#when i was in college our apartment had zero windows in the living room/halls and it was always pitch black

[forasecondtherewedwon]

With Zero Power

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E Word Count: 3382

For @spiderman-homecomeme, with the following prompts:

winter power outage

holiday smut

“I can think of one way to warm you up.”

Summary: Peter and MJ return from skating to find their apartment not quite how they left it. Between the warm fuzzies of the evening they've spent together and the holidays right around the corner, it isn't hard to find a little romance in the situation.

“I’m not saying it wasn’t beautiful,” MJ insists, “but think how much lighting a tree that size costs. With the number of homeless slowly starving in this city? With the number of children below the poverty line who are going to school in this weather—” The arm she waves is instantly layered in thick, wet snowflakes that glisten as they pass beneath a streetlight. “—without winter coats and boots?”

“With the number of college students trying to make rent with only their girlfriend to live with because their three previous roommates staged a mutiny and forced the couple out because the volume of their nighttime activities was, quote, ‘obnoxiously loud and unprecedentedly lengthy’?”

She sighs in exasperation.

“I’m making a point.”

“I agree with your point,” Peter says. “Completely. I already told May I’m volunteering with her all next weekend, and I’ll call Pepper tomorrow to see where she’s committed Stark Industries’ holiday donations.”

“And ask her to triple the amount.”

“I can suggest it,” he laughs, “but I’m not her financial advisor.”

“Mmm you should be though,” MJ says, shifting from holding his gloved hand to pulling his arm around her. “You’re so sexy when you’re redistributing the amassed wealth of a late billionaire.”

There are icy crystals glimmering in her eyelashes. She’s beautiful. He could walk the borough with her all night, live in a loop where they’ve always just disembarked from a late bus, disoriented to step from its stark light into the soft glow of the snow on sidewalks that aren’t cleared with the same diligence as they are in Manhattan, around Rockefeller Center, where they’ve spent the evening skating. That would be a nice life—tonight, with her, forever.

Peter halts them for a moment and wraps his other arm around her too, pulling his girlfriend in to kiss her. He sways them as he does it, smiling against her mouth, her cold nose pressed into his cheek.

“Did you have a good time though?” he asks. MJ nods and her face rubs against his.

“My rental skates were a little tight, but I did wear two pairs of socks, so it’s kinda my fault.”

He has a new pair of skates for her, exactly the right size, but they’re wrapped in red paper featuring dogs with candy cane antlers, waiting to be snuck beneath her tiny artificial tree on Christmas morning. A totally outrageous gift—figure skates in immaculate white leather, like she wears in the pictures he’s seen of her at childhood skating lessons—but he hates it when all his money goes to rent. This might finally be the gift to make her cry. He’s cracked the bottle that stores his girlfriend’s tenderest feelings before, making her eyes shine the winter he knit her a terrible, uneven scarf (she’s wearing it now), and he’s certain the skates will be the thing she really loves. She’ll cry with joy, she’ll say they’re too much, he’ll carry her from the little tree to bed and keep her there until she’s begging for more instead of less. The thought makes Peter grin now.

“Take a bath when we get home. Your feet will feel better.”

“They’d feel better if you carried me,” MJ suggests slyly.

But she screeches when he jerks her against him and, in the relative darkness of their street, looses a web, swinging them both into the air. They pretend it’s still a secret how much she’s grown to love the sensation of sailing through the night with him. What Peter is far from secretive about is how much he loves the way she clings to him, trying not to feel too guilty when he remembers he should attribute some portion of her grip to the time he dropped her. Ah well, it’s in the past. His girlfriend’s laughing shakily as he lands them on the roof of their building and crawls deftly down the wall to the fire escape.

“Cute,” she says, shivering with the aftereffects of cold winter air whipping around her face. The tone is both complimentary and accusatory. “But we have to climb down now, unless…”

MJ’s eyes narrow.

“I… might’ve left the window unlocked?” he asks, because asking implies someone else has the answer, that there is a buck to be passed, as much as he would simultaneously like to hang on to any spare bucks during this expensive season.

“Peter, you can’t do that. You know break-ins are more frequent during the holidays.”

“Yeah,” he allows, edging the window open, “but who’s gonna climb up to the twenty-second floor to try to get through our window?”

He dives inside, then helps her through. The proof that she had a good time tonight is that she lets the window thing drop. Peter shuts and locks the window as loudly as possible behind them.

“Didn’t we leave a light on?” she asks.

“I’m not—”

“When I say that,” MJ cuts him off, dropping her voice to a hiss, “I mean I know I left a light on.”

Instantly, he’s stepping around her, keeping his arm out to hold her behind him. She has a bad habit of going rogue in dangerous situations. More likely than not, she’d grab a kitchen knife and end up stabbing him by accident as they checked every room for intruders. Safer for him to lead.

But it’s not a break-in.

“It’s cold in here,” he realizes.

As they moved through the small number of rooms that make up their hideously overpriced apartment, they left the lights off. Now, MJ smacks at the closest wall switch. Nothing happens.

“Aw, come on,” Peter begs the overhead light. He tries a lamp. Click-click, click-click. Nothin’. “Man!”

“Fucking Rockefeller Christmas tree,” his girlfriend accuses, though it’s not possible that even an energy-suck of that size could drain their building, way out in Queens. “I’m not having a bath now. I’ll be freezing when I get out.”

“Ok. Let’s get some candles first.” Peter starts to walk away from her, down the hall. “MJ, where are the candles?”

With his enhanced vision, he can see her well enough to catch the eyeroll. Fair.

By the time they have a dozen candles lit, it smells like every holiday scent at once. Vanilla smudges cloyingly across the sharper sweetness of candied orange peel, the heaviness of pine battles the richness of milk chocolate, and the cinnamon that seems to have been included in every candle is giving Peter a headache until they agree to space their light sources out. The room is darker with the candles far apart, but the smell is bearable. He also doesn’t mind how the flames catch in MJ’s eyes when she blinks, how a streak of gold will dart across her throat when she turns her head to watch him watching her.

Peter’s mouth is dry when he stammers out, “Y-you look incredible,” like they’re sixteen again and he’s got his gaze fixed on her legs because it’s 90° and she very reasonably wore shorts to school.

“How I feel is cold,” she admits with a small smile. She stirs under the blanket that’s draped across both of them. He strokes her shoulder over her wool cardigan. “I really was looking forward to that bath.”

And because the way she says it sounds nothing like how a person might casually look forward to anything, Peter swells a little in his jeans and shifts his legs closer to hers.

“Were you?” he asks.

MJ’s gaze goes from his mouth to his eyes as she smirks subtly. She knows she’s got him. When does she not have him? The complaints of their former roommates were undeniably valid. It’s a miracle he and MJ accomplished enough in undergrad to even get accepted into grad school. If she hadn’t been the responsible one, he would’ve been pretty damn content to spend those four years in bed with her.

Innocently, she rests her head on his shoulder. He swallows thickly.

“Mhmm. I was looking forward to getting out of my cold clothes. I was looking forward to grabbing a big, thick—” She grips his thigh suddenly. “—towel from the closet to wrap myself in when I was done. I was looking forward to using my cranberry bodywash in the tub. That one smells really good, right?”

Peter nods because forming a sentence in this moment is beyond him.

“And it foams up really well,” MJ continues, tilting her face, passing her lips lightly across his earlobe. He’s hard. He’s so fucking hard so quickly. “So, I was looking forward to popping those bubbles when I ran my hands all over my body to work it in.”

“Fuck,” Peter groans. He digs his fingers into her waist, through the sweater, blood pulsing in his groin.

She shrugs, abruptly nonchalant.

“Mostly, I was just looking forward to being warm.”

“I can think of one way to warm you up,” he pledges.

Trust me, he mentally urges. Right now. Trust me like you trusted me to keep you on your feet on the rink when your legs wouldn’t remember how to skate right away.

“Good, because I need you.”

“Say it again?” Peter requests, hand on the back of her head as she raises it from his shoulder.

“I need you, Peter.”

MJ’s hand jumps from his thigh straight into his lap and squeezes him through his jeans. He crushes their mouths together, the two of them breathing in hot pants like they can warm each other that way. Making to move over her, he’s pushed back instead, winded from more than the shove as his girlfriend straddles him with the practiced efficiency of a quickie before Spidey patrol or as an incentive between study breaks. When she rolls her hips against his… shit, she might observe Christmas on the 25th, but the friction of her grinding on his dick is the only Christmas he’ll ever need to celebrate. He plunges both hands deep into her hair to seal their mouths together and slumps into the couch, offering maximum opportunity for her to rock that beloved place between her legs along his erection. He’s already feeling warmer.

“No,” she yelps when he tries to push her sweater off. She snatches it back on and pulls the blanket up over her shoulders. “I’m still cold.”

“Ok. Let’s work on that.”

Peter tilts his chin up in invitation and repositions his hands on MJ’s ass. When she kisses him in a slow brush, he begins forcing her back and forth over his lap. He groans into her mouth to feel her angle her hips just right and shiver. Not letting her back down, he grips her and drags her across his erection repeatedly, until she can’t kiss him anymore, until her forehead’s pressed hard to his and she’s hissing his name. The oscillation of her hips in his hands is hypnotic, even with his eyes closed. He’s groaning and trying to hold back, having a hard time concentrating on an idea of what to do next to get his girlfriend off before he reaches that point himself. He wants her warm skin against his when he sinks inside her, not a sudden gush in his jeans.

Still grinding, MJ sits up straighter. She doesn’t take her sweater off, but she pulls down the front of the camisole she wears under it and tucks the material below her bared breasts. Peter’s happy to enjoy the visual while he rubs her over his dick, but she grips the back of his neck and compels his head forward.

“What do you want exactly?” he teases. “I’m a little confused.”

Eye narrowed down at him as she pants, MJ plucks one of his hands from her ass and guides it up to her face. It fucks him up pretty good when she folds down all but two of his fingers, sliding those into her mouth; she sucks with that almost-angry gaze locked on him before bringing his wet fingers down to circle her nipple.

“Ok, ok,” Peter says desperately.

“Just helping.”

A laugh pops out of his mouth, but then he touches his lips to her breast, kissing lightly as she sways. Her hand twitches on the back of his neck. Ok, he thinks again, pulling her nipple between his teeth. MJ moans blissfully and heat floods both Peter’s face and his groin. He jerks roughly against her and clutches her body close when she comes, cradling his face to her chest. There’s still something of the briskness of their walk home to her smell as he inhales against her skin, but also wool and the smoke that’s clung to her after lighting the candles. Her scent is rich. He feels rich, with his arms wrapped around her.

She shimmies her shoulders and the blanket drops. When she slips out of her sweater, Peter rushes to tear his hoodie (and the t-shirt caught up with it) off. MJ halts him in the act of flinging them away; right, candles. Gotta aim for a spot where he won’t start a fire. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans as quickly as he can, gasping in relief at the sudden extra room for the erection bulging beneath his boxers. His plan, as he hooks his thumbs into his waistband, is to yank his clothes down only as far as necessary, then guide MJ back on top of him as soon as she’s out of her sweatpants and pick up where they left off with her first orgasm. But, bottomless, his girlfriend settles on his lap before he’s ready. She shuffles forward, rubbing herself against him, making his boxers damp. Peter closes his eyes as they roll back. His hands skim blindly up her arms to fiddle with the slipping straps of the camisole she still wears—if the way it’s clinging to her from only below her breasts to her navel can be called ‘wearing’.

She kisses his cheek.

“Peter.”

He opens his eyes and watches her tilt her head to speak quietly near his ear. Candlelight seeps over and through her hair. He kisses where it pools on her naked shoulder and her soft breaths form words.

“I want you to bend me over.”

Peter turns his head and groans into MJ’s neck.

Running her fingers through his hair, she asks, “Is that a yes?”

“’Chelle, you say, ‘jump,’ I ask, ‘how high?’” he promises.

He whips a condom out of his pocket. She draws back and smirks at him, eyebrows raised.

“And how did that get in there?”

“I might’ve grabbed it while I was looking for the matches.” When his girlfriend continues to stare at him, he adds, “It’s dark! You were lighting candles! I dunno, MJ, it seemed kinda romantic. Why are you still looking at me like that?”

“You’re cute when you babble.”

“Stop talking,” Peter interprets with a sheepish smile. “Got it.”

She climbs off of him and stuffs the blanket into the corner of the couch while he stands and whisks his jeans and boxers down his legs. He almost trips peeling his socks off because MJ waggles her bare ass at him very unfairly.

“Come on, I’m getting cold.”

“I’m—” he starts, struggling with the condom. “I am… I’m going as fast as… there!”

Peter bounds onto the couch and catches MJ’s face in his hand, kissing her lovingly. Then desperately. Then sloppily pulling away to sneak a hand under the back of her top and press her down until her elbows rest on the arm of the couch. Taking a deep breath, he strokes his other hand from the back of her neck all the way to her ass. This is kinda hot with her shirt still on. He’s glad that, for as much as they discuss and debate things like the misuse of municipal funds on holiday decorations, they’re still in their hasty days. Still young, still eager. He grips himself and flexes his fingers as he traces the head of his dick through MJ’s arousal.

“Getting cold,” she repeats.

“Spider-Man is here to help, ma’am,” he jokes, pushing inside her.

Fuck. Peter works his hips gently forward and back, building up to plunging deeper the same way he tiptoes out into the water when they visit the beach too early in the year. But this isn’t like the chilly springtime ocean because she’s warm as she takes him—so, so warm.

“Uh, MJ? Baby? Sweetheart? I thought you said you were cold,” he grits out.

She presses back against him as he finally thrusts all the way in.

“I always keep the home fires burning for you.”

“Well, that was raunchy. You’ve been living with me too long.”

“How could I ever move out with perks like a December power outage?”

Grinning, Peter begins a loose swing of his hips, gazing down MJ’s back at the shadows and light sliding over the rounded edges of her neck, her shoulder blade, her ear as she tips her head to let her hair hang to the side. When her low moans start, he repositions his knees on the couch cushions and digs in with his toes. The wet smack of driving into her is loud in their little sanctuary. He takes her by the hips as she bows her head to her crossed forearms, moving faster, gliding in and out with more grace than he has when navigating an ice rink with skate blades on his feet. MJ spreads her legs wider and drops her head even lower. She is graceful, with the steep slope of her back that Peter can’t resist pressing a hand to. At his touch, she bends even further and he chokes on an already raspy inhalation.

“Faster, Peter,” she requests.

Not loud, not demanding. She knows he can hear her because he’s always listening for her voice. It coaxes him onward from beneath the urgent slap of his thrusts.

He hunches over her, wrapping one arm around her waist as they buck together, his other hand diving between her legs. She’s soaked and her hips are jumping in time with his, so it’s hard to keep his fingers on her swollen clit. Suddenly, MJ has her hand over his, directing his fingers. Reality grows hazy as pleasure creeps into his thighs and trickles invisibly down his stomach, like the phantom touch of his girlfriend beneath him. Peter squints against the light of their candles and so much feeling, flicking his fingers over the sensitive nub that has MJ’s legs quivering. He kisses her spine and scrapes the edge of her camisole with his teeth. She’s shaking too hard to thrust back. Groaning, Peter bucks in a quick burst, holding her body up as she threatens to slump flat.

“You warm yet?” he huffs. “Show me you’re warm.”

“Peter… almost.”

Abruptly, he sits back on his heels, hauling MJ with him. Sweating now, Peter bounces her on his lap. His hands squeeze the smooth skin of her hips. She gasps before moaning deeply and reaching up to wrap an arm behind his neck, arching against him.

“God,” he mutters, looking down over her shoulder to watch the jiggle of her breasts and the tension of her stomach, “I already want you again.”

Because of his words, or his hands, or his cock slamming up into her, she climaxes, clenching around him and stuttering over his name. Peter buries his nose in her hair to avoid the overpowering scent of the candles as his senses sharpen to the finest point; he’s learned this only happens when he’s lost in either the pain of a grave injury or the satisfaction of releasing into MJ. He pulses, hips snapping, hugging her against his chest, flushed with warmth from the top of his ears to where his toes grip the couch.

“Bath?” Peter pants in her ear, dick still twitching inside her. “I swear I won’t let you get cold.”

Just like that, the overhead light and the lamp on the end table blink on. Huh. Power’s back.

“Or maybe you don’t need me to,” he says.

MJ turns her head and kisses the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t be stupid. I’ll grab the candles. You hit the lights.”

[mr-chrisevans]

for the drabble requests could you do number 8 with chris please!

Here we go! I actually had a great time writing this so I hope you enjoy it! More to come tomorrow in all likelihood but check out the original post here for more prompts.

Title: Happy Holidays, I Guess

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Prompt: “Look, I only came here for the Christmas cookies.”

You sat in your car outside the house for a few minutes, trying to find the will to go inside. The last thing you wanted to do was go to a holiday party filled with people from your hometown, but Chris insisted you come with him. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you quickly pulled it out to see a text from Chris.

Chris

I can see your car outside.

Get in here or I will pull you out of the car myself don’t try me.

Y/N

God you are the worst.

You sighed heavily and finally got out of the car, carefully making your way up the driveway in the snow to make it to the front door. Before you could even knock Chris was standing in the doorway beaming.

“Y/N, you are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, but I’m really glad to see you.” He pulled you inside and shut the door behind you.

“Look, I only came here for the Christmas cookies.” You shrugged off your coat and let him hang it up for you in the coat closet. “The fact that I let you convince me to do this is a testament to your skills of persuasion.”

“I know our hometown friends aren’t exactly your favorite people, but we can spend tonight making fun of all the people who were really shitty in high school and are now horrifically boring.”

“With that I guess I’m not only here for the cookies.” You joked.

Chris laughed and wrapped an arm around you and lead you into the kitchen. “Let’s get you something to drink because I think you’re going to need it.”

The second you got to the kitchen you were bombarded by hellos and questions about how you’ve been doing since you moved and a million other questions that you had absolutely zero desire to answer but had to be nice. Chris discreetly handed you a beer as you started talking to Kelly, the girl who hated you for two years because you beat her out for the lead part in the fall play sophomore year. “Yeah, I really love New York it’s a fantastic city.” You smiled at her. “How about you, what have you been doing?” You asked politely with no actually interest in what her answer was going to be.

“Well, George and I got married earlier this year so that’s been the most exciting thing ever.” She beamed at you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Chris mouth ‘Not surprised��, and you tried not to laugh as she kept talking. “Not nearly as exciting as being a writer in New York though.” She said with the tiniest edge of sarcasm in her voice.

“Well, you know, everyone’s got something don’t they. It’s been great talking to you Kelly but I think we’ve got to make some rounds and say hi.” You quickly excused yourself and grabbed Chris’ arm and pulled him with you into a corner of the living room. The fake smile you had plastered on your face quickly melted off. “I’ve been here all of fifteen minutes and it is already insufferable.” You took a long sip of your beer and looked at all the people sitting in the living room. “I don’t even see any cookies here.”

“Wait here, I will be right back.” He walked back into the kitchen and left you leaning on the back windows by yourself, observing the people you went high school with as they steadily got drunker and devolved into their high-school selves. “Voila!” Chris exclaimed as he walked back over to you, an entire tray of decorated cookies in hand. “I promised cookies and now I have delivered.”

“Oh thank god.” You took a cookie off the tray and bit into it immediately. “That’s a damn good cookie.” You said as you chewed.

“Well thank you, I made these myself.” He said with a smile on his face.

“You are such a liar I saw these exact cookies at the grocery store the other day.”

“Okay, maybe I didn’t make them, but I did buy them so that counts for something.”

You chuckled at him and continued eating your cookie. “How come we never got invited to parties like this in high school? I mean, we weren’t that weird, were we?” You asked.

“We definitely weren’t weirder than any of the other theater kids, but I’m pretty sure Kelly had you on the party blacklist after the Midsummer Night’s Dream debacle. And since I was your best friend they stuck me on there too.”

“I fucking knew it.” You laughed. “She never could have pulled off Hermia though, let’s be honest.”

“Being Hermia was probably your finest hour of high school theater. Perfect performance, if you ask me.”

“I can’t believe her and George are still together. How on Earth did that happen?”

“I know, it makes literally no sense.” Chris said. “I swear I heard he cheated on her when they were in college with some girl he met when he went abroad for a semester.”

You laughed. “I would not put it past him, I mean look at him now.” George sat perched on the arm of the sofa talking very animatedly with a girl who was definitely not Kelly. “What a prick.”

Chris looked at his watch for a second, sighed, and turned to you. “I think we’ve been here long enough, shall we go for an Irish exit?”

“I would love nothing more.” You agreed excitedly and quickly finished your beer before following him out to the front hall. You both pulled on your coats as you walked out the door. “Shit.” You said, stopping on the driveway. “I should have grabbed another cookie.”

Chris stopped for a second and looked down the street, thinking. “Toss me your keys, I have an idea.”

“You want to drive my car?” You asked skeptically.

“Oh come on. I’m a much better driver than I was in high school.” You hesitated still before finally tossing him the keys. “Thank god, it’s fucking cold out here.” He ran over to the car and threw himself into the driver’s seat.”

“So where exactly are we headed?” You asked as he started the car and pulled back on to the street.

“It’s a surprise. Trust me you’ll love it.” The two of you drove for a few minutes in a comfortable silence while cheesy Christmas songs played on the radio. Before too long, Chris pulled into the parking lot of the old diner in town and turned off the car. “Well, surprise!”

“Shit, I haven’t been to Jack’s in ages. I don’t even remember the last time I was here.”

He got out of the car and gestured for you to do the same. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

You walked inside the building, the warm air and smell of coffee greeting you. “Go ahead and take a seat anywhere, we’ll be over to help you in a second.” The woman behind the counter told the two of you. You both smiled and made your way to a booth. There were only a few other people there so it was pretty quiet and you managed to snag the booth you used to always sit at. 

“I don’t even have to look at a menu, I know exactly what I am getting.” You said as you slid into the booth opposite Chris.

He grinned. “I knew you would love this. You can never beat a late night trip to Jack’s”

“God, we used to do this all the time. No wonder my acne was so bad, Jesus.” You joked and the two of you laughed.

“We were definitely here way too often. That’s probably why everyone thought we were weird. They were out getting drunk in someone’s unfinished basement and we were here trying to see who could drink a milkshake the fastest.”

“And I beat you every time.” You said proudly.

“I was just very sensitive to cold, it’s not my fault.” He responded, trying to defend himself.

“Excuses, excuses.” He tried to continue his defense but the woman behind the counter had made her way over to take your order. 

She set down two glasses of water on the table before pulling out a little notepad from her apron. “What can I get started for you two tonight?” Her thick Boston accent made you feel even more at home in the diner.

“I will have the classic grilled cheese and tomato soup please.” 

She turned to Chris. “And for you?”

His eyes lingered on the menu for a moment before he looked back at the waitress. “I will have the cheeseburger and fries and we will split a chocolate milkshake.” He looked at you and smiled as she wrote down the order.

“I’ll be right back with all that. Anything else I can get for you besides water?”

“No I think we’re all set,” you replied. “Thank you.” 

“I think we’ve talked enough about the past tonight, it’s time to move on to the present.” Chris said, holding his glass of water between is hands as he leaned into the table. “How’s New York been lately?”

You sighed and played with your straw. “I mean, don’t get me wrong I absolutely love the city, but sometimes it can be a lot.”

He nodded along with you. “I totally get it. Work has been okay though, right?” He continued. You chewed on your lip a little and stared into your glass of water. “I take that as a no.” He added and leaned back into the booth.

You stared up at him. “No, it’s definitely not given that I no longer have a job.”

“Shit, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

You tried to shrug it off. “It’ll be okay. I’ll figure something out soon.”

“That’s why you didn’t want to come to the party, wasn’t it?”

“And he puts the pieces of the puzzle together.” You lifted your glass to him in mock cheers. “I wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to tell people here that I was now officially unemployed.”

“Right before Christmas too. Fucking rough.”

“We always knew my boss was a dick and now we have the ultimate proof.” You joked.

“If he didn’t live in an apartment in New York I would say we should egg his house.”

“Damn, that would’ve been amazing.” You both laughed.

“Well, let’s toast,” he said, gesturing for you to lift your glass with him, “to things being even marginally less shitty next year.” You clinked your glasses together and took a sip of your water. 

“That is definitely something I can drink to.” 

[wickedlyqueer]

Holy Poly

Ever since @gliyerabaa became obsessed with the Glinda/Fiyero/Elphaba ship it suddenly reminded me I wrote a poly fic years ago where essentially the Charmed Circle lived together and most of them were dating each other.

I never finished or published it, because I’m first and foremost a gelphie ho. to a point it felt wrong to be calling it a poly fic, bc I just wanted to focus on the gelphie dynamic.

Anyway, because I promised Rae (and I’m sure they’d love to see some gliyeraba content they didn’t write themself) this was the intro chapter of the modern AU, fresh out of college, poly chapter I wrote like 3 years ago.

Save the trees!

Perhaps every accidental cluster of people had a short period of grace. Although gracious was probably not the best word to describe the weirdly formed, yet close-knit circle. Exuberant. Loud. Queer. Those were better words. A loving found family that could not been torn apart even if fate wanted it to.

Neither was their time together short-lived. At least, not if it was up to Glinda. After most of them had graduated last summer, the crushing college debt and the terrifying world that was job hunting in a broken economic system made the decision on cohabitation all the easier.

On the outskirts of Shiz they had found their home: a small house with just enough room for the six of them to not suffocate. It was nothing fancy, but none of them would want it any other way. 

“Elphie’s not here?”

Glinda had entered the living room where the boys were spread lazily across their two mismatched couches bought at a garage sale.

“Nope, left quite a while ago,” Boq replied.

“Aren’t they at their usual train station spot harassing people?” 

“Language, Crope,” from the kitchen came Fiyero’s rich voice. “Spreading awareness about global warming isn’t the same as harassing.”

“Fine. It’s annoying people then.”

“Not everyone finds that awareness crap annoying,” Tibbett said, throwing a casual glance at Glinda. “I believe someone went weak at the knees for that.”

She felt a blush creeping up; not for the comment he made, but for the comment that was about to come. It had turned into an inside joke in their circle, and she had learned from experience that the less she objected the more humiliation she was spared.

“Is it?” Crope wiggled his eyebrows. “The way I heard, she complimented Elphie on their dedication to the cause for painting their entire visage green.”

The trio threw a fist in the air and shouted in unison, “Save the trees!” without their attention leaving the screen. 

“I hate every single one of you.” 

“You can’t deny that’s how it went, Glin,” Fiyero commented. “Have you tried texting by the way?”

“I think their phone died,” she checked one more time for any messages, but still no response from Elphaba. “Remind me to ambush them again for getting a decent phone.”

“At least they lost that brick phone.”

Crope snorted. “Yeah, right. Lost.”

Tibbett gave him a wicked smile. “No fun in being a tattletale, babe.”

Whatever they were grinning about it was Crope and Tibbett, and Glinda prefered to stay ignorant on the subject. She headed towards the kitchen where Fiyero was cooking dinner. A towel hanging over his shoulder and his beautiful long black hair stuffed in a loose bun so no strains could spoil the food.

“Smells good, Yero.” She wrapped her arms around his belly, and stretched out completely on her tiptoes and almost managed to put her chin on his shoulder. “If only I could see if it looks as equally good.”

Fiyero laughed heartily and sank through his knees so Glinda could see better. “How about now?”

She smiled. “So far this meal is Glinda-approved.”

“That’s all I need.”

A cheer came from Boq from the living room having beaten the other two at the game. 

“I think I’m going to check the train station,” Glinda said as she let go off Fiyero; the pose was growing uncomfortable for the both of them. Their height difference was ridiculous. How she had ended up with two partners so much taller than her was beyond her.

“Oh, you know what you should do? Call Nessa. Maybe she can contact Elphie through their sibling telepathy.”

“I think that only works when they have something to bicker about,” Glinda said, but dialed the number anyway. “Goes straight to voicemail.”

“Why do those two even have phones?” Fiyero muttered. 

“Okay, so train station and then I’ll drop by Nessa’s dorm to check on her too. Any other places Elphie might be?”

Four voices spoke as one. “The library.”

“Should’ve figured that one out myself.”

“Glin, you do know Elphie’s like a cat, right? They always find their way back home eventually.”

“I know, but I feel like going outside for a bit. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Sure thing. Oh, and Glinda?”

She turned around. “Hm?”

He took her hand and planted a chaste kiss on her fingertips. “Can I just say you look absolutely wonderful today?”

She beamed. “You’re too charming for your own good Fiyero.” 

“It’s why he has so many partners,” Crope called from the couch, apparently eavesdropping on the conversation. There was zero privacy in this house. “Too handsome too. Who could say no to that gorgeous face?”

“Not us,” added Tibbett. “And don’t forget that he’s a flirt without realizing it. It just comes natural to him and it’s adorable.”

Fiyero had the advantage that his dark skin hid most of his blush, but knowing him since high school, Glinda knew what a flustered Fiyero looked like. 

“I just got a lot of love to share, I guess,” he smiled shyly. “Let me know when you find Elphaba, okay? Dinner will be ready around seven.” 

--

Elphaba wasn’t at the library and neither were they at the train station. All Glinda found there were old memories. She could see the young, nervous girl fresh from the Pertha Hills standing on the platform. Fiyero’s steady hand on her shoulder to ease her worries. Had four years really passed so quickly?

She traced her footsteps from the past. Her gaze wandering over the square in front of the train station like it did then. The only thing that was missing, was a green person storming towards her. From that moment on she was captivated by Elphaba, although the first few months she had let her socialite behavior overrule.

“You could’ve disclosed in our online correspondence that you’re green!” 

She had whined once she had found out the Green-Tree-From-Shiz-Station was her roommate. Elphaba had pointed at the five enormous trunks brought into their room by an upperclassman.

“Only if you had disclosed you would bring your entire house with you.”

Glinda had thought the roommate matching system had completely failed her. No way had she the highest match with a snarky, social-reclusive green person! It had taken her some time to realize they were ridiculously similar, just coming from different angles.

Her path down memory lane continued when she entered Shiz campus. It only had been two months ago since she graduated, but it already felt foreign being here. As if she no longer fitted. A group of giggling first year students passed her. Glinda recognized her own innocence in them back at that age. Feeling as if you’re on top of the world only because you have yet to learn what that world entailed.

Unconsciously she had walked to Crage Hall. She admired the building when a busted up blue van pulled over. It was Elphaba’s. They all jokingly referred to it as the Abduction Truck, because that’s how sketchy it looked. 

Elphaba got out and moved over to the back of the truck. The only reason Elphaba had bought that van was to drive Nessa around. Normally they were a very dedicated public transport advocate, and although Elphaba would deny it, Glinda knew they’d bend their own morals to please Nessa.

Glinda walked towards the car and Elphaba looked surprised. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Looking for you actually.”

“Oh?” 

Elphaba opened the backdoors to reveal a Nessa waiting impatiently to be led out. “You do take your time don’t you, Elphaba? The air conditioner was already turned off and in this heated garbage tin can of yours I could’ve already suffocated. Hello Glinda.”

“Hey Nessa.”

Elphaba lifted the ramp from the truck. “And yet you still live. The Unnamed God must have favorites after all.”

Nessa rolled her eyes. “Just open a window next time, please?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Elphaba vastened the ramp and Nessa rode her wheelchair to the pavement.

Elphaba shoved the ramp back inside and closed the door. Glinda walked towards them and was met with a strong smell. She sniffed Elphaba’s shirt and got worried. “Why do you smell like chlorine? Were you near water?”

Elphaba gestured to Nessa. “Had to drive this kid to Red Sand.”

“Your half year check-up! I completely forgot.” One of the reasons why Elphaba had bought the van was so Nessa could study at Shiz. Every six months they had to drive all the way to Red Sand where Nessa had to do exercises in a swimming pool. That’s what Glinda understood of it at least. “How was it?”

“Still pretty paralyzed,” Nessa supplied dryly.

“Doctor Kazhki said your legs were looking healthy.”

“As healthy as they can be paralyzed, yes.”

Glinda tugged at Elphaba’s hand before the argument could escalate. “Hey, you vanished without a single message.”

Elphaba frowned. “No I didn’t, I sent you a text and—ah,” they had gotten their phone out. “Must’ve died before it was sent.”

“No way!” Glinda feigned surprise. “Tomorrow we’re gonna get you a new phone and I won’t hear any of your usual excuses.”

“Can you do your flirting somewhere that isn’t in front of me?” Nessarose disrupted them. “I’m going inside.”

She wheeled away.

“Thanks for the ride, Fabala. Oh no problem, Nessie.” 

Nessa turned around and stuck out her tongue. “If you can converse with yourself, what do you need me for?” 

“Ungrateful brat.”

It was their way of saying goodbye. Being an only child Glinda still had no idea how sibling relationships worked. Especially those of the Thropps.

“Go kiss your girlfriend.” Nessarose waved without looking behind and went into the building. 

Elphaba turned around and smirked. They wrapped their arms around Glinda’s waist. “Well you heard her.”

Glinda raised her eyebrows teasingly. “Since when do you take orders from your sister, hm?”

“Wow. You ruined the moment.” But they smiled and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t notify you.”

“All is forgiven. You’re here now.”

It was a beautiful afternoon and without another word between them they had agreed to walk around campus. Glinda curled into Elphaba’s arm. She had done it so many times before it was like second nature. She had loved strolling around campus with Elphaba, back when they were still at Shiz. Near the Suicide Canal they settled down in the grass and soaked up the nice autumn sun while it was still warm.

Glinda leaned into Elphaba and smiled. “This brings back memories.” 

“Curled up in my arms after one of our many picnics at the Suicide Canal? Whatever gave you that idea?” Elphaba teased.

Glinda nudged them playfully. “Sentimentality, I suppose. My entire walk I’ve been seeing myself through a looking glass.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, like at the train station I remembered–” Glinda stopped dead in her tracks. How could she have let that one slip!

Elphaba let out a roaring laugh. “Are you referring to our ‘meet-cute’?”

Her entire face had turned bright red. “It wasn’t cute, I’m still embarrassed by it.” 

“Aw, don’t be. It was actually refreshing from all the usual green freak insults.”

“How? I thought you were going for a metaphor to reflect a greener planet! I didn’t even consider a green person existing. How is that less offensive?”

“True, but then you became so flustered when I looked at you funny. I’ll never forget how you threw a fist in the air and yelled ‘save the trees!’ to show your support.”

Glinda buried her face into her hands. “Oh god.”

Elphaba laughed. “It was cute” and put their face closer. “You’re cute.”

“You’re making it worse,” Glinda’s words sounded muffled through her hands.

They planted a comforting kiss in her hair. “We still ended up like this, so it couldn’t have been all that bad, right?”

“I suppose,” her embarrassment fading, Glinda let herself fall back on Elphaba’s shoulder. “I thought I’d never see you again after that. Big surprise waited ahead of me. God, I thought you were a senior or something. No other freshman I know functioned that entire first week, and there you were, already trying to make the world a better place.” 

She felt Elphaba smile. “I was such a determined little fuck back then. I didn’t even sign up. I got off the train and saw the group of volunteers and basically pestered them until they gave me a jacket and some flyers to hand out.”

“And they haven’t gotten rid of you since.”

“Nope. I’m the best thing that happened to them.”

Glinda paused, weighing her words before saying, “And to me.”

“Damn, you are sentimental today,” Elphaba noted. 

Glinda took Elphaba’s chin and slowly lowered it until their eyes were leveled. Just before their lips touched she whispered, “You’re ruining the moment.”

“Now we’re even,” Elphaba murmured, smiling into the kiss.

--

A/N: to be clear of all the dynamics (bc they are very entangled and a bit of a mess): - Glinda is asexual and through high school became very dependable on Fiyero (as he was the first person she ever came out too). Dependable to a point they couldn’t imagine their lives separately. So it falls more in a QPR relationship, where their platonic bond is unbreakable. - Elphaba is non-binary, bi and aromantic. Their relationship with Glinda is definitely the most couple-y, and can be classified as a “typical” romantic relationship. They also connected with Fiyero instantly and fell for his charms. - Fiyero is very poly because this boy’s got a lot of love to share! He’s also aro (which might seem contradictory, but it’s something I’ve seen a lot of overlap with, funnily enough!) and so his relationship are very platonic/sexual based. he has that sort of relationship with Elphaba, Crope&Tibbett and one or two other people outside the charmed circle. - Tibbet’s genderfluid and good with any pronouns and will raid Glinda’s closet on any occasion. In an open relationship with Crope and they obviously communicate incredibly well with this. - Crope’s just very gay.  - Boq is a trans guy and aro/ace. He’s the only not in a typical “relationship” and definitely isn’t looking for that either, but he can’t live without his chosen family. Together with Fiyero, they’re basically the “dads” of the group and keeps everyone in check. 

If anyone wants to run with these dynamics; you have my blessing! I won’t be continuing this story but if it inspired you feel free to build on it!

[pitubea1910]

One Night

Pairing: Noah Centineo x Reader

Words: 9k

Warnings: fluff but some angsty topic is mentioned

Tags: -

Request: -

Notes: after ages, I’m finally posting again. This is my first ever Noah imagine and I hope you like it :) let me know!

Masterlist

When your best friend Jo, Joanna for her family, invited you to Los Angeles for a long weekend, you couldn’t say no.

She had gone to UCLA while you had decided to stay in Phoenix and go to the UoP. Which meant, you had gone from seeing her every single day to just a few times a year. At first, it was weird. You used to facetime every single day, but eventually you got used to it. It wasn’t like you lost contact, you kept on talking every day, but not seeing each other just became your new normal.

Jo invited you over many times and you barely said no. So when you had a long weekend, at the beginning of the term of your Junior year and she invited you, you immediately bought the flights.

“I’m starving”, you said as soon as you walked into the apartment where she lived off campus.

On her first year, she had been living in the dorms, but she switched on her second year without a doubt. You had spent weeks helping her our to find the new apartment over the summer and when you two found this one, the decision was made. It was perfect. That’s why she had decided to stay in it for Junior year as well.

“You always are starving”, Jo said. “That’s why you have a sandwich waiting for you in the kitchen”, she added when she closed the door.

“Oh my God, you’re the best”, you said making your way to the kitchen.

While you ate the sandwich she had prepared, she took your stuff to the guest room. Usually, you shared her bed, since it was a double, but you always kept your stuff in a separate room just in case any of you had company at night. It wasn’t like any of you were the kind to sleep around a lot but it could happen and it was better to be prepared.

“What plan do we have?” You asked going into her room with the sandwich in your hand.

“So this guy from my Pediatrics class”, she said, “knows a guy who knows another guy who has a house in Beverly Hills and is throwing a party tonight.”

“Wait, what? A party? In a house? In Beverly Hills?” You asked shocked. “Did he invite you?”

“Indeed he did”, she smiled widely.

“What kind of friends do you have? This is crazy!” You exclaimed.

“I know, right?” She said as excited as you were. “I wanted to tell you over the phone, but I wanted to see your reaction. He told me there probably be famous people. Actually, he thinks the house belongs to some celebrity. He didn’t ask though.”

“You’re kidding me”, you laughed.

“Look at me”, she said pointing at her face. “Is this the face of someone kidding?”

“This is insane”, you said before laughing out loud. “How did you even get him to invite you?”

“I may have slept with him a few times”, she shrugged.

“Now that explains everything”, you said throwing a pillow at her face.

The rest of the afternoon was spent trying on outfits for that night. Suddenly, everything you had brought looked useless. You literally emptied your whole luggage trying to find something to wear but it was pointless. At least until Jo told you that it would be full of people from college, so there was really nothing to worry about. It was more of a casual party.

It was a relief.

You ended up picking some clear blue ripped jeans, a grey top and your Doctor Martens. It wasn’t cold at all so you thought about not taking any jacket with you, but when Jo told that the house was up in the hills, you took a black blazer from your luggage and tried it on. Yeah. It could work.

“You look amazing, girl”, Jo said when you were finally ready to go.

“You’re one to talk”, you said looking at your friend up and down. “How are we going to get there?”

“An Uber is on its way”, she said.

Then, she walked to a small chest of drawers that was next to the door and took some keys out of the first drawer.

“Here you go”, she said. “And I’ve sent you the address in case you know…things get interesting”, she winked.

You laughed out loud and took the keys from her hand. It wouldn’t be the first time you would separate during the night because you met someone interesting. The only rule was to text to let the other know you were going home.

“And the Uber is here, let’s go!” She said excitedly.

The whole way to the house, you were telling her all about how things were at home. Your parents had divorced a couple of months ago and you were still getting used to the new situation. It was confusing, to say the least, but you knew it was for the best. Your parents had been fighting way too much over the last year and you knew it was for the best.

“And you’re okay?” Jo asked.

“Yeah”, you nodded. “I see my father every week for lunch or dinner”, you shrugged.

“Isn’t it weird?” She asked.

“It was at first”, you admitted. “None of us knew what to talk about. It was like there was this wall between us that we didn’t know how to tear down”, you told her. Jo took your hand and gave it a small squeeze which you returned. “But we ended up finding a common ground and now we’re good. He actually took me to the airport this morning.”

“And how’s Harper?” She asked quietly.

You bite your lip as she mentioned your sister, trying not to tear up like it happened every time someone brought it up. Your sister was just two years younger than you and had been diagnosed with leukaemia about three years ago. She had been on treatment ever since, which was costing a lot of money, which had caused you to end up looking for a job to help and pay the bills and your college. Reason why you ended up staying in Arizona.

You tried to always stay positive for her and for your parents, but every time you took her to the hospital for her treatment, it became more and more difficult. And then, when your parents started with the divorce, it felt like the whole world was going to crush you. However, now that the divorce was through, you could see how much your mum needed it.

“Better I think”, you finally said. “The doctors are positive.”

“That’s good”, Jo nodded. “You really got me worried, you know?”

“I’m okay, don’t worry”, you said with a smile. “And now we’re going to have fun, please? I need to disconnect from home, at least for a few hours.”

“You’re right”, she nodded. “We are going to this party, we’re going to get drunk and hook up with some famous guy”, she said, making you laugh. “Maybe not all of the above, but we’re going to have fun.”

You smiled warmly at her and gave her a quick hug. Jo had always been there for you, ever since kindergarten when she stood up for you when a boy named Clint made fun of you because of the butterfly wings you were using. That moment created an unbreakable bond between you two. That kind that appears when two people happen to hate the same person. It’s a bit mean, but that’s how humans are.

“We’re here”, the driver said.

“Okay, thank you so much!” Jo said just before stepping out of the car and waiting for you to do the same.

You put on your jacket immediately. Jo had been right. There was a bit of wind around that made you shiver. For a moment, you took out your phone to check it out in case you had any messages, but you quickly threw it back into your purse when you heard Jo gasping.

“What is it?” You asked. “Wow…” you said.

The house you were looking at was immense. It was all white and had a lot of windows and three floors. Who the hell owned a house like this? Jo had been right when she said that it belonged to someone famous. It was the only option. Unless it was actually owned by the rich parents of someone who went to college. Who knew.

“C’mon”, Jo said, taking your hand and going towards the entrance where a security guy was warding the door.

Jo had to end up calling his friend so he would come and pick them up at the door, since the security guy didn’t trust you at all. It was annoying, but when Jo’s friend showed up a few minutes later, he immediately let you in with an apology.

“Shut up”, you said to your friend when she mumbled something concerning the bodyguard’s mother. “You know he can kick us out, right?”

“Fine”, she said. “I’ll behave. Anyway, this is Jason. Jason, this is (Y/N)”, she said.

“I finally get to meet you”, Jason said with a smile. “Jo is always talking about you.”

“Of course she is”, you shrugged. “She is in love with me.”

“How couldn’t I be? Have you seen her face?” She said making you both laugh.

“What are you studying, by the way?” Jason asked you while he guided you around the gardens of the house. The party was probably in the back, although you could see people everywhere.

“Marketing”, you said. “What about you? Nursing too?”

“Oh no”, Jo said in a teasing tone before he could say anything. “Nursing wasn’t good enough for him. He is in the medicine team”, she said with a teasing smile.

“Jealous”, he laughed.

“I don’t think so”, Jo laughed as well. “There’s some competition between Nursing and Medicine”, she explained.

“Isn’t it everywhere?” You chuckled.

“So here it is”, Jason finally said when you got to the main backyard. “Drinks are all inside in the kitchen. It’s an open plan kind of house so it’s easy to spot. Bathroom is down the hall to the right. And there’s also food in the kitchen”, he quickly explained.

“Who does live here?” You asked.

“Shawn Mendez”, he said before taking off with a bunch of guys that were hanging by the pool.

“Excuse me?” You mumbled.

“Well I’m not exactly a fan but the house is out of this world”, Jo said.

“Indeed”, you nodded.

Then, Jo grabbed you by your wrists and into the house. You both needed to get something to drink to go through the night as chilled as possible.

On the inside, the house was as beautiful as you expected. Most of it was decorated in black and white, with such a good taste that you had zero doubts that Shawn had hired some designer to do it. There’s no way this all came out of the head of someone around your age. You just knew it.

“What do you want?” Jo said when you got to the kitchen. Just like Jason had said, it had been easy to find, and it was as crowded as the rest of the place. “I think I’m taking vodka with some cherry soda”, she said.

“Same for me”, you shrugged.

People used to make fun of you when you drank that beverage, but it was some sort of tradition between you two. Plus, it tasted good.

While Jo took the cups to prepare your drinks, you started looking around. You were certain that most of the people were just students, but you recognised some faces in the crowd.

Of course, the first one you spotted was no other than Shawn Mendez. How could you not? He was so tall. Next to him was a tiny girl that you thought it was Camilla Cabello and next to them was a guy, even taller than Shawn, talking to the group surrounding them. His face was extremely familiar but you just couldn’t say from where.

“Here you go”, Jo said. “Want to go out?” She asked.

“Yes, let’s go”, you said taking the cup she was offering as you took your eyes away from the group.

You two made your way out, going through the people gathering in the house, mumbling unheard apologies every time you had to gently push someone out of the way.

“Hey, isn’t that Billie Eilish?” You asked pointing at two girls talking next to the pool.

“I think so”, Jo nodded. “Am I the only one freaking out?” She asked.

“No”, you said. “But I’m trying to look normal”, you added making your friend laugh as you two made your way towards Jo’s friend, Jason.

“There you are!” He exclaimed as soon as you two appeared. He threw an arm around Jo, pulling her closer to him. “We were about to play some beer pong, want to join?” He asked.

“Oh no, I’m awful at it, but I’d love to watch”, you said.

“I’ll beat your ass”, Jo said without hesitation. You knew how good she was at this kind of games.

It wasn’t long until there were enough people to play. Jason and one of his friends, Tom, had gone around, taking people to play.

“We’re missing one”, Jason said counting the people. “You sure you don’t want to join us?” He asked you. You shook your head when you took a sip from your cup.

“I wouldn’t be of any help”, you finally said.

“She’s right”, Jo nodded. You looked at her raising both eyebrows. “Am I lying?”

“No, you’re not”, you laughed.

“I can join you”, you turned your head to look at the newcomer.

It was that tall guy you had seen before, talking to Shawn and Camilla. The one with the familiar face. He was wearing some black ripped jeans and a big while t-shirt that, even if it looked like it was big for him, he could really pull it off. His eyes were brown just like his curly hair.

“If you don’t mind”, he quickly added.

“Of course not!” Jason exclaimed. “You’ll be on our team. The winning team. I’m Jason”, he said.

“Noah”, he said with a nice smile.

Noah Centineo, of course! You had seen him on The Fosters years ago and lately on the To All the Boys movies!

When the game started, you leaned against the column that was behind you, watching in silent as they threw the balls into the cups, cheering when they scored and complaining when they didn’t. You had to admit that Jo had got a lot better since the last time you saw her playing, but the latest admission into Jason’s team, Noah, happened to be extremely good.

“Suck that!” Jason exclaimed when Noah put the ball into one of the cups.

“You haven’t won so shut up!” Jo said. It wouldn’t be long before her worst competing side came out and you knew it.

“Wanna bet?” Jason smirked. Oh, no…

“Don’t you play?”

You looked away from your friend just when she and Jason started teasing each other. It was Noah the one who had talked to you. When you looked at him, he walked closer to you, his eyes fixed down on you.

“Believe me, you don’t want to see me playing”, you said with a smile, playing with the now empty cup in your hands.

“That bad?” He smiled.

“Worse”, you said making him laugh. He had that kind of laugh that made you laugh, along with a bright smile. “Hey, it’s true! I could hit your eyes before I hit the cup”, you said.

“I don’t know if that’s being too good or too bad at this”, he said narrowing his eyes.

“Trust me, when playing beer pong… it’s too bad”, you said and he laughed again. “It’s your turn I think.”

“Oh right”, he said looking at the table. “Be right back, I gotta win this thing”, he winked.

With a smile, you saw him walking away to take the ball from Tom’s hand. Your heart was going a bit faster than usual but you knew it was because of who he was. You hadn’t expected him to talk to you and you had been surprised by how nice he actually had been to you, and to everyone for that matter.

As it had been a promise, Noah’s team ended up winning the game and they all decided to celebrate it by going inside to get more drinks. All of them, except Jason who stayed with Jo teasing her again and Noah, who walked over you once again.

“I guess congratulations are in order”, you said.

“Maybe you can join me for a drink to celebrate?” He suggested.

You looked over Jo for a moment but, judging by how Jason had his arms around her, you knew it was going to be long before she missed you. So you looked at Noah and nodded with a smile, making him smile as well.

“I’m (Y/N), by the way”, you said when you were making your way towards the house.

“Nice to meet you”, he said. “I’m Noah.”

You wanted to say I know, but you decided not to since it sounded way too cocky in your head and maybe it would make him feel uncomfortable, so you just gave him a smile and followed him inside. Since it was getting a bit colder outside, the inside of the house was even more crowded than before. They had even turned up the volume and many people had started dancing around the living room, which meant the kitchen was a bit emptier.

“What do you want?” Noah asked taking a pair of blue clean empty cups.

“Vodka and cherry soda”, you said jumping to seat on top of one of the counters.

“So…” he said while he started pouring vodka in one of the cups. “What brought you here?” He finally asked.

“My friend”, you smiled a little. He looked at you in a way that said no shit, Sherlock. You laughed out loud and took the cup he offered. “Thanks”, you said before taking a sip. “I came to spend the weekend with Jo and she told me about this party.”

“Don���t you study here in L.A?” He asked when he poured himself some soda.

“No”, you shook your head as he stood in front of you. Now that you were sitting on the counter, you were finally eye to eye with him. “I study in Phoenix. I’m from there actually”, you shrugged.

“Cool”, he nodded. “So you’re good friends with… Jo, you said?”

“Yeah”, you nodded. “She’s my best friend”, you shrugged with a smile. “What about you?”

“Camilla invited me”, he said pointing at the crowd with his head. “I met her when I appeared in one of her music videos and we really got along. I told her I would be in L.A for a couple of weeks and she invited me.”

“Nice”, you nodded and looked around, spotting the girl on the other side of the room. “So are they really a thing?”

“Who’s asking?” Noah said making you laugh. “They’re really good friends”, he shrugged.

“I knew it”, you narrowed your eyes and then looked at him. “Have you ever had to something like that for publicity?”

“Who told you that I’m famous?” He asked with a small smile. You raised an eyebrow and then nodded.

“Even if I didn’t know who you were, you just told me you appeared on Camilla’s video”, you said.

“I could’ve been an extra”, he said.

“Good point”, you nodded. “I first saw you years ago on The Fosters”, you finally admitted.

“Really?” He asked kind of surprised and you nodded. “Did you like it?”

“I was completely hooked up on it”, you said with a smile.

“Well…” he said, leaning on the counter next to you, looking at the crowd. “To answer your question, no. I’ve never had to do anything like that”, he said. “I wouldn’t have done it anyway. Ever. I don’t think it’s fair for anyone involved.”

“Have you ever told them?” You asked.

“No”, he shook his head. “It’s not my business”, he said and looked at you again. “Why didn’t you say you knew who I was?”

“I don’t know”, you shrugged. “I guess it sounded cocky? Or maybe it could make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Thanks”, he nodded a little. “I mean, I know I’m not that famous. But it is a bit awkward when I introduce myself to someone new like ‘hey, I’m Noah’ and their answer is ‘yeah, I know’. It’s kind of a turned off.”

“Then I turned you on?” You teased him, making him laugh out loud.

With a smile, you brought the cup back up to your lips and took a sip of the drink. You had never met anyone who was even slightly famous before, but you had never thought of a celebrity to be as nice as Noah was. As the night went on and the party kept on going around you, you just stayed there in the kitchen, talking to each other, telling all kind of stories about the other.

“Hey, do you want to go out for a bit?” He asked after an hour or so. “I need some air.”

“Sure, me too”, you said before jumping off the counter.

Since everyone was now inside the house, getting through everybody was a bit more difficult than before. Noah reached out for your hand so he wouldn’t lose you on your way out. It surprised you how big his hand felt when holding yours. When you stepped outside, you felt how cold it had gotten. Or maybe it was that it was too hot inside. Anyway, you stepped a bit closer to Noah when you shivered.

“I know”, he chuckled like he was reading your mind.

“Either it was too hot inside or it’s too cold out here”, you said.

“Agreed”, he said. “Follow me.”

“Where?” You asked as he started walking somewhere to the left of the house.

“Wait and see”, he said, not letting you go of your hand.

Any other day, if any other guy who you had just met at a party, was guiding you around the lonely garden, you’d definitely go back inside. But over the time you had spent talking to him, somehow you knew you could trust Noah, so you just went with it. You could see some couples here and there, making out in the dark corners of the propriety and for a moment you felt nervous and looked up at Noah, but he looked too focused on not tripping over anything to see anyone else.

“Here we are”, he finally said after a couple of minutes. “Welcome to Los Angeles”, he said.

Confused, you looked at him and then to the front, where he was looking, and gasped. Beneath you was the whole city of LA, awake and shinning for you. On your way up there you hadn’t been aware of how up you were going, so you weren’t expecting this view at all. It was beautiful and so peaceful. It was like you were so away from everything, being so close at the same time.

You let go of Noah’s hand and took a few steps away from him, admiring the view. You could even see the Hollywood sign from there. It was breath-taking. It made you feel at peace with the world.

When you looked back at Noah, you saw that he was taking a photo with his phone. When he finished, he put the device back in his pocket and moved closer to you.

“You like it?” He asked.

“It’s beautiful”, you said. “I wouldn’t mind having this view”, you commented.

“Yeah, me neither”, he said with a smile.

The two of you stayed there in silence, contemplating the city. It was strange seeing it from up there. It felt like you were a world away from everything, from every problem and every issue. You could really forget about the world while being up there and, somehow, for some reason, Noah’s presence next to you only helped to make that feeling grow.  

After a few moments, you felt Noah’s hand brushing over yours, making your skin tingle. Biting your lip, you looked up at him. The moment he felt your eyes on him, a smile appeared on his face and he looked down when you took his hand. His kind eyes roamed around your face before he chuckled to himself and squeezed your hand.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asked.

“Are you trying to steal me, Centineo?” You asked with a small smile, but your heart was already going faster just at the thought.

“If you let me”, he said with a bigger smile.

Suddenly you felt even a bit short of breath. You didn’t know if it was the moment, the fact that you were completely alone, the way he was looking at you or that the alcohol was getting to your head, but you felt a surprising urge to kiss him. However, you couldn’t do that. It would be too embarrassing if you were reading all wrong, so you just looked down and took a deep breath.

“I’m going to text Jo”, you said, taking your hand from his to take out your phone.

“How did you guys get here?” He asked, taking the cup from your other hand so you could type.

“Uber”, you said while you wrote a quick text. “You?”

“I drove”, he smiled.

“Then get out of here”, you said when you put your phone back into your purse. “Do you have to say goodbye to someone?”

“Don’t worry about it”, he said. “Let’s go.”

For the third time that night, he held your hand as you made your way around the house to where many cars were parked. You started looking around, trying to guess which one was Noah’s. He looked like a Jeep kind of guy, or maybe it was that you had seen him as Peter Kavinsky so many times that it was the only car you could pictured him in.

“Which one is yours?” You asked.

“It’s not really mine”, he explained. “It’s a rental. Mine is getting fixed”, he added. He took out the keys and pressed the unlock bottom.

You looked around to see the lights and couldn’t help but laughing when you saw the car. It had to be a joke.

“A Jeep?” You laughed.

“What?” He said smiling down at you.

“I was just thinking what kind of car you would have and I could only picture you in a Jeep because of the To All the Boys movies”, you admitted.

“I have to admit that I rented it because of that”, he laughed. “I really liked it during the shooting.”

When you got to the car, he opened the passenger door for you and helped you up. He gave you your cup back and closed the door. You smiled a little when you noticed his fragrance in the car. It was a nice smell; one you could get used to. Quickly, you shook that thought out of your head. What were you thinking?

“Where to?” Noah asked once he had got into the car and started the engine after you two put the seatbelts on.

“I’m kind of hungry, to be honest”, you said.

“Say no more”, he said before he started driving carefully to get out of the property. “So… you said you study in Phoenix, right? What do you study?”

“Marketing”, you replied, looking out of the window as you played with the almost empty cup.

“Nice…”

“Not bad I guess”, you chuckled. He frowned and looked at you for a moment.

“Don’t you like it?” He asked.

“No, I do”, you shrugged. “It’s just…”

“You can tell me”, he said.

With a sigh, you looked at him. He was focused on the road but he looked at you to let you know he was listening. You knew it wasn’t really his business, that you had met him hours ago, but it felt like ages.

“It’s just that… I always thought I’d be doing something that I loved, not just liked”, you finally said.

“Why don’t you?” He asked. “Do what you love, I mean.”

“Because it’s not that easy”, you sighed. “I learned the hard way that not everyone is meant to get to live the life they dream of.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” He commented.

“Life is harsh”, you chuckled.

He looked at you when you stopped at a red light and you looked at him. He looked like he was trying to figure you out, trying to get inside your head and know what was going on. With a sigh, you looked away. It was way more complicated than just ‘doing what you loved. Of course you wanted to be doing something else but you had made your peace with how impossible that was for you.

“Have you ever given it a try?” He asked when he started driving again.

“There’s no use”, you said.

“Why not?” He kept on asking.

“Just because”, you sighed. You really did trust him and enjoyed talking to him, but telling him about your family situation wasn’t what you had in mind.

“Sorry”, he said, noticing your change of mood. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“It’s okay. It’s a sensitive topic”, you said and looked at him. “Where are we going?”

He looked at you for a few seconds, his face lighted up by the street lamps, and then back at the road as the smile went back to his face.

“To the best pizza place in Los Angeles”, he said.

“Sounds promising”, you said.

“Pizza is always promising”, he said.

“Touché”, you chuckled.

Noah kept on driving in silence, sneaking glances at you every now and then. He felt like shit for bringing up the career thing. It was obvious he had struck a chord and your mind was way away from the car at the moment. He had ruined it. Completely. Since the moment he first you, he had tried to come up with a way to get some more time with you, alone, and now he had ruined it.

After five more minutes, he finally drove into the parking lot of the Hall of Pizza. It was completely empty, but it was obviously open. In the neon lights, it said that it was open for 24h which sounded impressive. It was probably a hot spot for drunks, but it was still a bit early for them.

“Here it is?” You asked.

“Yeah, you’ll love it”, he said. “C’mon”, he said opening the door and getting out.

You did the same instead of waiting for him to open the door for you. When you closed the door, he was already by your side.

“I’m really sorry”, he suddenly said. “For making you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have pushed you, sorry.”

“It’s okay, really”, you said and took his hand in yours. He looked down and then at you. “I’m starving so you better be right about this place.”

You tried to walk towards the entrance, but you could feel he wasn’t on his right mind. With a sigh, you stopped and turned to look at him again.

“Noah, seriously, it’s okay”, you said and took a step closer. Then, you stepped on your toes and pressed a kiss on his cheek before looking at him.

“What was that for?” He asked surprised, with a small smile.

“To get you to smile again”, you said, making him smile a bit more. “And it worked. So let’s go.”

This time, he followed your lead towards the small restaurant. Before getting to the door you threw the cup into a trash can and kept on walking. Noah opened the door for you, which you thanked, and you both walked in. The delicious smell of pizza filled your senses and your stomach growled all sudden. You were starving.

“Do you trust me?” He asked. You looked at his hopeful eyes and nodded immediately. Yes. You really did. “A special de la casa, per favore”, he said with a fake Italian accent that made you laugh. “What? That was perfect!”

“Certo”, you laughed.

“You speak Italian?” He asked, making you laugh even more.

“Do you?” You teased.

“Oh, shut up”, he laughed and suddenly pulled you to his chest, wrapping an arm around you in a quick hug that took you by surprise. But it surprised you even more when you felt him kissing your head. “Sorry”, he said letting you go.

“No…” you said. “It’s okay”, you said looking up at him.

With a small smile, he wrapped his arm around you again and pulled you closer, snuzzling his nose in your head with a sigh. After a few moments, you heard your phone. It was the notification tone for a message. Supposing it was from Jo, you took the phone out of your purse. Precisely.

All good babe, Im gonna sleep at Jason’s so don’t wait up ;)

You smiled to yourself and put your phone back into your purse. Jo could pretend to be as cold as ice, but you knew her and there was no way she would sleep with the same guy more than once unless she had feelings for him. Of course, you weren’t going to be the one breaking that up for her. She had to figure it out by herself.

“Everything okay?” Noah asked.

“Yes”, you nodded. “It was Jo. She’s sleeping at Jason’s”, you quickly explained.

“At Jason’s or with Jason?” He asked with a teasing smile.

“Noah!” You laughed, pushing him playfully. “Both”, you finally said, making him laugh.

“Excuse me, signore”, the cook said from the counter. “Your pizza is ready.”

“Great!” He said taking out his wallet to take out the credit card while you took the box. “Grazie mile!”

You chuckled to yourself at how cute he was and walked towards the door after thanking them for the pizza.

“Bonne nuit!” He exclaimed when he opened the door for you.

“That’s French, actually”, you laughed out loud once you were out.

“Really?” He said, taking the pizza box from you.

“Yes, buona notte is Italian”, you said, making your way back to the car.

“Sounds the same”, he frowned as he unlocked the car.

“No, they don’t”, you laughed even more. “Just stick to the English and you’ll be good”, you winked at him.

When he got into the car, he gave you the pizza box for you to hold while he drove. You didn’t even ask him where he was going since he looked like he had a destination and you were okay with just spending more time with him. The smell of the pizza was driving you crazy. It smelled delicious.

“What did you order?” You asked.

“You’ll see”, he said.

“You know I could just look, right?” You asked and he chuckled.

“Then do it”, he said with half smile.

But you didn’t, which seemed to please him. Although you were starving but you guessed it wouldn’t be long before he stopped somewhere. However, fifteen minutes later he was still driving and you were getting hungrier by the second.

“Okay, where are we going?” You finally asked.

“We’re almost there”, he said.

“And where’s there?” You asked looking out of the window where everything was dark.

You could see the road ahead thanks to the car lights but you weren’t familiar with anything. It didn’t even look like you were in the city anymore, he had started to go up some hill a minutes ago and he hadn’t stopped.

“Are you sure you’re not a serial killer?” You asked.

“I think I would have killed you by now, wouldn’t I?” He smiled.

“That’s exactly what a serial killer would say”, you said narrowing your eyes.

“And how do you know it?” He said looking at you with a bigger smile. Didn’t he ever stop smiling?

“Maybe I am a serial killer”, you smirked, making him laugh.

“Don’t worry, one more minute and we’ll be there”, he said.

True to his word, a couple of minutes later, he stopped the car and turned off the engine after turning off the lights. He looked at you for a moment and sighed in content before taking the pizza box from you and getting out of the car.

“Wait! Where are you going?” You asked getting out as well. “Noah, it’s dark, what are we doing?”

“Here, hold this”, he said giving you the box.

Looking around, you took it from him while he opened the back of the car and took out a couple of hoodies. Then, he put one on and took the pizza box to put it on top of the car.

“Here, put it on”, he said offering you the other hoodie. “C’mon! The pizza will be cold”, he insisted.

“You’re freaking me out”, you sighed but did as he told you.

Once you were done and into his comfy hoodie, he took the pizza and your hand before guiding you towards some bushes. He was crazy. You were completely sure of it, but somehow you found yourself enjoying his company more than anything. His hand around yours gave you a feeling of security you hadn’t felt in a very long time and you felt like you could follow him anywhere.

“Et voilá!” He exclaimed when you got out of the bushes.

You opened your mouth surprised. He had taken you to a small cliff with a wooden fence around it so no one would fall and some wooden tables as well. But the cherry on the top of everything was the amazing view you had at your feet. If the view from Shawn’s house had you in awe, this was out of this world.

“And turn around”, he said by your side.

You did and gasped when you saw the Hollywood up there, like in so many movies you had seen. You didn’t even know what to say, you couldn’t even close your mouth. You were so shocked that you didn’t even notice Noah letting go of your hand and walking to one of the tables to set the box down and open it.

“It’s still warm”, he said, taking you out of your trance.

“This is amazing”, you said looking at him. He smiled widely and took a seat on the table.

“I imagined you’d like it”, he said and took a slice of pizza to offer it to you.

Still looking around you, you walked over him and took the slice from him. Without even knowing what it had on it, you just took a bite and took a seat on the table, with the pizza in between you, so the city was to your right and the Hollywood sign to the left.

“It’s delicious!” You exclaimed and looked down at the pizza but it was so dark you couldn’t see the ingredients, but you tasted a lot of cheese.

“I know, right?” He said. “It has like five different kind of cheese”, he said.

“No wonder is so delicious”, you said before keep on eating.

As your eyes got used to the dark, you finally were able to actually see Noah’s features again. His head was turned towards the city, kind of lost in his own thoughts. The small lights were reflected in his eyes. You found yourself completely lost in him. Who would have thought that you would find such a loveable soul in a random party in Los Angeles?

“You’re staring”, he said without looking at you. The comment was enough to make you blush.

“Sorry”, you mumbled and took another slice.

“It’s okay”, he smiled looking now at you. “What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing, really”, you half smiled and looked at the city to avoid his eyes, but you could feel them on your face. “I was thinking about how random this is”, you finally said. “In a good way”, you quickly added.

“Yeah, I know”, he agreed, taking another slice himself. “I didn’t even want to go to the party in the first place. Now I’m really glad I did.”

“I’m glad you did too”, you said smiling and looked at him.

You two stared at each other smiling and, after a few moments, that urge that you felt in the car to kiss him came back, even stronger than before. You forced yourself to look away once again. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you so nervous. It may be the intensity or just the way he did it. Whatever it was, you weren’t familiar with that tickly feeling in your stomach.

“When are you leaving?” He asked after a while of silence.

“Sunday afternoon”, you said.

“I thought you had a long weekend”, he commented.

“How do you know?” You asked surprised.

“A guy at the party was talking about it and I just assumed it was a national thing”, he shrugged. “It’s not?”

“It is”, you nodded. “I don’t have class until Tuesday but I have to work on Monday”, you explained.

“What’s your job?” He asked, surprised you had to work.

“I work at a cinema”, you shrugged. “Popcorns, soda… Sometimes I have to sell tickets too.”

“Oh…” he said. You looked at him and chuckled. “I just didn’t expect it.”

“I girl gotta live”, you joked and finished the slice of pizza. You were actually kind of full by now.

“Don’t you live at home? I mean, with your parents and all”, he asked.

“It’s more complicated than that”, you sighed.

“But then why-“

“It’s complicated, Noah”, you repeated.

Noah clenched his jaw and then nodded to himself. It was the second time you shut him off like that, which probably meant that it was something really serious. He didn’t expect you to open your soul to him, but he wished you did. Why? He didn’t know. All he knew is that he wanted to get to know you. For real.

“Sorry”, you said after a while. “It’s just… Things at home are complicated and that’s just a nice way to say it.”

“I’m sorry…” he said with a frown. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know about it”, you said.

“I do”, he said.

With a frown, you looked at him. He was looking at you with the most serious expression you had seen on his face since you met him a few hours ago. Why was he so interested?

“I’m serious”, he said when you didn’t say anything.

You bite your lip and looked at the city once again. It was never easy to talk about it. The only person you really talked to about this was Jo and even she knew how hard it was for you to open up about it. Yet, you wanted him to know even if you were not ready to dig into the reasons why you felt like that.

“My sister has leukaemia”, you finally said, looking down at your hands that were almost covered by the sleeves of his hoodie, which was way too big for you but it made you feel safe. “She was diagnosed around three years ago.”

Noah didn’t even know what to say. He was expecting some kind of hard situation but nothing like that. He couldn’t even imagine what that was like. Just the thought of his own sister going through something like that made him tear up a bit.

“It was a shock for everyone, obviously, and it still is. She is two years younger than me and she has always been so… so alive”, you shrugged trying not to tear up. “We started the treatment right away but even with the insurance, there was a lot to pay so we all had to give up on things”, you shrugged and looked at him for a moment, but you couldn’t hold his gaze. “I gave up NYU and agreed to stay home and get a job, which I did.”

“That’s why you said that not everyone gets the life that they dream about?” He asked and you nodded.

“I just made my peace with it”, you shrugged. “She’s my sister so I would do it all over again if I had to. No doubts, no regrets. But that doesn’t mean that it’s any easier to think about what my life could have been.”

“I’m so really sorry, (Y/N)”, Noah said and took the now empty box to put it aside and move closer to you to take your hands. “I… I had no idea, I’m sorry I pushed you to talk about it.”

“It’s okay”, you shrugged. “It’s not like it is a secret but I didn’t want to kill the mood with my sad little story.”

“You didn’t kill the mood. I really wanted to know”, he said and you gave him a small smile that he returned. “And how is she? And your parents?”

“Well, my parents ended up getting a divorce”, you shrugged. “That was just like the cherry on the top of the worst cake ever baked”, you chuckled sadly. “But Harper is okay. All things considered. She has always been so so positive about everything. She is so strong… I’m so proud of her.”

“I bet you are”, he smiled a little. “I’d love to meet her.”

“Shut up”, you chuckled. “Now you’re just talking out of pity.”

“I’m not!” He exclaimed. “(Y/N), I’m serious here. I know it sounds crazy because we just met hours ago but… I want to be there for you.”

You looked up at him and somehow you knew he was serious. Still, you couldn’t really let him to be part of a life as messy as yours. So you leaned in and kissed his cheek softly, knowing that when he dropped you off at Jo’s apartment he would probably forget all about you and your family’s tragedy.  

“Thanks, Noah”, you said.

“Want to go?” He asked. You nodded with a sigh.

Not a saying a word, he jumped off the table, took the box and threw it into a trash that was near the fence. Then, he went back to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and started walking towards the car. Noah could feel it and so could you. Somehow, that little moment you had just shared, had pulled you together. Some kind of bond had just been created between you two.

“How did you know about this place?” You asked.

“When I first moved here to Los Angeles, a long time ago, a friend showed me this place”, he explained.

“I thought you didn’t live in LA”, you said.

“I do, but I’m in shooting something in Florida and I had some time off so I came to see my family”, he said just when you came back out of the bushes and saw the car.

“Well, thanks for sharing it with me”, you said as he unlocked the car.

“Thanks for coming with me”, he said, opening the passenger door for you. “Where to?” He asked before you even got in.

You sighed and stopped to look at him. If it was up to you, you would spend the whole night with him, but was that even a good idea? You already felt like you were going to miss him.

Judging by the way he was looking at you, he was thinking the same. None of you wanted this night to end but were somehow terrified of what could happen if you two decided to just go along with whatever it was that you were feeling.

“I don’t know”, you finally said.

“Do you want to go home?” He asked, not moving from his spot.

“Do you?”

“Not really”, he said, his eyes fixed on yours.

“Me neither”, you admitted, moving your eyes from his to his mouth and then back to his eyes.

Noah was dying to kiss you. He had first thought about it at the party, then again at the pizza place and he had thought about it a million times since he saw your face looking at the Hollywood sign. What the hell had happened in the previous hours? When he first saw you, next to the beer pong table, he was intrigued by you. And now, hours later, he had the feeling that he wouldn’t be able to let you go that easily and, if he did, it would hurt.

And now there, in the darkness, with just the light of the inside of the car, he finally took a step closer to you. His hand itched just by wanting to hold you, his heart beat faster at the thought of kissing you, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t try. He placed a hand on your cheek and took a deep breath when you leaned a bit against it, not breaking eye contact. When you bit your lip, he knew he was done for.

Without thinking any more, he leaned down and finally captured your lips with his, wrapping his other arm around your waist to pull you closer. You wrapped his hoodie in your hands, to try and pull him even closer as you kissed him back.

You had always read and heard about fireworks when you kissed someone but this was the first time you truly believed in them. And it wasn’t just fireworks. It was like the Big Bang was happening around you. It was unique. It was unforgettable. It was beyond words.

None of you wanted to stop that moment. If it was possible to keep on kissing forever, feeling your bodies together, you would. But humans have that annoying issue of breathing, so you had to pull away. And yet you just kept your forehead against his, your eyes closed, your breathing mixing.

“Get in the car or I promise I won’t let you go”, he whispered after a few moments.

You bite your lip and followed his words, not because you wanted him to let you go, but because you needed to control your breathing. When he got in the car and started the engine, you gave him Jo’s address. At least, you would have a drive to think about what you wanted to do next.

The drive back was made in silence. But not that awkward silence that can follow a kiss, it was quite the opposite. You were just looking out of the window while holding his hand over the console, replaying the night and the kiss over and over again in your head. You could feel Noah’s thumb brushing over your knuckles. Every time he had to stop, he would raise your hand and kiss it, letting his lips linger over your skin for a few seconds before putting it down again. Every time he did that, that tickly feeling in your stomach appeared.

“Here we are”, he said when he stopped the car at the door of Jo’s apartment building. You bite your lip looking at the door and then at Noah. You didn’t want to leave him.

“Come up”, you said without thinking it twice. It looked like it took him by surprise, since it took him a bit to reply.

“Are you sure?” He asked cautiously. “I mean, it’s your friend’s place.”

“She’s okay with it, believe me”, you assured him. He bite his lip and looked at the door of the building.

He really wanted to do it. He wanted to go up with you and spend the rest of the night with you. But he was starting to get scared of what that it would mean to him once you left.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to”, you said, feeling a bit insecure.

“No, it’s not that. I do want to. I really do”, he said and turned off the engine. “It’s just… this never happened to me before, you know?”

“Oh, of course, this is just Tuesday for me”, you said with irony. “I do this every single day.”

He laughed and leaned his head back on the seat, closing his eyes. He was trying so hard to follow his reason and not his feelings, but he had never been the kind of guy to do that. And he definitely didn’t want to be it with you, but it all felt so…intense that he didn’t know what to do.

“Look, Noah”, you said. He looked at you. “This is weird for me too but… if you want to leave, I get it, it’s okay, I promise. It’s just that, I don’t know why, but I’m not ready to say goodbye to you.”

Something about the way you say it, with such truth behind it, was what Noah needed. His brain had clicked. Without saying anything, he got out of the car and walked around it to open your door while you looked for your purse. You took it from the floor just when he opened the door.

“Thanks”, you said when he helped you down by taking your hand.

Instead of replying, he closed the door and locked the car before wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing you again, taking you completely by surprise.

He had made a decision. He wasn’t going to think anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to just let himself go and see what this went. It could end up in nothing but the little voice inside his head kept on telling him that you were special, that he couldn’t give you up. Not yet.. It sounded crazy, but in his guts he knew he was right.

“What was that for?” You asked when he pulled away as a smile made its way to your face.

“I’m not ready to say goodbye either”, he simply said.

[randombtsprincessa]

Anarchy

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Namjoon x Reader (Ft. Jeon Jungkook) (2nd POV)

Words: 16.1k

Genre: Smut/Angst

Summary: A brutal break-up leaves you devoid of inspiration and an enigmatic author helps you see that the best of us have demons.

Warning: Jerk! Jungkook, Bitchiness, Pettiness, Profanity, Dirty Talk, Oral (Both receiving), Unprotected Sex.

A/N: I just love Namjoon!

The last year of college is supposed to be fun and studying in equal parts. It is supposed to be studying all day and letting loose at night in a frat party with your man and your girls and boys.

It isn’t supposed to be sitting in front of your open laptop in the dark room binging on ice cream and Netflix. It isn’t supposed to be ditching your literature thesis and novel – two of the most important things to you to get out of college – because you were uninspired.

It definitely wasn’t supposed to be your best friend letting herself in to your apartment to find you in your hiding place – vulnerable in pajamas, wrapped in a fluffy blanket.

“Y/N,” she sighed, dropping her bags on the coffee table with an ominous thud as she began to move around your usually tidy apartment with lithe steps.

You watched her warily while she opened windows to let in the cool night breeze, shook out the curtains, kicked away tossed clothes and take out containers and then come over to stand next to you, hands on hips and lips pursed.

“Did you even move since the morning?” Yerin asked.

You shrugged. What did it matter if you moved or not? What did it matter if you did anything at all?

“Y/N,” she sighed again, looking around the dark room again before her manicured fingers reached out and did the unthinkable.

She switched on the light switch.                                                

Brightness flooded the living room, harsh and unfamiliar to your delicate eyes as you let out a wild yelp, ducking under your blanket to protect yourself.

“Hell, Y/N, this isn’t healthy!” Yerin said from somewhere overhead even as you stayed buried in your soft darkness, tipping your body over to lie on the floor, pitiful whines falling from your mouth. Your brain fought hard, trying to infuse some sense into your aching heart, reasoning with claws and fangs.

“I know, Yerin, ok? I know this is horrible and filthy and that I smell and that probably everyone in class thinks I’m dead or something…maybe pregnant.” You wailed.

Try as she may, Yerin couldn’t help rolling her eyes at her best friend.

“No one thinks you’re dead or pregnant, Y/N. they know what happened, they know you need time.” She cajoled before biting her lip as you emerged, a furious scowl on your face.

“Oh, so everyone knows I got dumped? Great, Yerin, that’s just great, it’s just what I fucking need.” You snapped before picking your decrepit self off the floor, blanket still wrapped around you as you made your way into the kitchen to put the ice cream container in the refrigerator.

Yerin followed, mentally slapping herself for letting it slip that everyone on campus knew about your heartbreak.

“They don’t mean to be mean, Y/N. I’m just saying that people will understand.” She tried again.

You did not reply. What came instead was a soft sniffle that immediately made Yerin rush to the girl, wrapping slender arms around the hunched figure.

“I just don’t understand…” you hiccupped, “why he would do this.”

“He’s a jerk, Y/N. a jerk who did not deserve you…at all.” Yerin whispered, her grip tightening on you as you thought back to the day your loving boyfriend of 3 years decided he did not want to be with you after all, that there was plenty of fish in the ocean that he needed to try out before he settled down…that you were just not enough anymore.

“I saw Jungkook in class today, Y/N…he didn’t seem to be doing too good,” Yerin ventured slowly.

You shook even more, triggered at the mention of your boyfriend’s name…no, ex boyfriend’s name. Yerin was right. If Jungkook didn’t love you enough to keep it in his pants, then he did not deserve you…and you weren’t about to be sympathetic to the man who hurt and left you at a time you needed him the most.

His betrayal went deep. Not only were you crippled by the pressure in your heart, it was wrecking your life at college. You should be in classes, writing assignments, working on the novel you were going to try and get published after graduation. You weren’t supposed to be bedridden or hidden in a mass of blankets binging food and movies.

Jungkook had effectively destroyed you and he did not get to feel sad after shattering your heart, life, hopes and dreams.

“Y/N…?” Yerin asked softly, trying to jolt you out of your stiff countenance but you vigorously shook your head.

“I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to care anymore.” you whispered harshly, more of an order to your own self than an assurance to her.

Yerin stared for a while before nodding.

“You got it, beautiful. Let’s go get your life back.” She whispered as you wrapped your own arms around her.

Morning dawned a little too fast for your liking; sunlight pouring from your window and brushing against your closed eyelids, prompting you to roll over on your back with a disgruntled groan.

Unbidden, Yerin’s words from last night flooded your mind and you sat up slowly, blanket pooling around your waist as you gathered your bearings about you.

Jungkook and you had broken up. You had mourned that relationship while it lasted for long enough. You couldn’t stay cooped up in your apartment forever – for one, you needed your degree to work and pay for yourself.

With aggressive affirmations chanting in your mind, you picked yourself up to attend your class.

When you passed through the open doors of the lecture hall, you expected all eyes turn to you with varying degrees of judgment, sympathy or pity like a cheap rom-com but none of that happened…

It was almost as if you had never disappeared off the surface of the world as you made your way to your seat, weaving around the throngs of the chatting students. Yes, one or two turned to glance back at you when they saw you were back but it didn’t faze you all that much until you spotted your seat finally…and the one next to it…occupied by Jungkook.

You stopped mid-step, jostled by the passing students as you stared at the boy in front of you.

Damn, you had forgotten that over the course of your relationship, Jungkook and you had sat next to each other in all the lectures you had together. Thankfully, you only had this last subject remaining for your final year so that made things easy. You wouldn’t have to see him for five consecutive hours.

As you shuffled on your feet, you noticed that Yerin probably hadn’t looked at Jungkook too closely.

He didn’t look too bad. His hair still had that shine he achieved from the most expensive hair gel he could find. He had even changed his clothing. Instead of the usual hoodie and t-shirt, he had donned a fitted leather jacket and a shirt that screamed branded.

You couldn’t help but feel hurt. Jungkook was putting in so much effort to lure in new ‘fish’. Where had that effort been when he had been dating you? Hadn’t you been worth it at all?

Spinning on your heel, you marched towards one of the empty desks near the middle of the class and tapped the person sitting next to the empty one on the shoulder.

“Is this seat taken?” you asked roughly.

The boy widened his eyes at the slightly hostile behavior from you and quickly shook his head. “Thanks,” you huffed, flopping down into the seat and huddling in close as the boy turned to you completely.

“You’re…Y/N, right?” he asked.

You nodded and he cleared his throat. “Sorry about Jeon, you know; I heard about why he broke up with you.” he said. You pursed your lips at the uninvited sympathy but nonetheless offered him a smile.

“Thanks,” you said again.

He nodded. “I’m Taehyung, by the way,” he smiled. “You should know if you’re going to be my partner.” He said before turning to face the front when the professor strode in.

Professor Jung Hoseok was the youngest professor on our campus and the dream boat of almost all the females in the vicinity. Not only was he good looking; with dark hair parted neatly to give him that scholarly look, gold rimmed glasses that reflected light when he put them on and a sunny smile that lit up the room, he was a verifiable literature genius; able to recite sonnets and complicated Latin couplets that would make our lunch lady swoon.

Still, no matter how much of a heartthrob he was for the university, Jung was stern and a scary perfectionist. He never became overbearing but he was known to push people till they achieved their potential. He was a big name in the publishing world for this very reason.

Naturally, you had to please him if you wanted to make it in the field.

Mr. Jung stopped at his desk before casting a keen glance over the class, dark eyes sharp without his glasses. With a single wave of his hand, he acknowledged our greetings and began to get to work.

Switching on the projector and laptop, he pulled on his glasses, the rim glowing in the silver light of the projector as a picture of a blank paper.

He cleared his throat.

“Ok so class, what do you see here?” he asked.

“A blank page,” someone called from the back.

“Good, why do you think I have this on here?” he asked.

There was silence.

Mr. Jung circled the desk to stand at the front. “Come on, class, this is creative writing, use your imagination.” He said.

“To…tell a story…?” a voice floated.

He grinned.

“Correct, but not quite…it’s not for me to tell the story…it is for you.”

You froze in your seat.

“Now, we have forty five minutes. I want you to write me something in thirty minutes. Do this and you can leave fifteen minutes early.” He clapped his hands twice and returned to his desk, sitting down and fiddling on the keyboard.

Taehyung turned to me, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Wow, not what I expected today, I’m so out of it.”

You snorted mentally. Yeah, says you who have had zero inspiration for weeks now…

Even as people turned in their sheets to Mr. Jung and filed out, Taehyung included you nervously stayed back until you saw Jungkook pass by, sheet of paper clutched in his hand.

You watch as he hands in over to Mr. Jung before walking out, hiking the strap of his bag higher up on his leather clad shoulder.

Finally realizing that you were the only student left in the class, you stood up shakily, taking in a deep breath for stabilization as you shuffled over to him.

Mr. Jung looked up expectantly.

“Ah, Y/N, yes, I’m looking forward to your work.” He smiled.

There was a pause as you guiltily looked down. “I…don’t have anything, sir.”

He frowned immediately. “I beg your pardon?”

“I couldn’t do it…”

Mr. Jung frowned at you as he glanced around the empty class again.

“Its fine, Miss Y/L/N, its creativity, sometimes it takes time to come. Don’t beat yourself up about it. I have a class in another fifteen minutes. I would like you to come to my office at the end of college hours.” He said briskly, snapping the laptop shut.

You nodded before turning, leaving the room.

By the time the end of workday strolled by, you were nervous and sweating at what Jung was going to tell you. was he going to tell you he was taking away your assignments from you? was he going to sideline your book?

Veritably trembling, you knocked twice on the frosted glass of Mr. Jung’s office and entered at the soft ‘come in’.

At your appearance, Mr. Jung smiled.

“Y/N, good, good, have a seat,” he said, indicating a chair in front of his desk and you plopped down, biting your lips as he steeped his fingers together, eyeing you speculatively.

“Now, do you want to discuss what has you in such a dump?” he asked.

You stumbled. “S-sir?” you asked.

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m not that much older than you…I’ve been where you are just a few years ago. I know an inspiration leak when I see one…” he said.

You stayed still, spluttering wordlessly at him.

“In professional terms, we call it a writer’s block.” He gently murmured before tapping at his laptop.

“You have been absent in class for the past week, I doubt you have done your assignment and I have received no updates on your book. As a man close to your age, I can sympathize but as your teacher who reports to superiors of his own, I have to interfere in due course, Miss Y/L/N.” he said.

You looked down, trying to blink back disappointed tears before you were spouting out your side of the story to your professor about how Jungkook broke your heart, how he was parading around his good looks in your direct line of sight and how you couldn’t move from your floor for days and the fact that some part of you still believed that Jungkook could come back to you after having his fill of ‘fresh fish’.

Was it stupid of you to consider taking him back? Of course, but who cared?

“However, as a man and your teacher who sees potential in you and believes that you can get past it and wants to help you, I can say that I am willing to give you some help.”

You looked up quickly at that as he gave you another quick smile of pity.

“I’ll give you an extension on that assignment and in return I want you to start working on your book along with it. If you can submit the assignment in two days and its good enough, I will help you on your book.” He said.

You shot up from your desk.

“I won’t disappoint you, sir. I promise to submit it by then,” you said, taking his wave of acknowledgement as your dismissal as you rushed off to get to work on 2500 words worth of an assignment.

On the day of reckoning, I watched as Jung walked among the desks taking in the assignments before he was stopping at mine – still next to Taehyung – and quirking an eyebrow. I slipped the folder into his waiting palm and watched his lips twitch a little before he moved on.

At the end of the class he stood up, “Miss Y/N, kindly stay back,” he said as everyone filed out.

I stood up to go to his desk when my elbow collided with someone while swinging my bag on to my shoulder. “Oh sorry!” you said quickly, only to see it was Jungkook, who looked startled to see you.

Yeah, did he forget you and him go to the same classes?

“No…no worries, Y/N,” he said shakily before he was slinking past you, hurriedly walking out the door.

You sighed, walking quickly to Mr. Jung’s desk, hoping that he hadn’t seen that exchange.

“Very good, Y/N, this looks promising, I’d say you have earned help on that book of yours fair and square.” He said a rare wide smile on his face.

You smiled back, rubbing your hands a little to warm the excited numb feeling in your fingers as he pulled out his wallet and picked out a paper from one of the compartments, handing it to you.

“I spoke to one of my friends about helping you on the book; Writing, editing, the works. He’s an author himself, so he knows all the tricks. Maybe you’ve heard of him? His name is Kim Namjoon.” He said.

You wracked your mind. “Is he the one who wrote The Real Me?” You asked. You remembered seeing the book on the shelves of your favorite book store but you had been too swamped with studies to afford buying a new book.

“Yes, he recently came back from an abroad trip and I know he doesn’t have any works in progress at the moments as Real Me is still making the rounds. He’s one of my best friends and he agreed to take a look at your work. He’s going to be at that café at the time I’ve written down and I included the number just in case. I hope this helps you, Y/N. I expect you to be on your best behavior with him as well.” He said.

You nodded fervently, profusely thanking the lucky stars for giving you this opportunity.

That weekend, you arrived bright and early at the meet up place Jung had written down for you and nervously waited for anyone to approach the table you were sitting at. You’d already done a sweep of the place to make sure you were the only one sitting alone so there would be no mistaken identities and had looked him up online.

Kim Namjoon was twenty four years old, fresh out of college and published by one of the most prestigious companies in the business, Bulletproof Co. He was tall, handsome and always well dressed, in suits or preppy shirts and sweaters. You had zoomed on his face to make sure you had the correct guy and even underneath the thick rimmed black square glasses or the occasional sunglasses, you could see the softness lingering in his sharp good looks; be it in the plumpness of his lips, the round, dimpled cheeks or the slant under his eyes.

You switched to his book details to see informed and you had to say, you were pretty impressed.

The Real Me was a philosophical and psychological revelation. It started with recounting real life instances of people’s lives and how Namjoon himself had felt them; failure, pressure of success, silver spooning and finally heartbreak.

It ended with the realization that everything came and went and that the furnace which life lit for a person would indirectly forge them into a better person…and if they were lucky, they might be able to find their true selves in that journey as well.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

You looked over your shoulder to see the man in a large black hat and shades standing at your chair, head cocked to one side.

“Um, yes, that would be me,” you said.

The man nodded, moving to sit in front of you before he was removing his hat and glasses, placing them neatly on top of each other to a side of the round table.

“I’m Kim Namjoon; Jung Hoseok came to me about you.” he said, finally looking up to meet your studious eyes.

The Kim Namjoon in the pictures did no justice to the real life Kim Namjoon, you realized. He wasn’t as lean, the tall frame wrapped in muscles that bulged in the tightness of his clothes. The black jeans showed strong thighs, biceps flexing under the movement of his coat sleeve as he removed it, tossing it over the back of his chair. The simple plaid shirt underneath, made him look like a normal guy, not the suited bestseller author you’d seen online.

You realized he was waiting for a reply while you were staring at him so you quickly lowered your gaze.

“Yes, yes he did, he said you’d be able to help me with my book.” You said quietly.

“I could, of course, but I would like to know what exactly it is you need help with.” He said.

“Um, the writing and editing thing,” you mumbled as Namjoon nodded to a passing waiter who came to take your orders. While you asked for a simple milkshake, he went for a black coffee with the House Special Blend.

While the orders were done, he turned back to you. “I’m a little confused. Hoseok is your creative writing professor, isn’t he? He has much more of a name in the world than I do for these kinds of things. Why not just go to him?”

“He’s my teacher,” you said as the waiter placed your drinks in front of you and left. “I cannot ask him to push for me with the publishers. All that would be appropriate for him to do would be to give me a letter of recommendation. I need someone who can actually tell me what to do to get my work in print. Who better to do that than an already published writer?” you asked.

Namjoon smiled knowingly, turning his cup with his index finger.

“Ah, Hoseok…he always knew his little tricks.” He murmured before looking at you.

“What did you mean by helping you write?” he shot.

The question as always made you stiffen and then blush in embarrassment. “Yeah, that…um, I’m having a little bit of a…inspiration leak.” You said, quoting Jung.

“Writer’s block,” Namjoon said bluntly before shaking his head.

“I don’t know Miss Y /L /N; you seem like a good investment to me. Bright, well spoken and everything…plus you come with Hoseok’s recommendation and he doesn’t recommend just anyone…but I’m worried about the slump you’re in. I can’t help you if you cannot write. I cannot write your book for you, you see.”

“Oh but please, Mr. Kim, I mean, Mr. Jung gave me two days to finish his assignment and I managed that so I guess desperation works best for pulling me out of my slump. I’m not going to ask you to write anything for me. I just need you to guide me,” you said quickly.

Namjoon contemplated.

“Fine, tell me about what you’re writing…while I think about it,” he brought his cup up his thick lips to take a sip.

You took a sip of your own drink.

“The book is about struggle, something I think you’re familiar with.” You said and Namjoon tilted his head at you, an impressed look in his eyes.

“You read my book…did you grasp it well?”

“The basics, but I think I should get a chance to share our own pieces as well.” You said.

Namjoon smirked.

“Fair enough, I think I’d like to see what piece it is you want to share with the world. Bring me five hundred words tomorrow.” He said before placing his empty cup on the table and standing up, collecting his belongings.

“Where?” you asked.

“You have a writer’s block, what better place to go but to the park? see me near the small pond where they used to keep duck at 10.” He said.

The disused duck pond was the perfect spot, you realized, sitting on one of the fairly stronger benches as you waited for Namjoon, early again to maintain good impressions.

Your five hundred words were in your lap, a page full of masked demons, loss of self, and a maze of a journey with no outing.

“You have a habit of being early,” you heard from behind you.

A glance to your side, told you that Namjoon had arrived, this time looking like one of his pictures. A white button down, black slacks and blazer with his thick rimmed glasses, his silvery dark blond hair caught the dull morning sun as he sat down beside you, holding out a hand that you placed your homework on.

He sifted through it before tucking the page into one of his inside pockets. He crossed his arms as he bit on his lips.

“Did you read my book?” he asked.

“I told you; I read up on a bit online but I couldn’t complete it. I was busy studying to pass my course.” You said.

“I see; that’s what you say, Miss Y/L/N, but that isn’t what an editor or a publisher is going to say. It isn’t even what I’m going to say. What you’ve written…it’s like you’re holding up a mirror to what I have written in my book.” He said.

You gaped at him. “Are you saying I copied you? Because I did not; I mean yeah the premises are similar but the…”

“The premises, prose, writing style, even some of the wordings…they are all similar, Miss Y/L/N. I told you yesterday, I cannot write your book for you.”

“You aren’t though,” you said.

“You told me that you have a piece to share with the world. I liked that and I also like the piece but it isn’t…you. The girl I have seen in these two days is not the one I’m seeing reflected in this piece of paper.” He said, turning to face me as he scanned the confusion on my face.

“A writer needs to have a voice. This voice is what communicates to your readers. Sometimes, they might see themselves as you, try to relate as you…sometimes you try to relate to them, become them…in all these situations your audience needs to be able to see you, hear you, feel you in your words…if you can’t make your readers understand your essence through your work, what is the point of conveying messages to them? What is the point of writing? Just to get royalties…? Be rich and able to buy stuff…? Or do you actually want to be able to make a difference, no matter how small?” he said.

You sat there, watching over the pond as you contemplated his words.

“I want to make a difference.” You mumbled.

“Good, but you’re not going to do it by sounding like me. Try sounding like yourself. Tell me, what is it that you have on your mind right now? What’s driving you? Write about that. You are important to yourself and if you believe that, you can make your readers believe it too. So, tell me, Y/N…what do you feel?” he said.

“Um…I feel…desperation mostly, because I really need this. I want to be out in the world and if I wait till I graduate I will never get it done. I’m…sad I suppose…I just went through a break up because my boyfriend thinks he’s too young to settle down and needs to fuck others to decide.” You ranted.

You stopped before grinning sheepishly at him.

“Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about that.”

“I’m a reader, Miss Y/L/N. if you can tell me a story, I’m willing to listen.” He mumbled, his body turning to you as he made himself comfortable.

Stumbling a little, you gave him exactly what he wanted…you told him a story about Jungkook.

When you were done, your eyes were distant, pools of amber and onyx lush with unshed memories as you recalled the way you’d disbelievingly watched your guiltless boyfriend leave you life, heart and apartment.

Namjoon was quiet as he let you finish before you sighed, turning to look at him again.

“Allow me to say this, Miss Y/L/N; you may not agree with me with your present mindset but you should use your heartbreak as a strength.” He turned to face the pond again.

“I’ve had my fair share of failures at love and I admit I had a bitter view of it for a long time but over time it changed. I have settled to believe that it is a necessary evil nowadays. You cannot avoid it in life. You will always see it, on the street, in a restaurant, in a park but you have the choice to be hateful towards it or you can take your chances and turn it into art – no matter how tragic it seems.” He gave you a bleak smile.

“You have a strange world view Mr. Kim Namjoon,” you whispered.

“I hope so…the woman who broke my heart had a habit of telling me I should stick to the mainstream. When we ended, I made it my mission to go the opposite way of everything she stood for. Now I am a successful author. Maybe you can do it too and in a few years, you won’t even remember this Jungkook.”

“You still remember her, don’t you?” you asked.

“Well, yes, but then it’s ok if you remember your past loves. All you have to make sure you remember is that they are not the people you once fell in love with. It seems unfair to go to that much trouble and yes, I will steer clear of her if I see her which tends to happen because we are in the same business, I still don’t hold myself inferior enough to beguile her existence as long as she is not beguiling mine.”

“That takes guts.” You said bluntly, making Namjoon laugh.

“Yes, it does, doesn’t it? I think I got what I wanted across to you. Think about what I said and the next time we see each other I want a thousand words. I’ll text you when I’m free next.” He said, standing up and offering me his hand to shake.

“Until next time, Y/N,”

You shook his hand, “See you, Mr. Kim,”

He buttoned his blazer and made to turn before giving you one parting glance.

“Y/N,”

“Yeah?”

“Call me Namjoon.”

You’d known Namjoon for a month now and while he still remained an enigma to you mostly, you were happy to say that he was an enigma you could call him your friend.

Over the time that you’d known him, he had given you more insight into a writer’s mentality, reader reception and what publishers usually were looking for.

All of these guides were helpful but somehow along the way, you had started to crave more of how you felt around him rather than just the way he helped you along.

Namjoon had a very soothing presence, almost lulling you into tranquility while you were with him as he took you on walks and trips to places where no one was present. It would’ve seemed creepy if not for the fact that you trusted him explicitly in the short amount of time you’d known him. Besides he’d already warned you of his ways of detaching you from the world in the way that you could find yourself.

In these solitary places, he said, where no one was around to see you and judge you, you could be yourself, think of yourself, see things for yourself, wander inside yourself.

Did it seem melodramatic? Probably, but it did help.

Your mind was clearer…it helped you submit finals much easier and even as you were picked valedictorian by a beaming Jung Hoseok, you made it a point to thank him for helping you.

He characteristically waved it away. “I knew Namjoon would’ve been a great help to you. He was like you, you know, when we were in college. Same sort of thoughts, same proclivity towards philosophy…even the same, forgive me, naivety towards love.” He said.

“His ex?” you guessed and he nodded.

“She was a real piece of work. On the surface you’d think she was a godsend – sweet, kind, supportive, encouraging…but it wasn’t until she left Namjoon that we found out how sadistically she chewed on him.” Mr. Jung handed you the sash for valedictorian before shaking his head.

“She’s in the past now. So, how’s the book coming?” he asked, changing the subject as you spent the next half hour discussing the changes you’d made to it.

“Seems promising, I’d love to read it once Namjoon’s done with it. Oh and, our university is hosting a fund raiser for on campus personnel, Y/N. Many editors and publishers are going to be there. I know for a fact a few of your classmates have a few professors backing them. Would you be interested?” he asked.

“Um…is it appropriate?” you asked.

Jung shrugged.

“I don’t see why not. I am writing your letter of recommendation. What good is it going to do if you don’t have someone to show it to?”

“Oh,” you laughed, “Makes sense, I’ll try and be there.”

“Fantastic…oh and Y/N, I know this will sound strange but try to get Namjoon to attend…lord knows the man needs to get out more.”

By the time you emailed Namjoon about the fund raiser he’d already been logged in for a book signing and had to refuse, sending in a best of luck instead.

Yerin had come over, doing her best to make you look presentable. For all her knowledge of pop culture trivia, your best friend was hopeless with a hairbrush and even though you teased her for it, you were more than grateful as she tried to put your hair in an up-do by watching a YouTube tutorial.

“It’s just a fund raiser, Yerin. Don’t give yourself an aneurysm.” You said, watching her struggle with bobby pins and she threw you a look. “A fund raiser where your potential boss could be scouting talent; try looking your best, ok… There are going to be a lot of big shots there.” She said.

And a lot of big shots were present at the fund raiser…

Your dress swirled around your knees as you examined the Great Hall of the university where the event was taking place in awe. You wouldn’t have recognized it in daylight as shimmering chandeliers hung in alternative skylights.

Namjoon would’ve liked to be here, you thought, surprising yourself.

Normally, you wouldn’t be thinking of people like this and how they would appreciate…but you supposed that Namjoon just had that kind of aura of deriving pleasure from seemingly mundane things and that had struck a chord in you.

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N, you made it,” you saw your headmaster, Mr. Sihyuk draw closer to you with Mr. Jung and you smiled, nodding at them. “The hall looks great, sir.” You said and Mr. Sihyuk grinned.

“It does, doesn’t it? You have the Art department to thank for that. I see Hoseok is backing you this year, very well very well. Make sure to make us all proud, Miss Y/L/N.” he said, patting Jung on the back and leaving to greet the other guests.

Mr. Jung sighed.

“You have no idea how pretentious this backing thing can get, Y/N.” he said, taking a sip from his flute. “Namjoon is signing books right now. He should’ve been here. He’d have merged right in.” He rolled his eyes before shaking his head.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just feeling frustrated from all the exam corrections…go and mingle Y/N, you’ll need the connections in a couple weeks.” He said, giving you a bleak smile before walking away.

Your smile faded away a little as you looked around the people talking. They all seemed to already know each other beforehand. There was no way your little anxious self was going up to someone and just introduce yourself.

As you backed up a little, you felt someone’s elbow catch you and you gasped, turning to apologize just as the woman turned too.

Pale, slender and beautiful, she grabbed your arm, a sheepish smile blossoming on her smooth deep pink lips as she quickly pulled you towards her.

“I’m so sorry! I am a complete klutz in heels, I swear.” She said.

Closer, she was even beautiful, flawless even as she tilted her head back a little to laugh.

“No, no, I should’ve seen where I was going.” You corrected quickly and the girl blushed prettily.

“That wouldn’t have helped. If I’m meant to hit someone, I usually do hit them.”

You giggled at her and she beamed. “Come on, join me, I have a feeling we’re going to get along really well. I’m Seulgi.” She said, tugging you after her to one of the empty table.

“I’m Y/N.” you said as she plucked two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and handed you one, plopping down on the chair and letting out a soft moan of relief.

“Thank god, these things were killing me,” she said.

“I know right, my best friend told me to wear flat just because she knows I can’t stay in heels for long.” You told her.

She sighed, “I wish my friends were that smart, but alas, I happen to be the expert in these things. You’d think I’d be wearing flats but come on, heels make you look great.” She gushed.

After a few more glasses, you and Seulgi were still at the table, talking about future prospects and past experiences alike. She was the assistant of one of the editors and you recalled that Publishing House had worked with Namjoon. Funny how that was how you would remember someone…You even talked about douche bag exes and she tutted at the way Jungkook had treated you.

“That, honey, is why men are pigs. No matter how much you love them, they still cannot think clear past their dicks. Was he hot, though?” she asked.

“Oh, very,” you mumbled, thinking of the doe eyes that would turn to dark and hooded and the half smirk that could itself made you want to crawl over him. You didn’t have to see his body to think him hot but he somehow had that as well.

“Well, as long as you tapped that good and nice.” She said and you choked on your drink, bursting out laughing.

“What about you? Any douches in your life?” you asked, quickly diverting your new friend from Jungkook.

“Hmm, a few…there was particularly one though…he wasn’t a douche…we just didn’t see things the same way. If you asked him, he’d say I was trying to hold him back…” he laughed, “typical excuse, right? I just wanted him to make big and be safe, you know. I loved him.” She said.

You shook your head. “Well, I guess you’re better off without him.”

She smiled. “That’s what I keep telling myself.” She whispered.

When you finally came back home, late and with Seulgi’s number added to your phone with promises to see each other again that you thought nothing of, you wandered into your room to see Yerin was still waiting there.

She had passed out in your bed, hair sprawled around her like a halo, arms tucked neatly under her and you smiled fondly at her before tucking her in and going out with your phone and to browse a bit before you went to bed. There awaiting in your inbox was a small text from Namjoon asking you if you were free tomorrow and that he’d like to take you for a movie he’d been aiming to watch but didn’t have free time to go until today.

For a reason unbeknownst to you, the small message brought a smile to your face as you typed and sent in a yes.

The next day when you opened the door at six, you were surprised to see Namjoon standing at your doorstep without his usual effects of hat, sunglasses and coat. He was in a simple long sleeved black shirt and grey jeans, his hair mussed artfully which made you question why it was fair for people to look that good while you had to spend half an hour in front of a mirror.

“Hey,” he said a dimpled smile on his face. “How was the fund raiser?”

“Hmm, it was good, met a few interesting people,” you replied as you locked your door, following him to his car. He held the passenger door open for you and when you slipped in you found the tickets already on the dash in front of you. You picked it up turning them to see the name, expecting to find some documentary only to be surprised again.

“A scary movie, really?” you threw at him as he got in and started the car.

“Yeah, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing, I was just expecting something more like…you know, a guy on top of a hill talking about aliens or something like that.” You teased.

Namjoon rolled his eyes.

“I do have a life outside of my profession, Miss Y/L/N. it might not always seem like it; but it’s been known to happen.” He griped as you chuckled.

The ride to the cinema seemed shorter with him recounting his short history with Horror. He had only seen five in his time but he’d read a lot about them. Something about the visuals already created for him made him relax his mind, he explained, which was why most people probably preferred movies over books. After a long day, they didn’t need to spend time imagining things.

“Which is your favorite?” you asked, standing next to him as he got popcorn.

“This is going to sound so cliché to you…it’s the Exorcist.” He mumbled, slipping his wallet back into his pocket and handing you the tub and your drink.

“Oh my god, yes it does,” you said.

“Oh come on, it has blasphemy, levitation and my personal favorite, projectile vomiting.” He grinned.

“So, you’re into those kind of things?” you shoved at him and he stuttered over his words, ears reddening.

“No, I just meant…let’s just watch the movie.” He grunted, quickly ducking into the dark theatre as you followed, howling with laughter.

Even with the movie playing, you could tell that Namjoon was overcompensating.

His eyes were nearly squinting, ready to close at any jump scare of gruesome scene in the Slash movie. You stretched out your hand and gripped his free one.

“It’s just a movie, Joon.” The nickname falling from your lips easily, as he turned to look at you, eyes wide before looking down at your hands as he returned the grip, twice as hard.

“I know, I’m fine.” He said.

You’d have agreed with him if he hadn’t been holding your hand like a bear trap but you stayed mum before jumping yourself the next moment at a jump scare. Only it wasn’t because of the appearance of the hooded and masked killer, it was because Namjoon nearly shot up from his seat and threw himself across the room, taking you with him.

Even as the main protagonist fell on the stairs with the killer in pursuit, the lights came on and Namjoon and you both visibly deflated, slumping against the seats in relief.

“Thank god,” you said as he quickly stood up, your hand still in his and began to walk through the aisles, heading outside.

“Namjoon, promise me one thing.” You said, blinking in the bright lights. “That’s one sequel we are not watching.” You said.

Namjoon chuckled, dropping your hand. “Agreed…do you mind? I’ll just be a minute.” He said, tilting his head towards the men’s room and you nodded.

You’d just sat down on the bench near the lobby when you felt him.

Your shoulders stiffened, body tensed and mouth went dry even as days later of enduring heartbreak because of him, your body responded to him like a live wire. You turned slowly, eyeing him.

He was dressed in fitted leather again, you noted, hands deep in the pocket of his jacket as he stared at you.

“What do you want?” you snapped finally.

Jungkook sighed as he took a step closer to you. “I just wanted to see you. I haven’t seen you…for such a long time.” He said.

“Did you…follow me or something?” you asked.

“No, I just…I brought Rosie here…” he mumbled.

I closed my mouth. He was on a date…he was on a fucking date. I wanted to tell him to go to hell but he was speaking again.

“That time in class I just…you looked at me and I…I remembered when you used to look at me…it was so different, like you didn’t know me anymore. I felt, I don’t know, I guess I felt hurt but then I brushed it off but then I saw that you were here with that guy and I…I feel angry, I feel jealous. I’m not supposed to feel like that, I know. I have no right.”

“You’d be right about that.” You spat at him.

“I don’t know who you are anymore. You left me, you’re on a date. You can’t feel jealous or angry because I might be on one too. You lost all right to do that when you stopped loving me.”

“I didn’t stop loving you. I still love you…and I know it might be a little late now but I meant it when I said you’re it for me,” he said, taking another step towards you and you stumbled back, already weakening. He had always taken you in so easily.

“Yeah, well, sorry to burst your bubble buddy, but you’re definitely not it for her.” Another voice, deeper and stronger sounded behind him and you glanced over his shoulder to see Namjoon. Even though they were nearly the same height, Namjoon towered over Jungkook as he walked towards you, entangling his fingers with yours, body angled almost protectively in front of you.

Jungkook returned the look evenly.

“Look dude, I don’t know who you are but I think I know what I’m talking about. Your one date isn’t trumping my three years.” He said, shrugging.

“You’re right, it won’t. You breaking up with her because you wanted to fuck around, now that’s going to trump a whole lot more that just three years.”

You looked at Namjoon, the first time you’d heard him say anything as crude as ‘fuck’.

“Just stay away from my girlfriend.” He continued, shoving past a stunned Jungkook and pulling you with him.

Namjoon didn’t let go of your hand till you were at his car and he was pushing you in and getting in himself, driving off with his jaw clenched.

You sat there, eyes still blown wide open as you processed what had just happened. You let out a loud groan, burying your head in your hands, cursing. “Oh god, I am so sorry.” You lamented.

Namjoon turned to give you a bewildered look. “What are you sorry for? Out of all of us, you’re the last one who should be apologizing.”

“But…but…I just stood there and let him talk over me,” you said.

“That wasn’t your fault. It’s natural you still feel a little out of balance around him. That has everything to do with the fact that you need to get used to being around him and nothing to do with you or your feeling, understand?” he asked and you nodded slowly.

Namjoon tightened his hold on the wheel. “I hate people like him.” He grunted.

You glanced at him.

“People who…I don’t know how to explain it in proper terms…the people who get in relationships one after the other. They are the weakest people. Especially, the ones who use the power they have over you for their own sick purposes. That guy was just trying to protect the one territory he was sure he’d always claim over. The moment he thought you might be in danger of backing out of his ball court he came back to play with you. That…that kind of person sickens me.”

This was the longest you’d ever heard Namjoon rant about anything and you couldn’t help but reach out for his hand. He gave it you slowly and you squeezed it.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely before letting him go, looking out the window while he returned his hand to the wheel, slower still.

“Where are we going?” you asked suddenly realizing you couldn’t recognize the neighborhood.

“Uh…I’m taking you to my place. Damn, I completely forgot.” He said but you shook your head.

“It’s ok. I can’t say I haven’t been curious about your house.” You said. He smiled at you softly before taking a turn into a driveway.

Namjoon’s apartment was on the other side of the lavish apartment complex, meaning he had a fantastic view of the cityscape which at this time of night twinkled from the floor length French windows, leading to the terrace.

He flipped on switches along the way to illuminate the way as he sighed - obviously homily. It was a sigh you knew well. It was one you heaved when you entered the comfort and isolated silence of your own apartment, the quiet blanketing you.

You watched from the foyer as Namjoon walked to a large wooden dresser in the living room, taking his wallet and phone and placing it on them neatly before running his hands through his hair, messing it up even more before he glanced at you.

“You don’t have to stand there like that, Y/N. Come on in,” he said.

You walked over to him and looked around you while Namjoon watched you.

Namjoon’s home, though luxurious and tastefully decorated in warm, earth tones, it was still sparse, slightly bare.

“You don’t have a lot of things in the house.” You noted.

Namjoon shrugged, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “I have a few things I got on the trips I have taken; Mostly collectibles and figurines or books.”

“You collect toys?” you smirked at him.

“Figurines,” he corrected, scoffing at you. “But you’re right, I don’t like having a lot of things around me…it feels like I cluttering myself.” He said.

“Sometimes, a lot of things means you take comfort from them.” You said, remembering the trinkets you had back at your place and the memory connected to each of them.

He didn’t say anything and you moved to a wall where he’d hung up pictures of himself with his friends and family.

A few of them were with whom you guessed was his mother, she looked like him as they took a picture in a café or in a park. The ones with who he told you were his father were more formal, suited, even though he looked like a kid or a teenager. Another couple was with his younger sister, identical smiles on their faces.

The rest of them – with his friends – were haphazard.

In some of them he was clearly in college, his hair styled differently, a more easy air around him as he took silly photos. One of them he was probably at a concert, hair spiked up with yellow sunglasses and next to him was…

“Is that Mr. Jung?” you nearly screeched, drawing Namjoon’s quiet attention. He chuckled as he came to stand behind you.

“Yeah, we were really into the pop music thing then.” he explained.

“Oh my, I wish I could tease him about it,” you said.

“You can after you graduate, you all seem friendly enough.” He said.

You hummed, moving towards the window when he cleared his throat.

“I owe you an apology as well.” He said.

You looked at him. “For what?”

He looked down at his feet, hand rubbing his neck. “I took a leap back there, calling you my girlfriend like that. I shouldn’t have taken the liberty to do that.” He said.

“Oh, its fine, Jungkook backed off.” You said.

“There were better way to do that. I took advantage.” He said.

“Namjoon…really, it’s ok. Neither of you are going to see each other again. I doubt the topic will come back up again.” You said.

“You’re too good to me,” Namjoon argued.

“Not at all,” you cut in. “The truth is…I’m not good at all. If I were, he’d have never left in the first place. if I was good, I…I don’t know…I just don’t…but if I was even a fraction good, I’d deserve someone like you…but I don’t.” you sighed, letting the bitterness and sadness pit together in your throat and flow out.

There was a long silence as you looked through the glass at the twinkling city lights.

You could feel him behind you, close enough to brush against if you turned, the warmth of his breath ruffling the top of your head.

“You deserve the universe, Y/N.” he whispered finally, his breath tickling your ear, “and I’m just a tiny speck in it, but you deserve everything you hope for.”

You took in a deep breath, trying to ease the sudden wobbliness you felt inside you as you turned to face him but he was already pressing up against you, his eyes fluttering close as his hands found your shoulders, pressing you against the glass.

Your head tilted up on its own, mouth parting to let out a gentle gasp that he took as he planted his lips across yours.

Namjoon tasted of popcorn and mints, his lips plush and soft moving softly against yours, barely brushing before he was cocking his head away from you to look at you properly, studying your expression as he so meticulously did.

“Namjoon,” you whispered and he shushed you, long fingers cupping your face and arching you to meet him as he kissed you again, this time deeper and a whole lot more headily.

He craned his neck, tracing you upper lip with soft strokes of his tongue before he nibbled on your lower lip, prompting a shaky gasp. He took the chance to slip his tongue in, running it over yours in gradual flicks and you keened towards him as your back moving from the window. He pressed you harder against it, one of his thighs finding its way between your legs, holding you against it.

You let him overpower you easily, enjoying the way he was circling your mouth, pecking your lips affectionately one second, before diving in and kissing your thoroughly, tongue curving in every crevice and dancing with your own before he went to nipping your swollen lips.

You wound your arms under his shoulder, fingers clutching at them as you felt his leg flex between your legs, a low thud in the pit of your stomach that had you moaning against his plush mouth as you grinded against his muscular leg to relieve some of the delicious burn.

Namjoon pulled away with a growl, looking down at the way you dragged yourself on his leg.

“Fuck, look at that, did I make you that desperate baby?” he asked, his voice raspy and hoarse and dripping with lust.

You answered that with a whimper and you tried to pull him back closer to you but he was already untangling himself from you and walking back, a hand coming up to brush his hair back, looking at your panting form still pressed to the window.

“Walk towards me, baby, slowly.” He said.

Slightly confused, you obeyed, taking somewhat staggering steps towards him which he watched with predatory precision before you realized he was watching your hips.

Stuttering slightly you stood in front of him finally before he was latching on to your waist again, fingers digging into your flesh as he walked backwards, towards what had to be his bedroom.

“I’d carry you, but I want to watch this. You walk like I’ve intoxicated you and it’s so sexy.” He growled, before he was reaching back to open the door. He pulled you through and went to the side before a low ambient light came on, illuminating the room.

“Wow,” you said first thing as you saw his bedroom, making him chuckle darkly.

The room was comfort and opulence in one world. A long closet took an entire wall with a huge writing desk under one of the windows. What took the spotlight was the bed.

King sized, high off the ground and plushy heaven, the bed was THE bed…the kind you saw in magazines and lamented your own over it.

You felt him return to you as he brushed your hair back from your shoulder, mouth hovering over the curve as he let warm breath waft over your skin. “Like?” he asked, softly.

“Love,” you answered and he chuckled again. “Good, because you aren’t going anywhere else tonight.” He said, his mouth latching on to your shoulder, sucking in a pulsating rhythm.

You close your eyes at the feeling, letting him move his hands on your body; brushing over your hips, around your waist, up the sides before he was cupping your breasts, squeezing gently. You dropped your head on his shoulder as he began to gently sway you, fingers tapping and teasing your nipples over the fabric of your shirt. His lips curled up in a smile against your skin, grinding his growing erection against the small of your back, demanding attention.

“Namjoon,” you breathed.

“Hmm,”

“Let me taste you,” you continued, turning in his arms and he bit his lips, eyeing your lips before brushing a thumb over your bottom petal. “I’d love to let you, Y/N. Get on your knees,” he said before he was moving away to sit on the bed. You walked towards him again, this time making sure to sway your hips more for his intense gaze as you bent over to give him a kiss first.

Your fingers wrapped under his jaw as you tilted his face up to yours and he let you, kissing teasingly, flicking his tongue against your playfully as you let your hands trail down to his shirt, tugging at it. He broke away to grab the back of the neck before he was pulling it over his head, revealing the smooth expanse of skin. You started to kneel, kissing a line down his chest and he tossed the shirt away, leaning his weight back on his hands as he allowed you to reach his waistband.

Slipping your fingers under it, you glanced at him through your lashes as you undid the button, tugging the two flaps gently to let the zipper down. He examined your actions before he was bucking his hips up and letting you pull his jeans and the top of his briefs down to free him.

His erection slipped out on your hand, warm and twitching at your touch and you licked you lips, unable to take your eyes off it, admiring the girth and the purplish, red head. Glancing at Namjoon again, who was clearly enjoying your awed gaze, you leant closer, your fingers wrapping around the base to squeeze as gently as he’d squeezed your breasts and licked a strip from the base to the tip, before flicking your tongue right at the slit.

Namjoon smirked at the tease before he leant back all the way on his elbows. “Take your time baby, we have the whole night,” he whispered and you grinned at the usage of reverse psychology before you were slowly sinking on him, making a point to give a good, first suck.

His reaction was obvious, the hitch of breath, raising up back to his hands as he looked down at you and the part of his mouth, tongue peeking out to wet his dry lips.

You blinked innocently, focusing on his dick completely as you close your eyes, lavishing your tongue against the now rock hard members, tracing the vein that wrapped around it. Bobbing your head slowly, you felt his hand move in your hair, blunt nails scrapping against your scalp as he tried to tug you further down on his length.

You let him, slowly pushing yourself down till your nose brushed his pelvic bone, the tip running down to touch the tunnel of your throat.

Namjoon grunted, closing his eyes, brows furrowed as you pulled up again, slobbering over his head before your began to run your palm over it, coating your saliva thickly on the member, making sure to squeeze more at the tip and base before your took his in your mouth again, taking him all the way in as he grasped your hair in his fist, the hold tightening as he began to curse when you swallowed around him.

“Fuck, that’s it, that’s it baby,” he said, using his hold to pull you up again.

You sat up on your knees as he cupped your jaw and used the back of his hand to rub off the string of saliva from your mouth as he kissed you again, thoroughly exploring your mouth with his tongue before giving you a sinister smirk.

“My turn, get on the bed and spread your legs over the edge.” He ordered.

You stood up and Namjoon sat up closer to you, quickly undoing your jeans and pulling them down to look at your panties. “Cute,” he smirked at the floral underwear, prompting you to blush but he didn’t tease, pulling you towards the bed and guiding you in the position he wanted.

Your feet hung over the edge of the bed, free to wrap around his as he unbuttoned your shirt, pulling you free from it and unclasped your bra to leave you completely bare in front of him.

When he was finished he didn’t say much, blank facedly roving his eyes on your nakedness before he was dropping to his own knees, spreading your thighs further to expose you to him.

You instinctively shied away and he held your legs open warningly letting his eyes give you a look before he was leaning in to blow air on your touch starved core.

“Ah, Namjoon,” you whispered his name but he didn’t reply, completely engrossed in his work of touching you as he placed a single digit against your clit, making it throb at the pressure of his rough pad.

“Hmm, you get sensitive easily,” he murmured and you nearly whined as he finally began to put himself to work on you.

He was obviously an attentive and observant partner, taking note of how your body writhed or shied away from his ministrations. His tongue pressed experimentally against your fold, dipping into your hole as he let his taste buds collect your arousal before his fingers were spreading your juices over your clit and entrance. He slowly slid in the first digit into your velvet cove before pulling back to slam another in, meticulously watching the way your breath jumped and your body arched, trying to flinch away but his tight hold around your legs kept you in place.

He even watched your wanton moans, sucking your clit into his mouth as he fucked you sadistically you with his fingers, letting your whines pitch up dramatically and then pulling away watching as your chest heaved, breasts juggling from the shivers he’d induced as he edged you repeatedly.

“Please, Namjoon…I can’t…” you groaned finally and he hummed, considering against your folds, thick lips coated in your arousal before he was standing up, fingers still buried deep in your mound as he used his free hand to run his fingers around his lips and chin, sweeping every stroke of your remnant juices on his face into his mouth, sucking perversely on his digits as he eyed you wickedly.

You gulped at the bold act as your pussy clenched in protest around his fingers and he winked, pulling his hand away from your core and he pumped himself, bringing his hips closer to yours, rubbing the tip through your folds which were wet again after the way he’d cleaned you up.

Suddenly, for a split second, clarity shone in his eyes through the lust and he looked at you with something akin to fear.

“Shit…I don’t have condoms,” he said and your own eyes widened.

“What?” you asked.

“I…I haven’t been with anyone since my ex…goddamnit,” he cursed, dropping his head as he ran both hands through his hair.

You hesitated for a bit before biting your lips with another idea. “I’m clean…” you muttered.

Namjoon nodded. “Me too, I got tested after I broke up with her.” He said, clearly thinking that you were implying the oral you’d given and received.

“Is it…ok, if we don’t use them? I’m on birth control...” you murmured, color rising in your cheeks and he looked up, fixing you with an incredulous gaze. “Y/N…”

“I trust you, Joonie.” You whispered, letting your fingers trail down his glimmering chest to his hand, entwining your fingers as you pulled him closer to you, angling your hips towards his.

He staggered closer to you, watching as his dick brushed against your wet folds, still hard and pointing up. He gripped the base, placing the tip right at the entrance of your core before looking at you again.

“Are you sure?” he asked. At you reassuring nod, he closed his eyes, heaving a relieved sigh.

He slipped in quickly inside your heat before halting, eyes opening and fixed on your face as your eyes widened, lips parted and chest rose again from the sharp intake of breath. He grinned, bending over your taut body as he swirled his pink muscle over your hard and aching nipples, using his incisors to place small nips on the top of the buds before coaxing them back into his warm mouth, sucking enthusiastically.

His hips began to pick up pace as he grounded his pelvic bone against your clit for added stimulation with every few strokes.

You arched your back, giving him more access to use his mouth and hands as you raised your arms to clutch at the feather like throw pillows on the bed. You were sure with the slow but steady pace he was going, you were going to lose your damn mind and rip one.

“Namjoon, please,”

He let go of your nipple with a lewd pop as he eyed you, “Please what, baby,” he said and if possible his hips slowed more.

You clutched at his shoulder, letting one slide over to dig in your desperate claws.

“Harder…please…”

Namjoon hissed at your nails but stayed focused, “What do you want from me, baby?”

You were nearly crying now from the inability to reach your high, the release he was dangling in front of you. “Please fuck me harder…I need to come.” You begged finally and he smiled, gently.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He straightened from your torso, gripping your calves before he was pushing them up to your chest, hands coming up to clench his sheet as he pressed his forehead to your as he began to pound into you, hips slamming into you with wild abandon of a man who’d been un-caged after years.

Your body hiked up with every thrust of his powerful hips and you clung to him, scared you’d shatter with the force of love –making.

Namjoon’s swollen lips kept spewing profanities, broken praises and heavy pants that washed over you as he groaned out your name, dirty promises following of what he wanted to do to you.

“Want – want to feel you – come…on my dick,” he moaned, eyes watching the way his cock pistoned in and out of your now swollen pussy.

His hand trailed down to your cunt, locating your clit between your thighs as he circled it with his hand, fast and unabashed in his need to feel you clench on him and the glint in his eyes as he looked back up at you pushed you over the edge, your muscles contracting and squeezing his length and your hands shooting up to pull him to you in a heavy, hot kiss that he immediately took over, tongue pushing into your mouth. You sucked at the wet muscle, feeling his hips turn sloppier, frantically pumping him inside you as he chased his own release.

His head dropped down to the crook of your neck, sucking at the skin as he let out a loud moan of your name, followed by appreciative hums as he rode out your highs, soft words of reassurance echoing in your ears as he pulled away from you, looking down at the mess on his and your skin from your mixed juices.

“Be right back,” he said, climbing off the bed while you reached up and grabbed the throw pillow, tucking it under your head.

By the time, Namjoon came back with a towel to clean you up; you were already out like a light.

The smell of fresh bitter coffee woke you up as you turned over to your back in the unfamiliar bed. For a moment, you dazedly rubbed your eyes. The placement of the window was wrong, making the light hit the floors on either side of the king sized bed, instead of the bed itself. Were you in Jungkook’s apartment?

It took you a split second to realize that couldn’t have been since he had broken up with you. you bundled up the comforter to your bare chest as the door to the room swung open, revealing Namjoon, balancing a tray in one hand as he shut the door with another, turning before he paused, seeming surprised that you were already awake.

He had put on a black t-shirt over some sweats as he moved towards your awkward frame, placing the coffee tray on the nightstand next to your side.

“Good morning,” he said, sitting at the end of the bed, a decent distance from you. He probably could sense the post coital tension in the air was trying to make you feel comfortable.

“Hi,” you said softly, glancing at the cup. “Is that for me?” you asked.

“Yeah, I remembered you take sugar and milk so I added some. If you want more, just tell me,” he said.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, hesitant to drop the covers and reach for the cup.

Namjoon glanced at you once more before he stood up.

“So, um, I’ll let you…yeah, get dressed. The bathroom is through there, you can shower and I’ll leave out a hoodie for you to have. If you want we can have breakfast.” He said before he was walking out the door, leaving you alone.

You stood under Namjoon’s paneled shower, letting the exhaustion and tension wash away from your shoulders as you tilted your head down, watching the soapy residue of his shampoo pool around your feet till you heard him call out that he’d laid out clothes and then the slam of the door shutting again.

You shut off the water and grabbed a towel, hurriedly drying up and leaving the bathroom to see he’d put out a simple black hoodie out. It was almost your size, indicating he’d probably grown out of it.

Not wanting to put on the underwear from last night again, you shoved the bra in the bag and pulled on your jeans, the shirt and his hoodie on top, going to throw the towel in the hamper before leaving. Your aim was, as usual off and instead of the hamper, it hit the desk under his window, scattering his pen stand and the book he’d left precariously on the side. It fell over; open and you hurried over, gathering the pens and shoving them back before picking up the book to place it safely back where it was.

Even as you rose, the pages of the book fluttered and a small folded up paper fell out again.

You rolled my eyes, huffing and bending down to pick it up again to see that it wasn’t a paper after all, it was a folded photograph.

For a moment you could’ve sworn you heard Yerin speak in my head that you shouldn’t invade his privacy, it wasn’t your business. Ignoring that small voice, you slipped my finger in the fold and straightened it out, holding it open.

As usual your eyes trained on Namjoon and his rare full dimpled, all teeth revealed grin as he held up what was obviously a Polaroid camera to take the photo. You smiled too, a natural reaction now to any of Namjoon’s smiles.

He was obviously on vacation; he was on a beach with small huts on them, the water crystalline and skies bright.

It was when your eyes moved to the person standing next to him that made your smile fade away in shocked horror.

Small doe eyes squinting up in the sun, a cheeky smile spread over her pale lips as she would her arms around Namjoon’s, stood none other than Seulgi. Your mouth dropped open, in an attempt to gasp or to screech, the world would never know as you stood there frozen, your hyper mind now putting jumble pieces together.

Namjoon’s ex was Seulgi, the woman who he had said was in the same work he was in which was why he had to keep seeing her around…Seulgi was the assistant of the man who’d published his book.

But…but it couldn’t be…Mr. Jung had said that his ex had been mean, a horrible person to him…

The Seulgi you knew was sweet, kind…

No, Mr. Jung had said that she had been good on the surface…Seulgi from the party was the persona she showed everyone.

Even before your mind could register the fact that you got played, there was a knock and Namjoon stuck his head in.

“Hey, are you...ok – where did you get that?” he said, the concern fading from his voice as his eyes found the snapshot in your hands.

His eyes bugged, nostrils flared as his eyes went cold, entering the room to march over to you, snatching the photo out of your hands to glare at you.

“What do you think you’re doing, going through my things?” he snapped.

“I wasn’t…I was just…I dropped the towel on it and the book fell. I wasn’t snooping, I swear.” You stammered, quailing under Namjoon’s height when his eyes softened and he sighed, a hand coming up to rub at his face.

“I…I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have snapped.” He said, wearily.

You stared up at him, still wary from the sudden change in his demeanor as he stared sadly at the photograph. Something like guilt was stirring up in your stomach. He was so obviously still in love with her and no matter how bad Seulgi was, she had to be too…you couldn’t not be in love with Namjoon.

Seulgi didn’t know you knew Namjoon. She had no reason to make it out that she was a victim.

“Namjoon,” you whispered to tell him your rumination and your heart ached.

It wasn’t fair. You had never felt as close to Namjoon before. Yes, he was mysterious and enigmatic and he drew you in from the start…even while you were looking at his pictures online. He could make you feel safe and comfortable around himself with little to no effort and yet he had his ways of remaining aloof, distant and coldly detached. The only time he spoke of his past love was when he wanted to make a point, speaking of her as if she was an entity he had withdrawn from, never giving her a name or identity.

But standing here, in his apartment, you had a peek into the real Kim Namjoon, the softer, human man underneath the Author who could see past the veils of reality. Was it so wrong to want more?

Namjoon was looking at you, waiting for you to talk.

“What…what do you feel for her now?” you asked, trying not to seem too guilty. His inquisitive eyes would definitely detect something wrong.

“What do you mean? I feel nothing for her anymore. She’s just a part of my past.” He said.

“Then why do you still keep her photo around…? You said you didn’t like clutter, emotional or physical.”

You knew you were coming off as pushy, but you just couldn’t stop.

“Y/N, stop…where is this coming from?” he snapped, his eyes back to cold.

“I’ve…met her.” You whispered and he froze, face going blank as he stared at you. “You what?” he asked softly.

“I…at the fundraiser…I met her and we talked…”

“And she told you how much of a fly away disappointment I was, did she?” he sneered. You didn’t have to look at his clenching arm to know he’d balled up the photograph by now.

“No! No, she didn’t…I think…she misses you,” you continued.

Namjoon raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Is that what she told you, Y/N? Is that what she implied? Let me tell you, Miss Y/L/N,” he said, drawing closer and you flinched. “You know nothing about her. You don’t know the way she can get inside your mind and fuck with it. Don’t talk about think you don’t understand.” He said, simply, starting to turn away.

“But you need to get over her…just talk to her,” you pressed but he stopped you by facing you completely, fixing you with an icy glare.

“I am over her. I don’t need to talk things out to get over her. Talking to the people who made it very clear what they thought of you just to get a masochistic kick out of it, is for juvenile people like you.” he said and you pulled away finally, you eyes dropping from his.

“You’re right.” You said. You blinked twice. Ok, so that was how he felt. “I think I should go now. Thank you for all the advice you’ve given me and all the wonderful walks around the city. Goodbye Mr. Kim,” you said formally, looking up to see him looking sad again.

“Y/N…I didn’t,” he began but you cut him off. “Enjoy the rest of your day, I’ll give the hoodie to Mr. Jung to return to you and don’t worry I won’t tell anyone what happened last night.” You said, already walking past him to leave his apartment. “Let me drive you,” he started again but you shook your head. “I can find my own way.”

He didn’t stop you and you didn’t expect him to. Namjoon didn’t like clutter and right now that was exactly what you were to him, you felt as you put on your shoes. You caught him standing at the end of the foyer hallway, watching but you didn’t give him another look as you left the apartment, pulling his door close after you.

Once outside, you thanked your stars that you still had battery in your phone as you quickly ordered a taxi.

Entering your own apartment, you heaved a homely sigh of your own before grunting. Why did that have to remind you of him as well? It was likely you were never going to see the mysterious Kim Namjoon again. You would have to get over it and prepare for your graduation and your life after it which started in approximately – you glanced at your calendar – 7 days.

You stood in the middle of your living room for a few minutes, looking out the window, brushing away surprise tears that had no business being there. Namjoon wasn’t Jungkook, then why were you crying for him?

He was right. People did make clear what they thought of you one way or another – just like he himself had done. You had every right to stop thinking of him.

You moved to your charger and plugged in your phone, seeing a message from Namjoon already, asking if you had gotten safe that you sent a yes to before deleting it. The next was from Yerin, asking why Jungkook had been calling and texting her about who your new boyfriend was. You replied that you’ll tell her later and that you needed to sleep. The next was from Jungkook, asking if he could talk that you deleted without even opening it and the last was from Mr. Jung, asking if he could read an excerpt from your book.

You sighed, contemplating how to answer it when your eyes fell on your laptop.

Might as well…

You marched to it determinedly, booting it up and opening your document as you placed your fingers resolutely on the keys.

Flutters of laughter, shushing of teachers, flash photography from parents, and the genuine air of pride…

A bright beam lit up your face as you saw Yerin rushing to you, arm thrown wide open as she hugged you full force, her parents following with similar grins as they shook hands with your own parents.

“Oh my god, we’re here…we’re freaking graduating!” she practically screamed in your ear and you laughed, squeezing her back, as you turned to greet her parents with a polite smile and answered their questions.

“Did you get your speech? I hope you didn’t forget it.” Yerin urged and you patted the pocket of the denim jacket you were wearing under the graduation gown to show her you had safely tucked it there.

Of course, you had also memorized it.

Your mother gushed about the fact that you had been selected as this year’s valedictorian and reached up to correct your hair under the cap.

“Oh mom, please,” you whined, swatting at her hand as the supervising teacher came up to your group.

“Girls, in line please, and Miss Y/L/N, once you’re done in the lineup; please stay backstage for your speech.” Mr. Park said haggardly before moving off to tell other to get in line as well.

You and Yerin waved to your parents who whispered they’ll get the best seats before you were lining alphabetically.

You clapped your hands off as Yerin went to get her degree and nearly sweated them off when it was your turn.

Heart thudding, you climbed up to the platform stage and smiled blindly when Mr. Sihyuk handed you the roll of paper that you had worked for all these months. You whispered a thank you and faced the flashing cameras, unable to tell which one came from your family before the lady next to the headmaster was ushering you away and around the stage to wait for your speech.

Great, one down one to go, you told yourself. Oh how you wish…

No, you did not want to be thinking of him right now…

“Ready?” you turned to see Mr. Jung standing next to you, lips quirked when he saw you jump.

“Yeah, I mean yes, I think so…I hope so,” you said.

“You’ll be fine, just remember the pauses and breathe.” He said before checking his watch. “I need to go. Best of luck, Y/N and congratulations.” He said before he was ducking out from under the curtain put up to hide the backstage from the lights.

Soon enough, I walked to the podium set up for me as one of the technicians finished his adjustments.

“Good evening, teachers, students, notable alumni and all the parents gathered here today for this joyous event.” You began, making a small bow to everyone seated on their particular dais.

“I could begin this valedictorian speech like any of the ones that I have watched online…and heavily taken inspiration from because I have never done this before,” I said and there was smattering of chuckles echoing around the room.

“Or I can take new leaf, tell you about a few of my experiences and tell you about how they helped me become a better person somehow…and for those of you interested; a writer.”

You looked up from your papers with a small smile when you felt his gaze.

He was sitting on the second row, one of the special guests invited you noted and even though his face was clear of expression you could see the small tell tales of a smile brewing behind his dark wise eyes.

Your mouth parted a little and he raised his eyebrow, giving you a small nod indicating you to carry on.

You hurriedly looked down again.

“As I was saying, telling you all the same recycled things about how hard work and focus is all you need in life to succeed isn’t how I am going to give you my speech. I am going to give you the complete opposite. I want you all…to take it a little easy on yourselves.” You said, looking up again, but not directly at him.

“I know, it seems strange, isn’t taking it easy procrastinating and not being the best? Maybe, but you know what it is in another way? It’s not giving you stress. You don’t have to beat yourself over taking longer to complete a deadline, or getting a job or even coping with losses in life…and love.” You glanced once to where he was sitting.

“A wise person once told me that we writers are always scared of our works because we view it as a profession…something to worry about. Or that we’re just scared nobody would like it since it’s not really original. They told me, it might not be original…but it’s still new…because no one has heard it the way you want to tell it. The same way, you cannot and should not be worried about how other are living their lives…no one is living it the way you are. Try being you first, before just personnel…try rereading your chapters before you burn them all…”

You finally met his steady gaze.

“Maybe just before you burn, you’ll find something worth keeping in them.”

You folded your paper as you thanked the audience as applause broke out through the room. Smiling as you exited the stage, you were met first by your parents.

“That was an amazing speech, sweetie. Where did you get the inspiration?”

You glanced over their shoulder to see Namjoon already speaking to Mr. Jung. “Just…came flying my way,” you shrugged before letting them get to the buffet as you tried to locate your friends.

“Y/N!”

You turned to see Seulgi walking over to you, smiling as she engulfed you in a hug which you stiffly returned. Oh god, she was here…how were you supposed to act? Do you pretend you didn’t know? Do you brush her off? Do you act normal?

“Your speech was A+ material; I can see why they chose you. It was so bizarre though, the way you went off key there. It was out of the norm.” she said.

“Oh, yeah, my inspiration was kind of bizarre too.” you nervously chuckled.

“I could see that. Listen, are you doing something with your friends after this? I know, silly question but I want to take you out for drinks…real drinks, if you know what I mean.” She laughed and you hummed, looking around the room for Yerin or Taehyung or anyone you knew when you heard someone else call your name too.

You sighed, turning to see Jungkook rushing over to you. “You didn’t answer my texts.” He said.

“Yeah, within reason,” you gritted out. Seulgi looked at Jungkook then at you. “Is he the ex?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,” you mumbled and Jungkook sighed too reaching for your arm.

“Baby, I just need you to listen to me once,” he urged. You shook his hand off roughly. “I did listen to you, Kook. I heard you loud and clear. You got what you wanted. Now just leave me alone, ok?” you said.

“Baby…”

“Don’t call her that,” Seulgi warned, “It’s graduation, ok? Let’s not create a scene.” She said, her tone becoming commanding. “Sure, so she can run off to her boyfriend?” Jungkook scoffed.

“Don’t do this, Jungkook.” You snapped.

You backed away from their stare off. Jungkook was so stubborn, he never listened to anyone if he could help it and right now you just did not want to deal with this. Seulgi looked at you. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend.” She said her voice sure and you suspected even condescending.

“Of course she does, there he is!” Jungkook stretched out his hand, a finger already up accusatorily and all of you turned to see where he was pointing, although you were pretty sure.

Namjoon was standing near the guests, Jung next to him as they spoke to a tall, older man with salt-pepper hair. When he felt the gaze of three people looking straight at him, he glanced up, eyes first meeting your panicked once, then sliding to Jungkook’s cocky ones and then lastly found Seulgi’s shocked, and rapidly becoming angry ones.

He stood there for a second, analyzing the situation before he was leaning towards his friend, muttering urgently in his ear as they both turned to talk to the man again.

“What do you mean, that’s her boyfriend? He can’t be her boyfriend. That’s Kim Namjoon!” Seulgi snapped, bringing Jungkook’s and your attention back to her.

“I know what I’m talking about, ok? He was at the movies with her and he called her his girlfriend.” Jungkook rolled his eyes and you had never wanted to claw them out than now.

Seulgi turned to look at you, eyebrows raised and teeth bared when you heard them.

“Mr. Jeon, can I help you with something?”

The small group of destruction turned to look at the approaching men. Mr. Jung was staring pointedly at Jungkook and he looked back defiantly before realizing his limits. His shoulders deflated as he let out a small, “No, Mr. Jung,” he said before giving you one last, if possible with his nerve, hurt look before turning on his heel and leaving.

Jung followed his with his eyes before glancing once at you and Seulgi, shooting her a nasty smile, “Good to see you again,” he mocked before looking at Namjoon, who nodded at his friend. Without another word, he turned and left as well, leaving you with the two exes.

“Long time no see, Seulgi,” Namjoon began.

“Whose fault was that?” She shot back.

“Can you really blame me?” Namjoon said.

They stared at each other and you had to say that you were impressed. None of them were willing to give up, even as Seulgi portrayed righteous anger flawlessly. Namjoon had a more pleasant countenance, but you knew it was to piss her off more than anything.

Seulgi suddenly glanced at you. “So, her?” she asked.

In another time, you’d have been pissed at how degrading she sounded when minutes earlier; you had been ‘A+ material’. Guess, Hoseok had been right, after all. Internally, Seulgi was really petty and horrible.

“Yes, her…what are you judging about us, exactly, this time?”

“Oh, just the fact that you down-graded so spectacularly,”

“You need a brush up on your vocabulary, Seulgi. I think you mean upgrade.” Namjoon returned.

You gaped at him. What was he even doing?

Seulgi bit her lip, her chin jutting out in a pout. “Namjoon please, don’t you see you’re hurting me? this…this has to end. I mean, I know I said a few things that you felt were wrong but you should’ve talked to me. you should’ve told me you were hurt. You shouldn’t have just left.” She said.

Namjoon took one step closer to her and dipped his volume.

“You told me you thought my work was going to be thrashed because I sounded like a teenage boy who was still high on stupid dreams. You told me I was never going to amount to anything. You sucked and sucked my morale, my esteem out of me; you told me you were better off without me so you could succeed without having to drag me along. Did I miss anything?”

Namjoon was still speaking quietly; not drawing attention as you stared at Seulgi is horror. How could such a pretty face be so venomous?

“I think you see why I picked her, Seulgi. Compared to you, she is a goddess walking the earth.” he said and that’s when you walked away.

Bursting out from the hall, you leaned against one of the brick walls, taking in deep breaths to calm your chaotic mind and erratic heart. What had just happened? Did you finally stand up to Jungkook without wanting to cry? Did Namjoon finally talk to his poisonous ex and you witnessed it?

So much…and at graduation…the one day you wanted to pass without event.

“So, that was quite the speech.”

You glanced to your side to see Namjoon standing near the door you had exited, the lighting from the hall dousing him in a spotlight.

You studied him for a bit. He was in a complete black suit tonight; dark gold hair fluffed a little to reveal his forehead. The gold accents on his collar shone from the light he was standing in.

You had probably lost your mind but you couldn’t help but think he looked damn right sexy at the moment.

It took you a moment to use your dry mouth. “Thanks,” you breathed as he walked over to lean against the wall next to you.

You both stayed silent for a while, watching the smattering of stars still visible in the night sky.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“I guess, what about you?” you countered.

There was silence before he turned to give you a smile. “I feel good.”

You nodded before you sighed, pulling away from the wall. “Thanks for getting to me back there, she would’ve clawed me up.” You said, trying to get back to the door when he spoke up.

“I threw the photo away.”

You paused, turning to look at him.

“I threw that photo away…the day you left.” He said.

“Oh…good for you, right?” you asked.

“I thought so too, but I didn’t realize it until now.”

You looked at him, puzzled.

“When people are hurt, they feel like they have to close off, to prevent being hurt again. You become scared to get attached. You think the pain they felt was worth knowing the secrets to guarding your heart but you miss that beauty of having your heart racing again when it’s been still for so long.” He quoted.

“I wrote that.” You whispered.

“You did.” He smiled, “After I think you left my home, not that I can blame…or deny the observation.” He turned his head towards you.

“Do you know why Hoseok sent you to me? He could’ve sent you to any number of authors to get audited but why seek me out?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“You remind us of me. You’re exactly how I used to be when I was writing my first draft. I met Seulgi when I was doing the rounds of publishers to get printed. I honestly don’t know why she got together with me – at this point I don’t remember what I myself saw in her but once I got in with her boss, she was ecstatic. She was kind, supportive, everything I could’ve asked for before I started work on my second book. Suddenly I was a child, I had no prospects, no idea what to give to readers. I won’t tell you all the gory details but she hurt more than just my heart. I couldn’t write after I left her.” He chuckled bitterly.

“I took that trip to find myself…or rather get myself back. When I met you, I felt like if I could help you, I’d be doing the both of us a favor. You’d have a supportive, encouraging person who would listen to you with no intention of downgrading you and I would have my vision back. You helped me more than you know, Y/N.”

“Of course, then I had to go ruin it that day. I…I don’t regret what we did…not at all. If anything,” he suddenly cleared his throat. “I mean, that when I said those things, I want you to know I was not aiming them at you. I get…I get stupid when it comes to her. I become defensive, angry, and I know I did it because I had no closure. You were right. You were right along. So when you left, when I realized what I’d done, the first thing I did was to throw that damn thing in the bin.”

“I even wanted to call you but I thought…I didn’t deserve to if I was just going to go back to square one when you brought her up. You didn’t deserve to have another relationship where you had to be disappointed. Of course, not seeing you for so long did make me weak to temptation. When Hoseok invited me tonight, I couldn’t say no, especially since he said you’d be valedictorian. I knew you wouldn’t disappoint and you didn’t.”

He grinned, the full grin I had seen in the picture.

“Tonight, this altercation with her made me see that I was being stupid, holding on to hurt when the person causing it did not even care. Why should I be holding back…when my heart is willing to race again?” he whispered.

His hand brushed your wrist, sweeping under the graduation gown till he curled his arm around your waist, pulling you to him.

“What are you saying?” you questioned.

“I’m saying I’m sorry that I was an idiot and that I am not anymore. I’m saying that you make my heart race, Y/N and if I’m not very wrong, I make yours as well. I’m saying that I would like to pursue this, properly this time. I’m asking, would you be willing to take a chance with me?”

Very slowly, keeping your eyes locked on his, you nodded.

Namjoon kissed you, hard, hand coming up to pull your graduation cap off your head before he was pushing you back against the wall, his heart thudding against yours.

Mouth open to allow him to sweep his tongue in, you moaned feeling him reciprocate as he grinded against you breathlessly before pulling away, eye blown open.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Of course, now,” you said, winding your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you.

“Your place or mine?”

[eternalsterekrecs]

any new sterek highschool au?

Well, our absolute favs are under our High School AU tag but, because we don’t want you to lack anything, here is a rec of doom (there’s more than 30 fics here) with all the other fics I’ve read in the last few months/years! - C

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Just Pretend by dragon_temeraire

Stiles tells his dad he has a boyfriend. The problem is, he doesn’t actually have one.

Something New Is Going to Happen by dragon_temeraire

Stiles accidentally discovers that their school mascot is super cute.

All the broken hearts in the world still beat by dragon_temeraire

Stiles totally needs to make Lydia Martin jealous. Yeah. And his best chance is to convince star lacrosse player Derek Hale to (fake) date him.

Smile On The Sidelines by clotpolesonly

Derek was not pining.

Not to say that he didn’t miss Stiles, didn’t want to be with him at that moment (or literally any moment, to be quite honest), but he wasn’t one of those obnoxious clingy people who lost track of the world as soon his boyfriend was out of his sight.

It was just a basketball game anyway.

“Five Days in Detention” (A Future Song by Stiles Stilinski) by alisvolatpropiis

It’s still preseason, sure, but he needs to be practicing. He led the team to the State semifinals last year, and he’s determined to not only make it to the finals this year, but to win the title. He should be on the field right now, practicing his play calls and prepping for next week’s season opener against Saint Pius.

And he can’t do that if he’s wasting his time in detention with these losers. There are a couple of burnouts lazing over some seats by the window, one kid with his face on a desk, hood over his head, and a few Goth kids are sitting in the back corner, looking surly and morose. Maybe you wouldn’t be so miserable if you didn’t listen to such shitty music, he thinks, turning towards his usual seat in the back of the room.

He pauses for the briefest of moments when he sees who’s already sitting there, in the second-to-last row, black-clad limbs spread out, acoustic guitar in his lap, long fingers casually plucking at the strings.

Stiles Stilinski.

How to Woo Your Local Omega by alocalband

Stiles knows a pity gift when he sees one. Mostly because that’s all he’s ever gotten from anyone since the moment he hit puberty.

Five Times Derek Literally Falls for Stiles (and One Time… They Both Fall) by myhomeboy_stilinski

Five times Derek is a failwolf and literally falls for Stiles Stilinski.And one time they fall together.

Warning: A little bit cracky and contains meddling.

Try Again by dragon_temeraire

Derek has to egg a house to be part of the popular group. Too bad the house ends up being the Sheriff’s.

Sleeping Next To You Is Like Magic by LadyDrace

Stiles and Derek meet the summer before senior year. Stiles can’t sleep, Derek helps with that, and there’s a lot less cuddling and a lot more emotional crises than you’d think.

Or:

Stiles’ feelings happen so much, and learning how to deal with them takes him a little while. Good thing Derek is happy to wait.

Shut Up And Dance With Me by maiNuoire

Stiles has been in love with Derek forever. Senior Prom feels like his last chance to do something about it, but he’s a bundle of nerves. And then, inspiration strikes.

made from the heart by bleep0bleep

Derek has been crushing on Stiles for awhile, and thinks maybe this Christmas season he’ll tell him how he feels. He’s got a great present too, except when Stiles gives him a thoughtful handmade present, Derek is pretty much screwed.

~

Stiles smiles at Derek. “It was just a nice thought, you know? I just think gifts that people take their time to make are just so sweet.”“Handmade,” Derek says faintly.

Like James Dean, Only Sadder by 42hrb

The star of the Beacon Hills High School baseball team and Beacon Hills resident bad boy probably have nothing in common, right?

atom to atom by jadore_hale

“So, you’re telling me that you hate Derek so much that you wouldn’t leap at the chance to jump his bones?”

“That’s different!” Stiles cried.

“How exactly?”

“Because unfortunately for me, Derek’s hotter than the Earth’s mantle. All we need is one rough hate-fuck— Preferably in the chem lab, role-playing sexy chemist while he bends me over one of the tables—and I’ll get him out of my system. That’s as far as our relationship will ever go.”

Stiles glanced across the cafeteria to where Derek was still fail-eating his lunch and sighed so put out.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make fun of Derek eating organic baby carrots.”

don’t go breakin’ my heart [i couldn’t if i tried] by crossroadswrite

Contrary to popular belief, Derek Hale – co-captain of the basketball team and AP student who volunteers in the library – isn’t actually as smooth as people might think.

In a Straight Line Down by standinginanicedress

“So you want to go to Prom with me just so you can get a plastic crown and a fifty dollar gift card to Outback Steakhouse.”

Stiles sets his jaw. He wants to go to prom with Derek because he wants to go to prom with Derek. But, of course, he’s stubborn and prideful and can’t admit to Derek how it’s barely been twelve hours since they officially broke up and he’s already barely handling it as it is, so he just raises his chin in the air and says, “yes.”

we should just kiss (like real people do) by i_am_girlfriday

Stiles is the social zero of the sophomore class. Derek is the much cooler junior who befriends Stiles anyway.

Shut Me Down by lazykisses

Even when Derek’s an asshole, which is 75% of the time (90% on a rainy day), with his deadpan humor and cocky eyebrows and his annoyingly vague text messages (like that one time Stiles asked him if he’d studied for Chemistry and Derek replied with “hn”. What the hell does ‘hn’ even mean?), Stiles doesn’t mind. And that kinda scares him.

It’s Too Early For This by thepsychicclam

Derek loves his job at the coffee shop, especially because Stiles comes in for coffee before early Saturday morning lacrosse practices. The problem is that Derek is too shy to do anything about his crush, and the situation is not helped by the rivalry between the basketball and lacrosse teams.

Hotsky to Trotsky by paintedrecs

Derek had his future mapped out: there’d be graduation, followed by college, followed by (he hoped) a good grad school, then a career as a professor whose students didn’t spend their time flicking paper footballs at each other and obsessing over their dating lives. He had good friends, a good family, and no time to focus on distractions like high school gossip or relationships.

He hadn’t factored Stiles Stilinski - lacrosse player, class clown, part of the popular crowd, currently spending his entire day staring at Derek and smiling - into his plans.

more by bibliosexual

It starts when Derek is sitting in study hall and the guy ahead of him–-Stiles something, the Polish kid with all the moles–-mutters, “Ugh, what’s sixty percent of fifty-five?”

“Thirty-three,” Derek says without having to think about it. He’s always been good at math.

“Oh, thanks, dude,” Stiles says. “I forgot my calculator, and Mr. Harris is a dick who won’t let me go get it.”

“No problem,” Derek says.

He assumes that’s it, that’s the end of the conversation, but Stiles catches up to him in the hall after class, scuffs his sneaker against the floor and says, “Hey, so, you’re really good at math. Like, you solved that in your head, right? No calculator?“

"Yeah,” Derek says, and Stiles bites his lip, asks, “Do you maybe wanna study with me later, in the library?”

Derek does.

i wanna dance with somebody (who loves me) by bleep0bleep

Derek gets in an accident and loses a few years of his memory; suddenly everything is different— he’s not a freshman loser anymore, but a popular senior, captain of the basketball team, a shoo-in for prom king, too, and he should have everything he’s ever wanted— except he doesn’t seem to be friends with Stiles anymore.

Bro-lentine’s Day by WhoNatural

It’s actually pretty cool that Derek came back to school after a summer eating spinach and lifting small trains or whatever to become a guardian angel to the easy targets of BHHS.

Don’t Judge a Derek By His Cover by captaintinymite

Stiles doesn’t care about the rumors surrounding Beacon Hills High School’s resident bad boy, Derek Hale. In fact, he thinks the rumors are total crap. Of course, being secretly in love with someone has a way of clouding one’s judgment.

However, he knew for a fact that Derek liked books. So when the two paired up for a final English project, he was excited (but also a little terrified).

But you know what they say…never judge a book by its cover. The same goes for people.

Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon by secondstar

Being a teenager sucks. Being a werewolf teenager sucks even more. With a life full of holding back who he really is, not having any privacy whatsoever, and the seemingly sudden appearance of one Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale’s life just got a whole lot harder.

(I Hate to Be) The One to Ruin the Night by wishingonalightningbolt

High school senior Derek Hale only has one goal for the rest of his time left at BHHS: avoid Stiles Stilinski. He’s wreaked enough havoc as it is, having spent all summer breaking Derek’s heart. Everything would be better for both of them if they just never saw each other again.

-0-

Derek doesn’t plan on ever getting mixed up with Scott McCall and his little gang of idiot friends. In fact, if he knew to avoid it, he would, but he guesses he just isn’t smart enough. Unfortunate, considering the consequences.

John Hughes Did Not Direct My Life by nascentgalaxies

Stiles and Derek are childhood friends who drifted apart. When Stiles joins the lacrosse team against his will, the universe (with a little help from Laura and Lydia) chooses to push them back together.

But Then What... by Stoney

Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favor, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douchecanoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He's someone Stiles totally hates. Totally. Like, doesn't like him even a little bit. DEFINITELY isn't attracted to him.

Except that is a total lie. Fuck his life, seriously.

I know you love and hate me too by trilliastra

“Right.” Derek coughs and Stiles knows he realized his mistake. Good – he thinks, maybe next time he'll learn not to make Stiles fall in love with him. “Hum – we are almost finishing here, John.”

“I'll be in my bedroom.” Stiles says. “And his first name is Sheriff!”

Fucking Derek Hale.

Wait For It by otatop

Funny, how you can exist adjacent to someone through elementary, middle, and high school and not really know them. Funny, how Stiles had always had some strange crush on Derek without actually being his friend.

It’s like he’s all that by MemeKon

Stiles is different. Stiles is not nice under any definition of the word, he’s such an asshole. Sure, he’s a good guy deep down, he punched Jackson square in the jaw when he mocked the McCall kid for an asthma attack that one time, and Derek knows he helped Erica Reyes get that video of her seizure taken down, but he’s so—

"Fuck off, Derek." Stiles tells him without sparing him a glance when Derek sits next to him on chemistry. "I’m not up to play She’s All That with you, dude."

-yeah.

(School crushes are so complicated.)

The Scheming Rhymes of Romance by sofonisba_found

Stiles currently was, and had been, Derek's poetic muse for years. Not that Stiles was really all that aware of that fact.

But when Stiles does find out about it their senior year of high school, he's pretty okay with it.

Alright, so he is definitely a lot more than okay with it.

A story in which Derek writes copious amounts of poetry, Stiles is very appreciative of said poetry as well as Derek's smile, and all of their friends are oddly and extremely invested in seeing these two get their act together.

Easy Alpha by interropunct

Easy A/Teen Wolf AU. Wherein, Derek Hale is the high school hussy, Jackson and Scott really need to learn to use their inside voices. And, contrary to popular belief, everyone is still a virgin.

[ambii15]

The Stars Above Us.

That fluffy Christmas Clexa AU that a friend asked for (even thou it’s not Christmas XD)

A cloud of warm air billowed out into the frosty Washington air as it passed through pink lips. Lexa sighed deeply as she shifted the grocery filled bags in her arms. December had to be one of her least favorite months. She loved winter but not when it was almost below thirty degrees and she was walking down the snow covered sidewalk. Lexa didn’t even remember how she ended up being shoved out the door by her girlfriend to fetch the last minute groceries that they needed for their Christmas dinner.

Clarke had obviously distracted her enough with warm silky lips to back her towards the front door before opening it and locking her out. Her muffled laughs had come through the thick wood as Lexa banged on the door, demanding to be let in. Clarke had simply told her she was allowed back inside when she had everything they needed from the grocery store around the corner.

“She’s going to pay for this,” Lexa muttered under her breath as she finally walked into their apartment building.

Jogging up the stairs to the fifth floor, Lexa let out a small huff as she walked up to their respected door. Shifting all the bags to one arm the brunette knocked loudly against the door, seeing as to how she had no keys when Clarke had kicked her out.

“Clarke! Open the door!” Lexa yelled after a few silent moments.

A small thump came from inside and she could barley make out a small string of cuss words that sounded from her girlfriend. Lexa couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face as she continued to listen to muffled thumps and curses. Clarke was naturally clumsy. Always had been since they met in high school. When she thought about it, it had actually been her clumsiness that had brought them together.

Clarke was walking out of the art room, front entirely covered in muddy clay, and hadn’t been paying attention when Lexa rounded the corner. The brunette had let out an instantaneous gasp as she felt the clay coat the front of her white cotton shirt and blue jeans. The anger had coursed through her so fast that she hadn’t heard the high pitched apologies that had flittered out of a mortified Clarke’s lips. But all that anger had blown out the window when she locked onto the azure eyes of the beauty in front of her.

That was the moment that Lexa knew that Clarke was different. Special to her. Just her eyes alone had made the brunette’s soul scream to be with her. Love her with all she had. And she hadn’t even known her name. After their little incident, Clarke lending her one of the many spare shirts she kept in her gym locker, they had continued to see each other around school. Their eyes zeroing in on each other from across the cafeteria, the library, the gymnasium. Before running into each other they had barely even acknowledged the other’s presence, but then it was like they could see nothing but each other.

It was Lexa who had finally taken the courage to walk over to the blonde one day as she sat copying down a few notes in the back of the library. She had stumbled over her words a few times, causing Clarke to smile softly at her before offering her to sit down and keep her company. From there on out they had barely separated from each other. Walking to class together, eating lunch under a large oak tree in the courtyard as they shared funny stories, and sometimes even walking home together. Though Lexa had lived in the opposite direction, not that she would tell Clarke that until much later.

Lexa could even remember the first time she had asked Clarke out. The first time they shared their first kiss. Their school’s homecoming dance had sprung up on them, both so consumed with the other that they hadn’t even thought about dates. But if she was being honest, Lexa knew from day one that she had wanted to take Clarke and no one else.

So she asked her.

With flowers gripped tightly behind her back as Clarke made her way over to the their favorite tree to eat lunch, Lexa was a nervous mess. She could feel the eyes of their friends on her back as they hid around one of the many buildings surrounding the courtyard and it only made the nervous sweat breaking out along her spine grow even more. Clarke was all smiles as she greeted Lexa, oblivious to the nervous tension racking the brunette’s frame. So, once Clarke had settled down against the tree, Lexa had simply sat down in front of her and pulled the flowers from behind her back, earning her a wondrous gasp from the blonde.

The question had sprung from her mouth.

Hurried and nervous, scarred for rejection.

But all of that had instantly washed away when the sound of Clarke’s merry filled laugh broke out over the courtyard, a solid ‘yes’ rolling off her tongue. She had sprung herself forward, one hand gripping onto the flowers and the other finding it’s way behind Lexa’s head as she pulled her forward. A lightening rod of shock had filled her body as she felt Clarke’s lips finally push against her own. Lips that she had spent months dreaming about. Dreaming how they would feel against her own in a battle of desperation.

They had felt ten times better than she had dreamed.

And it felt even better knowing that she had finally worked up the courage to ask the girl out and had been accepted with, not only a ‘yes’, but the kiss that she had been dreaming about.

Their friends had cheered happily from their hiding spot but Lexa and Clarke couldn’t have cared less, lost in the feel of each other for the first time.

After their homecoming dance they had continued to go on dates and before long, while they were watching the stars one night in Clarke’s backyard, Lexa had asked her to be her girlfriend. Clarke had instantly accepted, almost throwing herself at the brunette as she had done when she asked her to homecoming. They had stayed under the stars a few more hours, both just lost in holding each other close as they caught sights of shooting stars, whispering wishes against each other’s lips.

And Lexa wouldn’t lie if someone asked her if she had wished for them to be together forever.

And so far they had been.

They had their share of fights but each one was always resolved, their love seemingly growing stronger every time. And now, here they were, three years after graduating from college, their love stronger than it has ever been. Lexa could almost feel the burning of the velvet box that sat hidden in the pocket of her coat. It’s weight becoming noticeably heavier as she thought about it.

Lexa was pulled from her musings by the door in front of her swinging open to reveal a frustrated Clarke,“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

Clarke grabbed a few bags from Lexa’s hands and walked into the apartment, Lexa following closely behind after closing the door.

“There was literally no one in the store. I was lucky they were even open,” Lexa commented as she set the bags on the kitchen counter.

Clarke chuckled a bit as she began putting away the groceries,“Well, you’re the only one crazy enough to go out in this weather.”

“Last time I checked I was thrown out the door and locked out by my girlfriend who didn’t want to go herself. I didn’t go willingly.”

The blonde closed the fridge and walked over to Lexa, wrapping her arms around her waist and pulling her close,“And that’s what makes you such an amazing girlfriend. You didn’t just pout at the door like most would. You actually went out and got the stuff.”

Lexa tensed up a bit, Clarke a little too close to pressing against the small box in her pocket, but quickly relaxed, not wanting to raise suspicion from her girlfriend,“Yeah, well. We needed the groceries. So, it was either go now or go when the weather was possibly ten times worse than it is now.”

“And now it’s all over with. We have the groceries we need for Monday and you’re back in our warm apartment. It was a win win. Now you can help me with the Christmas lights!” Clarke said as she began dragging Lexa towards the living room.

“Tell me again why we decided to wait a week before Christmas to put up a tree?”

“Because I couldn’t find the perfect tree. I had to go to six different places to find the right one. It’s not my fault I didn’t find it until yesterday,” Clarke said as she stopped in front of a large storage box filled with lights and ornaments, their tree standing proudly in the corner of their living room.

Lexa looked over the large white pin and could still feel how tired she had been after lugging the bulky thing up the flights of stairs. She was ecstatic when Clarke had called her and announced that she finally found a tree but had inwardly groaned when her girlfriend had pulled up with it strapped to the top of her car. To say that Lexa needed a days worth of sleep after getting the thing into their apartment was an understatement.

Clarke had already began digging around the box, pulling string after string of colorful lights from the plastic container, by the time Lexa’s mind had finished running over the horrid memory. She watched as the blonde began to untangle the lights, putting a few fragile ornaments that laid throughout the box to the side. When she moved to start helping her, she instantly felt the velvet box hit her side from her pocket and came to a sudden halt.

“Uh, just let me put my jacket away and I’ll be back to help you,” Lexa said hastily before disappearing down the hall towards their bedroom.

“You better not lock yourself in the bathroom like you did last year, Lexa! I will break down the door this time!” Clarke’s serious tone called out after her.

She gave no reply, simply shutting the door behind her and leaning heavily against it. Her hand inched into her jacket pocket after shrugging it off and pulled out the box and rolled it around in her hand for a bit before opening it. The ring had been passed down in her family for generations, and being an only child, Lexa’s father had handed it down to her shortly after her mother passed it down. She couldn’t remember how many times she had stared at the ring as it sat on her dresser, wondering just who she would be lucky enough to put it on. Just who would actually love someone like her and would wear it proudly for the rest of their life.

And that someone…she prayed was Clarke.

The ring was stunning to Lexa. Almost as stunning as the woman she wanted to place it on. The band was made to look like a tangle of vines, intricately woven together before branching out to encase and proudly display the shinning diamond that sat on the top. It was simple, but elegant. And it spoke of Lexa’s family. Their love and passion for the outdoors speaking wildly through the handed down ring that always reminded her of the vines that used to climb to impossible heights along her childhood home. The diamond itself even looked as if it had just been hand picked from a diamond mine. It was smooth but had an almost rocky look to it, the thing that Lexa loved most about the ring, and still dazzled in the sunlight when held up high.

She couldn’t remember how many times she would sit on her lap as a child and marvel at the beautiful stone on her mother’s finger. The many times she had snuck it off her mother’s hand while she was distracted by a conversation and slipped it onto her own finger. The many times her mother would smile down at her fondly before whispering softly into her ear while twirling the ring around her tiny finger.

“One day, when you find someone you love with every inch of your being, you can give this to them. Then you’ll be able to marvel at it all day, knowing that they wear this ring because they have nothing but absolute love for you.”

She, of course, had kept those words close to her heart. Yearning for the day that she would find someone just as special as her mother was to her father. The day that she could slide the ring onto the finger of the person she loved and know that they would be her’s and that she would be their’s. Forever.

And maybe that day was closer than she thought.

A loud crash sounded through the apartment, startling Lexa from her gaze that had zeroed in on the ring. The sound almost caused her to drop the box, but she was able to adjust her grip before throwing it into her jean’s pocket, thankful that the box wasn’t too big, and bolted out the room. She knew that Clarke’s clumsiness had caught up with her once again, the string of curse words reaching her ears before she stepped fully into the living room. The sight before her had Lexa doubling over in laughter, clutching at her stomach as she tried to get in enough oxygen through her giggles.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. This wouldn’t have happened, you know, if you had been here to help me!”

Lexa’s chuckles only increased further as she opened her eyes to take in the image of her girlfriend once again. Clarke had somehow managed to get her self wrapped up in the many strings of Christmas lights that had been in the box and, if the sight in front of her was anything to go by, Lexa assumed they had caused the poor woman to trip and fall backwards into the now empty storage container.

“How did you even manage to get yourself this tangled?” Lexa said once her laughter had subsided.

“I don’t know, okay? I was just trying to twirl them around the tree and somehow one got caught on me and then another and then I ended up in the box,” Clarke whined as she blew a stray blonde lock from her eyes. Lexa shook her head as she carefully stepped over the remaining lights to get to the blonde,“I don’t see how you manage to be so clumsy yet save so many lives on a daily basis. I guess it’s a good thing you’re a doctor considering how many times you get hurt.”

“Shut up,” Clarke said as she glared at Lexa,“Just help me out of here.”

Finally reaching her girlfriend, Lexa untangled a few cords from around her and set them out of the way so she could try and help Clarke up from the box. They struggled for a bit, the blonde stuck a little deeper into the box than originally thought, and Lexa couldn’t help the few giggles that escaped her lips. But, after a few failed attempts, the brunette was able to help Clarke wiggle just enough to stand from the box without catching on any of the remaining wires.

“There. Now, let’s try to be a little more careful, all right? We don’t need anymore accidents,” Lexa teased, causing Clarke to respond with a playful slap to her arm.

Lexa’s own words, ironically, seemed to set off a chain of reactions.

Before she knew what was happening, Lexa had taken a step back and felt her foot become caught in a few wires. She felt herself falling backwards and tried to steady herself before going down completely. Another thing she didn’t anticipate was Clarke trying to reach out to stop her from falling, but was only able to hook her hand into the front pocket of Lexa’s jeans. Lexa was sure Clarke would have fallen with her, but to her shock, and horror, she heard the tale tell sound of ripping fabric as she fall backwards into the large tree behind her.

Time seemed to move in slow motion.

Her back collided with the tree and effortlessly knocked it into the wall behind it, Lexa thankfully being cradled by the pointy branches. She could hear a small gasp from come from Clarke as everything settled down around them. But what froze time around her was the small black box that laid at her girlfriend’s feet.

The box that held her family’s ring.

The very ring that she was going to propose to Clarke with.

Wild azure eyes lifted to her own horrified, emerald orbs. The air around them was tense, Lexa not able to form a single word as her eyes darted from Clarke to the box. Before she was able to pick herself from the tree, the blonde was slowly leaning down and grabbing a hold of the box. The brunette’s heart race increased as her girlfriend slowly lifted the lid, a strangled gasp sounding from her lips as she eyed the jewelry inside.

Lexa struggled against the tree before finally being able to stand once again on solid ground,“Clarke, wait. That’s—.”

“Is this what I think it is, Lexa?”

The woman could barley breath. The oxygen pumping out of her lungs in ragged gasps as she tried to calm her racing heart. She could feel the nervous sweat on the small of her back causing her shirt to stick against her skin uncomfortably. The room around her seemed to burn with unimaginable heat as Clarke’s eyes stayed locked with hers.

“It’s-it’s…,” Lexa sighed deeply, no other means of an explanation forming in her mind,“This is nothing like I had planned.”

She could see Clarke’s eyes widen as the words flowed from her mouth, her hand tightening around the velvet box in her hand,“What do you mean? You planned to…Lexa.”

Clarke stumbled over the words and Lexa could tell that she was at a loss to finish her sentence. Instead of trying to talk to the blonde from across the room, Lexa slowly made her way towards her girlfriend, cautiously keeping an eye on the cords surrounding their feet. When she reached Clarke, she could see the unmistakable traces of tears welling in the younger woman’s eyes.

Lexa gently plucked the box from Clarke’s hand and pulled the ring free from it’s place before setting the box onto the coffee table next to them,“I had something special planned in my head…but leave it to you to find a way to ruin it.”

A watery laugh sounded from Clarke, who caught the playfully teasing tone in her girlfriend’s voice. A sudden wave of confidence washed over Lexa at the sound and she felt all of her nervousness drift away with it.

“This is by far from how you deserve to be proposed to,” Lexa said while giving her a cheeky smile while sinking down to her knee,“But I guess it’ll have to do.”

Clarke reacted just how Lexa expected she would when she kneeled down before her. Hand covering her mouth, trying to muffle the shocked gasp that rolled from her throat, tears leaking out the corner’s of wide, blue eyes.

“Clarke Griffin…since that day you ran into me covered in clay, I knew you were the one for me. I felt so much anger because you had ruined my favorite shirt, but it all washed away when I saw your eyes. They captivated me and calmed me down so much it surprised me. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not for a second. I would always catch glimpses of you in the hallway and everywhere else around school, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk over and talk to you. I moped around for days until Anya basically pushed me to go talk to you that day int the library.”

Clarke let out a soft chuckle at the mention of Anya’s name. Lexa had told her the story a few years ago about how Anya had grown tired of watching Lexa sulk around staring at the blonde all day and had all but kicked her out her chair and across the library to go talk to her.

“After that, every day spent with you was the best of my life. I had never felt so relaxed around anyone in my entire life. The way your smile lit up a room and your laugh echoed across the courtyard, it was unbelievable to me. That you were even friends with someone like me. But every day we were together…I treasured them to no end. And when you agreed to go to homecoming with me, I knew that was the beginning of everything, especially when you kissed me. Even though we didn’t start dating until a few weeks after, I knew it was inevitable.”

Lexa snaked a hand up and wrapped it around Clarke’s thigh and rubbed soothing circles through her leggings.

“I knew without a doubt in my mind that we would end up together. That I would one day ask you to be mine. We had some rocky days but we always got through them. We came out of them together. Stronger than before. And now, here I am, on my knees and giving my all to you. Bearing all of my love for you at your feet. I’ve waited years to do this. I would stare at my mother’s ring for days and wonder just who I would give it to, and I knew it would be you from day one. Every day after that, every time I looked the ring, I could only see you. See you wearing it and dressed in the most beautiful wedding dress imaginable as we stood before each other at the alter.”

Tears were now pouring down Clarke’s rosy cheeks. Their eyes stayed locked, never once straying from the other’s gaze.

“So, Clarke. I want to know…if you can make those visions a reality with me. Make me the happiest woman on the planet. Take my breath away every single morning as I wake up next to you and let me marvel at your beauty as we lay under the stars, leaving me at a loss for words…Marry me. Be mine and let me cherish you with everything I have. Forever.”

Lexa could feel her own pinprick of tears starting in her eyes as Clarke gazed down at her with such love and devotion. The mess around them was completely forgot. The two of them completely mesmerized by each other. Lost to the outside world that laid on the other side of closed doors and windows.

She hadn’t thought Clarke’s response would come so quickly. The blonde seemingly too overcome with emotions to be able to whisper out a single word.

But she did.

And it took all the oxygen from Lexa’s lungs.

Made the tears finally fall down her cheeks at the single worded response.

“Yes!”

Without hesitation, Lexa pushed off her knees, arms wrapping around her fiancé’s hips and lifting her so she could twirl them around happily. Or at least so she thought before her foot became once again wrapped in a cord and sent them tumbling to the floor, Clarke falling on top of Lexa before maneuvering to straddle her hips. They were a mess of light giggles and soft kisses as they laid on the floor, neither caring in that moment.

After a few minutes of steadily heating kisses, Lexa pulled away so she could sit up, keeping Clarke in her lap,“I think this belong’s to you now.”

Lexa slowly slid the ring onto Clarke’s finger. A, not surprisingly, perfect fit for the perfect woman in her life. The stunning rose gold a perfect contrast to Clarke’s pale skin. She watched as the blonde examined the ring carefully, eyes alighting at the beautiful craftsmanship. Her fingers traced delicately over the diamond in the center, almost surprised at how smooth the stone was under the pads of her fingers.

“This is beautiful, Lexa,” Clarke whispered as she broke her gaze from the ring.

This time, Lexa let her own fingers run over the ring as she had always done when it was donned upon her mother’s finger,“It was my mother’s. It’s been handed down for generations in my family. My father passed it down to me after my mother passed away.”

“I’m sorry. I know how much she meant to you,” Clarke whispered.

Lexa had told the Clarke about her mother’s lost battle to cancer shortly after they had started dating and the blonde had asked about her. It had been a rough conversation, it having only been two years since her death, and to Lexa it still felt like a fresh wound every time she thought about it.

But Clarke was there.

Clarke held her until the earning morning hours, whispering comforting words into her hair, when she finally drifted off into the void of sleep.

That night she had dreamt she was with her mother.

Told her all about Clarke and just how she couldn’t wait to give her the ring that sat in her bedroom.

And her mother had simply smiled. Smiled almost the same way she did when she caught Lexa playing with her ring.

Eyes filled with love, hope, and longing.

Longing for her daughter to be happy and free.

To be loved.

But this time there was no longing.

No hope.

There was nothing but love…happiness.

Acceptance.

Acceptance that her only daughter had found the one to spend her life with. Someone to love her as she deserved. To make her happy. To make her smile as brightly as she had as child. Joy-like wonder filling her eyes as they had when she was five and listening to the many stories her father used to tell her.

Acceptance that Clarke was the one for her.

That no one else would be better for her little girl.

Lexa had awoke the next morning with so much love in her heart, knowing that somewhere in the heavens her mother was smiling down at her and Clarke. Watching over them with protective and loving eyes.

Clarke was asleep peacefully next to her, arms still wrapped around Lexa, their foreheads resting on each other’s. She simply stayed there and traced over the smooth skin of Clarke’s face before her eyes lingered down to her left hand.

That was the first moment she had fully envisioned the ring on Clarke’s finger.

And she could do nothing but smile contently, knowing that one day her vision would be a reality.

A vision that had become a reality today.

Clarke’s lips against her forehead brought her from her musings. She smiled softly as she looked up at her fiancé, who in turn only gazed back down at her, eyes filled with nothing but pure love.

“I love you, Lexa. I always have. Almost every day since we met I’ve silently thanked every god on earth that I ended up running into you that day. You’ve pretty much said anything that I would have. But I can give you this,” Clarke said as she raised Lexa’s hand to rest against her chest where her heart beat wildly under it,“I want you to know that every day I walk on this earth it will be your’s. No one else’s. The love I feel for you is so strong that it almost hurts. It consumes me like nothing has before. You do that to me, Lex. You make me feel this way. And I love you so much for that.”

Lexa’s own heart raced to match the steady pace of Clarke's heart, synching together as they held one another. She could barely form any words. The amount of passionate love surging under her skin rising to her throat and blocking off any sort of communication. Just when she thought she would go mad trying to voice her response she felt Clarke’s hands slide soothingly into her hair.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. You’ve said more than enough. Right now, I just want to get lost in each other like we did our first time,” Clarke whispered against her neck.

And what a first time it had been. Both freshly graduated from high school and celebrating with an unplanned camping trip. They had spent the night under the stars. No tent. Only the large sleeping bag and the tall trees surrounding them in the pitch black night. Lexa had reached the highest pleasure she had ever known, her eyes trained on the shooting stars above them and wishing for that moment to never end.

For it to become engraved in her mind forever.

To remember everything.

How Clarke’s lips felt against her skin for the first time.

How their hands found each other’s and held on for dear life.

How Clarke had become breathless against her throat as she drove into her.

How blue eyes had twinkled wildly like the stars above them.

Everything.

It was Lexa herself that pulled her from her memories. Her lips begging to be against Clarke’s to recreate the same passion that they had felt that night and many others after. Gathering the blonde in her arms, Lexa hoisted her up onto her hips as she stood, silently thanking herself for the strict gym schedule she kept herself on. Clarke’s breathy laugh floated through the apartment  as she carried her off towards their bedroom.

Clarke bounced onto the bed as Lexa dropped her gently against the mattress. She let her eyes wonder the cloth covered body of the blonde before slowly crawling her way over her. Clarke’s hands instantly moved to cup her face as she came to rest fully above her, the dim lighting catching on the diamond now adorning her finger. Lexa turned her head and kissed the open palm of Clarke’s left hand, feeling the band of the ring against her lips. Her fiancé sighed happily as she moved down and finally laid her lips on hers.

Fierce passion.

Devotion.

Love.

She felt it all when she kissed Clarke. The emotions tingled their way down her spine before settling like a fire at the small of her back, urging her to keep loving this gorgeous creature underneath her. To never stop.

So she didn’t.

Their chests heaved with breathless lungs as they finally pulled away from one another, but Lexa didn’t stop there. Her lips ghosted across pale flesh, down the column of Clarke’s delicate throat, nose running over her collar bone before letting her lips travel the path to the valley between her breasts after she hastily pulled her shirt above her head. Clarke arched into her touch, hands that snaked up her sides sending bolts of electricity down her spine.

Lexa continued to run her tongue along milky flesh, becoming lost in the taste of salty skin, but it was Clarke’s hands that made her stop suddenly. She felt the soft tug against her scalp and traveled back to hover over Clarke’s face and locked into azure eyes.

“I have a surprise for you. I guess you could say it’s an early Christmas present.”

Lexa looked confused, simply bewildered why Clarke would chose this moment to give her a present,“You’ve already given me the greatest present. By saying yes to marrying me. There’s nothing else you could possibly give me to top it.”

Clarke rolled them over, straddling Lexa’s lap as she gave her a small smile,“I think you’ll find this one a close second.”

And the confusion only grew as Clarke simply hopped off the bed and made her way towards the bedroom door, but simply leaned against the wall next to it. Lexa sat up on her elbows, emerald orbs meetings Clarke’s as she raised her hand towards the light switch. With a flick of a single finger she was encompassed in darkness, their blackout curtains doing well to block out the outside lights.

And still her mind was muddled with confusion.

Until Clarke finally let out a few whispered words into the darkness.

“Look up.”

After taking a moment to mentally prepare herself, Lexa slowly let her head fall back as she lifted her eyes to the ceiling above her. Tiny white dots donned the now dark ceiling, almost seeming to shine like the far away stars that had hung above them on their camping trip. Lexa’s breath stilled in her lungs, eyes mesmerized by the sight, body abuzz as flashes of tangled bodies below blazing stars filled her mind. Her throat tightened, the feeling of tears cascading down her cheeks.

And Clarke was straddling her once more. Softly kissing away the salty trails of water, hands roaming under clothes to knead at soft skin. Eyes still locked on the ‘stars’ above them, Lexa’s hands found Clarke’s and pulled them from her skin, interlacing their fingers and raising them above their heads, Clarke’s hands pushing them down onto the mattress.

When Clarke gave her a slightly confused look let responded with a chaste kiss,“I just want to hold you for a moment. To feel you, here with me. Just like this.”

And that’s exactly what they did. Clarke lowered herself down, molding their bodies together. The blonde nuzzled her face into Lexa’s neck, her lips gliding over tanned skin as the brunette simply breathed in the light scent of Clarke and stared up at the starry ceiling. Neither spoke for a while, just letting themselves become lost in the feel of holding one another.

Finally, when Lexa could feel the heat returning to her body, she suddenly flipped them over. A low moan rushed from Clarke’s mouth as Lexa’s lips descended back onto hers with a renewed hunger.

“Just watch the stars, Clarke. Let go of everything else and just feel,“Lexa whispered against kiss swollen lips.

Breathless, Clarke just nodded her head as Lexa once against trailed her lips down her body, hands discarding both of their clothes along the way. Once bare before each other, Clarke’s head was thrown back, azure eyes filling with the sight of the ‘stars’ above her, Lexa becoming lost in her body.

Their intense passion filled the room.

Declarations of love flowing from pink lips.

Bodies moving together in the throes of passion.

Hands finally finding each other as they rode out the waves of their highs.

Love flowing around them.

Drifting across their skin as their bodies buzzed together.

Hearts beating like humming bird wings, but still in sync with one another.

Eyes sliding shut as they lost their battle to sleep, the stars shinning brightly over them. Almost as bright as the love that surrounded them. The love that filled them to the brim and spilled over the edge, neither caring about the overflow.

Both women dreaming of the precious future that awaited them. Waiting for them with open arms and a blinding brightness.

Originally posted here!

[backtothestart02]

The Burglar in My Kitchen - 1/?

My submission for the @westallenfun event #westallenatthemovies. The movie, The Host, was supposed to be used for my inspiration, but I honestly only looked at the scene when Jared & Melanie first met...with a surprise attack at the refrigerator in the middle of the night. lol. So...a very loose connection here, but there you have it.

Title: The Burglar in My Kitchen

Rating: T/PG-13

Synopsis: AU!Westallen - Iris wakes up in the middle of the night to a strange man taking food out of her refrigerator. Turns out he’s not a burglar and he’ll be staying a few nights in her house. Sparks fly in close quarters.

Chapter(s): 1/?

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for being an excellent beta in a time crunch. :)

The clatter woke her up at half past three.

She waited for a few moments, wondering if she’d imagined it. Another sound came from outside her window. Already tense from the clatter that seemed to be emanating from downstairs, she flinched and whipped her head towards the sound. She breathed a sigh of relief and mentally scolded herself when she saw it was a just a tree branch hitting the glass panes.

Thirty mile-an-hour winds… The meteorologist had said that on the news some hours earlier.

For all she knew it was the wind causing objects to hit the house from the first floor.

But then the sound came again, and she knew she hadn’t imagined it.

It was a thump on the floor followed by the cooling sound that always came when someone opened their fridge. The clatter earlier had sounded eerily similar to the sound of someone coming in the back door, someone who was unaware that was where they kept their bags of recyclable garbage.

A loud sigh came from downstairs now, then a groan. She was positive she heard the shuffling of feet and opening of cupboards.

She’d hated how sound traveled in the house when she was a teenager, but now she was sure it would save her life. And her dad’s, since she assumed he was asleep in his bed just down the hall.

What a story it would make too, she thought with no small amount of pride. Reporter Stops Thief During Break-In…from stealing food? She rolled her eyes at her pathetic lack of creativity in the middle of the night.

Pushing further attempts at headlines aside, she slowly pulled back her blankets and quietly went to her always half-opened closet. In the far back, guarded by piles of shoes, lay the heavy silver bat her dad had given her when she was ten.

“Don’t use it unless absolutely necessary,” he’d instructed, after which she’d initially pouted and whined, “but I wanted a guuuun.”

She decided now that attempted burglary of food maybe didn’t warrant getting shot – or death.

She shook her head again at the morbid direction her thoughts had taken, and instead fished out the bat. She tied her floral, silky robe around her waist and opened her bedroom door. She crept cautiously down the hallway, cursing that one creaky spot on the floor that she’d forgotten about – that she always seemed to forget about – and made her way to the staircase. Upon reaching her dad’s room, she paused momentarily and listened for the sound of heavy breathing or snoring. She heard both.

Tensed and legitimately starting to feel afraid, Iris clutched the baseball bat tighter and made her way down the stairs.

…

 Staring into the contents of the refrigerator, Barry started to despair.

Where are your pickles, Detective West?

He’d told him about his late-night pickle cravings. He swore he had. Detective West had nodded along, so Barry had assumed he was taking notes. Now though, he recalled how distracted Joe had been looking at his phone and then having to take a call.

Having spent the greater part of the last fifteen minutes tearing apart the fridge and opting for a glass of milk in the process, Barry had to admit defeat and settle for an orange.

He wrinkled his nose as he eyed the fruit in his hand.

He had nothing against oranges, truly. It was just that they were so messy. And sticky. And he hated pulp. And to be perfectly honest, he had yet to discover where Detective Joe West kept his napkins or paper towels. Or even regular towels if Barry decided to wash his hands in the sink.

He was just about to close the refrigerator door, resigned to his fate, when a voice sounded behind him. And it wasn’t Detective West. It wasn’t even a masculine voice but for some reason, it sounded familiar.

“Don’t. Move.”

Barry froze, then slowly lifted his hands, one still holding the orange and turned to face who was behind him.

His eyes widened when he saw her. Iris West, adorned in a loosely fitting pink silk robe covering up her extra-large navy CCPD t-shirt and knee-length duck pajama bottoms, all of which made him smile, until he saw the very real silver baseball bat she clutched in her hands. Her expression was filled with no-nonsense determination. He tensed, causing some of the juices from the orange to dribble down his arm.

Prepare for a concussion.  

“Who are you and why are you stealing –” She paused and analyzed the orange that was starting to flatten in his grasp. “An orange?” She started to lower the bat, but then refocused and raised it again. Her eyes narrowed, burning holes into him. It further encouraged her when she saw his Adam’s apple bob in reaction to her intensity. “Why are you stealing fruit from my fridge in the middle of the night?” she demanded.

“I –” he began.

She lifted her bat higher and let it sway a little in the air, making him aware – as if he hadn’t been already – that she was quite prepared to swing right at him if he gave her the wrong answer.

“I’m not stealing,” he said carefully.

She laughed. “This isn’t your house, and you’re taking food out of my fridge. How is that not stealing?”

Barry sighed. His shoulders slumped.

“Your dad didn’t tell you.”

Iris’s brows furrowed, and she lowered the bat entirely so that it almost hit the ground.

“Didn’t tell me what?”

“What the hell is going on down here?”

Iris spun around, eyes wide. Barry looked towards the sound with the same reaction.

Joe relaxed as he came closer.

“Oh, Barry. It’s you.”

“What?” Iris’s head whipped around twice – once to look back at Barry and the other to zero in on her father. “Dad, you know him?” Joe’s lips parted to speak, but she kept going. “How? When? And why have I never heard you talk about him before?”

Barry and Joe shared a look, which only served to irritate the young woman between them further.

“Okay, one of you better start talking – right now.” She turned to Barry again, her eyes condescending. “And not you. I don’t trust you.” Barry gawked. “You were trying to steal fruit from our fridge.”

“He wasn’t stealing, honey.”

“Thank you,” Barry muttered with a sigh.

“He was!” Iris insisted, eyes ablaze as she focused in on her father. “I was right here. I saw—”

“Is that a baseball bat?” Joe frowned, finally noticing. Then his eyes registered the orange in Barry’s hand, mostly because the juice from it was dripping into a puddle just behind where Iris stood and so near the bat hovering above the floor.

“Well, yes, Dad, you said to use it in emergencies! I thought this qualified as…” Iris was saying, but Joe didn’t hear her.

“You don’t even like oranges, Barry.”

Barry blinked, then quickly set the orange on the counter, causing the juice to travel across the space between the fridge and its new destination. Joe almost whimpered aloud.

“I was looking for pickles,” Barry admitted.

Joe exhaled as the realization hit.

“Pickles,” he said, sounding nearly awestruck. “You did say you love pickles.”

“Both of you!” Iris nearly screamed. They both turned their attention on her. “Will you please tell me what’s going on? I want to know why I shouldn’t hit this boy,” She nudge her head in Barry direction, “with this very nice baseball bat and call the police about his breaking and entering.”

Joe cleared his throat and closed some of the distance between them.

“First of all,” he began, gently wrenching the bat from her hands, “I’m the police.” Iris released the bat, but she still glared up at him. “And second of all, he’s not breaking and entering. I gave him a spare key.”

Iris’s jaw dropped. She turned around again, her hair flying around her and saw that her father was not lying. Barry held up the spare key between his fingers.

Her shoulders slumped and she turned back to her father, looking defeated.

“I don’t understand.”

He sighed.

“Barry, here…” He gave him a nod in the direction of the paper towels that seemingly appeared out of nowhere, and Barry proceeded to clean up the mess he’d made.

Joe guided his daughter towards the living room where they found the large bag Iris had begun to presume was for stealing things in was actually a duffel bag filled with clothes and essentials. It was sitting next to the couch beside a light blanket and pillow.

“He’s the son of one of my good friends from college. Henry Allen.”

Iris blinked, rapidly trying to search her mind for some familiarity to the name.

“The doctor who stitched me up many a time during my early reckless years as a young cop.”

She made the connection.

“That Henry Allen,” she whispered almost reverently.

Joe nodded. “Yes.”

“But what does that have to do with—”

“When Barry was about ten, his mother got very sick, and…” Joe paused, glancing across the room to see if Barry was tensing up, but he couldn’t see him. He hoped he was maybe washing up in the bathroom and not just crawling on the floor still cleaning up his mess.

He lowered his voice just in case.

“Henry moved Barry and his mother to the East Coast for the remainder of Nora’s last days.” He turned towards her so his voice traveled only between them. “She had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and they weren’t early enough to stop it.”

Iris felt a heavy weight set on her chest. She suddenly felt incredibly guilty for having contemplated bashing Barry’s head in with her heavy silver baseball bat.

“After her passing, Henry felt that where they were living at the time and Central City seemed to be too full of painful memories. Since Barry always wanted to be a CSI, and one of the best schools for that is Midway City University, so he moved them there and they’ve been there ever since.”

“What changed?” Iris asked, so engrossed that she failed to hear Barry’s footsteps as he re-entered the kitchen.

“I did,” Barry said, approaching them.

Iris turned around and looked at him. He was tall, especially when she was sitting. But he also looked tired.

“I wanted a change of pace.” He shrugged. “I wanted to get out of Midway City.”

Silence lingered between the three of them while Iris mulled that over.

“And so,” Joe said, getting to his feet and gesturing to Barry, “Henry gave me a call last week and asked if there was a CSI position open at CCPD. I found out Jerry was looking to retire but Captain Singh was refusing to let him go with no young blood to come in to replace him.”

“I believe he wanted some, er… older blood to replace him, Detective West.”

Joe blinked, startled by the formal name.

“You can call me Joe, Barry. I’ve told you that. I’ve known your father for years. The only place you’d call me by my title is at the station.”

Barry shrugged that off.

“Anyway,” Joe resumed. “I talked to Singh, and he said that if Barry shadowed Jerry for a few days, and there were no problems, he’d take him on and let the old man retire.”

“He’s hardly old, Dad,” Iris said, really entering the conversation for the first time. “He just turned sixty last month.”

“He’s worked at the precinct since he was Barry’s age,” Joe said. “Plus, he got that heart condition last year. I think that qualifies.”

Iris sighed loudly. “So, why is Barry here?”

Barry laughed. Iris refused to give him her attention.

“I’m here because it’s the middle of the night,” he said. “My train just got in an hour ago.”

Reluctantly, she turned to look at him.

“Your dad is doing my dad a favor until I can find a place of my own.”

“Which should only be a few days,” Joe put in. “A week tops. There are a lot of good places not far from the station.”

Iris sighed quietly and sunk into the couch.

“I see.”

Barry looked at Joe, briefly panicked. Joe shook his head, dismissing it.

“So, I guess you’re not a burglar,” Iris finally said, and then looked up at Barry.

He smiled slightly. “No more than you’ve got pickles in your fridge.”

Joe closed his eyes. “I will get you some pickles tomorrow, Barry.”

His smile widened into a cheeky grin. “Thanks, Detec—Mr.—Joe West.”

Joe eyed him strangely and then nodded.

“We should probably all get some sleep.” He looked down at his daughter who still looked deep in thought, staring at nothing. “Iris?”

She looked up at her dad and blinked.

“Oh. Right. Yeah.” She stood up suddenly and turned to Barry, who still towered over her by at least a foot. “Good to meet you, Barry.” She held out a hand. After a moment’s hesitation, he shook it. “Sorry for almost pummeling you with a baseball bat.”

Barry grinned again. “No worries, Iris. I was being loud.”

“Yes.” Joe’s eyes narrowed. “You were.”

Barry dropped Iris’s hand and swallowed hard, muttering another apology under his breath.

“Okay,” Joe said, turning his gaze to Iris. “Bed. Now.”

He nudged her a little, and she moved away from the two men. She gathered her bat and started to climb the stairs, looking once more over her shoulder to see her father asking this strange, new man if he needed anything else as far as his sleeping arrangements went.

There was something about this Barry Allen that intrigued her. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but she did get the nagging feeling that she was going to be on her guard as long as he was staying in their house. She also decided that come morning she was going to try and dress a little sexier just to see how he would react.

*Also available on AO3 and FFnet.

[introspectivebrowngirl-blog]

No Hate, No Fear

My brown body is insignificant here. I am a number to a population, holding numbers with lots of zeroes forever owed to the institution. Aisha, Prophet Muhammad's wife. A young, beautiful name just like her, slaughtered in pronunciation in each class that is filled with white names and white faces.

Reminiscing on my first year at college, I have identified the institutional problems that has been brushed aside by administration and students and into arms of people who look like me. This institution brands itself on its focus on diversity and inclusion conversations amongst the campus community but fails to commit itself to admitting diversity and practicing inclusion. Talking about race relations when there are no relations between races to begin with. Because people of color are lectured about allyship and intersectionality from their white peers but Black History Month, Latino Heritage Month, Native Heritage Month, and Focus Asia Month are only attended by people of color. It is a school in which professors deconstruct topics of colonization and discrimination but do not understand the extra self-care black and brown students must take in our world today.

It started the day I saw my parents cry for one of the first times in my life, the day they dropped me off at my first day at college. It was not a sad cry. It was a cry that represented the past 18 years. The past 18 years of hardship and sacrifice and the next 18 years and beyond of hope and success. Now my mother calls me everyday. I can hear the pride in her voice in each exchange of words. Maybe that is why I can never tell her that what was once my excitement of college is now hopelessness. I can’t tell her that her sweet child that has done nothing but played by the rules has been mistaken for loud and radical when faced with discrimination and the need to define her worth to others. I can’t tell her that she’s being torn apart inside each day as everything that she has always held on her chest with pride is the ammunition for others to isolate her and degrade her. Her brown skin, thick black hair, Arabic name and Filipino and Pakistani roots.

“No hate, no fear, immigrants are welcome here,” they would chant. The anti-Muslim ban movement found its way to our institution and into the guilt of the white students. A spokesperson, that’s all they wanted from me. “They want my rally cry, they want my pain,” I thought. “Are they really listening? Are they really learning? Their activism stops here at this rally. I am just a sob story.” They only want my soul long enough to convince themselves of their humility. But each time they take and exploit it, my soul disintegrates a little bit more. White faces and white guilt gathered around the Freedom Rock, the symbol of demonstration, for everyone except those affected. I sat in the dining hall, protesters with large poster boards walking could be sighted through the window, CNN on the TV as it always was. As I looked at the news flashing across the TV screen, I contemplated whether it was selfish of me to be dissatisfied but not take the opportunity to speak out.  It soon became apparent to me that I was not refusing to make my voice heard. I refused to be part of the pathos, a sob story that can be marketed and capitalized. My story and my hurt have been passed around on their lips and the sways of their pens. That is white academia as we know it. It is used for everybody else’s benefit but my own. For my family back home in the village will never know what oppression or inequality is. For them, it’s called life. And because no one will tell immigrant families that America is not the land of the free and home of the brave until they come for opportunity and stay for scraps.

This is when I realized that assimilation is a far fetched concept that my institution’s brochures tricked me into thinking was possible. We are unlike our kind, the “good ones,” recognized for our accomplishments as students of color. We are what W.E.B. DuBois would call the Talented Tenth, rather than people who are deemed for excellence by nature. It perpetuates a saviorship ideology in which we are expected to just look away in the face of discrimination. We should just be thankful we made it this far. College. A so called “post-racial society.” Because in the face of racial slurs, discriminatory language, it’s a student problem and “you can’t blame them, they don’t know any better,” and “you just have to ignore it.” No one is held accountable for the way I feel on campus, always watching my back and second-guessing who to trust because I never know deep down who sees me as inferior.

Maybe this is all irrelevant. Maybe in a few years I will not even remember this. But why is this my burden? Comfort and happiness or success and mobility? I have been forced to choose when they should be complimentary. I am the one who made it out, the one who will bring success, and finally bring my parents’ worries to rest. It is too much pressure and one day I am afraid I will break. The miserable part is that these experiences are always deemed as dramatic and exaggerated. No one else except my peers of color know what it is like to wake up everyday with fear, sadness, and a reality that others can just turn off. They are not just some cause that are put on signs and Facebook statuses. They are our everyday lives since we were children and were taught to be submissive and never talk out of place because you just don’t have room to mess up, work harder than the others because they don’t have to deal with what you have to, and always watch your back because you never know who might be out there with hate in their hearts. They are our everyday lives as we are put in institutions where there are few who look like us achieving success. And they are our everyday lives as the only time we see people like us in the media is when it is bad, when there is a shooting or drug epidemic. It’s a reality that cannot even be translated for anyone else to understand.

So here is to the predominantly white institutions that had fooled me into thinking that I belonged here, who has thrived off of the exploitation of my brown body, and has wiped out every penny my parents had ever saved in exchange for a piece of paper that defines my existence in society: 

These things will do not go unnoticed. I see you. We see you. 

Momma, it takes so much strength everyday to not just give up and come running back home to you. 

Daddy, I want to keep making you proud but sometimes it’s hard to believe in yourself when so many people around you don’t. 

You can count on me, though. I’ll never let you down. I am happy here knowing that I am making you proud and that in the future I can pay you back for all the sacrifices you have taken for our family.

This is not a sob story, another opportunity for guilt and exploitation. This is my narrative that no one can take away from me.

[westboast]

The Strange Weather

Seattle, June, 2016.

Michael called. He said there wasn’t a point. I only had a month left in Seattle. My plane tickets were at home in a cream envelope embossed with the golden words Government of Japan. My hands were submerged in dishwater. Carlos, the cook, brought a pile of scorched pans into the pit. Bits of penne vodka still steamed on them and I scraped them into a clean bowl for myself. A lull in the dinner shift. The servers leaned against the dessert counter. I took out my phone and typed.

Two people can have something, even if it’s only for a month.

He didn’t understand that.

I went out to the dumpsters to smoke and a guy came up to me with a big plastic bag.

I’m a nurse at Swedish. We ran out of gas. Do you have five dollars.

No. I have water though.

He handed me the plastic bag.

Meet me around back in five minutes.

I moved Carlos’s pans aside and filled the bag in the sink. I hauled it, fifteen gallons, out to the back door, where the man waited. He took it away and didn’t say thanks. I went back inside and finished the dishes, mountains of them. It’s quiet in here, Carlos said. If you’re gonna be a dishwasher, you gotta get a radio. His shift was over. I swept the kitchen and pushed all of the dirty water and food scraps toward the drain. When I finished, Carlos was smoking weed by the back door. I said goodbye. At eleven I took the sixty-six bus to Wallingford. I fell asleep on Emma’s bed again. I only worked the dinner shift.

I woke up and wanted a shower. I got in and turned the knob to the right temperature. I’m leaving soon. I washed my hair. I was about to wash my face, but my hands stopped. I’m leaving soon. I couldn’t move them. I was having trouble catching my breath. I wanted to feel something that I knew was real. The shower walls are real, they must be. So I touched them. But it was hot in the shower and I didn’t want to be in it anymore. I got out and crouched down onto the floor. There was a red, shaggy rug. I knew it was real too, so I touched it for a long time. It was rough and damp. I touched it with my hands and forearms and pressed my torso against it until my breathing returned to normal. I put my clothes on and went to the living room. I sat on the couch until I fell asleep.

When I woke up I went to Volunteer Park with Cindy. We brought wine and bread to drink and eat behind the art museum. People walked their dogs and we realized we were having a picnic in a dog park. It didn’t matter. I think it will be peaceful in Japan, I said. I think I’ll just calm down. As weird as everything is right now, I think it’ll calm down just because of how it looks. We put our cigarette butts into the empty wine bottle. I didn’t want to say goodbye to her. Maybe I didn’t want to leave at all. I had my confirmation paperwork with me. I don’t know. Maybe I should just call the consulate and back out. What business do I have in Japan.

No, she said. That would be a mistake.

We went together to the consulate, in a skyscraper downtown. We exited the elevators and a gold chrysanthemum—the imperial seal—was affixed to the wall. A metal detector had appeared that wasn’t there a week before. A rent-a-cop slept next to it. I emptied my pockets but wondered if I actually needed to. The rent-a-cop said something to me but I just smiled and breezed through. I submitted the paperwork. A week later, when I came back, the metal detector and the rent-a-cop were both gone.

I needed a health check, so I went to an urgent care clinic in Queen Anne. I took the E-Line bus down Aurora Avenue and got out near some woods. I climbed through bushes and puddles and emerged, dirty, onto the tidy Queen Anne streets. The clinic was part of a chain that had only one doctor for the whole region—Dr. Fann. She seemed overworked. She measured me on a busted height chart.

Five-ten? Is that right?

According to my driver’s license I’m six-zero.

She erased her measurement and went with the state’s.

Says here you need a colorblindness test.

She googled “colorblindness test” and went with the first result. I’m not an optometrist. At the end of the test, the screen informed me that I was a mild protan, meaning I’m a little bit colorblind. For example, if  dark purple and black are beside one another, I can’t tell the difference. She marked the chart. Maybe get that checked out? I don’t know. The screen blinked with an advertisement for color-corrective glasses, made by the same company that made the test.

One month passed. On my last night I went to Cindy’s house with her and Emma. Cindy’s mom made egg rolls. We ate as many as we could and took the rest back to Emma’s place. I put mine in the fridge, as usual. We all slept near each other in the living room, Cindy and I on the floor, Emma on the love seat. In the morning we took the train to the airport. Normally we took the forty-nine bus, but the stop was closed, covered in caution tape. When we arrived at the airport the other teachers were already gathered near the ticket counter. They watched impatiently as I hugged Emma and Cindy. I didn’t want to leave them. I said, I’m going to come back and be a better person. I don’t know why I said that. They both laughed. It couldn’t be delayed anymore. They went down the escalators. I couldn’t look, so I turned around.

The teachers took a photo. When we boarded the plane I stared out the window at the evergreens. I clutched the armrests as we ascended. I saw the Space Needle, and then clouds.

Ten hours later, we landed at Narita International Airport, on the outskirts of Tokyo. Beyond the jet bridge was customs, where immigration officers handed us our Japanese identification. I held the ID, turned it around a few times. I wasn’t smiling in the photo, taken at a drugstore five thousand miles away. My hair was greasy and I hadn’t shaved. Through the airport doors we spilled into a sun-drenched parking lot with masking-tape arrows on the ground. Every twenty feet or so someone stood smiling with a sign and our program’s name—JET—on it.

A fleet of buses. They brought us to Tokyo. The drive was green. It was July and the scenery was bursting. As we approached the city I could see the Sky Tree towering above everything below. The highway curved high above the buildings and was covered with all kinds of unfamiliar markings—blinking lights of different colors in the asphalt, thick white dashes on either side of the lane, Japanese words. We wound through the clean, organized, cavernous streets of Shinjuku and arrived at the front doors of the Keio Plaza Hotel for orientation. It was a grand, golden place where the hundreds of new teachers milled about under the chandeliers, staring at their feet, making small-talk near water fountains. I didn’t talk to most of them. I had been through this sort of thing before, at the beginning of college. I made my friends about a month after that. I don’t remember having seen them at meet-and-greets. Several presenters said that now was the time to network, that these bonds would be the beginning of enduring friendships that would last all throughout our time in Japan—and beyond.

I shared a room with two other Seattle hires. Our room overlooked Tokyo City Hall, a cyberpunk skyscraper emblazoned with Tokyo 2020 posters and topped with blooms of satellite dishes. I took the bed closest to the window. When the other two went to sleep I opened the curtains. In the morning I wanted the light to flow through from beyond City Hall and wake us up. I went outside to smoke but saw no one else doing that. I found a secluded area near the hotel. When I was finished I stamped the cigarette out onto the sidewalk and left it there. I went for a walk. An hour later I circled back, and it had disappeared. I learned that Japan has basically outlawed smoking in the streets. Most buildings had an airtight smoking room inside, choked with smoke, never big enough to be comfortable and never with chairs. At the Keio Plaza, ashtrays stood around the room and a vent overhead sucked out the putrid air in thick curls.

I went to bed. A few hours later, I woke up to loud voices. My roommates were having an argument about one of their snoring. I stared at the window and pretended I hadn’t heard anything, most convincingly when one of them apologized to me the next morning. The lights twinkled on Tokyo City Hall. One of them came over and snapped the curtains shut.

A few days later we were sorted into our prefectural groups. Mine was bound for Oita prefecture, in the south, near the ocean. I was told it would be hot. Everyone went to a reception in the hotel ballroom. All I could think about was The Shining, when Jack Torrance hallucinates the party in the Gold Room.

The plane touched down in Oita. There was ocean to the east and green forever to the west. My new coworkers and supervisors met me at baggage claim. We took a bus toward the interior, through the mountains. We were going to a city called Hita. All I knew about it was that it was a logging town. Oita prefecture is famous for hot springs, onsen in Japanese. We passed the city of Beppu, from which onsen steam rose and smelled of sulfur. We passed through tunnel after tunnel. The ocean was gone and now it was lush, steep mountains. We reached Hita, flat in the basin of the mountains. When the bus doors opened it was sweltering hot. This is the hottest city in Japan, one of my coworkers said. My sunglasses slid down. I pushed them back up the bridge of my nose.

I gave most of the money I had to my supervisor, so she could give it to my landlord. I got to my new apartment and opened all of the windows. The floors were wooden. There was a gas stove. I laid down on the futon that my predecessor had left behind. There were still whispers of him, and his predecessor too, in the house. A mug for Mexican hot chocolate, Japanese-English dictionaries, a rice cooker, dishes, shaving cream, hair clippers, shoes, shoe polish. A bicycle. I looked under the futon and it was covered in mold. That night I slept on it anyway.

The next day I got on the bike. Near my new apartment ran a river with concrete poured along its sides. Dragonflies buzzed and the warm water spilled over the rocks in the bottom. I rode into the basin and parked so I could walk along the rocks. Fishermen in highwater boots stood in the water and cast long lines. An announcement wailed over the city PA system. I didn’t know what it said, but I didn’t see anyone reacting to it. I moved along. The announcements happened periodically. If I didn’t see anyone running, I didn’t either. I think this is how language is acquired.

Hita sunsets are tangerine and pink. As the light fades the mountains turn from green to an ashen blue.

I rode home. I only had a little cash left. I rode to the twenty-four-hour grocery store. I didn’t know where anything was and spent about two hours looking for eggs and bread. I didn’t know what the words for egg or bread were. Even if I did, I couldn’t read any of the signs in the store. I finally found what I needed and rode home in the dark. It stormed later. Almost every night thunder shook the house. It was that loud. Violent summer storms, like in Maryland.

The first storm was the most alarming. I thought for a moment that the walls would fall down. The lightning lit up the bedroom and reminded me of two other storms. The first was in Vermont. I was eating at the co-op—since demolished—in Brattleboro, with my friend Jan. A crack of thunder and a flash of lightning. Every window on a nearby nineteenth-century industrial building turned gold in the light. Jan was from New York City. I wondered if it stormed like that there. The second was in Maryland. My grandmother was driving toward North East. The sky was dark gray, almost black. As the car moved all of the lights around us went out—the supermarket, the traffic lights. A brownout. We looked at each other. She leaned harder on the gas.

I went to work every day and came home. It was hot. That was it. I hadn’t been paid yet. At first I didn’t have internet. I had some Japanese textbooks and I began to study. Every Japanese word can be broken down into several repeating sounds, like Legos. Wa-ta-shi wa e-i-go no se-n-se-i de-su. I am an English teacher. Hi-ta ni su-n-de i-ma-su. I live in Hita. A-ma-to De-bid-do de-su. I’m David Amato. The first step is to learn the sounds and the written Japanese syllabaries, the hiragana and the katakana. I had heard of these, but learning them assumed new urgency when I walked down the street and had no idea what I was seeing.

It was still summer vacation for the students, and the teachers spent long, hot days at the education office in the center of town. From my desk I watched the Japanese flag—the maruhino—flapping outside. We fanned ourselves in the heat. One day on a lunch break we walked to the Ohara shrine, in the middle of town. There were archways (torii), koi, sculptures of elephants and lions, fountains. An enormous staircase led up to the main shrine, made of wood. In its forbidden interior were gold and fruit. Around back were graves and smaller shrines. One was for used butcher knives. The one next to it was for the animals they slaughtered. Around the corner was one for fallen police and fire fighters.

The clouds were dark. My family might say, that’s lookin’ wicked.

Every night, I rode my bike around the city, studying it. Some neighborhoods were old, filled with traditional architecture and gurgling streams which led to rice fields. The word Hita means sun field. Away from the city center were the more commercial areas—box stores, highway on-ramps, pachinko parlors exploding with neon. When I got paid I started going to the conbini at night. A conbini is a convenience store but better. It’s a fluorescent oasis, open twenty-four hours, a godsend in the countryside. It has everything: hot coffee, iced coffee, ice cream, sandwiches, sushi, noodles, juice, hardboiled eggs, candy, chips, glossy magazines, soda, soap and bath salts, manga, clean bathrooms with the good toilet seats—heated, and they play nature sounds when you flush. Cigarettes, wine, shochu, toys, outlets, clothes if you need them.

In Washington, at night, Cindy and I went to the pool at Gold’s Gym in Redmond. She had a membership and would sneak me in. We always went after midnight, when no one was around. They had an Olympic-sized pool. We laid on our backs and floated back and forth until two in the morning.

Classes started up in August. When I arrived for my first day of school I was drenched in sweat from the bike ride. I had my introduction to the teachers written down in my pocket, but I was nervous and bolted for my desk. One of the English teachers introduced me. Kids poked their heads in and out of the teachers’ room. They wore crisp uniforms. White shirts and gray pants for the boys, white shirts with an ascot and gray skirts for the girls. I went to the break room and chugged green tea.

The teacher led me to our classroom. The halls were wide, with hardwood floors. All of the windows were open and a warm breeze filled the halls. There were fresh-cut flowers in vases around the building. We passed the genkan, where the students took off their outdoor shoes and put them into cubbies. We entered the classroom. All eyes turned to me. I was terrified. The wind whipped the curtains. Dark clouds loomed beyond the mountains. The students slid the windows shut.

They rose and bowed. I had pictures with me. I told them about America, my America—the beaches in Maryland, the snow in Vermont, the geysers in Wyoming, the tulip fields in Washington. They told me about Japan, their Japan—the fireworks in summer, the fish in the river, udon and ramen, the shops at Hakata Station in Fukuoka. Their teacher said the students had made notecards about their summer vacations. They made a line and handed them to me one by one. I collected them and flipped through. I stopped on one:

Summer was hot.

Some days, a lot of thunder and lightning in Hita.

The strange weather.