably thinks we’re dating right? Or at least hooking up, or something. I mean, after all the kissing… and stuff.”

“Shit. Yeah. I’ll clear things up, sorry-”

“No! What if- what if we let him?”

“What… do you mean?”

“What if we let him think we’re dating? And not just him. Everyone else too.”

“Why would we do that?”

“So he won’t think you're in love with him!”

“I’ll rephrase it then. Why would you do that?”

“I mean you know- you know I’m still really into Moon. Maybe we could make her… want what she can’t get?”

“You think that would work? On Moon?”

He just shrugged. “Maybe.”

“So you’re suggesting we fake-date.”

“I guess.”

“Have you never seen a movie with a fake dating trope? Doesn't end well.”

“What, you think you’ll catch feelings?” He opened his signature grin, and you sighed, annoyed.

“I’m just saying it’s probably gonna blow up on our face eventually.”

“Why? We can just pretend to date for like a couple weeks. And then we break up or whatever.”

“I’m not-” This could not be a good idea. Could it? “Look I’ll- I’ll think about it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

[. . .]

Miguel, Miguel, Miguel. Miguel seemed to be what occupied your thoughts the most. No matter how absurd the amount of drama you were going through was, your thoughts always came back to him.

But the night after the letters got out… it wasn't like that. Eli Moskowitz- well, Hawk, hadn’t been in your head all that much ever since you got over the last crush you had on him a couple years ago. But now Miguel wasn't the only thing in your head anymore, weird of a way as everything else had come into your thoughts.

So you decided.

A/N: in all honesty im only rewriting this because im in a bit of a slum and i almost deleted this off of my ao3 bc of how terribly written the original chapters are lol so idk here’s something someone might like i guess. I won’t be in any rush to post the chapters of this whatsoever, scandalous is 100% my priority this is just for some piece of mind bc I know I’m better than the shitty writing in the original version of this lol

[minhosimthings]

Preview: Sweet as Cherry Wine

In which the cold librarian's heart gets melted by his best friend's sister

Synopsis: Kim Seungmin was the assistant librarian at your uni's library and the love of your life. Oh and also your brother's best friend.

Pairings: Seungmin × fem!reader, includes rest of skz, Winter (aespa)

Warnings: brother's best friend trope, a play on Hades and Persephone, secret relationship, flufff, seungmin is a menace, SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), verryyy little choking, slightly sub minnie?, just a lot of me simping after his fingies, semi public sex (in the library)

A/N: whadup mona fam. Surprised im alive? yeah me too honestly lol. anyway im very sick rn BUT i wanted to complete this because this shit has been stuck in my wips since september 2023 and anyway it's my Minnie phase. Please look forward to the full fic!!!

STATUS: POSTED

FULL FIC

“And how she let the pomegranate juice,

Drip from her smiling lips,

Even Hades trembled under sweet Persephone’s gaze.”

The tantalising smell of old leather and paper hugged your nostrils as soon as you crossed the threshold of the outdoors into the library. The entire room had the faint smell of sandalwood wafting through it as well, which your lungs appreciated as you breathed the air in.

Having spent only six months in your university as a freshman, you had never dared to step foot into the university’s famed collection of books more than five times. You were far too intimidated by it. That, and also the fact that you had a tremendous amount of work hanging over your head. And you certainly did not want to disappoint your parents, who worked day and night in ensuring that you had a proper education.

“Y/Nnie come on!” Your friend, Jeongin, grabbed your hand and dragged you further into the grand building. Jeongin was the first friend you had made in college, having argued furiously with him in your sociology class on the modern feminist forms of thought. Deciding that he was smart enough to never keep you bored, you promptly shook hands with him. He must have thought so too, because the very next day, he introduced you to his band of friends, with whom he had grown up since childhood.

And now, you could see one of those friends waving to the both of you from a very large table. It was Lee Minho–dance prodigy, archeology student in his third year, frequent arson enthusiast and a cat dad. That was what you had gotten from him, six months into your friendship

“Hyung!” Jeongin practically leapt on the stunningly beautiful man as soon as he came near him, “I’ve missed you so much!”

Minho made a face of disgust, but you could see the faint smile threatening to spill out as he hugged Jeongin back.

“Let go of me before I suffocate you, brat.” Minho said, giving you a smile as Jeongin reluctantly pulled back, “Alright, Y/N?”

“Good as always.” You responded with a grin. “Oh, congratulations on your win at the Dance Masters by the way!” Minho tilted his head at you as a ‘thank you’, with his ears turning furiously red, and his smile widening.

“And what about me?” A smooth voice made you jump as the ever-present smile of Hwang Hyunjin appeared before your eyes.

“Give me a warning before you pop out of nowhere!” You laughed, being engulfed into a tight hug by Hyunjin, “And congratulations to you, as well.”

“Why thank you.” Hyunjin did a dramatic sort of curtsy after unleashing you from his arms, “Hyung, have you seen Lix anywhere? He forgot his keychain with me.”

“He’s still stuck in class.” Minho muttered, raising his arms up abruptly and stretching with a very loud sigh, “My bones are so stiff, I swear to God.”

“Could you keep it down, old man?”

Perhaps the most annoying voice in the entire campus rang in your ears as you spun on your heel to see the bane of your existence. The world’s most insidious bastard faced you, in the form of a 5 '10, history-majoring, glasses-wearing, probably drinks pomegranate juice in the morning sophomore.

Kim Seungmin.

The universe couldn't have made a more negative person.

And a more perfect secret boyfriend too.

Taglist: @vixensss @miyeonna @15092000volcano @berntbang @cookiesandcreammy @babrieeee

[aloekat]

giving pokemon teams to d20 characters!

The Bad Kids / Fantasy High!

pt 1/?

part 1 || part 2

hello chat and welcome to aloe shoves their hyperfixation onto everything they enjoy! making pokemon teams for fictional characters has always been a fun past time for me that i enjoy greatly so i wanted to apply that to dimension 20! i plan on doing every season once i’ve watched it, starting with all the intrepid hero seasons before moving on to side quest seasons

(also i finally decided to post these after @jadelion made posts sharing their team picks, so go check those posts out as there are some great choices! i also wouldnt be inspired to finally post these without him doing so first! i made my list completely independent of hers so if there's the same pokemon its purely coincidental lol)

first i want to talk about some guidelines i’ve given myself for this, which will apply to future posts as well:

only 4 pokemon per team - this keeps things more easy and makes them feel closer to mid-game trainers rather than fully stacked end-game ones. or feel like gym leaders maybe? it also helps with rule 2…

try to have no repeat pokemon - this just keeps things unique between seasons but sometimes a pokemon is a perfect fit for more than one person but for the most part everyone gets unqiue pokemon and there are almost no doubles

low to no legendaries on teams unless for a good reason - same goes for shinies but im more lenient on the shiny rule lol

i made a lot of these these like 3 months ago as of posting this - some choices may be outdated or the character has changed enough that a choice may not fit as well but i didnt want to change it lol (this is solely for the fantasy high kids tbh)

thats all for the rules! finally it’s time to get into the teams!

! SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE CURRENT SEASON! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !

Kristen

Lycanroc - representing Tracker, again i made these before junior year so trackerbees was still a thing but i imagine it can count for cassandra also since it’s a night themed pokemon. don't know which form of lycanroc she would have though Solrock - she was given solrock during her time with Helio, and while i know sunflora exists i think solrock makes a little more sense, since she was a chosen of Helio she would be at an elevated status and therefor have a better pokemon if that makes sense? it also pairs with... Lunatone - representing her change to Cassandra, a goddess of night. there's like cool symbolism with her pokemon now wow isn't that so cool and awesome!! Unown ("?") - a question mark unown to represent Yes? (and the other Yes forms) along with her cool question mark staff! can also ALSO symbolize doubt with cassandra

Fig

Toxitricity (Low Key) - low key form gives the vibes of a bass and Fig plays the bass! toxitricity would help fig practice her instrument and come up with music. also literally called “the punk pokemon”

Obstagoon - similar reasoning, obstagoon has The Vibes that fit along with also being a sort of rock n roll pokemon

Moltres - representing Ayda, i imagine Ayda gifted it to her once they became girlfriends :)

Mimikyu - a pokemon known for its imitation of another pokemon, very much fits into Fig’s actor feat and her high deception and her not wanting to be her real self sometimes

Fabian

Dhelmise - big connection to his father and being a pirate, his father probably gifted it to him as his first pokemon

Marowak (Alolan) - fun idea i had for this is he originally just had a cubone with him during freshman year, but once he went to Fallinel and learned about the power of dance it evolved into an alolan marowak! it's a fire dance pokemon of course he would have it lol

Sirfetch'd - representing his mother and also his general fencing/fighter style that he works with

Tentacruel - just a cool ass water pokemon i feel he would have, also vaguely pirate-y with big kraken vibes

Riz

Pikachu - detective pikachu go brrrrr i imagine he would have gotten a pichu when very young, and it's evolved over time! it would wear a tiny detective hat as well because um i said so

Inteleon - super spy/gun pokemon also go brrrr, very much a reference to his father and just the general super spy-ness of Riz and Pok in junior year especially

Togekiss - ok this one feels very out of place and i forgot why it was here originally BUT i think it's to represent like a guardian angel sort of? again another reference to Pok because i love Pok and think he's very cool

Voltorb - he's the ball. this is a pokeball pokemon. are we starting to connect the dots

Adaine

Politoad - representing Boggy of course, nothing much else to say

Espeon - a very psychic pokemon representing her oracle powers, it would be fun to think that she had an eevee that simply evolved into an espeon once Adaine realized that she in fact was the elven oracle!

Delphox - another powerful psychic pokemon, again this is just vibes and it's a cool pokemon and adaine is a very cool character lol

Audino - these pokemon are known for being able to hear super well and know how their trainers are feeling from listening to their heartbeat. a gift given by Jawbone to help with Adaine's anxiety but still a good member of her team regardless

Gorgug

Archen - "i'm Cloaca, i suck!"

Gogoat - a grassy pokemon which can sorta represent the tree he lives in but also intended to represent Zelda in some ways (again i wrote these before junior year came out). it would help him carry around a lot of scraps for tinkering

Rotom - found in the village near the Nightmare King's forest, this rotom had gotten lost in the forest and, with no tech from solace nearby, couldn't find a way home. gorgug rescued it and lets it inhabit the Hangvan a lot

Rillaboom - another grassy pokemon but this one is also a drummer! can we take a wild guess as to why i picked this one. for it's drumming ability. because. because gorgug is a drummer.

=====

whew ok that's the first season done! i'll probably do unsleeping city next, which will be linked to this post once it's done!

have a better option that would fit a PC better? please tell me i would love to hear everyone's takes on this!

ok that's it that's the post everyone go home now (once again go look at @jadelion for their pokemon team picks!)

[maebkil]

TL;DR : There are many reasons to not like Kawi, but his hesitancy towards sexual intimacy is NOT one of them.

I’m genuinely irritated by the hate Kawi has been getting since the release of EP.10.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am never one to police how people feel about fictional characters. I, myself, have been a Kawi-hater for most of the series but I feel like the people hating on Kawi right now have simply misinterpreted his character (+ much of the plot).

I’ve seen a plethora of comments across various platforms going on about how Kawi is “too grown to be acting like this”, how much of a “brat” Kawi is, how Kawi is “using Pisaeng”, and how people are sick and tired of this “trope” (in reference to Kawi being “afraid of intimacy”).

I wasn’t going to post anything until I saw one outlandish take, i.e., “Kawi doesn’t care for Pisaeng because he’s so unwilling to give in to Pisaeng’s obvious desires”, that left me dumbfounded.

I am in no way saying that Be My Favorite (BMF) is faultless, I have my own gripes with EP.10 especially, but I think some people may need to rewatch earlier episodes because…

Are people forgetting that Kawi is a 30-year-old virgin? I don’t think this man was ever sexually attracted to anyone in the original timeline. He “fell in love” with Pear after she was nice to him once his freshman year (THAT’S IT!) and then proceeded to never like anyone else, even after she got with someone else. Kawi’s “love” for Pear was nothing more than gratitude for her kindness that he, in all his naivety and inexperience, mistook for something more and held onto for 12 GOODDMAN YEARS.

Are people also forgetting how socially inept Kawi is? In the original timeline, Max and his father were all Kawi had and he lost them both. After the death of his father, Kawi had no aspirations, nor was he motivated to achieve anything since he believed he no longer had anyone who would be proud of him. He isolated himself and lived miserably.

If you hadn’t forgotten either, then it should not surprise you how out of his depth Kawi is when it comes to relationships, both platonic and romantic, to the point that he has an existential crisis in EP.10.

Kawi being “too grown” to be this flustered over Pisaeng hitting on him so openly is, in my opinion, what the screenwriters are trying to highlight. Remember, Kawi is in his THIRTIES. We are led to believe that, in all those years, he’s never had any sexual encounters and has always been in love with Pear… and now suddenly he has a boyfriend in an alternate timeline. One who clearly wants to have an intimate relationship with him and Kawi, a man unfamiliar with intimacy, doesn’t know how to give him that because he’s never given anyone that in that capacity.

I’ve seen some speculate that “Kawi was obviously sleeping with Pear” but was he? Being sexually intimate with Not doesn’t automatically mean Pear was sexually intimate with Kawi also. All we are told is that Kawi could never commit to Pear the way she wanted, so she eventually got tired of waiting and left him for the first man who promised her what she wanted: stability & a family. We are not shown the extent of Pear & Kawi’s relationship nor are we given enough information to base our assumptions on. We are also not shown the extent of Kawi’s relationship with Pisaeng (was it only stolen drunk kisses?). All we truly know is that even in the timeline where he gets the girl of his dreams, whom he’s been pinning over for 12 years, he somehow ends up cheating on her with a man he allegedly has never had feelings for. Make of that what you will.

Also, look at how Kawi dances with that girl at the bar in EP.4. He’s awkward and shy and never touches her. He doesn’t know how to reciprocate her advances. I am not expecting Kawi to have the same response to Pisaeng as he did to that girl because Pisaeng isn’t some stranger, but I don’t think it should be this difficult to understand why Kawi is hesitant to jump off the preverbal deep end when it comes to having sex. I also think people shouldn’t be so quick to label his hesitancy as some form of internalised homophobia because Kawi clearly doesn’t know what to do with either sex.

While I agree that Kawi’s behaviour during their date was irritating (and I can see how some may have perceived it to be “brattish”)… I think Kawi was just so in his head about how to approach the idea of having sex that he inadvertently ruined the date by closing himself off.

The theme park date was honestly a great analogy for Kawi’s internal struggles with sex. The theme park is sex and Kawi has never had sex much like he’s never been to a theme park. He’s hesitant to get on any of the rides much like he’s hesitant to be sexually intimate with Pisaeng. But he tells Max that he isn’t afraid of having sex with Pisaeng and that he likes the idea of “lying beside Pisaeng and holding his hand forever”. He clearly isn’t against being intimate with Pisaeng in other ways (because intimacy is more than just sex).

It’s Kawi’s inability to comprehend how to approach something he knows holds a lot of significance in society, that he admittedly does not relate to, that is holding him back.

The theme park analogy also shows what role Pisaeng plays in all this. Unlike Kawi, Pisaeng isn’t hesitant about having sex. When he forces Kawi out of his chair and drags him to a ride, this is representative of Pisaeng’s forwardness. Much like his willingness to initiate intimacy with Kawi, Pisaeng is also willing to help Kawi face his fears. This bit of dialogue explains it best –

Kawi: This is too much. Not this ride.

Pisaeng: Come on. Let’s try it first.

Kawi: No. I don’t like it.

Pisaeng: You haven’t tried it yet. How do you know if you like it or not? You said you’d never been to a theme park? If you don’t try it, it’s the same as if you’ve never been here. If you’re scared, just hold on to my hand. Okay?

Pisaeng is willing to be the support Kawi needs to open himself up to new experiences. Unfortunately for him, the fear of the unknown is just too daunting for someone like Kawi. Someone who’s spent over a decade not taking a chance on himself, much less anyone else.

This is why I believe it’s not the same “overused trope” in BLs where one character is excessively against intimacy with their partner. With BMF, I think the scriptwriters have done a great job in setting up why Kawi would behave the way he does. The only thing they’ve failed at in this episode is not having Kawi communicate this. After how open Kawi was with Pisaeng in EP.9, I was a bit frustrated with Kawi’s inability to talk things out with Pisaeng. Yes, it’s a more sensitive topic, but Kawi didn’t say anything. From the dinner scene to them getting undressed, I just couldn’t follow along. I wish this was done better.

With regards to Kawi “using" Pisaeng… yes Kawi has used Pisaeng but, since his recent return to the past, he hasn’t done so after seeing the consequences of his actions. Kawi not “giving into Pisaeng’s desires” is not him using Pisaeng, nor him stringing Pisaeng along. And while we’re on the topic, as much as I am ride-or-die for Pisaeng, can we all take a minute to acknowledge that Pisaeng is not without fault in all of this? Yes, what Kawi does to him is not right, but Pisaeng chose to stick around for all those years, pinning after a man who was with someone else. Pisaeng in the alternate timeline of EP.7, much like Kawi in the original timeline, cannot let go of his first crush to the point it’s self-destructive.

Kawi was not meant to be a likeable character that we root for in the beginning. Kirst, himself, has repeatedly said he hates Kawi for being so self-centred and immature, and that he only becomes “good” in later episodes. It annoyed me that Kawi, of all people, was given this opportunity just for him to give a gift to some girl that may or may not reciprocate his feelings. He also never considers whether her life would be better or worse with him because he’s solely focused on his own happiness. I hated how slow he was to put any meaningful effort into helping his father because he’d prioritised impressing Pear. I also hated how quickly he took Pisaeng’s friendship for granted.

What I’m trying to get at is that there are many reasons to not like Kawi, but his hesitancy towards sexual intimacy is NOT one of them.

[wuahae]

hey cat!! i've been good~ i binged all the chapters of the spyxfamily manga in a day and it was wonderful 😌 i would love to see hoshi + meeting for the first time in college! shy hoshi meeting strangers 🤭 hope you've been well too!! sending lots of love~ -prom anon

I LOVE SPY X FAMILY....i haven't read it in a really long time but i'm waiting for my animanga phase to come back before i catch up to it again haha

hoshi + meet cute

soonyoung thinks he's been sitting on this couch for an hour. or maybe it's only been half an hour. or... he knits his brows. to be honest, he really doesn't know. time passes strangely when he's drunk.

he knows a few things though—they've played at least three more rounds of beer pong since he first sat down on this couch, the cheap frozen pizza mingyu barely managed to make edible has started to taste less like cardboard the more drinks soonyoung's gotten in him, and he knows if he gets up to pee he might not make it out of that bathroom in one piece. or at all.

there's a loud cheer as joshua and vernon win another round of beer pong on the table behind him, a dip in the couch as someone sits next to him.

"hey, you okay?" a cold water bottle pressed to his cheek. a slow blink and turn of the head.

oh, here's another thing soonyoung is certain about. the person that just sat down next to him is really, really, really cute.

“uh.”

“soonyoung, right?”

"...uh huh."

"great!" you give him a cheery smile, handing him the water bottle. "jihoon said to give this to you. said you'd need it."

"thanks," soonyoung responds, just a little dumbly. you are just so cute. he can't feel his face.

“so you’re jun’s friend?” you ask, taking a chip from the big bag on the coffee table. “from college?”

soonyoung nods, sipping on the water. “we took psych 211 together freshman year.”

“the sex class?”

“yup!” as loose-lipped as he is, soonyoung is not about to admit he almost failed psych 211: diversity of human sexuality. “best easy A ever.”

“but i don’t think i’ve seen you here before?” soonyoung asks. he might be an absolute mess drunk, but he doesn’t think he could have missed you if you were at one of these parties earlier this year.

you nod enthusiastically. "i don't go here, actually!"

"oh really?"

"yeah!" your flannel slips a little from your shoulder as you reach for another chip. your knee brushes against his. soonyoung's pretty sure his mouth is gaping. "we're actually friends from high school," you explain, eyes bright and wide from what he hopes is the alcohol. he really hopes he isn't making a fool of himself to someone completely sober.

and under normal circumstances, soonyoung would ask for how long? does that mean you were friends with jihoon and wonwoo since high school too? not to mention the dirt he'd try to fish out of you regarding the three to use later.

but right now, soonyoung is still recovering from the three lost rounds of rage cage, his tongue can't seem to work right with the blur in his head and the ringing in his ears and fuck, he wants to make a cool first impression on you and maybe show off that he's a key part of the university dance team but all he can really think of is how he still really, really needs to pee.

"cool," he utters, more than a little dumbly this time.

your eyes crinkle as you laugh a little, leaning over. "you're cute, soonyoung. talk to me later when you're more sober, okay?"

soonyoung blinks. what?

someone—he thinks it's jun, that damn cockblock—calls your name and announces a declaration of war against the new reigning champions of beer pong.

"oh look at that," you tease lightly. "duty calls." nudging soonyoung before you get up, you gesture vaguely at him. "can i have a sip, by the way?"

soonyoung nods before he even follows your gaze to see what you're gesturing to, but before he realizes it, you take the water in his hands and screw open the cap, tipping back the bottle to drink.

"thanks! see you later!" you say cheerily, handing it back to him before turning around to join jun in defeating seungcheol and jeonghan (who is most definitely cheating).

and between the increasingly raucous noise of the new beer pong game starting up and the pounding in his head that threatens to send soonyoung into the bathroom to do more than just pee, he has a single, striking thought.

holy shit... soonyoung is definitely in love.

[meetmeinthefamilyvideo]

Inspired by the “I’m not trying to seduce you, would you like me to seduce you?” Tiktok trend.

Imagine Peter being clueless about your feelings towards him.

Warnings: suggestive

Peter Parker is so awkward and oblivious that since you met in your freshman year of college he’s been hopelessly in love with you, too infatuated to even realize maybe you felt the same way.

He sat in his dorm room with Ned and his girlfriend Betty, who were berating him on the fact that he should ask you out.

“Peter, you’re insane if you think she doesn’t like you!” Betty exclaimed at him, Ned nodded in agreement.

“Guys, I get that you’re trying to give me confidence so I try it but she has never even flirted with me.” He responded frustrated, of course every single thing you do has him swooning but that’s because of his feelings toward you and not your behavior. Right?

Ned sighs, “Dude, she texts you everyday!” Betty agrees, adding that you don’t talk on their roommate group chat as much as you do with him.

“Yeah, cuz we’re good friends” Peter scoffs.

“She always pulls you to dance with her at parties!” The blonde girl remarks, she’s even seen how you position Peter’s hands on your hips.

A memory of the time you were grinding against him at a party pops into his mind, he got a raging boner that night and you ran away to the bathroom “because you weren’t feeling good.”

“She’s just having fun! That doesn’t mean anything.” He tries to reason.

They all keep arguing about it for a bit and even call MJ, whose input is “Peter needs to pull his head out of his ass and ask her out!” Then Betty closed the topic.

“Ok Peter, you can believe whatever you want. Tonight at Harry’s party you can see for yourself how she acts towards you.” She leaves frustrated to get ready for said party.

…

Peter gets to the party later that evening and mingles with everyone else before looking for you, is he avoiding you? Maybe. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up to then be disappointed. He can’t get drunk but he sure as hell tries, hoping the liquid courage helps him.

There you were, chatting with Mj and Ned about something. You were wearing thee skirt, the skirt that Peter never fails to compliment you on, the one you wore while grinding on him which became a constant part of Peter’s inappropriate thoughts and dreams.

He dries his sweaty palms on his jeans and approaches all of you. He says hello to his other friends but you make a point to kiss him on the cheek as a greeting, did you always do that?

“Hi Petey, how’s it going?” You tell him with a smile.

“I’m good, and you? I really like your skirt by the way!” He exclaims, though he facepalms himself in his head because he can only think about that damn skirt. MJ rolls her eyes and Ned signals Betty to join them so she can hear how the two hopeless love birds flirt without the other noticing.

You blush, “You’ve mentioned that before, thank you I really like how it makes me feel about myself.” You try to egg him on.

Peter being as clueless as he is asks “oh, how does it make you feel?”

“I don’t know, I feel sexy in it I guess?” You tell him with bashful eyes.

“Obviously, you look really hot in it your ass- I mean… I’m really glad you can feel comfortable and independent in your clothing. Yup” he said and immediately regretted it. His face is so red and he wants to run away from the embarrassment.

He thinks he imagined what you said in response, “I was actually hoping you thought that, I wore it cuz I’ve noticed you liked it on me…” you get closer to him.

“I just think you look nice in it, please don’t think I’m like checking you out.” He tries to save face.

“What if I wanted you to check me out?” You look at him and he looks towards Ned who mouths “do something!”

“In that case, you look so hot I can’t even think straight when you wear that” he holds your waist like you’re going to break.

“Really?” You get close to his ear, “maybe you’d like to see how my skirt looks on your floor” You purr.

You take his hand and say your goodbyes to your friends. They all holler and cheer at Peter who is looking at his friends with the most cheeky smile ever.

Needless to say he very much enjoyed the view of your skirt on his floor.

[k-writer1998]

The Stars In Your Eyes (2/3)

w.c: 2.1k

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

“So she introduced her boyfriend because she got caught with him? And they’ve been together for two months?”

“Yeah, I mean I felt something was off. It got harder to meet her and even when we did she seemed distracted and just… I don’t know. I feel- how do I say this? Unsettled?”

“So you’re saying all these changes brought on these strange feelings? Did you expect for your friendship to alway stay that cozy?”

“When you put it like that I sound like a clingy friend Minho.”

“Chan, you literally are but that isn’t the point. I don’t know why you’re asking me as if you don’t know the reason. You aren’t an idiot.”

      He was right. I just hoped to hear a different answer, although Minho wouldn’t lie even if I asked him to. It’s just… admitting I knew meant accepting the fact that I was a coward and now that someone has done what I couldn’t, I don’t know what to do with these feelings of mine. Would I be able to move on? Can’t my stupid heart just take this as rejection so I can? How much more will things change between us? Can I truly wish her happiness till the end? Can I handle that?

“Chan?” 

      Her voice cut through the whirlpool of my thoughts that have been swirling around in circles for days now. It’s a rare chance for us to meet in person, let’s focus on the present and the person sitting in front of me.

“Sorry. My brain relapsed for a moment about assignments. You were saying?”

“I’m sorry for ambushing you last week and only giving you a mediocre explanation text. I wanted to tell you in person but on that day I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you since I’ve been kind of bad at answering lately.”

“It’s fine. We’ve always been busy people, if anything I’m sorry for ruining your date.”

      Date… the word rolled off my tongue in an unpleasant manner but I smiled nonetheless as I let her go on about how they reconnected at work, he confessed by bringing up some pact they made as kids, they started dating and things are going well. I wanted to say that the reason was stupid and didn’t really make any sense but I couldn’t. The sparkle in her eyes and that soft smile, she is happy and any thought of some selfish move to satiate my own feelings stopped in their tracks. I can’t be the one to stir up her feelings and stop that smile. While she was telling me recent news about work, my eyes picked up on her fingers gently dancing along the rim of her glass. A mindless motion she usually did when she had something to say but unsure of how to bring it up.

“What’s on your mind? Hiding any other big secret?” I had said it lightheartedly to ease the tension in her shoulders but instead her whole body froze. Is there really something else?

“Ha, I can never get anything past you can I? Is it an older brother thing?” She jokes but she still permeates anxiety. “I was given a big project to work on…”

“What’s the catch? You would have been bouncing with joy if there wasn’t something you’re hesitant about.”

“If I do a good job it might end up being a permanent position there but I have to relocate… to New York...”

“I mean that’s a good place to be, being an editor and all, why were you hesitating to tell me?”

      The distance was shocking but I couldn’t say anything knowing what she had to do to get where she was today in her career, not that it would matter. She already made her choice and was stubborn as hell, I knew that since freshman year.

“I know I just… a business trip is one thing but permanently? I would be leaving everything I know.”

“Do a good job first and worry about taking the permanent position after. No use being scared of something that isn’t concrete. One step at a time right?” I say as I ruffle her hair with a smile.

“You’re right. I don’t know, maybe I’m a little nervous because I’d be staying with Jiwoo. It hasn’t been long since we reconnected and-”

“Wait what?”

“Jiwoo works as a scout at the overseas company that offered the position, not like he had any say in it but after I agreed he offered me a room at his place to give me one less thing to worry about.”

      What kind of face am I making right now? Keep control of your expressions Chan. Luckily she didn’t seem to notice, too lost in her own worries to catch the subtle change. After easing her worries we parted ways and when I got home my ears were greeted with silence, thank god Minho was gone. As I was changing into something more comfortable, my eyes landed on the scrawling across my collarbone in the mirror. Ah, this useless soulmate mark of mine. When did I last think about my soulmate? Not that I really thought about it that often but it did cross my mind on occasion. At what point did I pick up that ideology of hers of not caring about soulmates? Or more like… when has she become such a big part of my life?

“The person I choose to love…”

      I read it aloud as my fingers gingerly brushed along the words. “Choose”... it sounded so much like something she would say but I realize I thought of myself too highly. Her love isn’t mine to have. The pain of that reality really sank into my heart, needing to reel in my mind before I spiral I close my eyes and as my lungs filled with a deep breath- Ting. Ting. Teng. That noise… Confused, my eyes opened to the ground to see little spots of glitter shining back at me. Wait how did- My eyes immediately darted back to my reflection to see my face bathed in colorful sparkling streams where my tears should be. Carefully my hand reached up to wipe it away and the same oddly pretty sound was heard when the liquid hit my hand. This phenomenon was enough to shock the tears to a stop and I quickly pulled out my phone to figure out what was happening to me. After scrolling and skimming various links I couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. Star tears. A condition born from an unrequited love where the patient slowly loses the ability to see colors before they ultimately lose their sight. What kind of life did I live in my past life to deserve this? My long term crush has a boyfriend, said crush is leaving the country with aforementioned boyfriend and to top it all off, I’ll slowly go blind unless she loves me back. Shit.

      Nothing changed from my routine other than the fact that certain colors slowly bled from my world. It wasn’t some type of “blink and you miss it” sensation, things just became duller over time until one day it was replaced with a bleak gray and my mind stutters trying to process the change. Although he never addressed it I’m sure Minho, being as we live together, found out about the star tears. He’s never questioned the strange noises from my room when they fall uncontrollably, he subtly helps me differentiate things that have lost their color, and he’s been offering me food more often. Thanks to his kindness my anxieties lessened even if it was only a small fraction and now, in a few days, y/n will be leaving. I’ve mulled about it for hours on end but I can’t bring myself to say anything because knowing her she wouldn’t go, instead she would try to help me cure this even if she can’t love me back. I don’t want to be the excuse she uses to run away from her dream and if going blind is the price to pay for her happiness then so be it, at least one of us has to see it through until the end. It was yet another night left with my thoughts and insomnia when my phone rang. At this time? Who-

"You don’t usually call this late."

"Hmmm… I just wanted to hear your voice? I’m not disturbing you right?"

“Insomniac, remember? Something’s on your mind? You usually can’t stay up past eleven,” I asked, ignoring the dull aching in my chest because she jokingly said she missed my voice.

“I don’t know, it’s just… is this overseas position really the right choice?”

“Y/n, there is no right choice other than your choice. That’s all there is to it.”

“But leaving everything I know to go to a place I’ve never been and alone at that? I mean not alone cause Jiwoo but we’re adults and we have our own lives and just, could I handle that?”

“You adapt well to new environments and you’re a hard worker, things will fall into place in time. You never make decisions that you would regret so what got into your head?"

“My parents… they didn’t find out until after everything was set in stone and they were NOT happy. We’ve been going back and forth for weeks but now that my departure date is closing in, what if I’m wrong?”

"Okay I have two questions for you. First, do you want to go?"

"Of course I do," she responded flatly.

"Before your parents' opinions, did you believe you could do it?"

"Although it won’t be perfect and mistakes are inevitable… I think I can.”

"Then it doesn't matter what your parents say. You've worked hard for this, that doesn’t change."

"I'm scared. This is an opportunity of a lifetime but a part of me fears the worst. What if I don’t have what it takes or there was a mistake? What if I get there and it wasn’t what I thought it would be and I hate it?"

"Y/n you love reading and writing like it's the air you breathe.You're amazing at what you do and it makes you happy, that's all that matters. If you ever falter just remember that I believe in you. I always have."

"You are a godsend do you know that?" She chuckles before adding with a sigh, "what am I gonna do without you? Our time zones are gonna be messed up, and it's gonna be sad to know my best friend isn’t a call away."

      “Friend.” The cause of my detriment. I don’t cry easily but ever since the star tears, they start falling at the drop of a hat. Even now my eyes began to well up. I tilted my head back to keep them from falling as my voice softened to hide the tremble that was taking over my voice.

"I’ll still be a call away, it’s one in the morning and here we are. If you miss me just look at the stars, they’ll accompany you in my place right?”

“They would accompany me with or without you cause that was my thing first,” she laughs softly.

      The thought of never getting the chance to tell her my feelings hurt just as much as the thought of her leaving, maybe that’s why I hadn’t felt the few tears that escaped streak down my face. It wasn’t until the crystalline tinkling of the glittering tears crashing on the floor, petrifying me to silence, did the horror set in.

"Oh? What's that pretty sound?"

"Oh- uhm, sorry that's my alarm, I- I gotta go."

      I quickly hung up the phone before she could say anything and threw it on my bed in frustration. Can I not have a small moment to help make this annoying disease more bearable? No longer needing to conceal these stupid gem-like tears I let them fall freely as I began to wallow. Pretty… she said the sound of this cursed disease was pretty… she wasn't wrong but the irony of it all was too cruel to appreciate. When the room grew silent and the tears subsided, it was then when I had noticed the odd color of my room or more so… the lack thereof. The LED lights hanging above the bed were supposed to be a soft purple. At what point of this fit of tears did the newest color bleed away? I wanted to get mad, feel anger or any other feeling other than the defeat and resigned acceptance I currently felt. My own dream was withering in my hands every step she took towards her own, but I wouldn’t change it for the world… God I must be crazy.

[missywritesfor7]

🌺 Promise Flower | PJM 🌺

Synopsis: Jimin is a popular dance student and the best one at his university. Mina is a photography student and has known Jimin since high school. An idea for a photo project finds Mina getting closer to him than she ever has before. She learns how big his heart is, but also learns how closely he guards it. Every time she thinks he'll let her in, he pulls away again. Is it even worth the trouble?

Pairing: college student!Jimin x fem!oc

Warnings: depression, anxiety, panic attacks, alcoholism

Next Chapter | Masterlist

|| Ch. 1: Let’s Dance ||

A new year has started and I’m excited to begin my junior year as a photography major. Soon I’ll be graduating and on my way to becoming a great photographer and hosting my own exhibits that even celebrities will want to go to.

Wishful thinking, but either way I’m excited to be that much closer to graduating and starting my career in photography.

“What are you going to do for your semester project, Mina?” My friend Taehyung asks. We met freshman year as photography majors and seem to have nearly every class together since then. He’s become my best friend at the school and my wine partner when I need to let off steam.

“I don’t know,” I respond taking a bite of my bagel as we sit in the cafe that’s conveniently located in the art building on campus. “Why would he put something so heavy on us like that and only give us a short time to decide on a subject?”

This semester our photography professor gave the class a project where we choose a subject and follow them throughout the semester. The final project is worth nearly half my grade so I know I have to do perfect on it.

“I don’t know,” Taehyung says. “But we have to figure something out.”

“Ugh,” I sigh struggling to think of an idea. “What about following one of the sports teams through their season?”

“That would be fine if we actually had any fall sports at this school,” Taehyung huffs.

Our university is one of many (but few) that don’t have a football team, or volleyball team, or any other Fall sport schools typically have. Sports are basically nonexistent until basketball season starts. Too bad we’re not taking this class in the spring.

“Well shit,” I sigh. “What about a series of self portraits where I document myself increasingly losing my shit as the semester goes on?”

“Let me know how that goes,” Taehyung laughs. “I’ve got class, I’ll see you later.” I wave as he grabs his bags and heads off down the hall.

My next class isn’t for another hour so I hang in the cafe a little longer before I decide to wander the halls to kill time. I always enjoy going through the halls of the art building and passing rooms where masterpieces are being created whether on canvas or through music. The music especially is my favorite.

As I’m strolling along I come to one of the dance rooms with the door open. There’s a soft classical track playing and inside a petite figure is moving across the floor with fluid motions. His body floats seamlessly on the waves of the music and I almost want to pull out my camera to capture how flexible his body is. It’s almost as if he’s made of rubber rather than skin and bones. He makes a turn and his eyes meet mine.

“Mina!” He says with a smile.

“Jimin?” I say finally realizing who I had been watching.

Jimin and I went to high school together, and while we weren’t incredibly close, we still had a few classes together and became friends. When we started college we would still run into each other from time to time since we both are majoring in the arts. I wouldn’t necessarily consider him my “bestie”, but he’s definitely a cool friend.

“What are you doing here?” He asks pausing the music and waving me into the room.

“I was just walking around until my next class. Are you already busting your ass on a routine when it’s just the second week of the semester?” I joke.

It’s no secret that he’s one of the best dancers at the school. He’s been dancing his entire life and has won many awards. I’m sure the school was excited when they saw he wanted to attend here of all places as a dance student. But it’s also no secret that he tends to be quite hard on himself. Pushing himself to his very limits for the sake of improvement. He doesn’t know how to take it easy, but I guess it’s hard to when he’s trying to maintain his position at the top of the class, which is constantly being threatened by another great dancer.

“There’s no resting for the best dancer at the school,” he smiles.

“Oh, is Hoseok practicing right now?” I tease looking around.

Jimin playfully huffs while scrunching his face at me. Hoseok is the other best dancer at the school and although he and Jimin have completely different dance styles, they both are constantly going back and forth in rankings for the top spot in the dance program.

Despite that, and everyone else constantly making this out to be some sort of heated rivalry between them, they’re actually best friends and roommates. They find it funny that people assume they would hate each other and tend to joke about it more than they take any of it seriously.

“Anyway!” He says playfully trying to move past my teasing. “I have a recital at the end of the semester and I’m trying to decide what dance I want to do.”

“You have to plan a recital already?”

“It’s basically our final exam so I want it to be perfect. I’m just having a hard time coming up with something that I think will be good enough.”

“Oh come on, anything you do will be more than good enough. Even the little I just saw you doing was amazing.”

“Really?” He asks as if he’s not the winner of numerous gold medals from a lifetime of dancing excellence.

“Jimin please,” I laugh. Just then the gears in my head start turning and I get hit with an idea. “You know what? I have to follow a subject through the semester for my photo project. What if I did a photo series of you?”

“Me? Why?”

“Jimin you’re a man with no bones. That would look incredible in pictures. I could follow you as you prepare for your recital. I’ll even let you have copies of all of the photos. It’s perfect!”

He takes a moment to think on it, definitely being hit with a wave of shyness and embarrassment from the sudden praise. I try to give my best puppy eyes to convince him.

“Fine,” he resolves with a smile. “As long as you make me look good.”

“You don’t need me for that,” I laugh. “I still have about 15 minutes before my next class, can I try some test shots while you keep practicing?”

“Now? I look terrible,” he says hiding behind his hands.

“Calm down,” I laugh. “They’re test shots, I just want to get a feel for the way you move and try to figure out how I want to approach this.”

“Ok ok.” He stands up and turns his music back on as I pull out my camera and get ready for him to begin.

The next 15 minutes I watch as he dances back and forth across the floor. I don’t know much about contemporary dance at all, but I know that he looks amazing doing it. I take lots of photos of him using different angles and camera settings. It’s hard to tell on the tiny camera screen if they’re any good, but hopefully when I pull them up on my computer I’ll have enough to help me decide on the focus of my project.

Before I leave for my next class he tells me he’ll let me know his practice schedule so we can do this again with much more time to spare. I’m just happy to have a subject for my project, and thankfully it’s someone I know to keep it from being totally awkward.

After my class I go home to my apartment and am surprised to see my roommate Jin sitting on the couch. He’s a theater major, and like the rest of us in the arts, he spends most of his time somewhere on or off campus perfecting his craft. To see him at home at a normal time is rare.

“Did you see me in the paper??” He asks enthusiastically holding up a copy of the school’s student run newspaper.

“Why were you in the paper?” I ask taking the paper and skimming through an article written right next to a large photo of his brightly smiling face.

“Because I’m so handsome,” he says with a cheesy grin.

“That can’t be it,” I tease.

The article actually talks about how he had been casted in his third leading role in the theater department so early in the semester. He transferred here from community college last year and has pretty much taken the school by storm since then. It also mentions how he’s always a sought after person to host campus events thanks to his natural ability to entertain an entire crowd, whether he’s hosting a charity game show for one of the school clubs, or a luncheon for professors, he can always get laughs out of people.

“Of course that’s why!” He playfully boasts. “The rest is just filler.”

“If you say so,” I laugh.

“That’s not the best part though!” He says in excitement. “My friend JK said he would take video of me and edit it into a highlight reel so I can use it to send to agencies. Before you know it I’ll be all over the tv! Should I give you my autograph now?”

“I’ll pass,” I joke handing him the paper back.

“Whatever,” he says playfully rolling his eyes. “I think Namjoon really captured my charm in this story.”

He smiles big and bright as he continues boasting about his first feature in the newspaper. I won’t mention that I know he most likely got the feature because the reporter, Namjoon, and Jin are good friends. Not that it makes a difference because Jin is still an amazing actor and has more charisma than I’ve ever seen in one single person. If he wasn’t friends with the newspaper’s art beat writer then he would still catch everyone’s attention one way or another. I’m just surprised it took this long for him to be featured in anything.

Later in the evening Jimin texts me his practice schedule. He mentions that he’s actually going to spend the week planning out his choreo, which he does on paper, and tells me that probably wouldn’t be interesting in photos, but I insist on capturing every step in the process. If I’m going to have a series from start to finish, then I want to get every little detail I can.

We set aside time for me to go by his apartment tomorrow while he works on it. It turns out that he lives in the complex next to mine so that works out perfectly. We live on a street of apartments that aren’t affiliated with the school but are mostly rented by students. I chose this over school sponsored housing just in case I wasn’t able to find anywhere else to live after graduation. I figured it would be much easier this way instead of scrambling for a new home once I’m done with school.

The next evening I go over to Jimin’s apartment once we’re both done with our classes for the day. He takes me to his room and I prep my camera to take shots of him drawing and scribbling in his notebook.

I don’t know anything about dance, but I’m learning that dancers don’t just go out on the floor and start moving, they actually draw everything out and make lots of notes.

Jimin plays a piano track over and over on his phone as he draws out every detail of his choreography in his notebook. As I’m taking pictures of him I can’t help but notice that this is a different song than the one he was dancing to yesterday.

“Did you change the song?” I ask when he takes a moment for a sip of water.

“Yeah, it’s a song Yoongi had been working on all summer. He let me listen to the final arrangement and it was perfect. We decided to make it a joint recital and he’ll play live as I dance. And he’ll make me look good! Do you know how many people I can get to see my performance if I say Yoongi will be playing live?”

Yoongi is another top student at the school. He’s one of the best pianists this school has ever seen, and he already has a few professional producing credits under his name. I’ve met him a few times before but he’s usually short of words. I can’t exactly tell if he’s terribly introverted and shy or if he thinks he’s too good to say much to anyone else, but I try to give him the benefit of the doubt since I don’t really know him that well.

“You really got Yoongi to agree to play for your recital?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I’m not,” I laugh. “It’s just that he doesn’t seem to even talk to anyone, I just don’t know how you got him to play your recital.”

“I know how he seems to everyone, but he’s actually really cool deep down. And really nice! I didn’t even have to beg him to do my recital, he agreed right away!” Jimin beams with his big smile that presses his eyes shut rendering him happily blind. I can’t help but smile back at his contagious enthusiasm.

He spends more time planning his choreography and taking brief moments every so often to talk to me. I tell him he can pretend I’m not there but he says it feels weird to not acknowledge me every once in a while. As we’re getting ready to wrap up Hoseok comes home with a large pizza in tow.

“Mina!” He shouts. “I didn’t know you would be here!” He sets the pizza down on the kitchen counter and gives me a big hug.

Hoseok and I have seen each other from time to time, and although we’re not close, he always greets me with a big smile and a hug as if we’re old buddies. He has a very bright personality which is almost the opposite of the dark dominating persona he has when he’s dancing. He’s like a different person on stage it’s a bit scary.

“Do you want some pizza?” He asks as Jimin is already grabbing a slice out of the box.

“Sure, I could eat.” I say making myself comfortable on one of their barstools.

I end up spending another two hours in their apartment enjoying pizza and chatting. Our discussions are mostly focused around our classes and semester projects. Jimin is stuck with one of the worst professors for art history and Hoseok and I offer him our condolences as we’ve both already suffered through that class in previous semesters.

Jimin and I plan to meet again next week in one of the practice rooms so I can begin getting shots of him in action. I’m excited about this project now. Jimin is a great dancer and it would give my portfolio a major boost to have photos of him in it. Knowing that he’ll also be working with Yoongi makes me even more ecstatic. The two of them are the greatest this school has probably ever seen, I just know their recital will be incredible!

[bookishsometimes]

Book Review: The Perks of Being A Wallflower

Wallflower: a person who has no one to dance with or who feels shy, awkward, or excluded at a party.

I picked up this book since it’s been recommended by SO many times and is termed as a “must read” book for teenagers. And I’ve got to say, they weren’t wrong.

The Perks of Being A Wallflower is about a fifteen-year-old boy, Charlie, and the first year of his life in high school. It’s a coming-of-age story expressed in such a way that it touches on sensitive topics such as depression, trauma, PTSD, molestation, drug use, domestic abuse, etc in a way that’s easy to understand.

This book has been written in a letter-style format and, even towards the end of the book, it is not revealed who these letters are addressed to. Not that I think it matter all that much, though. From what I can tell, they were probably sent to someone older, more mature than Charlie himself, as he says this person would “understand”. He wrote his first letter to this unnamed person right before the start of his high school life, nerves getting the best of him. Charlie is, in short, a loner. He feels lonely both at school and home since his siblings are growing up and going on with their lives. For the first 30 or so pages, he does nothing but observe those around him. It's only when he’s encouraged to participate in life does he take the first step by befriending people who end up being some of the closest people in his life. 

Charlie is a very emotional person. He is extremely sympathetic and tries his best to be a good person. Charlie has been through many traumatic situations in his life, but he tries not to dwell on them by distracting himself (reading books, listening to music, etc) so that things don’t get “bad” again. In his own words, he believes that he doesn’t have it that bad. But, as it turns out, he wasn’t able to distract himself forever. With his relationships failing, friends graduating, and upsetting memories returning, Charlie once again plummets into a dark place.

This story is about how Charlie picks himself up, despite falling down several times along the way. This story is about how Charlie loves his friends and his parents and his siblings and wants the best for them. This story is about how Charlie wants to drive through a tunnel and feel infinite. This story is about Charlie, a fifteen-year-old freshman who wants to be content with his place in life.

In short: I loved this book and would recommend it a thousand times over.

[openheart12]

Falling In

A/N: trying to finish the bazillion wips I have and this has been sitting in my google docs for almost a year so it was time to finish her

Summary: A blind date set up by her best friend takes a surprised turn.

WC: 1,524

“Charlotte, you can’t be serious!” Michelle groaned as her best friend from college threw a dress in her direction.

“But I am,” she replied with a grin. “You’re not backing out of it either, we have a reservation at seven.” “Just how long have you two been planning this?”

“A couple weeks? Noah swears by him, they’ve been best friends since college.” Noah was her boyfriend of the last three years and Michelle actually liked him, he was good for her. As it turns out, the two of them had set her up on a blind double date for the night.

“You’ve never met him?” Michelle asked.

“He has a very demanding job.”

“Gee, thanks,” Michelle said, rolling her eyes.

“So do you, that’s why it’s perfect. Please just give it a try,” Charlotte begged.

“Fine,” she relented, going to get changed. Charlotte had picked out a black dress from the back of her closest that she didn’t even remember owning. It barely reached her knees and showed more cleavage than she was used to.

“Oh my god, you look hot!” Charlotte exclaimed, letting out a whistle. “You ready?” “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied with a forced smile. She didn’t want to hurt Charlotte’s feelings, but she barely had time for herself. Much less a relationship and even if she did, she had a huge crush on her boss.

“Forget about Tony for the night. If this date doesn’t lead anywhere, you’ll see him tomorrow and can go back to pining from a distance,” she teased as if reading her mind. Charlotte knew all about said crush.

“Shut up,” Michelle laughed, throwing a pillow at her head.

They arrived at the restaurant where they spotted Noah and another guy already sitting at the table. Charlotte leaned her head near hers, whispering “calm down, it’s just a dinner.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she replied, plastering on a smile.

Noah noticed them walking towards them so he and the other person stood up and turned to face them.

Michelle froze in her tracks as his jaw opened, their expressions a mirror of each other.

“Michelle?” He managed to get out.

“Tony, hi, hello. Hey,” she grimaced. There were only so many times you had to greet someone and she just said three of them.

“Tony?” Charlotte asked, the realization dawning on her.

“The Tony?” Noah asked at the same time as Charlotte.

“Oh my god, what a small world!” Charlotte smiled, winking at Michelle.

Oh god. This was not good, so not good.

“And here I thought it was gonna be awkward to make small talk,” Noad said, trying to lighten the mood.

They all took their seats at the table as the waitress came over to take their orders. Neither Tony or Michelle knew what to say, this was the first time they’ve been together out of work.

“Sooo, how long have you guys worked together?” Charlotte asked, completely oblivious to the fact that Tony would now know that Michelle talked about him.

“I’ve been there for almost six months which you knew,” Michelle replied.

“Is she this mean at work too?” Charlotte asked Tony, ignoring Michelle.

Tony couldn’t help but laugh. “Before her coffee, yes.”

“You should’ve seen her in college. Just so you know, she’s not a morning person at all. She’s a grouch, but get some alcohol in her and she’s good to go. But she’s also a lightweight. There was this one time in college when-”

Michelle cut her off with an elbow to the side.

“No, please, go on,” Tony said with a smirk.

“Like I was saying,” she continued, shooting a glare at Michelle, “it was our freshman year and we went to a party. Little Michelle was drunk off of her ass and thought it would be a good idea to get on top of a table and dance. And when I say dance, I’m talking about the most ungraceful moves you can think of doing at a party. Like the robot, for example.” Tony was laughing so hard he had a few stray tears on his cheek. “But I corrupted her. Get a couple drinks in her and she might start stripping.”

Michelle felt her face go red, finishing the rest of her drink.

The rest of the night consisted of Charlotte and Noah telling stories from college and conversation flowed until dinner had come to an end. She had way too many shots and couldn’t tell if she was imagining if the room was spinning or not, but it sure as hell felt like it.

“You ready to go, babe?” Charlotte asked.

“Yuuup. Where are we going, Char?” She downed the rest of her drink in one sip.

“You are going home,” she laughed.

“I’ll get the car,” Noah said, kissing Charlotte quickly before heading out the front door.

She helped Michelle up out of the chair and she lost her balance, Tony rushing to their side to help hold her up. Michelle only giggled, lifting her finger and booping Tony’s nose. “You look pretty.”

Charlotte couldn’t help but let out a snort. “She’s gonna regret this tomorrow.”

“You’re pretty too,” she said, booping Charlotte’s nose too. “Buuuut there’s just something ‘bout Tony. You said you’d go for him if not for Noa-”

Charlotte quickly placed her hand across Michelle’s mouth, stopping her from finishing that sentence. “Please, don’t listen to her.”

“No worries,” he smiled. They saw Noah pull the car up a minute later. “If you want, I could take her home.”

“Only if she agrees,” she turned her attention to Michelle, “do you mind if Tony takes you home?” She asked.

“Love nothing more if you know what I mean.” She winked. Charlotte shook her head with a laugh.

“No funny business,” she told Tony.

“Of course. It was nice meeting you, Charlotte,” he called after her before the two of them drove away. “Now, let’s get you home,” he turned to face Michelle.

“I’ll go anywhere with you… just don’t let me near an oven or a microwave or a coffee pot.”

“All this talk of you not being able to cook, I gotta see it for myself.”

“Not if you wanna live,” she laughed. Helping her into his SUV, he buckled her belt in for her.

He had only been driving for ten minutes when she had fallen asleep. He smiled to himself. When he arrived in front of her apartment complex, he walked around to her side and gently shook her shoulder. “Wake up,” he whispered softly.

“Mmm.” She opened her eyes slowly, moving her head to look in his direction.

“C’mon,” he held out his hand, helping her out of the SUV. She stumbled a bit before he steadied her.

“I’so sleepy,” she mumbled, grabbing onto his arm.

He was just close enough to smell the alcohol on her breath and knew how much she was going to regret it the next morning. They walked up the steps and he unlocked the door, letting her lead him to the bedroom. Flopping onto the bed, she pulled the pillow up to her face. He pulled the comforter across her as she immediately fell asleep.

He went in search of ibuprofen and a bottle of water that he left on her nightstand. With one last glance at her, he left.

The next morning, the alarm jolted her out of sleep. She reached out her arm, turning it off. The pounding in her head made her wince. She sat up on the edge of the bed, the sunlight shining through the blinds and saw the ibuprofen sitting on her nightstand.

She didn’t know how the hell she got home. All she remembered was that Tony had been there and hoped she hadn’t embarrassed herself too much. Going out and drinking the night before she had to work was a mistake, one she was quickly coming to regret. It had been a couple years since she’s had a hangover like this.

After arriving at work without any problems, thankfully, she walked in the building where she found Tony waiting at her desk for her.

“Good morning,” he greeted cheerfully, a smile on his face.

She groaned in return, sitting down in her chair.

“I had a feeling you were going to feel bad after all the vodka.”

“Just how bad did I embarrass myself last night?” She asked.

“Nothing to worry about.”

“That bad, huh?” God, she wanted to disappear. Her phone buzzed with a text from Charlotte that read, ‘call me when you have a sec so we can do some damage control.’

He smirked when he saw her face fall after reading the message. “I’m guessing that was Charlotte?”

She snapped her head in his direction. “You two are stressing me out.”

“Good,” he smiled, lifting himself off of her desk and walking away.

“Wait, Tony-” she called after him.

He cuffed his hand around his ear, “what was that, George? You need me right now?”

Shaking her head, she laughed at his attempt to ignore her. It was no doubt going to be a long day.

[bedsyandco]

not to ask a silly question, but why is it that luke and vi pretended not to have feelings but would kiss each other? i’ve been reading vi and luke forever and could never figure it out😭 i know with noah it was just poor timing but why didn’t they get together before that?

I kinda rambled a bit about them in this 😭 sorry

I actually don’t think we’ve ever discussed this in depth. . .

violet and luke have been friends since they were young, like 13. by the time they get to high school it’s safe to say I think both of them have noticed some feelings.

the way luke’s chest would get tight whenever a guy would ask him if violet was single or the way violet’s heart would squeeze whenever a girl would flirt with luke. of course they noticed those things.

tenth grade rolls around, violet asks him to the sadie dance, and luke takes it as the perfect opportunity to tell her exactly how he feels. but. . . violet is scared. besides her grandma and daxton; luke is the only person that violet has. the only person she can rely on, the only person she can trust, only other person she loves. she’s terrified of it not working out and their friendship never being the same again. and no matter how many times luke can reassure her that they’ll always be friends no matter how it ends, violet knows if her and luke broke up, she’d be devastated beyond repair and she wouldn’t be able to be just his friend again. ever.

and honestly she just wasn’t ready to make that jump at 16. but as the years go on vi and luke only get closer, only fall more in love. and eventually they have their first kiss. and another. and another. until they can’t stop, they don’t wanna stop. and they kinda fall into the comfortability of making out with each other every now and then. using the excuse of their one drink at the high school parties, to eventually doing it on random thursdays after school.

and I’ve said this before but towards the end of their senior year, especially the summer after they graduate, luke gets drafted and before they go off to UMICH, they’re really bordering the line of more. I mean they’re basically together without the label. having lost their virginities to each other, that summer they’re really attached at the hip and I think everyone thought they would finally make it official. INCLUDING VIOLET🥲

but. . . this time it was luke that had the hesitations. he doesn’t wanna risk what they have either. what’s the point?? especially when he knows he has her… maybe not completely and not in the way he necessarily want to have her, but she’s still his girl. and most people know it. why does anything need to change? especially because he’s gonna be leaving for jersey at one point and he doesn’t know if violet will follow him there, he doesn’t expect her to. what she was saying two years ago makes sense and it’s still valid now… and that’s exactly what he tells her after that summer and before they go to umich; it makes sense for them to stay just friends. at least for now.

and violet kinda takes that as a rejection. and she’s devastated over it, more than she ever tells luke. and then they get to umich. and they kinda get involved with different crowds. luke with the hockey guys and the sorority girlies and violet with the dance team and football guys and her and luke kinda take a breather. don’t get me wrong, they’re still attached at the hip, they still hang out all the time, but they’re not making out every thursday in luke’s room yk??

and there’s tons of girls vying for luke’s attention, it’s just different than their little high school bubble. and maybe for the first year things are still relatively the same. they share a few kisses here and there when they’re both drunk at parties. and then second year rolls around and violet gets tired of waiting, knowing luke’s leaving soon, and then there’s noah. who’s honestly been trying to convince vi to date him since freshman year, and he’s desperate to have her, and he shows it. and it’s nice to be wanted that badly, especially when the guy isn’t afraid of showing it.

so she dates noah; and always wonders why it doesn’t feel quite right. . .

[kuramirocket]

Mexican Enginner: Erika Antunez

Erika and her mom at CU Boulder

“My parents worked so hard to give my sister and I a better life,” said Antunez. “I saw my parents struggle, and my struggle is really nothing compared to what they had to go through. Now, we're all doing the hard stuff, and we got the grit to do it.” 

Numbers at first sight

Antunez’s parents have owned a food truck business in the Denver metro area for 22 years. Her love for math and sciences sparked in the second grade as she supported their family business across different baseball parks. 

“I always joke around saying I’ve been working since being in the womb. I was their weekly cashier. I had no calculator. I didn't write anything down, and all the orders and prices were in my head,” said Antunez.  

Those early experiences with mental math set her on the path to the University of Colorado Boulder Engineering’s Integrated Design Engineering program with an emphasis in electrical engineering and a minor in business. 

“During my freshman year projects, I was pretty much the electrical person of my group and became really interested in electrical. When I realized engineering management & entrepreneurship could be a concentration, I knew that was going to be a great fit.”

The COVID-19 pandemic then hit. Going remote was difficult as for most students, but she was relentless in persevering and attended office hours. 

“As a Hispanic, I don't see a lot of people like me in engineering. That's fine because I'm telling people, ‘don't let this be a fear and just keep going’. It’s really empowering,” she said. “There’s also some classes where I was the only girl in that class, but it was me and the professor that were the only women in my class. I'm here to do me.” 

Whether it’s her BOLD scholarship group or the CU Boulder’s chapter of the Society of Hispanic Professional Engineers (SHPE), where she is now the vice president, Antunez thrives in an environment where her amiable spirit shines through. 

Risk it all. Risk it now.

This past summer, Erika studied abroad in Croatia as part of an international business & management global seminar. It’s only appropriate that immediately after her Maymester abroad, she embarked on a 10-week internship at Deloitte.

“On my team, I worked on identity access management, which is basically cybersecurity kind of work with authentication for technology applications and onboarding,” she said. “I was literally doing the mixture of both business and engineering blending the best of both worlds and doing a lot of product development.”

Antunez’s strong internship performance helped her secure a full-time infrastructure apprentice position for Deloitte’s technology global group.

As for the future, “I'm very business-oriented, so eventually I’d like to start my own business,” said Antunez. “My 20s is the time to risk it all and might as well risk it now and see what I can do for myself.”

“My parents did something honestly right, and their hard work paid off. It all was worth it, " said Antunez. 

Lightning Round Q&A with Erika

What is your favorite engineering class you've taken?

I want to say Electronic Design Lab. It was a semester-long class where we built a robot and it was so satisfying to see the end product where you're just like - it works! I built the whole motor system and built it to turn.

What fascinates you about electrical engineering? 

There's something so satisfying about putting three lines of code and seeing a light turn on.

What is your favorite general education class? 

Hip hop through the dance department. I can do the wave now! 

"At the end of the day, you have to be mindful and humble. I have the grit to keep going.”

Source

[amywritesthings]

Meet Me At The Usual

gif credit @ gwinammie

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 5K

Summary: It's sophomore year Winter Formal, and things get a little messy with your secret friendship (and secret crush) with the Freak of Hawkins High.

Warnings: Language, Fluff & Angst, Secret Friendship, Unresolved Crushes, School Dances, Yearning, First Kiss, Eddie Munson in a Suit

A/N: Enjoy my self-indulgent, cavity-inducing story of Eddie Munson having a massive crush on you and not knowing how to be chill about it. I love writing this man. Prequel to Where Shadows Meet Shapes.

( Read on AO3 )

PREVIEW

“I wanted to ask you to the dance tonight,” you croak before you can chicken out.

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, readjusting his all-too-aloof demeanor in order to protect the brief, crackled surprise underneath. 

“Little ol’ me? I thought it was supposed to be the other way: guys ask girls, yada yada—”

“You were never going to ask me.”

His chin juts back, face scrunching in offense. “That isn’t true.”

Meet Me At The Usual

Winter Formal is such a bitch.

The stretching hallways are littered with snowflake decorations and paper icicles. Disdain crawls up the back of your neck at how feral the entire student body of Hawkins High has become in a matter of days. 

Giggling hopefuls line the rows of lockers, telepathically begging every person that passes to be asked — as someone’s desired date, as someone who is wanted —

(As someone who isn’t a loser.)

If memory serves you right, your Freshman year’s Winter Formal was an absolute mess. Not only did you rip your dress, but Tommy Winslow — a date you didn’t know how to turn down — acted like such a sleaze that half of your night was spent hiding in busy corners, wishing you could leave before the gymnasium clock struck ten.

You can’t imagine Sophomore year will be any less awful.

The one thing, however, that is different this year are the surprise several requests to accompany someone as their date to this seasonal event. Flowers from a football player, outright being asked by a basketball starter — the list continues to grow as Friday inches closer. 

(Since when did people care about you? Is it because you’re leading the class by grades and grades alone?)

The only tolerable thing about this Tuesday afternoon has been finding a messily folded note hidden in the crevice of your locker:

Meet me at the usual ? - E

‘The Usual’, as cliché as it can be, being under the bleachers.

Rather than spending lunch with the other honors students, you slide past the front doors and round the rectangular edges of the crimson brick building until you see it — in the distance, a silhouette of someone already waiting under the metal beams holding benches afloat.

The closer you get, the more prominent his wild, curly hair becomes.

“Someone has to teach you how to fold better,” you greet, stepping over a metal bar in order to join the other person under the privacy of the football stadium.

Eddie Munson stands with his arms raised, palms flush against a higher beam you cannot reach as he watches your arrival with amusement. “I didn’t have much time to write it, my dear fair maiden. It was kind of a last-minute idea.”

“Like all of your ideas?”

“Hey,” he holds up a finger, matter-of-fact. “Hellfire’s run like a tight ship. Nothing in that game is by chance or accident — except the roll of the dice, but some would say the numbers are fate.”

“I’ll take your word for it, seeing as I’ve yet to witness this illusive club.”

“It’s exclusive,” Eddie quips, slapping an indistinguishable beat into the metal support beam above, “and illusive. Next game’s on Friday and they have no fucking idea what gnarly dungeon they’re about to get into.”

“Friday?” Frowning, you situate yourself in a lean along a pillar. “But Friday is the—”

“Winter Formal,” Eddie interrupts. “Exactly.”

“So you’re not going?”

Eddie’s brow quirks. “Why, are you?”

“Everyone at school goes every year.”

“I don’t, and I didn’t last year. None of the Hellfire Club goes. We’re not particularly interested in being gawked at more than we already are.” A slow but certain smirk crawls to his lips. “Hope you’re not going with Tommy Winslow this year.”

“Tommy?” you grimace. “Absolutely fucking not.”

The smirk disappears off of his lips, now open-mouthed in shock. 

“Doth the lady sweareth?”

Your expression falters to an outright disappointed frown. “Are you serious? You’re going to give me shit for swearing, out of everyone?”

His hands detach from the metal to lift high in surrender, unable to stop the laughter billowing from his lungs. 

“Hey, cool it. It wasn’t a jab. I think it’s hot when you curse, alright?”

So hot that he’s never made a move.

An entire year of knowing Eddie Munson, and he’s never tried to any of the Junior usuals — when you stop by to watch 21 Jump Street, he never attempts the classic yawn while simultaneously putting an arm over your shoulders, instead opting to respectfully sit side-by-side; he never flips crumpled paper into the cleavage of your lower t-shirts; he never asks you out to dinner or to come by his trailer for anything beyond a smoke and jam sesh, ending with him walking you to your beat-up Nissan before your mother’s stern curfew.

Nothing.

(He doesn’t actually find your swearing — or you, for that matter — hot.) 

“Jusssayin’, do it more often,” he adds.

“Shut up,” you scoff, scooping your arms to fold tightly against your chest.

Eddie does — if only for a second.

“So did anyone ask?”

“Ask what?”

“You — out — to Winter Formal?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t, I just thought by now you’d have a date or whatever.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s you,” he says.

“It’s me?” you repeat.

“Yeah, Lady Hawkins, the…” He sighs, smacking the beam lightly once more. “...projected Valedictorian of your class, the star of the fucking whole show, the cream in everyone’s coffee. By now, at least a dozen unworthy jocks have probably asked.”

Your eyes narrow with subtle amusement. “Do I detect jealousy?”

“Roll for perception,” he replies instead, evoking an inside joke for a means of a truce.

(I don’t want to answer — or, in most cases, you already know the answer.)

Warmth floods your system as your smile spreads to a wildfire grin. You lean your temple against the bleacher pillar structures, watching him fondly.

How Eddie Munson ended up in your life the way he has, you truly cannot — and don’t quite care to — remember. A happenstance note on a desk led to an overabundance of chicken scratch handwriting in your locker, eventually rolling into this:

Meeting in shadows, in spaces, times where no one can see.

Because if anyone found out the two of you were an odd couple of thieves, thick yet so very thin in discretion, then that would be the end of ‘Lady Hawkins’ reputation.

(Your parents would never let you out of the house again.)

“...I turned them all down.”

It’s the truth. Every last offer, shot down with a polite no.

Eddie’s expression shifts, albeit unreadable as he drops his chin, allowing dark curls to cover most of his face. “Good. I mean — not good, but they didn’t deserve you anyway.”

“And who does?”

“No one in Hawkins, that’s for fucking sure.”

Laughter bubbles in your lungs as he ducks under the support beam, nearing as his ring-clad fists bump together.

“Just skip it.”

A beat passes. You huff with confusion. 

“Skip what?”

“The dance.” He leans in, waggling his brows. “Wanna smoke at my place instead?”

Your brows slide high to your hairline. “Will you get dressed up?”

His browline falls. “Dressed up? What, in… Zeppelin over Poison, or some shit?”

“No!” you correct with a playful roll of your eyes. “No, Eddie Munson, a suit.”

Eddie’s playfulness falters, childish excitement dissipating as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his denim jeans. Sniffing at nothing in particular, his attention drops to the dirt bunching at his scuffed, duct-taped boots.

“...nah, don’t own any of that kind of stuff. My uncle’s got a funeral suit, but that hasn’t been dry cleaned in six-something years.”

Oh.

You take a step forward, reaching for his arm but ultimately failing to make contact. Your hand falls lamely to your side. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know you didn’t,” he interrupts, softer this time. “You never do. Not sure how you don’t, but you always mean shit in the best possible way.” He lifts his chin, nose scrunched. “A little irritating, if you ask me.”

“I’ll do my best to tone down my Snow White approach to life just for you.”

Eddie opens his mouth to quip back, but the 5-minute warning bell echoes from the Hawkins High building.

“That’s your cue,” he suggests instead, pushing the tip of your tennis sneaker with his boot. “Don’t drink the punch at Formal.”

“And don’t kill your party in the dungeon crawl,” you sing-song as you walk backwards, careful not to trip over the metal bar on the ground as you depart for your next class.

“I can’t make any promises!” he shouts after you, staying behind.

. . . . . . . .

.

You’re the only person without a date at your Honors Geometry table.

One empty chair sits beside you as the other two couples laugh, spilling liquor from a flask to complete their punch cups. Mary Meeks and Rachel Smith gossip about every dress that passes by. Darren Jones and Justin Waters talk about the only thing they’re interested in — football, the season, the upcoming drafts for the future — ruining their formal attire with their letterhead jackets.

Every so often, the conversation bounces to you and you answer, disinterested but feigning excitement, before it’s right back to sitting between the four of them.

You sit, ignored. You stand by the punch table, ignored. You find a spot by the corner where Mary can fish out her cigarettes she snuck into the dance, ignored.

This is miserable.

(This feels so empty.)

Friends by association, it only occurs to you how little you have in common with these birds of a feather flocking together.

And you’re pretty sure you caught a passive aggressive comment about the chiffon, pastel pink dress and painfully tight high heels you’re wearing. 

(Not by choice, but by your mother’s insistence.)

Maybe Eddie was right. Maybe it would’ve been better to smoke at his trailer. Maybe you should have stayed home.

Maybe you should have asked if you could sit in on the—

“Not like that Shitfire Club.”

Your ears perk at the insult, broken from your trance as Justin puffs his chest out of his letterhead jacket from the chorus of laughter he elicits.

“They give me the creeps,” Mary replies, pulling her sparkling shawl closer around her shoulders. “Do they ever bathe?”

“I think they all sit in their mom’s basements and jerk off to geriatric porn.” Rachel’s unlit cigarette dangles daintily from its index-middle finger sandwich. “Probably together.”

“The Freak’s orchestrated demonic orgies, I just know it,” Mary agrees with a disturbed nod.

The Freak.

Eddie.

“Or they jerk each other off,” supplies Darren, snorting at his own crude joke as he passes his flask to Justin.

“Hope I don’t see any of those fucking nerds tonight,” Justin prematurely warns, rubbing his nose with the knuckle of his thumb. “Because if I do, I’ll—”

“You’ll do what, Justin?”

Mary and Rachel turn first with different degrees of confusion when your question cracks the bubble of their conversation. Justin steps out of his place to peer around the girls’ dresses, making direct eye contact while you lean against the painted concrete wall.

You can almost hear Eddie’s slowed, cautious voice in the back of your head: don’t provoke them. You’ll just put a target on your back like the rest of us.

Too late.

Your temper gets the best of you.

“You can barely catch a football in the off-season, so how are you supposed to land a punch?” you inquire, bending at the hips to push yourself from the wall.

The girls’ jaws drop in unison. Darren mumbles a prolonged ‘yooo’ under his breath, caught off guard, but not as disarmed as Justin. His face grows a shade of salmon pink, blotchy and unpleasant.

“You stickin’ up for the Freak or something?”

You breeze past the accusation to shoulder-check Rachel, clipping in your heels to snatch your silver clutch from the communal table. 

“No amount of cologne will mask the fact that you? Probably haven’t showered since the last Championship — the one you lost for our team, if I remember correctly, so if I were you?”

You offer a pointed stare at Justin, unblinking, unmoving; mousey persona be damned. 

“I’d stop picking on people for their alleged shortcomings when yours have been displayed on our home field scoreboard. And go fuck yourself.”

The last part, you regret only a little. While swearing was never in your public wheelhouse, you feel the need to drive home their cruelty with your own. 

It seems to work by the way Mary steps clear out of your way, calling you a raging bitch under her breath.

You don’t care.

You just need to get out of here.

Stalking to find the library — will he be angry if you show up unannounced in the middle of the game? — your heels click down the linoleum hallways half-dimmed in the night.

Finding the library door closed, you stop in your tracks and push against the metal mechanism to… darkness. Total black.

No one’s here.

No one speaks, no one laughs, no one tosses a unit of dice.

“Eddie?” you call out, voice echoing in the vastness. No one calls back.

It’s stupid to go to his trailer.

He may be out with the rest of the club.

He may be busy, like how you’re supposed to be busy instead of dropping into your father’s Nissan to depart from the school event and run straight to the trailer park.

Except you floor it out of the Hawkins High parking lot anyway and within fifteen minutes, find yourself pulling up to a trailer you’ve visited on several hushed occasions to catch the latest flick under the guise of studying with a classmate.

Behind the window shades, a soft orange hue emits. 

Someone’s there.

The car door slams shut as you hike the pastel pink skirt high to your knees. Avoiding the uncut weeds licking at your bare ankles, you manage to avoid sinking too far into the soft dirt leading up to Eddie’s trailer.

He’s going to think you’re insane — if he’s even home.

It takes a beat or two to muster the courage to knock; first slowly, two knuckle-taps that barely put a dent in the door. No response leads you to grow a spine, pounding three times with the butt of your fist.

Your body tenses when the door wildly swings open, startled and annoyed.

“The fuck are you knocking so—”

“—Oh.”

Both voices cease to exist among the chorus of crickets in the grass when Eddie Munson stands in his trailer living room in a black jacket and a white dress shirt, half-unbuttoned.

The black ink on his pectorals coils along the material, peeking out as he stills at the door frame. His hair must have just dried, because the curls are light. Springy. Soft. 

The vocals of Black Sabbath croon softly in the distance, echoing to your ears.

Before you can stop yourself, your gaze crawls down his body — the black slacks are a little loose and a tiny bit wrinkled, and his toes flex and relax under black socks.

“Ho-ly shit,” he finally murmurs under his breath as if trapped under a spell.

Locking eyes once more, you clear your throat and shift from one painful high heel to another, all-too aware of just how pink this dress is in a sea of black. 

“I could say the same about you.”

“Why are you… here?” Eddie asks in high-pitched confusion, taking a step to survey the trailer park outside of his trailer. Whether he’s checking to make sure no one else is here or to see if someone is watching, you aren’t sure.

“You weren’t in the library,” you supply, dropping your skirt to cross your arms into your body.

“Why would you check the library? I thought you were supposed to be at the dance — I mean, I thought you said you were with friends?”

“Because you said that’s where you play, right? The library?” you ask, bouncing on your toes for the kinetic warmth. “It’s freezing.”

“What happened to the dance?”

“Change of plans. Fuck the dance.” His chin juts back in shock of the vulgarity of your declaration. “We’re smoking at your house, so can I come in before I become a chiffon icicle?”

It takes a second, but the smile crawls onto Eddie Munson’s lips as he bows to you, open-shirt dropping with gravity. His ring-clad hand sweeps a grandiose entrance to his humble abode, stepping aside so you can enter.

You gladly take the offer, kicking your heels into the living room before your bare feet touch the threaded carpet. The relief is instantaneous.

(No need to pretend here. No need for reputation bullshit.)

“What made you change your mind?” You hear him ask as he gently closes the door behind you, locking it. His back presses into the metal, hands supporting his lower back.

“Roll for perception,” you answer cheekily. He huffs in amusement, unconvinced.

“If you don’t think I’ll abandon you right here to get my lucky set of dice, then you are sadly mistaken.” Eddie nods his tilted chin towards the hallway leading to the bedroom at the end of the trailer. “You’re on my home turf now, angel.”

The pet name purrs on the tip of his tongue like velvet. A playful warning, nothing more.

“You would have rolled a natural 20 anyway.”

“Damn right I would.”

Pushing himself from the door, he navigates to the middle of the living room and reaches gently for either of your elbows. Your hands remain tucked into your sides, the chill lingering. Eddie looks at you, really looks at you, with seeking concern.

He won’t ask what’s wrong. 

He won’t veto the perception check.

Just like how you’re too afraid to ask about the funeral suit, so you don’t.

“What happened to the dungeon crawl?” you bring up instead to fill in the gaps between Ozzy Osborne’s singing and the blaring guitar solo.

“Ended early,” he murmurs. “Babysitting emergencies cut the crawl short.”

“That’s a shame.”

“So is wearing this dress in my house when you’re supposed to be with your friends.”

The roll of your eyes happens before you can stop it, and Eddie follows the movement like a magnet — his rings clang as he reaches between you, angling your chin to bring your gaze back to him.

“Sidebar with me.”

“Ed—”

“Sidebar, or so help me, I will make us dance to Sabbath.”

“Dance?” you blurt with absurdity, before reaching for his free hand at his side. 

Calling his bluff is easy — no amount of alcohol or weed will make Eddie Munson want to sway to the power ballads blaring from his bedroom.

He doesn’t have time to retract from the way you cup his hand, bringing your conjoined arms up and into position. He belly laughs a beat later, head thrown back with abandon.

“You’re such a freak, I’m so serious.”

Freak.

Although he means it playfully, your smile gradually begins to disappear. When he drops back to a neutral gaze, however, he notices immediately. 

You don’t need him to push.

“They’re shitty people, Ed,” you blurt, closing your eyes with regret. “Really… awful, nasty people that I’m supposed to be friends with, have classes with, spend my time with — all because, what? It’s good for my life plan?”

No need to roll for perception anymore.

You continue to squeeze your eyes shut as you admit your complicity. And to your surprise, your arm moves — in time with the slowing guitar, where you feel the cautious hover of his hand at your waist before he commits to touching the silky fabric of your dress.

“Some people say yeah, it’s perfect for your life plan. I believe the corporate man would consider it networking ,” Eddie provides, low in a murmur, as he leads the sway.

“It’s bullshit.”

“Everything is bullshit if you think about it, but a little birdie once told me that some of it’s necessary, so…”

“But what if I don’t want that?”

Eddie freezes at that hypothetical question, allowing the song to play out for the next to begin. You feel a nudge, his hand pushing into your waist twice, and you silently oblige to look at him. 

You’re met with those puppy-dog eyes, expectant and sad and forgiving all the same.

“You’re not saying something,” he begins, taking a sharp breath before you can open your mouth to protest. “I mean — you’re saying a lot to me right now, but you’re not actually saying what it is you wanna say.”

As your shoulders deflate in defeat, he shimmies his shoulders in the hopes of lightening the mood. 

“You know whatever is said here, I won’t repeat. I won’t tell a soul.”

He’s said this plenty of times over the past year. No one talks to the Freak. No one looks his way beyond a scowl. Whatever is said this trailer, to him and him alone, will die here, because no one asks Eddie Munson to spill his guts.

“I wanted to ask you to the dance tonight,” you croak before you can chicken out.

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, readjusting his all-too-aloof demeanor in order to protect the brief, crackled surprise underneath.

“Little ol’ me? I thought it was supposed to be the other way: guys ask girls, yada yada—”

“You were never going to ask me.”

His chin juts back, face scrunching in offense. “That isn’t true.”

“You hate formals.”

“I do.”

“And you had Hellfire Club tonight.”

“Well, okay, that isn’t why I didn’t—”

“No?”

“No! No, Hellfire Club can get moved, I’m the GM.”

“So you would have gone, then, if I had asked?”

Eddie lets go of your joined hands to run through his clean curls. 

“We can’t… talk about this. Not now, man.”

You move a fraction of an inch closer, pushing forward. “Would you? Or would you have asked me? If I were a different person, would you have ask—”

“Do you think I’m wearing my uncle’s fucking suit for the laughs?” he interrupts with a hint of exasperation, removing himself from you completely to take a semi-circle around the small living room. “Christ, dude, look at me. Look at what I’m wearing.”

You stay perfectly still as the knot forms heavily in your throat. Eddie doesn’t look at you as he paces back and forth, out of breath from the emotion in his voice.

“You think I wanted to be mocked mercilessly as I waltz in, totally stag, at a place where no one wants me to be? I cut the Hellfire Club dungeon crawl early because I wanted to see you. I was going for you.”

Despite yourself, you croak one shaky syllable. 

“Me?”

Eddie finally, finally, looks directly into your eyes from where he stands.

“Why are you always so fucking surprised?” 

It’s said with exhaustion, a year in the making, as you look him over in a new light. Eddie fidgets in the much-too-large jacket, the frame hanging off his gangly limbs, as he assesses and reassesses your reaction.

“What the hell are we doing here, man?” He holds up a palm before you can speak. “Please don’t placate me just ‘cus you tolerate me. I don’t think I can take that.”

“Tolerate you?”

“Yeah, tolerate,” Eddie repeats. “We hang out under bleachers because lunch is a fucking snooze. You come over to fake-study so we can watch whatever that sitcom is that you love so much. We slip notes back and forth—”

“You sent me the first note!” you interrupt in a desperation from his negative spiral.

“—like we’re, I don’t know, as cozy as Chrissy fucking Cunningham and Jason Carver. And yeah, I did send the first note, because I think you’re great and—”

“I told Justin Waters to go fuck himself.” 

The words you should have led with when he first opened his front door now spill hastily out on the floor between you, creating a divide. Eddie’s eyes, already wide with panicked truth, grow to be the size of saucers from the implication — and the wonder of what you could possibly mean.

The crease in his brow ceases to exist, head tilting an inch: go on.

You do.

“I was at the Winter Formal and I was standing with Mary, Rachel, Darren and Justin fucking Waters and they were talking about a bunch of stuff I didn’t care about. Like, loads of stuff, but I was so bored and I was spaced thinking about how your game was going, but then they brought — they brought up the Hellfire Club.”

Eddie’s face drops.

“They started talking shit, completely out of their asses, and I am so sick of people constantly making you out to be a bad fucking person when they’re the bad people.”

And so are you, for never speaking up sooner.

“So I told him to go fuck himself — for talking shit about you, about the Hellfire Club, about anyone who isn’t on the stupid football team that he’s dragged down since he joined because he’s so awful at playing—” 

“Stop,” he warns, but it’s nothing beyond a whisper.

You don’t hear. 

“And I wanted you to be there. I — wanted — to ask — you. And I get there’s this… stigma? Or whatever, about us hanging out. I get that my parents may say something.”

The curly-haired boy is a certain shade of pale, almost translucent. “I’m serious, stop.”

“The entire school will have something to say because all they do is work on their stupid life plans,” you continue from the momentum of the relief lifting off your chest.

He takes a step forward as if he’ll cross the room to you, but quickly halts in his journey.

“You gotta stop right now, or I might kiss you.”

It’s a confession that cuts through like electricity. From the crown of your head the current surges, awakening every vein in your body to the here and now.

Eddie looks wrecked — there’s a glassy tint to his eye, defeated from this impromptu argument and even less anticipated honesty session. Black Sabbath’s album has completed its run time, enveloping the trailer in pure, excruciating silence.

Too afraid to speak, your lips part with a million questions you won’t ask.

Eddie Munson, dressed in a suit for the Winter Formal, wants to kiss you.

“No one stands up for me.” Your own vision blurs as he clarifies the sudden desire, ashamed at the way he sounds so lost. “I’m just — it’s not something that happens with Eddie the Freak, you know? And it — I don’t know if I should be pissed at you for putting a target on your back or what, but—”

“Eddie.”

You want to scream. You want to run to him. You want to ignore the sudden flame blooming in your lower belly, but you can’t.

“I don’t wanna mess this up,” he says, voice cracking. “You’re the best part of my fucking day, dude, and I’m—”

Screw this.

“Then let me mess it up.”

Your interruption knocks the wind clear from his lungs as your bare feet take off to a determined stride towards him without an ounce of hesitation.

Reaching for the back of his head, you rise on your toes to press a gentle kiss to the center of his lips. At first Eddie doesn’t react, entire body taught under the button-down shirt and slacks. Both of his hands are fists, white as death in contrast to the dark metal of his row of rings.

When you pull away with budding concern that yeah, perhaps you have finally messed this up and the admittance of wanting to kiss you was only just an exaggeration, Eddie shakes his head as if he’s entranced in a dream.

Then his hand finds the back of your neck, curling around it, before crashing his lips against yours with yearning desperation.

You make a noise of surprise against his mouth, but melt into the gesture. Both of your hands find his face, pulling him impossibly closer, as his trembling hand at your neck keeps you in place. He tastes like fresh mouthwash, the scent of woodsy cologne and a hint of weed — it’s all completely Eddie.

His tongue licks at your lower lip, and you’re sure this is how you die.

Your lips part to test the water, meeting his tongue with curious want. He groans as if the action alone could ruin him, his free hand lightly cupping the side of your face before detaching himself from you to find a purchase of air.

“Holy shit,” he breathes in short puffs, eyes still closed.

You lower your hands, only for him to quickly drop his own to catch them. His thumb runs along your soft skin, relishing in the moment, before dark eyes finally connect with yours.

“Hey.” 

The greeting is shy, small.

“Hey,” you murmur back, a bewildered laugh caught in bubbles at the back of your throat.

Eddie’s brow furrows, caught between euphoria and reality. “Did that just—” 

“Happen?” you finish, and he nods furiously. “I think so.”

“Not how I expected my night to go,” he admits, still trying to find his breath. “I thought I’d be rolling up to that dance to see you — fuck, I don’t know, dancing with someone else and then I’d feel extra shitty—”

“I only thought about you the entire time, so, I don’t think that was in the cards,” you admit sheepishly, dropping to full height from your toes.

Eddie looks to the ceiling as if he’s about to pray to an unchosen deity before the smile bursts against his lips. Elated. At ease.

It’s beautiful.

“You, uh, you still wanna stay to smoke and watch movies or something or did I just… I don’t even know what I’m saying right now, so I’m going to need you to make the decisions here, doll.”

You laugh, tugging playfully at the hem of his suit jacket.

He really dressed in this thing for you. 

Nothing feels real, but it sure feels right.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

[watchmegetobsessed]

SLEEPLESS

a/n: omg! it's been so long since i last wrote something for harry so it feels a bit weird but in a good way to be back. i've been spending more time offline so writing hasn't been going that fast like before, but im working on a few other stuff too! just please be patient with me, im trying my besti swear! so now enjoy this oneshot of two oblivious and stupid roommates who start sharing a bed...

pairing: Roommate!Harry x reader

word count: 8.1k

masterlist

Living with three boys has its perks but also a lot of downsides too. It’s not how you planned, you were set to move in with one of your friends from second year, but she bailed on you last minute, leaving you with no place to live when most of the houses were already taken for the next at least one year. You were bracing yourself to sleep under a bridge or something already when your heroes came along.

You went to high school with Harry Niall and Louis, but you weren’t exactly in the same friend group, just knew about each other. Then you ended up in the same Lit class freshman year with Harry and he was basically your pass into their little group. You hit it off pretty easily and you always wondered why you didn’t become friends before college. Later you had two more classes with him in the second semester and it was just all a coincidence that he found out about your living situation.

“Why don’t you move in with us?” he prompted one afternoon when you were studying together in the library.

“I’m not sharing a room with any of you, Harry,” you sighed, shaking your head.

“You wouldn’t have to. We had a fourth mate living with us but he dropped out about a month ago. You could take his bedroom.”

“Are for real? You should talk about it with the boys first, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind it. They like you too and if I’m being honest, the place could use the touch of a woman,” he smirked and you just rolled your eyes, but you were incredibly thankful for the offer.

So after talking with Niall and Louis about it and once they gave their amens on the situation, you officially moved in with the three of them.

You’d be lying if you said there hasn’t been times when you thought about choosing the bridge, living with boys is not exactly a dream. They are messy, sometimes loud and oblivious about certain things women do and need. You’ll never forget Niall’s face when you packed the shelf above the toilet with your tampons and pads. The horror in his eyes as he examined all the different sizes and types.

“But why so many? I don’t get it why you need the large ones and the mini ones too,” he huffed.

“Because I vary them according to the strength of my flow.”

“Bless you,” he scoffed and just walked away.

They tend to leave their clothes around the house and they don’t always realize when it’s time to let some fresh air into the place either. Harry has a sixth sense wanting to use the bathroom when you’re in and Louis always forgets to get rid of his spoiled food from the fridge. Tini things that surely got you thinking if it was a good idea to move in with them. But then there are times when you can’t even imagine sharing a home with anyone else than these three idiots.

The way Harry always leaves you a cup of coffee on the counter when he has an early class on mondays and wednesdays, how Niall always waits for you to get home after your night shifts at the restaurant you’ve been working at, but he always just says he was watching Supernatural on TV. You love that Louis goes out of his way to get you your favorite pastry for breakfast on sundays when he goes for his morning runs. But the absolute best is that you never feel alone or bored with these three around. Something is always happening and they make sure to involve you in everything, making you feel like part of their little pack.

Tonight is Thursday and Thursdays are movie nights in your home. It’s been a tradition since the first week and you haven’t missed any of them. Sitting on the couch at your usual spot, you laugh as Niall growls in annoyance when you suggest to watch another rom-com.

“Not again!” he protests, sitting on the floor by the coffee table you and Harry thrifted a few months ago after the previous one was broken at a smaller party held in the house.

“Why? I bet Harry would love it!” you grin, glancing at the guy in talk who is now entering the room with a big bowl of popcorn.

“Of course he would, because he is a pussy! And the two of you always team up, dragging Louis with you so I can never watch something I enjoy!” Niall whines as Harry sits next to you, not too bothered by his friend’s cries.

“Come on, I bet you enjoyed Crazy, Stupid Love last week!” you laugh, remembering how he whined for the first part, then fell asleep at the end.

“Love, if you think that was enjoyment, I wouldn’t want to be your boyfriend,” Niall scoffs and you gasp at his reply.

“Hey!” you snap at him, but can’t help laughing. This is how it always goes with you and Niall, the non-stop bickering can sometimes drive Harry and Lou insane.

“Okay, so what do you want to watch?” Harry asks, throwing some popcorn into his mouth as he gets comfortable, an arm resting on the back of the couch behind you, the other one busy with the snack in his lap.

“There is this new horror I’ve been dying to see!” Niall’s blue eyes light up right away, but you’re fast to break that shine.

“Nah, no way. I’m not watching a horror movie.”

“Why not?”

“Because I fucking hate them and they scare the shit out of me.”

“That’s like the whole point!” he protests, but you shake your head no again.

“What are you fighting about again?” Louis asks, walking into the room after his quick shower, the smell of his body wash filling the room for a few moments.

“I want to watch a horror movie, but Y/N is a little baby and she doesn’t want to.”

“I’m not a baby! I just don’t enjoy watching people get killed or demons sucking the life out of someone!” Niall just rolls his eyes at your response.

“But it’s always what you or Harry wants to watch, why can’t I choose just this once?”

“That’s not true, we watch movies you like too!” you retort, but Niall gives you an unimpressed look. “We watched that crime thing, that was your choice!”

“That was three months ago, Y/N,” he sighs and as you do some quick math you realize that he is right.

“Hey, he has a point. Let’s just watch what he wants this one time, yeah?” Harry curls his arm that’s been on the back of the couch around your shoulder and he pulls you to his side, squeezing you gently.

“But I hate horrors,” you pout, knowing well that it’s already kind of settled, you lost this battle.

“It’s just a movie. And if you get scared in the night, you can sleep at mine,” he offers with a wink that surely makes your heartbeat fasten a bit.

If you’re being honest, you’ve always had a tiny crush on Harry, even back in high school, when you didn’t really know him. He was the cool guy, but not the douchebag type, more like the one that was nice to everyone and earned their respect and liking. Getting to know him just proved that he really is a great guy, but you figured he would never feel the same way about you. These three guys only saw you as their sister and that was in a way kinda worse than being friend zoned, but there’s nothing you can do about it, so you just decided to come to peace with your situation. But that doesn’t mean you don’t get flustered when you see him wander around the house in just his boxers or when he gets a little touchy with you, which happens a lot, because that’s just how he is. Hands on your shoulders, a little squeeze on your hips, the gentle touch of his fingers on your back, they happen all the time and they get your pulse up every time. You can only hope it’s not that noticeable.

Niall finally gets what he wants and you agree to watch that stupid horror movie. It doesn’t start off too bad, but it quickly escalates and makes you shudder every time the screen gets a little darker or the music is foreshadowing that something is about to happen.

“Jesus fuck!” you jump a little when the killer appears out of nowhere in the scene.

“You alright?” Harry asks, peeking down at you.

“I fucking hate this dude,” you mumble, rubbing your face with your hands, to get your shit together. Harry chuckles lightly next to you, his arm pulling you to his side close and you gladly sink against him, the warmth of his body giving you some comfort and a sense of safety.

Your eyes are on the screen, but your mind is dancing around how his fingers are delicately running up and down your arm, drawing circles and little shapes on your skin. It could put you to sleep easily, even with the woman screaming on the screen after seeing her husband get killed.

“Just imagine the guy with a funny mustache,” Harry murmurs, leaning closer to you so he doesn’t bother the other two guys with his comment. “Or maybe in a ridiculous outfit.”

“Like… in a onsie?” you ask, squinting your eyes at the screen.

“Could be, yeah,” he chuckles quietly. “Just imagine him running through the woods in a onsie with bunnies all over it.”

You can’t push your laughter down, covering your mouth with your hand so you don’t bother the others. Harry just smirks, giving you a squeeze as you’re still melted against his side on the couch, legs pulled up to your chest, while his are spread out in front of him.

“Definitely not that scary,” you giggle and Harry hums in agreement.

“Would you mind getting a fucking room, you guys? You have two, in fact!” Niall snaps at you playfully, when you start laughing again.

“Sorry, sorry!” you clear your throat, your cheeks heating up at the comment, but luckily it’s dark enough to hide your embarrassment. Niall is always quick to make dirty jokes and tease you in a way that makes you nervous, especially when it involves Harry as well. He has made plenty of comments about you and Harry since you’ve moved in, implying that the two of you sometimes act like a couple or that you should hook up. Harry is always quick to shake them off, that’s how you know he couldn’t even take the thought seriously.

At the end of the movie you feel like it wasn’t bad, not with Harry holding you close at least.

“Will you be screaming tonight, Y/N?” Niall teases you, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Either way it’s gonna be your fault.”

“I can live with that!” he laughs, bidding his goodbye before he shuts the door of his bedroom behind him.

You do your usual evening routine, get ready to bed and by the time you’re done in the bathroom all the boys have retired into their rooms. The hallway stands dark in front of you, only a tiny bit of light coming from your bedroom since you left your bedside lamp on in there, but you still can’t help the eerie feeling that washes over you. That movie didn’t sit right with you and now you have to face the aftermath of it.

Switching the lights in the bathroom off you sprint into your bedroom, pictures from the movie flashing in your mind of the killer just jumping out of nowhere. You shut the door and lean your back against it for a moment, taking a deep breath. Tonight is going to be long.

No matter how hard you try, you just can’t fall asleep. You’re way too alerted, opening your eyes at the tiniest of sounds around you, which is unfortunate, because your window is looking over the main street, unlike two other rooms in the house, that are facing the small backyard. Harry and Louis have the luck to have those rooms.

Every time you’re about to fall asleep something from the movie sneaks into your thoughts and you get scared to death. Soon, you realize you won’t be able to sleep on your own tonight.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you wonder if Harry really meant that offer that you can sleep with him or not. Part of you is convinced it was just a joke, but when you hear someone shouting down the street you push your doubts aside and you quickly find yourself making your way to Harry’s room.

You knock on the room lightly, not wanting to wake anyone else up. The last thing you need is Niall seeing you go into Harry’s room in the middle of the night.

No answer comes from inside, but you won’t just leave it at that. Opening the door you’re facing another dark room, barely making out the furniture, but you already know the route by heart. Making it to the bed your eyes finally adjust to the darkness and you can see Harry lying on his side, sleeping peacefully. Squatting down you place a hand to his shoulder and give him a tiny shake.

“Harry?” you call out quietly, but his answer is just a huff. “Harry, it’s me,” you try again, squeezing his arm. He furrows his eyebrows before slowly blinking his eyes open, finding you in his sight.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asks in that groggy, low voice you love hearing in the morning so much.

“I can’t… Did you mean that I can sleep here if I’m scared?” you ask, afraid that he might just have a good laugh and send you back to your room. For a long moment, he just blinks at you before nodding his head and you feel relief washing over you.

“Sure,” he hums.

“O-okay then I’ll bring a blanket and take the floor and--”

“Shut up, you are not sleeping on the floor,” he growls, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into bed with him as he scoots over, making you space on the mattress.

It’s a bit weird at first, lying in bed with Harry, especially because it’s just queen sized, so there’s not much space between the two of you, but it seems like Harry doesn’t mind it so why should you?

Your nerves are a lot calmer with Harry next to you, but maybe it’s still because of the movie or because you’re a bit anxious about the whole situation, you just still can’t relax enough to fall asleep.

“Y/N, no one is gonna kill you here,” Harry speaks up surprising you because you thought he has already fallen back asleep.

“I know, I know,” you whisper, trying to sound convincing, but you can’t fool anyone, especially not him.

He huffs deeply and before you could realize what’s happening, Harry’s arm is curled around your waist, pulling you against him, spooning you from behind, the warmth of his body wrapping your figure almost entirely.

“If a murderer comes, they will have to fight me first, alright? Now sleep,” he mumbles against your hair, squeezing you gently. All at once, you couldn’t care about killers and dark shadows around you, because Harry was right there, holding you tight and there was nowhere you wanted to be more than right there.

You slept like a baby. Harry’s closeness kept every nightmare away from you and the morning came with ease. Harry’s phone wakes the two of you up at eight, because he has a morning class at 9.30. The two of you are completely tangled up in each other, lying on your side facing each other, Harry’s arms are wrapped around you, while yours are hugging his waist. Groaning at the sound of his alarm, he rolls to his back to reach for the phone on the nightstand and then he finally turns it off. It’s bright outside, the darkness of the night finally long gone. You’re still groggy when Harry rolls back, his arm coming back around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world and in a sense, it feels like that. But as you both slowly wake up, you realize that you might be a little too close. Slowly but surely you let go of each other, rolling to your back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Hope I didn’t kick you in my sleep,” you smile at him, peeking over at him, hoping to break the awkwardness of the situation.

“No, don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, rubbing his eyes, before pushing himself up and off the bed. You follow him with your gaze as he steps to his dresser and grabs a pair of clean underwear. “I’ll put on a coffee while I shower, want one too?” he asks, though you know he could make one for you anyway.

“Sure, thank you,” you nod and he nods back, yawning as he walks out of the room, leaving you lying in his bed, a bit confused and kind of aching to be held by him again.

Two days pass by, everything is going as per usual, neither you nor Harry brings up that you spent the night in his bed that one particular time. Now it’s saturday and you all were planning to go out, but a sudden storm has cancelled your plans, so the evening turned into a cozy, lazy hangout instead of a wild party at some frat house.

Louis decided to work on a paper that’s due in two weeks, Niall has been relentlessly swiping on Tinder while you and Harry are spawled out on the couch, watching some shitty action movie that was on TV, since you both were too lazy to choose one and put it on. Deep down you’re a little happy you don’t have to spend the evening in a crowded, smelly house, drinking cheap alcohol.

Harry gets up from his seat to grab himself a drink just when Niall growls in annoyance.

“What is it?” you ask.

“They keep unmatching with me after we’ve talked a little!”

“Have you thought about the reason?” you smirk at him, knowing well that Niall probably isn’t the easiest to talk to, he surely takes it too far too soon.

“Well they probably don’t like that I ask them if I can go over,” he shrugs, making you laugh.

“You’d go over in the pouring rain?” Harry asks, returning to his spot on the couch. He puts his drink to the coffee table and instead of sitting into his previous position, leaning against the arm of the couch, he lies down, laying his head to your thigh, making your breath hitch for a moment.

“Of course not!” Niall rolls his eyes. “But I thought it would make them think I would do anything for them.”

“It makes you seem desperate,” Harry retorts, earning a questioning look from his friend. “What? It does!”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes it does,” you nod in agreement. “Going over in the middle of a storm just to fuck? Sounds like you’re having a hard time finding someone.”

“Women are so fucking complicated, and for what?!” he growls, before storming off to his bedroom, like an angsty teenager, leaving you and Harry alone.

He doesn’t move, his head stays on your thigh using it as a pillow. His curls are tickling the soft skin on your thigh and you have to fight the urge to play with his hair or scratch his scalp. You stay like this for the rest of the movie and when he gets up you almost want to pull him back.

“Alright, I’m fucked, I’m gonna go to bed,” he yawns, stretching his arms out into the air as he heads into his bedroom. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Night, Harry!” you call after him as you watch his frame disappear down the hallway.

Sighing, you slide down on the couch, cursing under your breath that you’re still so hung up on Harry. You really thought that you had it under control, but lately those damn butterflies are acting up in your stomach at everything he does.

“I’m pathetic,” you mumble under your breath just as the sky rumbles outside with a blinding lightning, making you jump with a squeak. “Shit,” you huff, already knowing that falling asleep will be a pain in the ass. Again.

You’ve always hated storms, they make you think that something bad is about to happen, a tree is about to fall into the window or a lightning will blow up the building. It’s kind of stupid, you know it, but you just can’t help it.

Tossing and turning, you jump every time a lightning flashes somewhere outside and a few seconds later the thunder rips through your whole body, almost making you fall off the bed.

“Oh God,” you let out a shaky breath. You have no idea how long it is until the Storm finally stops and you’d really like to have a good night's sleep. So pushing your anxious thoughts to the side, you get out of bed and head over to Harry’s room once again.

It’s such a deja vu from a few nights ago, as you gently knock on the door you wait again, but this time you actually get an answer.

“Yeah?” you hear him call out from inside and you slowly open the door, peeking your head inside. Harry is lying in bed, his head propped up against the headboard as he is scrolling through his phone. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asks, putting the phone aside as he sits up.

“I just, I-I know it’s stupid, but I was thinking… I don’t know--”

“Y/N, just tell me, alright? Come on in,” he gestures for you and you slip into the room, closing the door behind you before sitting to the edge of the bed next to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep during storms…” you admit, looking into his eyes, hoping he gets the hint where you want to head with it. He stares back at you for a moment before he scoots over, lifting the covers up, giving you the green light to join him.

Relieved, you climb over to him, making yourself comfortable as he wraps the blanket over you, his arm immediately coming to cradle you, this time pulling you to his chest so your head is laid upon his shoulder, a hand gently placed onto his hard chest, probably right above where his butterfly tattoo is adorning his abdomen.

This is now easily your favorite place. Safe and tight in Harry’s arms, protected from anything and everything, like you’re in a little bubble as soon as you get on his bed.

Lightning strikes outside again and you shiver a little. Harry probably notices it, because he tightens his hold around you, as if it’s his way telling you that he is here and nothing bad is gonna happen. Eventually, you’re able to shut the outside out and only focus on Harry’s warmth, the touch of his hand on your arm and his even breathing. And then finally, you drift off to sleep.

This morning is different from the previous one you spent here. There’s no alarm since it’s Sunday, neither of you have anything in particular to do, so you wake up feeling rested, the Sun shining through his half drawn in curtains, no trace of last night’s storm can be noticed from where you’re lying in bed, the sky is as clear as ever. Sometime during the night you got tangled in a way where Harry is the one now cuddling you, his head lying on your chest, hugging you as if you were a giant teddy bear, his leg thrown between yours, lightly snoring against your sleep shirt. You can only see his mop of hair and the urge to play with them is back, but this time, you give in.

Leaving one hand on his back, you move the other one to his unruly locks, gently playing with one before you comb your fingers through it, lightly scratching his scalp. Harry hums in pleasure, shifting from his dreams back to reality, but he doesn’t move, just keeps humming as you massage his scalp.

“It’s not a good morning, it’s the best,” he mumbles groggily, making you chuckle at his words.

One of his hands is flat against your ribcage and the damned butterflies start dancing when you feel his fingers gently stroke your side as you keep playing with his curls. This feels so idyllic, as if you’ve been like this forever. You wish that was true.

Groaning as he stretches, Harry rolls to his back, making you instantly miss his body pressed against yours. He rubs his eyes, sighing deep as he blinks up at the ceiling a few times, then he turns his head to the side, looking at you.

Just when he is about to say something, outside his door it sounds like someone just broke a pile of plates and it’s followed by Niall’s usual annoyed growl. You both get out of bed to go and check what happened, not even thinking about how it might appear that you both are coming from Harry’s room in the morning.

Harry flings the door open and there is Niall, collecting pieces of a plate from the floor, his breakfast scattered down the hallway as well while he curses under his breath.

“What happened?” Harry asks, picking up a bigger piece from the plate.

“Fucking tripped,” he growls back, glancing up just for a moment, then back down, but then he processes that you’re standing behind Harry, in his room, in the morning. “What the fuck are you doing in Harry’s room?” he bluntly asks, quickly forgetting about the mess he just made.

“What?” you ask nervously, your pulse quickening in an instant. Harry stands up, seemingly not too bothered by Niall’s question.

“You slept in his room?!”

“She did,” Harry answers, leaning against the doorframe.

“Wait, are you two fucking?” Niall’s eyes widen, snapping back and forth between you and Harry.

“Just because two people sleep in the same bed, doesn’t mean they are fucking, Niall,” Harry chuckles, seemingly amused by the situation that’s got your stomach knotted. Louis’ door opens and he walks out, his hair a little messy, but already dressed, a mug halfway filled with coffee in his hand.

“Wha’s this circus out here?” he asks, looking around, his eyes scanning over the mess on the floor.

“Did you know these two are fucking?” Niall asks him and Harry lets his head drop back at his words.

“Are you?” Louis simply questions and you shake your head no.

“We are not. Y/N can’t sleep in a storm so she came over to mine.”

“Funny, she doesn’t come to me when she’s scared,” Niall scoffs.

“I never came to you because you don’t understand that sleeping together doesn’t mean sex,” you retort, though your ears are practically burning from the rising anxiety inside you.

“Wait, whoa. This wasn’t the first time you two slept together?”

“She was scared after your stupid horror movie too,” Harry shrugs.

“Wow, so are you guys a thing now or what?”

“Niall!” Harry growls and you’re not entirely sure what bothers you more. Niall’s shock and interrogation or the way Harry seems so cool and unbothered, like it’s no big deal. Maybe because for him it really isn’t, it’s only about the sleeping, nothing else, even though the cuddles are a little beyond the lines of friendship.

“What? I’m just asking the important stuff! Am I not allowed to tell dirty jokes to Y/N because you’ll cut my prick off?”

“You shouldn’t tell those anyway,” Louis chimes in and you nod in agreement.

Seeing that the conversation is just getting more and more awkward with each passing moment you decide to pull yourself out of it. Pushing yourself past Harry you mumble an excuse me before rushing back into your room, the three boys eyeing you curiously as you shut the door behind you, finally putting a physical barrier between you and them.

You shouldn’t be this offended, it’s not like any promises were made and you should have known better and not fall for him more than you already did. It was silly of you to think that there was anything more behind these nights spent curled up against each other, or when you woke up tangled and melted together. It was never what you hoped it to be.

Then and there you decide it’s better if you distanced yourself from him, or at least go back to how it was before. No bed sharing, no cuddling and preferably no bitter feelings.

It all goes well, because you have a pretty busy week after that day, you always have something to do and it’s not like you spent the night with Harry randomly, so it was evident that you stayed in your room so far.

But about a week later another storm was threatening to strike. The sky was gradually darkening all afternoon and now it’s only five o’clock, but it feels like eight. It’s Sunday, you’re quite exhausted since you were working until three. Niall was out somewhere with some of his coursemates and Louis went home for the weekend, won’t be back until Tuesday. It’s just you and Harry, who’s been sprawled out on the couch in only his sweatpants while you’re making yourself an early dinner so you can go to bed soon and have a good night’s sleep.

It doesn’t take long for the rain to start pouring, you’ve just gotten out of the shower when the first thunder rips through the place, making you gasp in fear. Harry’s head snaps around, looking in your way where you’re standing at the bathroom door, a questioning look in his eyes, but he doesn’t say a word. Ignoring his gaze, you just make your way into your bedroom, not even thinking about what could be on his mind. Is he thinking about whether you’ll ask to sleep with him again or he doesn’t care about it at all?

By the time you are ready to go to bed, the storm is fully raging outside, making your insides tremble every time you see a lightning or the thunder breaks the quietness in the house. You make one last trip to the kitchen, finding Harry leaned against the counter as he eats an apple.

“Going to bed early?” he asks as you pour yourself some water.

“Mhm,” you nod, avoiding looking at him.

“Everything alright?”

“Sure, I’m just tired,” you force a small smile onto your face just when a thunder rumbles outside, making you jump. Harry is watching you curiously and kind of expectantly, but you’re doing your best ignoring it. Instead, you just grab your water and head back to your room. “Good night.”

“Night, Y/N,” he calls after you, and you can feel his burning gaze on your back right until you close the door behind you.

Your plan to sleep a good ten hours goes right out the window. It doesn’t seem like the storm is about to calm anytime soon, so you’re stuck to suffer through it on your own. You’ll be damned to go to Harry’s, that would be an instant heart break and you just can’t take that right now. Long, torturous hours pass by with you lying awake in bed and part of you wants to go running over to Harry, but you force yourself to stay. It’s not happening tonight.

You fall asleep sometime after two in the morning when the thunder and lightning have stopped. Unfortunately, you need to wake up early in the morning, so when your phone’s alarm shakes you out of your sleep, you feel like absolute shit. Dragging yourself out of bed appears to be the hardest thing right now. As you make your way out, you are met with an all too familiar figure sitting at the small dining table, two cups of coffees in front of him, one obviously made for you.

Harry’s eyes snap up at you curiously, taking in your terrible looks as you head to the bathroom.

“Morning,” you mumble under your breath.

“Good morning’,” he nods in your way and though he doesn’t say anything else, you can tell he has a few thoughts about your current state.

Once you’re done with your morning business in there you join him at the table, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“Rough night?” he asks, eyes examining your face.

“Kinda.”

“The storm?”

You don’t answer, just nod your head. He remains silent, but you can feel that he is dying to ask another question.

Why didn’t you come over?

You’re glad he doesn’t actually asks you, because you wouldn’t be able to give either a normal answer or say anything without starting to cry. Instead, you just grab your coffee and head back into your bedroom to get ready for the day.

That week on Friday all four of you are invited to a party. At first you want to cancel, but some of your friends from classes will be there too and it’s been ages since you’ve been to a great party, so you decide to tag along with the boys.

For the first half of the evening you go your separate way, spending time with people you don’t actually live with and see every day. One drink follows the other, though you make sure you don’t go farther than getting tipsy. You’re not in the mood to deal with a nasty hangover in the morning.

Sometime after your third or fourth drink you run into Niall and he pulls you into their little circle that also involves Harry. When he sees that you’ve joined them, his eyes light up and goes out of his way to get next to you.

“I haven’t seen you in ages!” he whines, slurring his words as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to keep you at his side. He is definitely drunk, that you’re sure of.

“It’s been just about two hours, Harry,” you roll your eyes, but can’t push your smile down. You’d be lying if you said you’re not enjoying having him so close. Your dynamic hasn’t been the same since you stopped sleeping in his bed. Not that it was such a regular activity, it only happened two times.

“But I missed you, I feel like we haven’t… haven’t talked in so long!” he huffs, knitting his eyebrows together. “Have you been avoiding me?” he asks leaning closer, so your conversation can somewhat be private.

“That’s silly. Of course I haven’t!”

“But it feels like that,” he pouts with glossy eyes. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

“Sure,” you nod, the bitter taste of lying filling your mouth.

“Alright, cool,” he smirks and pulling closer he kisses into your hair before he engages with the rest of the group again, keeping his arm around you as if it wasn’t a big deal.

For the rest of the evening you simply don’t leave his side and not because he doesn’t let you, but because you don’t want to. Harry is not the only one missing the other, this week you’ve noticed that even though you’ve been keeping yourself busy, your thoughts always took you back to one particular, curly haired boy. Despite everything that’s been going on, he is your friend first and foremost who you love spending time with and talking about anything and everything.

Both of you are intoxicated, Harry a bit more than you, but you’re having a blast playing beerpong or ruining Niall’s chances with girls he is trying to pick up. You’re genuinely having an amazing time and it wouldn’t be the same without Harry.

Arriving back home your little group splits, everyone using the bathroom after the other and you’re the last one in line, because you always take the longest. By the time you’re finished, Louis and Niall are both locked up in their rooms, but Harry’s door is still open, some dim lighting illuminating the hallway. As you approach it, you find him throwing his dirty clothes into the hamper, but his head perks up when he sees you.

“Good night, H,” you sigh, quite tired and in need of a good sleep, but before you could head into your own bedroom, Harry grabs your wrist and pulls you into his. “What is it?”

“Sleep here,” he simply prompts, already leading you to the bed.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

“I-I… I don’t--” you stutter, feeling flustered from his offer.

“Come on, you can’t say no,” he tells you, already crawling under his covers and then he holds them up as the invitation.

Taking a deep breath you follow him and make yourself comfortable in your almost usual spot. Harry’s arm falls over your waist in an instant, spooning you from behind as he hums pleased. But a few moments later he lifts his head, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

“You know you can say no, right? I was just joking.” Looking back at him you give him a small smile. Even drunk he makes sure you aren’t doing anything you don’t want to, but how could you not want it? You’ve been aching to sleep next to him all week, especially after the last storm when you suffered alone in your room.

“I know, Harry.”

“Alright, okay,” he nods, his head dropping back to the pillow. “I missed this,” he mumbles with a sigh.

“Yeah?”

“Mm, sleeping alone sucks,” he hums and in a split second, your heart breaks.

Harry didn’t want to sleep with you, he just wanted to sleep with someone and you were the one there. It has nothing to do with you.

You want to blame him, you want it to be his fault that your chest is now aching, knowing that it truly doesn’t mean the same thing to him it does to you, but you know you can’t. It wouldn’t be fair, so once again, you’re left with a sinking heart wrapped up into Harry’s embrace that suddenly feels burning.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Harry.”

When the morning comes Harry is still sleeping deep beside you, an arm thrown over your waist, puffing warm air against the side of your head with every breath he exhales. Seeing him so peaceful warms your heart, but then you realize everything that happened last night, how he only used you because you were available and not because he wanted you.

You don’t want to wait for him to wake up and face him, your emotions would surely bring the best out of you. So carefully, you unwrap yourself from his hold and sneak out of his room, back into yours.

There’s no way you can face Harry right now, so before he could wake up you leave, planning on spending the day in the library, working on your assignments, hoping the school work will take your mind off of how badly you’ve been friendzoned.

Sometime after eleven Harry actually texts you asking where you went and you just tell him you have a shitload of school stuff to deal with. He asks if he can join you, but you tell him you’re with a group of your classmates, even though you’re sitting in an almost entirely empty library. He luckily doesn’t push it and leaves you to be. Hopefully he’ll be fine when you take another step away from him for a while to get your head straight and sort your emotions out.

You get home quite late, but not late enough, apparently. Because walking into the house you find the boys clearly getting ready to watch a movie.

“Just in time!” Niall beams. “Join us, Princess!” he laughs, grabbing himself a cola from the fridge.

“Oh, no, I have some things to work on--”

“Come on, you’ve been in the library all day, you can have a break!” Louis tells you and you know you won’t be left alone, they are just so persistent.

So you join them in your usual spot, which is of course next to Harry, though you’re trying to avoid his gaze that hasn’t left you since you arrived and by now you’re certain he knows you’re avoiding him. There’s a reason why he asked you last night if you’ve been doing it lately, he is not stupid, but this is not the time to deal with it.

With your inner crisis bubbling inside you, you completely forget to ask what you’re watching. A few minutes into the movie it becomes quite clear however.

“Is this a fucking horror movie again?” you ask, snapping at Niall, who just starts laughing.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Harry will gladly let you sleep in his bed tonight,” he teases, making your whole face heat up at his comment. Harry slaps his chest before he turns to you with concern filled eyes, but you pretend like you see nothing, turning back to the screen with your jaw clenched.

You’re fucked.

The movie is a fucking shitshow and leaves you traumatized. When it’s over, you think about why didn’t you just stand up and go into your room when you realized it’s another horror. For a change, this one was filled with demons and monsters that hide in the shadows, just what you need before going to bed. In the night. In a totally dark room.

Exiting the bathroom you’re already planning on watching something lighthearted and cheerful in your room, hoping that would make you forget the movie you just saw and give you the chance to actually sleep.

Walking past Harry’s room you see that it’s still open and you catch him expectantly looking at you when you appear in the doorway as you walk down the hallway, your eyes meeting for just a split second before you disappear from his sight and shut your bedroom door without a word behind you.

No matter how many random videos you watch on YouTube, some scenes from the movie are just imprinted into your mind and they have you trembling in fear. Every shadow looks like a demon or ghost, hiding in your room, ready to haunt and kill you and you’re on the verge of actually crying. It might not be only because of the movie, more like everything else that’s been bottled up inside you, added to the fear the movie has brought to you.

Shutting your eyes closed you try to take deep breaths and for a bit it actually seems to help, but that is until you hear the door opening. It gives you an instant heart attack and you can’t keep your tears back anymore.

A whimper leaves your mouth as the door opens and you can only see a shadow entering the room, totally not recognizing Harry in the dark.

“Y/N, hey, it’s just me! It’s okay!” he quickly clears, seeing how shaken up you are. He rushes over to the bed, one hand cupping your cheek, the other one finding your hand and before you could think, you grip it hard.

“You scared the living hell out of me!” you cry out, sobbing.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to check on you.”

Silence sets between the two of you that’s only momentarily broken by your shaky breaths as you try to calm yourself down.

“Why didn’t you come to mine after the movie if you were so scared?” he then asks, surprising you with how straightforward he is.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you mumble, blinking the remaining of the tears away as Harry stares down at you intently.

“Why would you think you’d bother me? I like having you there.”

“But it’s… Doesn’t matter,” you sigh in defeat, but it just concerns him even more.

“No, tell me!”

“Harry, just go back to your room. I’ll be fine.”

“You definitely won’t and I’m not leaving until you don’t tell me what’s going on,” he protests firmly and you lose your patience to keep lying to him.

“You just wanted someone to sleep with yesterday, okay? You didn’t need me. And… I don’t want to depend on you more than I should.”

Harry stares back at you with a blank expression and you feel like this is going to be the end of your friendship. You have to come clean about your feelings and he’ll tell you that he doesn’t feel the same way. But then he speaks up and the tables turn faster than ever.

“Y/N, I wanted you to sleep with me last night. Not just anyone. You.”

“What?”

“I really thought we have been on the same page, but apparently, we’re not even in the same book,” he sighs, confusing you even more. “Wasn’t it suspicious how things have been between us lately? The way we slept, the mornings, did you think these are normal things to do?”

“I-I thought that… it didn’t mean anything to you.”

“Well it did,” he replies and you breath hitches in your throat. “I was trying to take it slow, see how you’d react to everything and I thought you were feeling the same way. But then last time you didn’t come to my room when there was a storm and I thought that was your way of telling me that you want to pause whatever’s been going on.”

You’re just blinking in shock, listening to his words. This is nothing you expected.

“But then you seemed like you opened back up last night and you agreed to sleep with me, thought we were back on track, but then you were nowhere to be found in the morning, avoided me all day and now you would have rather spent the night crying here alone than to come over to me. What did I do? Just tell me, because quite frankly, I have no idea what we are doing anymore, Y/N,” he sighs, clearly tired of this insane game you’ve been playing without even knowing.

“So… you did all of this, because… you…”

“Because I like you, Y/N. But there’s a possibility it’s already way more than just a strong liking,” he admits with a soft chuckle that melts you in an instant.

“Oh god, I could cry again, but not out of fear this time,” you tell him, making him laugh as you scoot closer to him on the mattress. “I feel the same way, Harry,” you softly tell him, your hands finding the base of his neck while his hands have wandered to your waist so now he is pulling you towards him until he ends up in his lap. His face is now so close, and even in the dark, you can see the cheesy smile on his pink lips.

“You’re not saying this just to keep me here because you’re scared to be alone, right?” he asks, clearly joking, earning a wholehearted laugh from you.

“No, but I guess that would be a major benefit of it.”

“I’ll protect you from all the demons and killers under one condition,” he smirks, his face already inching closer, his nose is already touching yours.

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“I get to kiss you.”

“Deal.”

You barely say this one little word, his lips are already on yours, kissing you in a way that almost knocks all the air out of your lungs. You press yourself up against him, his arms curling around you, holding you tight as if he is already protecting you from everything that scares you, though you can’t really think about the stupid horror movies now that you’re kissing Harry.

He pulls you down with himself making you lie on your back as he holds himself up above you, his lips parting from your just enough so he can look into your eyes.

“How about I kiss you every time you feel scared?” he prompts, pecking your lips gently as you pull your legs up and his hips settle between your thighs, while your hands dance down his back.

“Alright, I’m in,” you smirk at him and for a moment he just stares back at you, smiling wide, in complete awe that it’s finally happening. Then he cocks his head to the side before speaking up.

“Are you still scared?”

“Very,” you nod. “I’m shaking.”

“Good,” he grins before his lips press onto yours again.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!