#who can actually put effort into assignments without wanting to throw my laptop out the window

[theintelligentfool]

im so sick of embarrassment and anxiety being kind of in control of ?my entire life? at this point

[random-lil-illing]

AHHH the snoopy cookies are SUCH a good idea!! we love pittsie for bringing the snacks.

i hope you don't mind me adding my own thoughts to your headcanons, they're just so good and i wish to add more to them :)

todd loves the horror movie/s they put on (the orphanage and the human centipede) while everyone else dislikes/hates them. they're all clinging to todd like a lifeline during the orphanage because they're scared and todd's just laughing at them like 'this isn't even that bad!' (they would beg to differ). human centipede goes a lot worse because meeks and knox have very weak stomachs and they both nearly throw up multiple times. todd offers to watch something else but they know he loves the movie so they just smile through the squeasiness

neil and cameron would definitely spend so much time organising the whole thing - clearing their schedules, lining up everyone's off days, figuring out whose house to use, assigning who brings the snacks/laptop/blankets/etc, what movies to watch... also, despite the name, movie night lasts from ten in the morning up until two in the morning the next day since they just want to watch SO many movies. these usually happen at todd's since he has a projector and he's the only one who can convince his family to go out for the entire day. everyone gets to pick out one or two movies to watch. though, these big movie nights/movie days usually only happen during the holidays, and if they're at welton they have actual movie nights (10pm-1am) in someone's dorm and they watch it on meeks' laptop.

imagine some of the modern! dead poets having overbearing/overprotective parents who they have to call everytime a movie ends (cough cough neil and meeks cough cough). they're so embarrassed about it and it's like that 'my mom's calling... hi mom' meme except without the sexual noises because they're either scared of the parent calling or like them too much. meeks accidentally falls asleep during a movie and no one wakes her up because she needs the sleep, meaning she wakes up to ten missed calls and fifty unread messages from his mom and all of his sisters

if they were to watch a really sad movie they'd think they'd be able to tough it out, but by the end all of them are BAWLING. they have to take a twenty minute break to calm down from that. meeks and knox have it especially bad because they're crying so hard they genuinely can't see past the tears (real) and one of the other poets (also still crying) has to hold their hand and hrlp them navigate around the house to get them what they need like water or tissues

they'd all complain that's charlie's hogging the blankets/the couch, but my boy literally HAS to be laying down to watch a movie. in the end they make a compromise - all the other poets sit down first, and then charlie just lays down across all their laps - everyone loves it because it's like a free weighted blanket, especially neil and todd. how they're not sweating under all those blankets i don't know

cameron tries to enforce the 'no talking during a movie' rule but charlie just keeps breaking it, and in the end everyone's talking during the movies. cameron tries to act annoyed but he loves to hear their input or hear them explain something about the movie he previously didn't know

i feel like pitts would be an avid enjoyer of cartoons and sci-fi (like charlie brown and the great pumpkin as you mentioned) and hr and meeks would make a joint effort to make everyone else watch atleast one star wars and tmnt movie, and everyone ends up actually liking it!! they're a little confused from all the context they're missing but they enjoy it nonetheless - besides, pittsie is all too happy to explain tmnt/star wars lore.

meeks would also love sci-fi, but also historical/war films. she would convince everyone to watch forrest gump and i just know some people started crying during that movie (knox). later she talks about this awesome film she saw and everyone's excited to watch it, only to find out that meeks, the polyglot, was hyping up a movie that simply does not exist in english/a language they can all understand. she offers to provide real-time translations but no one trusts her to be accurate/not lie (that last one is based off of a real event at movie night with my friends!)

knox would have to get down on his knees and BEG to get them to watch legally blonde - charlie jokes that it looks like mean girls and knox tells him that it would make it even better! The watch it in the end and everyone is pleasantly surprised by the movie and actually end up really liking it!! they thank knox for making them watch it because it was actually super good (i've never actually watched legally blonde but i've heard its good!!) pitts would make pink snacks for the movie and he'd have to actively fight knox and charlie off because they want to eat all of the pink snacks

charlie would recommend superbad and meeks instantly agrees because he knows ALL the lines of that movie, and everyone assumes that means it's a nice, lighthearted, maybe sci-fi movie!! WRONG, by the end of it everyone is in various states of horror (cameron, pitts, knox, neil), laughter (meeks, charlie, todd), or in love with the movie (charlie, cameron, meeks). cameron has a love-hate relationship with the movie because he loves the drama but hates the vulgarity of the whole thing. (SUPERBAD SPOILERS SORT OF) knox accidentally predicts fogell's nickname (fagell) and meeks and charlie lose their shit over it

cameron gets them to watch a bunch of sitcoms/reality shows and they end up watching some episodes of the office too - everyone has a good laugh and it's a good way to calm down after something like superbad. they all poke a little fun at him for liking these kinds of movies but in the end it's all in good fun and he teases them just as much

neil gets everyone to watch romeo and juliet or the three musketeer (you can decide which versions because i haven't seen a single one) and everyone pretends to be annoyed by shakespeare, but they're all leaning forward throughout the movie (and accidentally smushing charlie in the process) because they actually really like it and romeo and juliet is one of the movies that makes them all cry. neil apologises for making everyone sob and they all assure him it's okay through the tears

once it ends no one has the energy to go back to their respective house, so they just go up to todd's room and crash on his bed with him. if they're doing it at Welton, they'll sleepily sneak back to their respective dorms and then not be able to keep their eyes open during class - mr keating, of course, notices and asks them how movie night was and if he 1. can recommend some movies and 2. if he can join next time because it looked like fun. everyone agrees

that's it!! again, i hope you fon't mind my input to your movie night headcanons :)

Dead Poets Society @ MOVIE NIGHT!!!

Inspired by @random-lil-illing 🙏🏻 I love writing HCs for DPS, nto sure if anyone has ever done this before for movie night but! oh well!

Okay first, I like to think that modern?! Knox- his family expecting him to become a lawyer like his father- once saw Legally Blonde, and fell in love with it. He is trying to convince the other poets to watch it one night. He would love Legally Blonde.

TODD LOVES HORROR I'VE SEEN OTHER PEOPLE TALK ABOUT THIS ON HERE- I CAN'T REMEMBER WHO BUT YES!!!!

Cameron loves dramas- I can see him being like "oh- 90s sitcoms are silly and I don't wanna waste my time watching that-" and then he ends up becoming super invested.

I also think Cameron would like reality television, again, becoming very invested

ANYWAY

It was Neil's idea to have a movie night, perhaps Neil's and Cameron's idea. They both organized it! Yippee!

Okay so- how did they manage to fit seven people, fifty blankets, and thirty pillows on one couch? I'll never know.

carpe couch ig

They end up watching a movie that just came out on DVD/streaming services or whatever.

Meeks insists that they could watch any movie, he could pirate it and all that, I've seen people talk about this too, which is so true.

However, they're using Todd's fancy fancy laptop for streaming onto the TV or projector, and Todd refuses to do that- boy wants NO viruses on his laptop!!

Pitts brings all the snacks!! or makes all of them.... he is snack man

thank you pittsie!!!

Would kill to have a movie night with them

Sometimes, if they know ahead of time what movie they're going to watch, Pitts will make treats themed to the movie!

Oh, they're watching Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin for Halloween? Pitts makes Snoopy cookies. thank you pittsie!!!

If they watch a sad movie, all of these goobers are crying by the end. Especially Knox. Knox is a mess, bless his heart.

Charlie is a couch hog, blanket hog, you name it.

I like to think they'd have monthly movie nights, and they take turns picking the movie

By the end of the movie, someone is snoring.....

that someone is either Charlie or Pitts

Charlie got distracted, Pitts on the other hand got happy with the Snoopy cookies and is now in a food coma. Can't blame the guy though, I'd be snoozin if I had a few Snoopy cookies and a tall glass of milk.

[erodasfishtacos]

Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k 

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow. 

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek. 

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison  to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.” 

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.” 

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all. 

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

**

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.” 

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound. 

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

[jungshookz]

omg cee for a holiday drabble request can we get some shy!jungkook who’s had yn in his class all semester and is partnered up with her for a final project and he’s like !!!!!!!! AAAA!!!!!!!!!

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; sfw!! university!au!! fluff!! jungkook is shy!! y/n is friendly!! pocky sticks and goldfish crackers are exchanged!!

➺ wordcount; 4.9k

➺ what to expect; if he thought the back of your head was pretty... did that mean that he thought the rest of you was pretty as well?

                                     »»————-　❅　————-««

jungkook doesn’t like to say that he hates people because saying that makes him sound obnoxious and a little overdramatic, but if given the choice, he would 100% choose to be alone

and he doesn’t think that it’s a problem that he prefers his own company over the company of other people

it’s literally just a personal preference!

he likes to keep to himself mainly because he.,.,

well

to be honest, he just doesn’t like talking to people?? which he thinks is a pretty valid reason to roam campus as a lone wolf

it just takes so much effort maintaining a conversation and at the end of the day, he’s just here to learn and get his degree, you know?

and it’s not like he flat-out refuses to talk to people like a weirdo

he can talk to people, he just chooses not to initiate or engage in any type of conversation whatsoever unless he really has to

and don’t even get him started on those damn ice breakers that professors make everyone do at the beginning of every semester

it’s why he always sits in the very back of the auditorium where all the quiet people are

because quiet people understand each other and quiet people will nevER turn to start talking to each other when the professor tells the class to share two truths and a lie about yourself to the person sitting next to you!

there’s just a mutual understanding that everyone in the back of the room will sit in silence and keep to themselves all semester long which is very pleasant

not to mention, he hates having to deal with ‘semester friends’ aka the one friend that you make for the sake and convenience of having someone you know in the same class as you

you guys really don’t have that much in common and you can tell that they’re in a completely different social circle than you are (aka when you inevitably do a social media handle exchange you see that they have more than a thousand followers and you can immediately tell they were super popular in high school which intimidates you and your puny 250 follower count but you can’t back out of this friendship now without looking like a jerk) but the person is friendly enough that you can get along and kind of keep a conversation going

and then once the semester ends the two of you promise to keep in touch next semester even though both parties are fully intending to not stay in touch at all

and then when next semester rolls around no one makes any effort to reach out and be like hey, should we get coffee this week?? because you have conflicting schedules that would take so much reshuffling just to accommodate this acquaintance that you really don’t care that much about so then you end up hitting them with an ooh, i can’t make it this week! what about next week??

and then it just turns into a cycle of ugh, i’m swamped this week! next week? and can’t, sorry! next week?

and then you’ll see each other at the library one day and it’ll be a little bit awkward because you’ll do that awkward half-hug and your voice will go up like ten octaves when you greet them with that overly polite heyyyyyy!

and more promises will be made to get coffee and hang out soon even though everyone knows absolutely no coffee will be gotten

the point is: in the four years that jungkook’s been a university student, not onCe has he made a steady friend and not once has he been remotely interested in making a steady friend

and he doesn’t think that’s sad or anything - again, he prefers it that way!

...but you just had to come along and completely throw his plans out of whack, didn’t you??

unsurprisingly, you were the one who spoke to him at the beginning of the semester but he didn’t think too much of it because it wasn’t like the conversation the two of you had was very riveting

“hi, i’m sorry-” jungkook looks up from his notebook when you twist around in your seat to face him, “this is psychology 400, right? i lost a copy of my schedule and i think this is the lecture hall i’m supposed to be in but i can’t remember if it said auditorium 200 or 201-”

“yeah, you’re in the right place.” jungkook interrupts, offering you a stiff smile before looking back down at his planner

he was in the middle of compiling a grocery list for himself and now he doesn’t remember what that one thing he needed was…

…

ah!

chocolate pocky sticks

there we go

jungkook clicks his pen before tucking it back into his pencil case and shutting his planner

and… yeah!

that was the first conversation the two of you ever had

he doesn’t think he can really count it as a conversation because it lasted less than three seconds

the first exchange the two of you ever had?

the second exchange he had with you was actually the next class that same week

he was genuinely surprised that you sat in the same spot again because usually when someone realises that he isn’t willing to be their semester-friend, they move to another section of the auditorium the next time

but no

there you were in all your glory

“when’s the first assignment due?”

jungkook’s eyes flicker up from his laptop first before he looks up at you

“uh, in two weeks...?” he trails off, pulling up the calendar app on his screen before nodding affirmatively, “yeah, in two weeks. september sixteenth at midnight.”

“okay, sweet! and that’s a... thursday?”

“wednesday.”

“ah, okay. got it. thanks!

“mhm.”

the weird thing was the fact that you never pulled out the “i don’t think i ever got your name! i’m ___” card because you just seemed like a very ‘i wanna be your friend!!!!!’ person

and he doesn’t know how you made him do it but one day he found himself asking for your name which he didn’t think he’d ever do

(admittedly, he was a little klutzy in doing so because he’d never willingly introduced himself to someone and asked for their name all in one go before)

“are you eating goldfish crackers and... chocolate chips?” jungkook blurts out, leaning forward a little to peer into the little snack box you’re holding in your hand

you pause and look down into the container before twisting around to look at him, “mhm! you know, you wouldn’t think the combination would work, but it totally does,” you smile, holding your box up, “wanna try?”

jungkook immediately shakes his head, “oh, no, that’s oka-”

“no, c’mon-” you pluck out a cracker and a chocolate chip and set your box down on your lap, “hold your hand out!”

jungkook hesitates for a second before holding his hand out and letting you plop the treats in his palm, “and you... eat them together?”

“uh-huh!” you nod, popping a cracker into your mouth before gesturing for him to eat, “don’t worry - if you don’t like it, i promise i won’t cry.”

jungkook brings his palm up and tosses them back into his mouth

...

...

...

huh

that’s actually... not half-bad?

“see? what’d i tell you?” you beam, giving your box a little shake, “good, right?”

“yeah, i mean, i would never think to put the two together...” jungkook trails off, dusting the crumbs off his hands, “oh, um, by the way-” he clears his throat before swallowing nervously, “i, uh, i’m jungkook. by the way. yeah.”

“jungkook?” you say out loud, jungkook nodding in confirmation, “i will try to remember that. i’m pretty bad with names, so if i end up calling you, like, robert next week, don’t hate me.”

“i will try not to hold it against you if you call me robert next week,” jungkook laughs lightly before reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, “and you... um, your name is...?”

“i’m y/n! by the way.” you tease lightly, the apples of jungkook’s cheeks turning a little pink, “it’s nice to meet you! ...even though we met, like, a month ago.”

“touché.”

“jungkook, you dog-” you gasp lightly, and for a second jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach because he thinks he’s said something wrong- “at least take me out to dinner first before touchéing me.”

jungkook immediately snorts and shakes his head lightly as you giggle to yourself

with that being said, even after that exchange he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to stay friends with you or not

yeah, you were nice and kind of charming in your own way, but...

(he couldn’t come up with a reason as to why he shouldn’t be friends with you, so that train of thought is still chug-chug-chugging along.)

                                     »»————-　❅　————-««

“are those pocky sticks?”

jungkook stops typing, his eyes flickering up from his screen to see you looking at him with a soft little smile, your arms folded over the top of your seat and your chin propped up on them

he looks down at the open package of pocky sticks sitting on top of his backpack next to him before looking over at you and nodding, “uh, yeah. do you... want one?”

“are they the chocolate ones?”

“obviously.” jungkook snorts, pulling one out of the plastic bag before holding it out for you, “nothing beats the original flavour.”

you pluck it from his fingers, inspecting it for a second before biting into it with a crisp snap!, “i personally like the strawberry ones better-”

“what??” jungkook gawks, “i mean, yeah, the strawberry ones are fine, but the chocolate ones-”

“the strawberry ones have a thicker coating! the chocolate coating is so thin and barely-there!” you hold the bottom half of your pocky out so that jungkook can look at the cross-section of it, “see?? barely any chocolate-”

“you don’t know what you’re talking about!” jungkook scoffs playfully, slapping his laptop shut before crossing his arms on his desk and leaning forward, “chocolate pocky sticks are clearly superior to the strawberry ones-”

“alright, robert, whatever helps you sleep at night-”

“wha-” jungkook gawks in mock offence, too distracted by the fact that you like the strawberry pocky sticks over the classic chocolate ones to notice the feeling of his heart skipping a beat at the sound of your laugh

strawberry over chocolate

...

ridiculous!

                                    »»————-　❅　————-««

now, jungkook isn’t particularly sure when it was that he started to notice how twinkly your eyes were or how sweet your voice sounded or how pretty your smile was or how nice your hair smelled

it kind of just dawned on him one morning??

he was just staring at the back of your head and found himself wondering how it was possible for the back of one’s head to be so pretty (you had your hair down that day and it just looked so soft and clean)

and then he thought to himself how weird it was that he just called the back of your head pretty

and then he thought to himself that if he thought the back of your head was pretty... did that mean that he thought the rest of you was pretty as well?

and then he thought to himself that yes, i suppose i would consider y/n to be pretty if i was ever asked for a list of people i considered to be pretty

and then he realized that oh, god. do i think that y/n’s pretty because i like y/n?!

and now it’s december meaning that it’s almost the end of the semester and he still hasn’t done anything about his crush on you because he?? literally has no idea how to handle it

his plan was to just ask you for your instagram and if you wanted to keep hanging out next semester and hope that it didn’t turn into a can’t what about next week can’t what about next week situation

and the fact that you guys are working together for the final project certainly doesn’t help with him suppressing his feelings at all

because you two have gone from spending time like three times a week in class to five or six times a week in and out of class

it was at the beginning of november that he discovered that you both had an hour and a half break after this class

so you guys usually go for lunch together (obviously, you were the one who asked first) and then go your separate ways

and then it was the second week of november that jungkook started walking you to your next class even though hiS next class is located at the opposite end of campus

he just????

literally has no idea how any of this happened

one minute he’s perfectly fine with being alone and the next minute he finds himself glancing towards the door every three seconds waiting for you to walk in because the best part of his morning is seeing you

because every time you walk in and see him in his usual spot your entire face lights up and your pace quickens and he just thinks it’s really cute how excited you are to see him even though you guys literally see each other so often

he always looks forward to hearing about what you did over the weekend even though he usually doesn’t care less about what anyone did over their weekend

he always looks forward to you bringing out your little snack box and offering him a couple pieces of whatever you have (you brought these sesame-glazed cashews the other day and they were really good)

he always looks forward to sharing his pocky sticks with you even though he’s usually very greedy with his pocky sticks

last week he let you eat like half the box and he wasn’t even mad

and yeah, he finds himself tossing a couple of the strawberry pocky sticks into his basket whenever he goes grocery shopping, but that doesn’t mean anything!

...

right???

                                     »»————-　❅　————-««

jungkook glances back towards the door as he taps his foot against the ground anxiously before checking his phone for the time or any texts from you  

where are you??

he booked one of the conference rooms in the library so that you guys could work on your project in peace

it’s much more quiet working here than in the general studying area because there’s always that one person who’s sniffling and coughing like a maniac

and you can speak at a normal volume in here which is good

you guys agreed to work on the project together at the end of the day and then you’d grab dinner together

and jungkook hasn’t been classifying these hangout working sessions as dates or anything but for some reason, this feels like a study date AND a dinner date rolled into one which is why his hands are so clammy right now

and on top of thAT he actually has a christmas present that he’s planning to give you but now he’s wondering if it’s too late to back out

you’re already like twenty minutes late

did you forget about him??

did you purposely bail on him??

is this your way of telling him that this friendship is over???

maybe he can text you and tell you that he had to go home because he has food poisoning or something

...but the image of him hunched over the toilet probably isn’t a very attractive one

is there like a.,., like a sexy way to talk about food poisoning?

jungkook paces back and forth as he looks down at his phone, typing a message to you and then immediately deleting it and retyping

hey! i’m gonna have to reschedule. i had a funky ass burrito for lu-

okay so there’s definitely no way to make food poisoning sound sexy

maybe he can come up with a... cool excuse of some kind?  

hey! can we reschedule? i have to save a baby from a burning building because i’m also a firefigh-

nope

he’s terrified of heights and also he hates babies so that excuse would never work

hey! let’s reschedule! i have feelings for you and it’s overwhelming me and also i feel like maybe you kind of bailed on m-

“hey!”

jungkook jumps in his seat before whipping around to look at the door, feeling a sense of relief washing over him when he sees that it’s you

okay

well noW he knows that you didn’t forget about him and that you definitely didn’t bail on him

“he-” his voice gives out halfway and he clears his throat quickly, “hey! i was, uh, i was wondering when you’d show up.”

“i know, sorry i’m late-” you smile sheepishly, shutting the door behind you with a gentle click, “it’s for a good reason, though! i got us hot chocolates!”

you raise the takeout tray in your hand before setting it down on the table, “i was going to get you a peppermint mocha because ‘tis the season and all of that, but i didn’t know if you would like it or not so hot chocolate was the safer option.”

“i like hot chocolate!” jungkook coughs, “peppermint mochas- i mean, i would’ve been fine with a peppermint mocha too, but i- i still appreciate the hot chocolate-” he rambles, nervously flipping his pen back and forth in between his fingers, “i mean, i, like, what i’m trying to say is that i would like anything you brought for me, you know?”

okay

he’s spiralling

whY is this happening to him??

jungkook doesn’t know if he’s ever been this nervous for anything before

he wasn’t even this nervous when he had to do a solo presentation in front of two hundred people in his history course last semester and thaT was terrifying

“alright, well, i’ll definitely keep that in mind for next time!” you chirp, pulling out one of the wheely chairs before plopping down and turning to face him, “what else do we have to do for our report?”

jungkook feels his heart skip a beat when your knee bumps against his

oh god

okay

he has to get it together  

just relax!

“oh, uh-” he turns to look through the checklist on his notebook, “we have to write up the conclusion... and also the annotated bibliography.”

“annotated bibliography?” you huff, scrolling through yours guys’ twenty page report, “oh, god... that’s going to take forever- we used, like, thirty different sources...”

“i told you not to go crazy with the scholarly articles...” jungkook teases lightly before taking a sip of his hot chocolate

ooH

there’s whipped cream on this as well!

“i just thought that it would make us look smarter if we used more sources-” you grumble, pushing your bottom lip out in a pathetic little pout, “and now we have to go through and annotate every single one...”

“hey, if it motivates you to work faster, i’ll get you an extra order of onion rings for dinner tonight.” jungkook hums, smiling fondly when you gasp excitedly and turn to face him

one thing that he’s learned about you is the fact that you are verY food motivated

one time you told him that you would be willing to rob a bank for a pack of oreos

...and he wholeheartedly believes that.

                                     »»————-　❅　————-««

you try your hardest to hold back a grin when you notice that jungkook still hasn’t moved his leg from yours

the side of your thigh has been pressed right up against his for a good twenty minutes now and it seems like he doesn’t mind it at all

if anything, it’s safe to say that he’s comfortable being this close to you

that must mean that he likes you back, right?

because you know for a fact that he isn’t normally a touchy-feely person and you were fully expecting him to pull back the moment your leg touched his

this is!!!!

exciting!!!!

you don’t know when you started liking jungkook but the details really aren’t that important

you just know that you like him now and you’re like 80% sure that maybe he might?? like you back??

if he didn’t like you, why would he be willing to get coffee with you during your breaks and walk you to class?

you were actually a little put off by him the first time you spoke to him mainly because he seemed like he didn’t really want to talk to you

and usually you don’t do well with people who don’t want to talk to you because.,., you personally think you’re a greaT person to talk to and if the same vibes aren’t reciprocated then you immediately hightail it out of there

and you were actually going to switch seats the next class but it was pretty cozy in the back of the auditorium and you liked that your seat was near the exit so that you could be the first one out without getting trampled over by everyone else  

so you figured you’d just swallow your pride and try to work it out with mr. pretty boy (yes, part of the reason as to why you stayed was because of how handsome he is.,., you’re only human!!!)

and it looks like it worked out in your favour because here you are!! hanging out with him outside of class!!

with that being said, you haven’t really thought about what your next move is going to be because you’re..., not entirely sure how to ask him out without potentially freaking him out or something

because if on the off-chance that he tells you that he actually doesn’t like you back after you ask him out with full confidence,,..,

ugh

you don’t even want to think about how awkward that’s going to be

and you don’t even knoW how you’d play it off casually without letting your disappointment show (“oh! well, that’s- pft- that’s totally fine, it’s whatever- like, i’m so... like, i’m so cool. it’s totally fine! dates are- dates are so overrated, anyway- romance is so lame-”)

you were thinking of maybe asking him out after the final project because if he says no then you’ll never have to see him again!

that’s the beautiful part of being on such a big campus

it’s fine

you’ll figure something out

just focus on this damn bibliography and try not to think about how good jungkook smells and how pretty his hands look when he’s typing

                                     »»————-　❅　————-««

it’s about an hour and a half into the session that jungkook suddenly remembers that he has a present for you

he turns his head slightly to look at you

there’s a divot in between your brows as your fingers practically fly across your keyboard

wow

you must really want those onion rings

jungkook glances down at his backpack before pressing his lips together tightly

when would be a good time to give it to you without it being like.,,. awkward?

maybe after you guys are done?

or during dinner?

or after dinner?

or after he drives you hom-

“i have a present for you, by the way-!” jungkook blurts out a little louder than intended, shattering the serene silence of the atmosphere

okay never mind

“you do??” you ask, jungkook nodding quickly

“i... yeah. a christmas present! for you.” he clears his throat, leaning down to pull the neatly wrapped package out of his backpack, “it’s just a little something, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“aw, that’s so nice of you... i didn’t know we were doing presents otherwise i totally would’ve gotten something for you...” you trail off, pursing your lips in disappointment

damnit

you weRE going to get jungkook something but you didn’t know if he’d find it weird or anything

and now you must look like a complete jerk!

“oh my god, don’t even worry about it-” jungkook flicks his wrist to dismiss your concerns, “you can count the hot chocolate as your gift to me! plus, you splurged on a venti just for me-”

“i did splurge on a venti just for you...” you joke along, instantly feeling a little better about the situation, “and i usually only treat people to tiny little talls!”

(for the record, you’re definitely going to get him a proper present over the weekend)

“also, it’s totally fine if you don’t like it-” jungkook swallows thickly when you start to rip open the packaging, “i can return it and get you something else-”

!!!!!!!!

“oH MY GOD i love it!” you exclaim, feeling your serotonin levels shoot straight through the ceiling when you pull out a heart shaped snack box, “i don’t even know what to say, this is literally the greatest present i’ve ever received in my entire life-”

“oh, thank god-” jungkook flops back in his seat before placing his hand on his chest, “i was worried that maybe you wouldn’t like it because you already have a pretty extensive collection of snack boxes- oh, and!” he perks up, spinning around to pull something else out of his bag, “i also got you a box of strawberry pocky sticks even though i still think your opinion about them being better than the chocolate flavour is very wrong.”

wow

he really knows the way to your heart :’)

“i don’t even know what to say, kook...” you smile, “thank you so much...”

jungkook beams, giving himself a mental pat on the back for a job well done, “ah, don’t worry about it. i’m just glad that you like your gifts...”

...

okay, you don’t have a gift for him so this is the next best thing

“can i-” you pause, trying to think of how to handle this, “can i- sorry, can you just close your eyes for a second?” you clear your throat

you’re suddenly feeling a lot more confident about jungkook’s feelings towards you than you were half an hour ago

(aka you are now 98% sure that he likes you back and if you’re wrong about this assumption then you’re definitely going to regret the thing that you’re about to do)  

“close my eyes?” jungkook snorts, “why?”

“it’ll make sense in a second. just close them!”

“this is the part of our friendship where you kill me, isn’t it?” he jokes, setting his laptop aside before turning his chair so he can fully face you

ha hA

very funny

“if i was planning to kill you, i would’ve poisoned your precious pocky sticks a long time ago-” you laugh lightly, wiping your clammy hands on your jeans before turning to face him as well

“speaking of pocky sticks, have you ever tried the cookies and creme flavoured ones?” jungkook hums, jolting in surprise when he feels you place your hands on his knees, “because i was thinking we could just buy a bunch of flavours and try them toge-”

smak!

jungkook’s eyes immediately pop open the moment he feels you kiss his cheek, his entire face going beet red and his mouth going dry

you smile innocently as you pull back, jungkook trying his best to noT melt into a giant puddle of goo

you-

you just...

you kissed his cheek?

you kissed him?

maybe it was an accident??

maybe there was a bug on his cheek and you were just trying to kill it with your mouth

“you- i- heh-” he reaches up to scratch the back of his head, quickly averting his gaze when he notices you looking directly at him, “um, why... uh, what did you do that for?”

“to say thank you...” you shrug, biting back a smile, “and i guess it’s me trying to tell you that i... i like you too, by the way.”

jungkook feels his heart stop beating in his chest and his fingers dig into his thigh

too?

you like him?

too????

jungkook blinks owlishly at you, “you like me... too? r-really?”

“of course i do.” you hum, admiring your brand new snack box before looking back at him, “how could i not?”

(judging by his reaction, you are now 100% sure that jungkook likes you back so you now have nothing to worry about.)

“but how’d you know that i even liked you in the first place?” jungkook asks dumbly, still a little dazed from that kiss on the cheek

he can’t even think about how his body is going to react when he eventually gets to kiss you properly

“i mean...” you let out a little laugh before tilting your head slightly, “if the in-between class coffee runs and the walking me to class even though we both know it’d make you late for your class didn’t give it away, the fact that you let me eat half a box of pocky sticks without slicing my hands off certainly did.”

oh

yeah

that’s fair

“you make a good point.” jungkook nods slowly, “touché-”

“-”

“-!” jungkook holds a finger out before the corners of his mouth tug up in a wide grin, “and i will definitely be taking you out to dinner first before even thinking about touchéing you. don’t worry.”

christmas with cee 2020 masterlist

🎁what would you like from ceenta this year? 🎁

[mellowswriting]

Hey I saw your requests are open! I love the quarantine series! I’ve been on a Marcus pike kick lately and I’ve been super stressed about college and my work load trying to graduate😩 I’d love to hear your interpretation of Marcus when his girl is going through this cause you know he’s 💕that guy💕 - how he’d help you relax and everything... maybe even some smut if you’re feeling up to it 👀

Take a Break

pairing || Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader

summary || Marcus helps you relax after college stress

word count || 2,369

warnings || Explicit Sexual Content (fingering, praise kink, soft dom!Marcus, allusions to p in v sex), stressed out reader, Marcus to the rescue, domestic fluff, ‘good girl’, no use of y/n

a/n || As a college student who is also ready to explode from school stress, this was cathartic as hell to write. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist  |  Join the taglist!

Your cursor hovered over the submit button. This research paper had been the center of your academic focus for nearly three months and had taken up the majority of your energy for far too long. Once that damn paper was submitted, you could breathe easy for a while and not have to see statistics and graphs in your sleep anymore. So you took a deep breath and hit the button, relishing in the relief that washed over you - for approximately three seconds.

There were still assignments to be worked on, textbook chapters to read and take notes on, and you just wanted to throw your laptop into the ocean instead. Fuck it all. In that moment, all of your progress and hard work and the finish line that was so damn close really didn’t seem to matter. You would rather hide under your blankets for the last month of the semester than even think about philosophy notes or biology tests.

But you couldn’t.

There was no way in hell you were going to let the last two years of hard work and a solid grade point average go down the drain, especially when you had a summer well on its way where you could relish in not having academic responsibilities. You rubbed a hand down your face with a frustrated sigh and put your textbook down on your desk - maybe just a bit harder than necessary, because the door creaked open a few moments later.

“How’s the paper going, honey?” Oh, Marcus. Your sweet, sweet Marus, who’s words were already making tears of frustration prick your eyes.

“It’s finished. I just turned it in.” You said, your voice devoid of the usual pride that followed a well-written assignment, and flipped open the book in front of you.

Marcus’s hands fell to your shoulders as he stood behind your chair and started rubbing, those strong fingers working the tension from your muscles. “What are you doing then?”

“I still have a ton of shit that needs to get done. Notes and a ton of reading, and I have to study -” You cut yourself off with a heaved breath. The stress was getting to you, you could recognize that, but it wasn’t enough to overpower the anxiety of impending deadlines, even if you still had plenty of time and wiggle room to get them finished.

Marcus paused. It wasn’t the first time he had seen you like this, and he wasn’t about to discount what you were feeling by telling you to relax or something else equally as stupid. “Okay, how about you come have lunch with me? You need a break. You can’t be productive when you’re burnt out. Maybe we can talk it out, help you come up with a plan.”

It took a moment for you to convince yourself that it was okay to leave your desk, to focus on something that wasn’t your classes for a little bit. When you nodded, Marcus smiled at you bright enough to melt some of the frustration. Unbeknownst to you, he had a little something planned.

If there was anything true in the world, it was that Marcus Pike was the best man the world had ever seen. The stress you were feeling had been building up for the past week, growing heavier with each moment that it went unchecked, and he could tell. It was obvious in the way you held yourself, in the way that all the sleep in the world didn’t help the tired look in your eyes. He knew he could do nothing to help with the actual classwork itself, but he could do whatever it took to ease the stress.

So the moment you essentially chained yourself to your desk, Marcus set about with his plan. First, he tackled the housework. He cleaned the kitchen and living room until they were spotless, grateful that your headphones blocked out the sound of the vacuum and kept his little project a secret. Then he cooked up your favorite meal and lit your candles in the living room, leaving the space warm and homey.

The surprise on your face was worth all of the effort. You buried your face in his shirt to hide the tears of appreciation that sprung into your eyes, your fingers fisted in the fabric as you tried not to full on cry at his sweet gesture. You sniffled a quiet laugh before you wiped the wetness away from your face.

“God, what would I do without you?” You pulled him close for a kiss, one he reciprocated eagerly. Those big, warm hands of his settled on your cheeks, thumbs rubbing sweet little circles against your cheekbones.

“I find myself asking the same thing everyday I get to wake up next to your pretty face.” He whispered against your lips and gave you one last kiss before he guided you to sit on the couch with your soft throw blanket tucked around your shoulders.

“Marcus… you didn’t have to do all this…” You murmured as he handed you a plate and settled in next to you with his own.

“Of course I did,” He rubbed a soothing hand up and down your calf. “Besides, this isn’t even everything.”

You captured his hand in your own. “I love you so, so much.”

“I love you, too.” Marcus chirped with a smile, lifting your joined hands to kiss your knuckles. “Now eat up, you need your energy.”

Never in your life had you felt more appreciated, more taken care of, and apparently this wasn’t all he had planned. He finished eating before you - you swear, that man practically inhales food - and he drew your feet into his lap to gently massage the arches. It didn’t take him long to ease the stress of the looming workload. Somehow, he always managed to find the perfect words to remind you just how capable you are and that you were on the right track.

You set your plate down on the coffee table and slid closer to Marcus’s side, all too ready to curl up with your lover and spend the rest of the day soaking in the bliss that flowed from him, but he was quick to stand and urge you to your feet. The moment of confusion dissipated when he led you to the bathroom, where he had laid out the makings of your favorite stress reliever - a bubble bath.

“Oh, Marcus.” You sighed as he began filling the huge tub, already stripping out of your clothes in excitement. “You better get in there with me.”

“But this is supposed to be about you, not me.” Marcus said with a small shrug.

“I’ll enjoy it even more if I have my man with me,” You purred, stepping into his space in only your bra and underwear to press a lingering kiss to his lips. The surprised hum he gave you made a little thrill fly through you. “Please, baby?”

“Anything for you.” Marcus smiled as he reached around to undo your bra and pull the straps down your arms, moving on to curl his fingers under the hem of your underwear and tug them down as well. He kissed your thigh when you moved to step out of them.

Marcus yanked his clothes off with no flair and stepped into the steaming bath, settling into the water so quickly that it damn near sloshed over the sides of the tub. He reached for you and you couldn’t help but smile. It was precious, the way he guided you into his lap amidst the bubbles and pulled you close against his chest.

Little kisses were peppered along your shoulder and up your neck, the heat already working at your sore back. Marcus’s hands slid up your belly, cupped beneath your breast to hold you close, and the combination of his presence with the heat and soft floral scent of the bubbles had your worries slipping into the background.

“I missed this.” You murmured as you melted against him, your head lolled back on his shoulder. It had been far too long since you felt peace like that. Marcus’s fingers rubbed soft patterns into your skin and you were in heaven.

“Me too,” He kissed your temple and you could feel the smile on his lips.

“Thank you, Marcus.” You looked up at him. He seemed just as relaxed as you felt, his head tilted back against the edge of the tub, eyes closed. “You make me feel sane in the midst of all this stress. I don’t know what I would do without your support. You’re such a good man.”

Marcus whined low in his throat. Your praise always did something to him, lit a fire in his belly and made him want to squirm with happiness. All he ever wanted was to make you happy, make you feel as cherished and loved as he possibly could, at least as much as you made him feel. Normally he was good with his words. He could wax poetic about how much he loved you and how he was the luckiest man alive with you by his side, but your sweetness left him dumbstruck.

Since his mouth couldn’t form the words he wanted to say, he used it to lavish your bare skin with kisses as he rubbed at your tense muscles, your skin slick with the soapy water. He could feel the small moan he worked from your body and smirked - he absolutely lived for those little sounds, the ones that told him he was making you feel relaxed and happy. Your hands slipped down his thighs that bracketed your body and began mimicking the circles he massaged you with.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one helping you relax, sweetheart?” Marcus teased despite the way his cock was slowly hardening at the small of your back, only provoked further by the light drag of your nails along his thighs.

“Can you think of a better way to relax?” You teased right back as you arched back slightly to grind against him, using your hands on his thighs to support yourself. Marcus inhaled sharply and you could feel the subtle way his hips pressed up to meet your movements. Need began to build low in your belly.  

“Are you sure?” Marcus rasped and at your nod, his hands slipped around to your front, one hand settling low between your hips to firmly hold you against him, the other trailing down to cup your sex. Your low gasp made him hum, a dark tone that you recognized from those moments he took you apart piece by piece in the comfort of your bed. “Are you feeling needy, baby?”

“Always need you.” You spread your thighs, bracing your feet between the sides of the tub and his legs to support your desperate little grinds against his fingers. His middle finger curled to glide up to your clit but he didn’t give you the friction you craved, that damn tease. “C’mon, make me feel good. Please?”

The desperate quality your voice had taken on was enough to make Marcus moan against your neck, his tongue shooting out to wet his lips before he whispered in your ear. “I’m gonna make you come before I get you in that bed. A little reward for all your hard work, hm?”

Before you could even whine out your need for his promised reward, he finally began moving his finger against your clit and pleasure flooded you, leaving you to meet his movements with little circles of your waist. Marcus would usually tease you at least a little before delving in and drowning you in pleasure until your legs were shaking and your mind was left blank, but he seemed to be in a giving mood after all of your efforts. Every pass of his fingers over your clit had that tension pull tighter, your pussy tightening around nothing. You ached for something to fill you, his fingers, his cock, you didn’t care. The relief of pleasure after so much stress had your release building faster than you were used to, and your hands fumbled for purchase to keep you grounded to reality as Marcus worked you closer and closer to orgasm.

One hand clutched at his wrist, desperate to keep him right where you had him, and the other found itself buried in Marcus’s hair. He angled his head to give your better access, letting you grab at him to be your anchor, kissing up your neck and placing his lips right at your ear.

“Good girl,” He rumbled, chuckling at your sweet little gasp. “Such a good girl for me. You gonna cum all over my fingers, aren’t you? Yeah, you are. That's it.”

“Oh god, Marcus…” You gasp in that pleading tone that made something possessive bloom in his belly and he redoubled his efforts, taking your earlobe between his teeth and tugging slightly. “Fuck!”

Water sloshed over the sides of the tub with the intense way you jerked against him, your orgasm cracking through you like a sharp flash of lightning, arcing and splintering up your spine and leaving you wrapped in a warm haze. You trembled against his chest, your legs snapping closed around his hand as he slowed his movements until his fingers were completely still. The warm water eased you even further into that sweet headspace of your afterglow, made more sweet by the kisses and praise your lover pressed into your skin.

“You still with me?” Marcus murmured and you looked up at him with that dazed look he absolutely adored. At the sight of your pursed lips, he leaned down and kissed you, slow and languid as he let you find yourself again. Wandering hands helped ease you back down to earth, his strong hands working at your already loose muscles. “You did so good, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

You whined quietly at his praise, curling closer for more kisses and affection, only to whine again when he pulled away. “Please?”

Marcus chuckled. “Fine, but I’m getting you in that bed in a few minutes. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget your own name.”

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @i-ship-it-ironically @artsymaddie @mrsparknuts @wyn-dixie @notabotiswear @lunaserenade @jitterbugs927 @theorganasolo @the-witty-pen-name @northernpunk @lemonlime09 @la-lunaluna @andruxx @greeneyedblondie44 @bloodsuckingbastards @coldlilheart @gracie7209 @green-socks @paintballkid711 @lord-of-restingbiface @asta-lily @sarahjkl82-blog @a-skov @himbotroy @marvelousmermaid 

[blush-and-books]

13, 15, and 19 queen

The way that the ones I write for you are always longer :)

13, 15 and 19: Forehead kisses, big warm hugs, and peppering kisses all over someone’s face.

High school AU because I like. Was written while listening to TSwifts new album. Look out for my Juke x Willow analysis tomorrow. 

It’s a stressful morning. A big morning. A meaningful morning. 

Julie’s calculus final. 

Her semester grade may or may not have been riding on this single exam, and her ability to play in the band may or may not have been riding on her semester grade.

The deal she had struck with her father and Victoria was that she would get above a C+ in the class, nothing equivalent or less. While Julie was smart, her gifted kid burnout really smoldered in calculus, and her C+ laughed at her every time she checked her grades. She had a B a couple of weeks ago, but a C- on a quiz and a B- on the last test before the final set her up to fail.

If she can ace this test -- which all the guys had been helping her study for all week -- then her grade could go up, because the final is worth double a regular test grade. And all she needs is a little B- or B to keep doing what she loves to do. 

Even though he shows up three minutes before final bell every day, Luke makes the effort to show up with five minutes to spare this morning so that he can bring Julie the coffee he bought her. 

(He actually had a good reason to almost be late this morning.)

He finds her wringing her hands together next to his locker, which is luckily in the same hall as her math class. She’s so caught in her world of stress that it takes him standing right in front of her for her to see him. 

“Jules?”

The sound of his voice startles her. 

“Luke! Sorry, I was just-”

“Reviewing in your head? I expect nothing less from you.” His right hand extends out to her, holding the gift of a large coffee cup, still warm. “Lavender black tea latte with vanilla syrup. For the girl who is going to kill her test today.”

She looks at the cup like it’s about to ruin her day, but takes it anyways.

“A bit of a premature celebration, isn’t it? I feel jinxed now.”

Luke’s face falls. But, being the tough guy he is, he makes a considerable attempt to shield his disappointment. 

“I’m not jinxing you. It’s a good luck coffee. You’ll get another one when you-” She glares daggers at him, not wanting him to superstitiously ruin her grade. “Sorry! When you… Forget everything and bomb the test.”

When her face wrinkles up with concern, Luke is internally punching himself in the face. He’s been Julie’s best friend for three years and somehow still fucks up every time he wants to comfort her. 

(Probably because he has a massive crush on her and is worried that when he supports her, he’ll expose himself and make things awkward and-)

He throws his arms around her instead. One around her waist and the other tugging her shoulders close to him; and he kisses her forehead once, twice, three times. 

(Exposed crush be damned.)

“I’m sorry I’m so shitty at this,” he whispers. He feels her right hand, the one without the coffee in it, curl into his shirt. Her sigh blows lightly against his ear.

“You’re okay. I’m just freaking out.”

“You are,” he begins, right in her ear, “so smart, so talented, and the biggest badass this school has ever seen. In one minute, you’re going to make this test your bitch. Does that sound good?”

She pulls away, which normally he would complain about, but this time he won’t. Her smile keeps him as warm as her arms do. 

“Probably the best pep talk you’ve ever given me, Patterson. You’re getting better.”

His brain short-circuits while contemplating if that was any attempt at flirting, but then the school bell rings, and she’s yelling a thank-you at him from down the hall as she makes her way to calculus. 

His heart swells as he watches her bounce into the classroom, and hopes that if anyone in the universe is listening to his thoughts, that they also have the power to help her pass the test.

--

That weekend, Julie is too focused on reloading the online gradebook on her laptop than writing with Luke. He knows she’s anxious to see the results, but he was more hoping that songwriting with him could distract her from her anxieties. 

“Anything yet?” 

(He can’t nag her about it, because that’s just rude. All he can do is support her.)

He watches in anticipation as she hits reload, again, but a familiar red dot lingers next to the listing of her calc class: The red dot meaning that something has been added to the gradebook. 

“It’s there!” She essentially screams, temporarily leaping up from the piano bench before sitting back down, and automatically setting her fingernails up in her mouth to bite them. “Oh my God, what if I failed? What if I still have a C+, or a C-, or a D, oh my God-”

“Jules, you passed.”

“But what if I didn’t?”

“I know you. You passed.”

Julie doesn’t say anything -- only stares at the computer in contempt. Luke, boldly, slides the computer over to himself and angles it away from her. 

“I’m going to check, okay?”

She doesn’t say no. He opens the link where all of her graded assignments in her calculus class are, and there it is:

98/100

“Oh my God,” he mutters, clearly in awe. 

Well, maybe not so clearly, because panic flashes in Julie’s eyes. 

“Oh my God?! Is that bad?”

“Jules… You got a 98. Out of 100. You got an A. An A+. Your grade is a B.”

The way that her jaw drops and her hands dart up to pull the computer back in her direction is priceless. Luke is only grinning at her, because he knew she could do it -- if anyone could, it’s her. 

“I did it,” she whispers to herself. “Holy shit, I did it!”

There she goes again, bouncing off of the piano bench, and jumping around on the cold floor of her garage in fuzzy socks and making Luke wonder how much love and sunshine and energy can go in one little body. He doesn’t hesitate to join her, standing up himself. 

“Yes you did! I knew you could do it, Julie. I never doubted-”

He’s cut off by the impact of her body throwing itself against him in a tight, energized hug. Pride swells in his heart. 

He lets himself lift his arms around her waist, indulging in the feeling of holding her so close. She’s this beautiful, magnetic force of nature that he had surrendered to long ago. 

“You’re amazing, Jules.”

The feeling of her lips against his cheek sends him practically spiraling. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she grins at him. “You studied with me day and night even though you aren’t in calculus and didn’t know a thing, but you quizzed me and worked with me and-”

He kisses her. Like, on the lips. 

(Yeah. He’s surprised too.)

It was just watching her glow, like the star she is, and she gets so animated when she talks and even though she single-handedly saved the future of their band she’s praising him for holding flashcards in front of her face and he loves her. She’s too much and at the same time she wasn’t enough; so he kissed her. 

And she doesn’t pull away. 

It’s… Charged. That’s his way to describe it. There’s so much excitement in their embrace that the kiss is strong and determined and God it’s been a long time coming. 

When they pull away, she isn’t yelling at him for violating her or coming onto her, so he keeps himself close by letting his lips brush along her jaw, and then her cheek; followed by her nose, eyelids, forehead, and really anywhere. It was like there was all of this love was pouring out of him but it was only meant to be put on her.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers into her skin, thrilled by the goosebumps he sees as a result. 

“I love you,” she sighs, and he desperately wants to know if she means that in the best friend way she’s always used it or if she’s finally joining him on the flip side, where he’s been waiting for her. But he doesn’t want to pry. 

So he settles with repeating her words back to her, and she’s able to feel his lips form every word against her neck, and he lets her pull him back in for another kiss. 

They can figure out anything else later.

[septiembrre]

30 for the kiss prompts!!!!

Prompt: Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot.

@sothischickshe, I made a concerted effort to keep this silly and short. And I gave myself frown lines as I watched it grow longer and longer and… angsty. D: 

Featuring:

A magical reappearance of Beth’s furniture

A broken air conditioner

A heatwave

Lots of summer clothing

Sweat (but like the typical annoying kind. This is not a euphemism for sex)

Beth and her anxiety

Rio, a certified Goth™

A relationship not yet ended

Pain

And a Mick cameo, of course!

On AO3, too!

---------

I’VE GOT TO LOSE MY COOL

Beth’s first mistake was not calling the HVAC technician first thing in the morning. She had called on the way out the door, left a voicemail. 

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. Wednesdays were usually slow. She would be able to sneak away at almost any point to take a call back. In the message she left, Beth made sure to mention that her only conflict was at three (the weekly drop of bills from Mick). Otherwise, there was plenty of time to schedule the service visit with perfect timing for the impending heatwave. 

But, of course, her life was no longer neat.   

On this random mid-day shift, there had been a flurry of customers at the store -- multiple special orders for invitations, a desperate maid of honor running in for last minute bridal shower details. And, naturally, it was in this hubbub that the tech had returned her call. There was another subsequent round of phone tag. Beth left a new message. 

On her phone, there was also a text from Mick. He was held up -- and that never happened. The texts hinted at some mysterious, more-important errand for their boss and she was a little curious. He had quashed her follow-up questions (only a couple!), with a gruff, “I’ll get there when I get there.” 

And he indeed eventually arrived to Paper Porcupine -- a whole hour late and in a terrible mood. He barreled in the backdoor, sans his typical flannel and sans-leather jacket. Instead, he was in a t-shirt and sweaty as all get out in the late afternoon heat. Beth had stared at him aghast as her phone chimed with another call. It had been a perky soundtrack to Mick’s string of colorful swears when he realized he had left behind half the one-dollar bills needed for the next print run.

Well, at least that mess wasn’t on her. 

When Beth finally caught the technician on her drive home, she confirmed what Beth had begun to suspect in her gut: they were all booked up with service calls until next Monday. 

“It’s the heatwave, Mrs. Boland,” the tech explained over the car’s speaker phone. “Half of Detroit is calling in about faulty units. We can get you in first thing next week.” 

Beth had nodded unseen and despairing. She had the AC blasting in the car, but she was still sticky with sweat. It was going to be precisely eleven degrees hotter by tomorrow. Then, it would chart 105 the day after that.  

Good Lord. 

Her second mistake was not immediately driving to the store to purchase a pool.

This is how Beth finds herself in the middle of the brutal once-a-year Michigan heatwave, reflecting on how truly her life no longer plays out in the tidy, pre-ordained trajectories it used to. And some days this is thrilling but other days, today, it’s... 

Terrible. 

Beth tries to do what she can. 

She digs out her most breathable pair of exercise shorts, short short and purchased two children ago. She dons her comfiest, lift bra and throws on a frayed pink tank top. She no longer wore these articles of clothing in the presence of her husband (especially after that comment now etched into her soul about “a great ass and perfectly shaped boobs”) but kept them tucked into her dresser for such hellishly hot, solitary occasions such as today. 

She pulls her hair messily into a lofty bun leaving no opportunity for it to cling to her neck. She also temporarily appropriates three of the flagging household fans and angles all of them carefully at her, meticulously layering the currents. Finally, she sprawls on her bed, starfishing her limbs for maximum air-to-skin contact. 

All of it helps a little, but she’s still hot. Beth can’t fathom anything outside of her misery, wants to shed her skin. 

She momentarily considers taking her third cold shower of the day. 

Then, without realizing it is happening, Beth finds herself an hour deep into a frenzy of online shopping, precariously balancing her laptop so it doesn’t touch her skin. 

Her focus: sandals. 

Beth knows she shouldn’t go through with the purchase. Rationally, she can admit it is a feverish spiral, fixating on one fraction of why this week is awful. But, it is all she can think about: she does not have any appropriate footwear for this heat. 

How will she survive?

From there comes a whole whorl of scenarios. If she could get away with not leaving the house, she could stay barefoot, stick to the shadowy corners of her house, shower any hour of the day. In fact, this was (part of) the reason why she had chosen to stay home as Dean took the kids to the community pool a few blocks over. Her old pair of ratty flip flops had finally given out and the mid-morning heat already had Beth at her wit’s end. God, she just needed some quiet and some sense of distance from Dean. So, she suggested the idea, urged him to go and leave her in peace.

Perhaps, she could send him out for all the kids’ needs and assorted errands? 

...But, could he be trusted? 

Well, if Beth refused to leave the house, that meant she was also choosing not to go with the kids to the movies or the library, places with functioning air conditioners where she could cool off. And what else could they do tomorrow? Maybe she could dig out the old sprinkler from the garage… But, then she’d have to go into the garage, and the temperature in there-- 

Anxiously, Beth meanders the tabs on the DSW website and adds two new pairs of flip flops to her cart. One’s a little more casual, definitely good for pool-side and backyard time. The other pair is a little more dignified. They didn’t look like they would clack. 

Well, she doesn’t need two pairs...

She’ll narrow it down later. 

In the back of her mind, Beth can acknowledge she doesn’t really need to buy anything at all, and that these sandals will not make her current discomfort any more bearable. But, it doesn’t hurt to look. 

Oh, goodness -- what about when she has to go back to Paper Porcupine for her next shift? The thought of putting on any of her flats seems like too much to bear, claustrophobic as they were in the heat. Pumps were out of the question. Which brings her to her last job-appropriate footwear option -- her ankle boots. Weirdly, that seemed to be a fashion trend that was happening now, but nope, absolutely not. 

It is in this fever pitch, that Beth makes her third and perhaps most egregious mistake: when Rio knocks on the French doors, she lets him in. 

In her defense, she’s a little dazed. As mentioned before, the current state of Michigan is literally hell and Rio’s appearance… takes her by surprise. She was not expecting him to show up today with a duffle of the rest of the small bills. He hadn’t texted and to top it off, he is wearing... an outfit she has never seen before.

A sleeveless shirt.

A sleeveless shirt and joggers, fancy athletic ones that look a price point (or three) above the ones she usually buys for Dean. However, despite this new foray into athleisure-wear, Rio remains head to toe in his favorite color with black on black Chucks rounding out the look. 

What a goth, Beth thinks, shaking her head to herself. This outfit in over-100 degree heat? 

She feels hotter just looking at him.

Like Mick the other day, Rio is sans-jacket, sans-button-up, and sans-beanie and there’s just… miles and miles of uncovered brown, freshly sun-kissed skin. 

Maybe, it’s her deep-seated jealousy of people who can tan. All her skin is good for is glowing in the dark and flash burning at the slightest interest from the sun. And mind you, she’s currently safe inside her dim bedroom, but it’s the strangest thing...  She’s burning now as her eyes trace the smooth skin exposed at the base of his neck, burning as she follows along the neat, sharp line of his collarbone where she had bit--

Stop, Beth. Why did she still want-- 

Had he purposefully shown up with a work excuse on the hottest day of the year to pester her? Was this a latent extension of his punishment? Beth thought they were past this. 

But, you know what? Whatever. Let him try.

She’s cool. She might be sweaty as hell, and wanting to crawl out of her skin, but she is cool as a cucumber, cold as ice, profoundly unbothered. 

She’s so cool that she doesn’t say a word. 

Not to greet him, or remark upon the mistake with the drop or… his atypical clothing choice. 

She doesn’t comment either on the state of their business or ask after whatever it was he had assigned Mick to do this week and had seemingly gone awry. 

She doesn’t comment as his mouth drops open with surprise as he takes in her appearance, his eyes widening with something as intolerably warm as the air around them. The bag slips from his grip just inside her doorway.

Nor does she say anything when Rio follows her back to bed, tethered to her through a tenuous spell of heat (weather or otherwise). She’s cool, indifferent, breezy actually as she repositions herself in the crosshairs of the fans. If she pretends he doesn’t matter, she doesn’t have to share the breeze right? So she doesn’t pay much mind as Rio slips off his sneakers and settles next to her. Instead, she re-balances the laptop and resumes pursuing the online DSW store. 

She doesn’t say anything as he eventually shuffles closer, presumably to watch as she adds strappy sandals to her cart (or more probably to peek down her shirt). And god-- this stupid tank top. Maybe her boobs look better from over there in Rio-world, but over here she is sticky with underboob sweat and crossing her fingers that none of it shows through her bra. 

His shoulder leans against hers.

And she has every reason to push him away, but… his skin is cool and smooth and not the most intolerable part of this weekend. So, she lets him stay there. 

And she continues to ignore him, cool-like, or cool-aspiring.

Until he no longer lets her. 

Concentrated as she is on her shopping, she notes idly as Rio’s foot reaches out to nudge one of her fans to aim more directly at him.

Beth can’t help the snarl that comes out of her mouth, “Don’t.” 

He always brings out the worst in her.

There’s a low snicker. Her gaze drops down to take in Rio’s arm as it presses up fully against hers. His fingers reach over to pinch her thigh. 

“Damn, ma.” 

There’s that heat again, the one from inside. God, she hates him. 

Beth shuffles away, frowning at her screen. Rio shuffles too, sidling up next to her again. She adds another pair of sandals to her order and then considers her cart. 

“Elizabeth…” In the corner of her eye, she catches the movement of Rio shaking his head with reprove. “Think about where you live.”

Beth flails on the bed in a display that admittedly reminds her of her own children in a fussy mood and it only annoys her more. Her bedspread sticks to her arms, the backs of her legs, and the exposed sliver of her midriff where her top is creeping up. Beth shifts, trying to dislodge the cover from her skin, mindful to protect the laptop. It’s only happenstance that she manages not to shift a single inch of where the length of her arm touches Rio’s. 

As she tries to calm down, a brief vision comes to Beth -- an alternate universe where the laptop is safely tucked away and the HVAC blessedly functions. The Rio and Beth of this fantasy are them but also not… maybe she’ll call them Christopher and Elizabeth. That Beth -- Elizabeth -- is only mildly inconvenienced by the heat raging outside. She can rest her dampened forehead against the cool arch of his-- Christopher’s neck. She can lean in to press a weak kiss at his collar bone. In fact, she can kiss it anytime she wants, invited to touch him anywhere she like. In this dream, Elizabeth’s ministrations don’t have to be surer or bolder or cool -- because she has him. 

All the time. 

She can afford to be soft. 

In turn, Christopher nuzzles his face into her hair fondly, and that Elizabeth receives a soft kiss at the crown of her head. There’s an undercurrent of sex between them, the suggestion of it, but overall the scene is sluggish in the zenith of summer and content. Elizabeth can curl her body around his and let him hold her-- 

How silly. 

Beth shakes herself out of it and realizes that Rio has shifted on his side, watching her as she’s zoned out staring at the cart full of sandals for too long. His lips twitch and almost pull into a smile. Then, he quells them into mock seriousness. 

It feels too intimate, him with her on this bed, her bed, the bed. It feels like Before. 

God, why is he here anyway? If she was alone, she could peel off all her clothes and… take an ice bath probably. 

Not think of him at least. 

Not think about that wild, feverish idea of curling up, fitting her body into his and surrendering to the heat. Not think about how desperately and pettily she wants to pinch him back. She wants to kiss that stupid look off of his face or... Maybe she could purchase all six pairs of sandals and start browsing for pools on Cloud 9 just to spite him-- 

 “I am thinking about where I live and actually, it’s the middle of summer here--” Beth bites out. “--and it’s outrageously hot.”

“Just buy yourself a pair of sturdy white lady shoes. You mean to tell me you don’t already own some Birks?”

“Excuse me--” Beth splutters, incensed. She had considered them first but had been discouraged again by the price tag for a single pair.  “White people aren’t only ones who wear Birkenstocks.”

Without missing a beat, Rio volleys back, “Baby girl, what are you going to do with so many pairs of sandals in Michigan the rest of the year?” 

“Says you.”  

“Oh?” 

“You literally have a million pairs of shoes. Your closet is insane.”

It dawns on her, what she just said. 

Oh. 

Not good. 

It’s the fucking heat. At least, the discomfort can’t blotch her cheeks any more than they already are. 

She knows that if she looked at him now, she would see Rio doing something... obnoxious with his face. He’s probably smirking in that terrible, gloating, dumb, sexy way that he does, but too bad. 

Beth refuses to look at him.

She’s indifferent and unbothered. She’s cool. She’s the kind of Beth that would never ever even think about his closet or daydream about them folding clothes together or fucking on-- 

So, instead, she snaps her laptop close with a final click. The sandals were a half-brained idea anyway and that was a conclusion she already came to on her own. Thank you very much, boss. 

She starts to get up but then Rio’s hand reaches out to curl around her thigh, pinning her to the bed. He squeezes her leg gently, as he has the audacity to shush her. 

It’s enough impetus for Beth to rear her head back to meet his gaze again and level him with her most withering glare. 

And, what do you know? She was correct. He appears to be very entertained. 

This time she feels the heat surge on her face and knows without a doubt that it shows on top of the heat rash.  

“Yeah, so… are you ever gonna tell me what you were doin’ at my house?”

“No.” She snipes, prim. 

“No?”

“I wasn’t doing anything.” It's outright untruth.

Rio’s amused disbelief and her defensiveness meet in a standoff. Beth knows from experience he’ll try to wait her out and she gnashes her teeth. 

Then, there’s a twitch of movement at her thigh, the flex of fingers she realizes are still there and Beth registers the warm span of his hand a few inches above her knee. Her gaze darts down to look at where he’s touching her. He glances down, too. Together they watch as his thumb slowly strokes her skin. Then, again. 

They both observe as the muscles in her thighs just perceptively clench.

God, him and her, in this bed. 

His voice softens to that ridiculous mumble, both low and rich. “Aw, c’mon, darlin’. You can tell me.” 

The tone raises her hackles -- as if she wasn’t already too familiar with this trap! She tries to affect nonchalance -- she’s cool -- and shrugs, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Rio grins. It’s sharp like a knife and charming. She hates that he’s the most attractive person she’s ever met. “You liked my closet?” 

Then, an idea comes to her-- how she can best him at his own little game.

Beth curls on her side towards him. Her cleavage deepens and god, she can instantly feel more sweat bloom but she knows what he likes. The line of their bodies is parallel, only separated by an inch or two. They’re sharing the breeze from the fans now and wisps of her hair have gotten loose from her bun and are blowing into her face. Rio’s hand shifts to resettle and it drifts up to stroke her hair back behind her ear. Then it drops to curl at her waist. And you know -- nice move -- but she can do him one better.

“Yes,” Beth says simply. She brings her hands up to trace along the neck of his shirt, across his pecs, and the expanse of skin she hasn’t seen since that afternoon of Before. “I didn’t see this though.” 

Then, in a moment of haughty malice, her fingers find the notch of his clavicle. She watches his throat bob as he swallows hard and she counts the success. She ignores the tell-tale temptation to gift him more bruises, to kiss him… 

The thought occurs to her, distantly, slowly emerging through the fog of heat, that if she tugged the fabric to the side a bit, she’d find one of the scars she gave him. Her hands become clammy and they retreat. 

“You like it?” Rio’s voice comes out a smidge hoarse. But, perhaps only someone who knows him like her would notice. 

Beth shrugs a shoulder. 

His eyes are bright as he looks back at her. His gaze shifts crass, laden with the suggestion of sex, and there’s a tinge there that's not quite sour per se. But, it’s heavy with the particular weight of who they are now. His line of sight deliberately drops to her cleavage with old, salacious purpose. 

It’s not the way he looked at her that day, that one time (or two).  

Self-rebuffed, Beth tries not to think too much about how she hates that Rio caught her dressed like this. She itches to pull her top up to her neck or scramble off the bed to find something else to throw on. She itches to disappear entirely or to retreat into her bathroom (and see if this time he’ll follow her there too). 

Slowly, in performance, Rio moves the fingers at her waist and dips them under the edge of her tank top. He traces teasingly underneath along her sweaty skin. 

“I like this.” Rio says, biting his lower lip lewdly, tugging along the hem of her shirt. 

And Beth feels-- she feels--

Too hot. 

Too objectified. 

Her stomach drops and she wants to crawl out of her skin. This wasn’t, this isn’t-- This isn’t what it was. 

No matter who they are this minute, whatever mess continues to unfold, this isn’t what that day was.  

She won’t let him ruin it. 

“You know I did really like your closet. I liked your shoe racks--” she scrambles, trying to dangle a little of what he wants and to remind him. “Your pictures. Nice touch.” 

The comment serves its purpose. It makes him pause, sufficiently rebuked by all the ways that she knows him. 

Rio extricates his hand, pulls away from her skin, as she tries again to calm herself. She needs to be cool, cool, cool. 

But, it’s unbearable -- who they are now.  

She feels frazzled and depleted as she watches Rio roll onto his back. He looks up at her ceiling, not at her. “Why can’t you be honest with me for once?” He says it tiredly, without artifice. 

She can’t stand it. 

“You’re one to talk.”  

Beth watches as Rio is now the one gritting his teeth. 

“Y’know--” There’s a poignant, festering beat and then he says, “When I fucked you in this bed, I had wanted…” 

More. 

That want goes unsaid, suspended in the air around them with the heat. 

“But, you just wanted me to fuck you,” he finishes quietly, leveling her. 

Her stomach bottoms out newly pained and she wonders if that day, those two times, are already ruined for him. Certainly, she can understand if it’s because of the bullets. But, if he still has any doubt-- 

She makes a last-ditch attempt at levity. 

“You’d probably say this is really… basic bitch of me.” The phrase fits awkwardly, and the call back immediately has Rio’s attention. She knows in her race to pull something together, to make it better, something bearable, whatever she’s going to say is going to be too candid.

“Yeah?”

“But, the times that I’ve been the most… attracted to you--” Oh god, this isn’t coming out light and casual at all. Oh no. 

Rio shakes his head at her, “Don’t stop now, Elizabeth.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Beth huffs. Then, she tries again. “One is definitely when you were bashing in that butt-ugly car.” 

Rio’s eyebrows raise comically high. 

“You know with the crowbar,” She gestures, swinging her hand gratuitously. He absolutely already knows what she’s talking about. 

“And two..”  Beth shuts her eyes and takes a steadying breath. She hopes for the best and tries not to rush the next bit. “--was when I saw your closet was color-coordinated.” 

She sneaks a glance at him, and her stomach twists again.

He has absolutely no business looking so fondly at her. 

She strives to clarify. “But, that was before.” 

“Not anymore?”

“No.” 

Rio nods, presumably in acceptance of her refusal. 

But, then he tugs her to him, across him. Beth settles on top of him, too hot, too sweaty. Her forehead comes to rest, pressed against the soft hollow of his neck.  

[macchiatooru]

ᴬⁿ ᵃˡˡ⁻ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ³ʳᵈ ᵍʸᵐ ˢq���ᵃᵈ?

With Kenma? And Lev and Hinata? Absolute College AU vibes? Despite my doubts about the productivity, I definitely need this. It’s around 1AM as I type, and I literally have three papers to finish, with one due tomorrow. HAHAHAHAHA. (I wrote this note last night, so it’s not entirely applicable now, but well- I have to submit the second tomorrow and the third the following day... I hope HAHAHA)

Note: If you’re also up at such ungodly hours and want to add to this when you’re stuck with a paper too, or a lesson, or something, go ahead! If you want to modify something, don’t hesitate to say it!

The situation, for example, is that you’re writing a paper, and you don’t know how to continue it anymore. Luckily, you have enough options to kill the time until your brain is working properly again. The apartment―whoever owns it, maybe you guys were sharing or had connecting ones or were neighbors or whatnot―would literally look like, I don’t know, a convention? It’s like there are different stalls with different activities. Take your pick!

Tsukishima’s Corner:

I can imagine that he has this set-up in the far end of the living room where he has a table against the wall and a chair with a blanket on it

And he always has a drink with him, whether it’s a soda or an Iced Americano. (that just gave me Yoongi vibes ahhh my heart)

Of course, he has his headphones on. Not surprising.

He’s pretty calm when he does his schoolwork, and his focus is just wow

So, don’t expect him to pay attention to you that much. Again, not surprising.

If you have an actual question though, I think you can ask him!

He’ll help you out, but be wary of the sass and teasing.

It’s highly possible for him to annoy the shit out of you before you guys solve the problem, btw.

If you have chips with you, he’ll take some without asking permission smh but he’s so idufhsdbkfhda can you really say no?

You can get back at him by repetitively calling him “Tsukki”.

“Cut it out.”

“No can do, Tsu~ Kki!”

Emphasize! the! syllables! because he probably lowkey thinks it’s kinda cute

Unless he doesn’t and he throws the blanket at your face to shut you up

Don’t annoy him when he’s in a bad mood, okay?

He’ll really appreciate it if you give him space on those days

But he’ll also appreciate it so so so much if you’re the one who hands him his usual drink.

Despite being the person who could really rile you up the most

He’s actually nice... in his own way!

Lev and Hinata’s “Quiet” Pile of Pillows:

What am I even saying?

There’s nothing quiet about that part of the living room.

Lev and Hinata like studying in their “own kind of comfort”

And that is with their “study” blankets―they have separate ones for sleeping―on the floor and their pillows on top.

They study with the TV on

A series on Netflix is playing the entire time.

Nobody minds, really, because for some reason, most of you can study with some noise in the background. Those who can’t, however, just listen to music on their own.

They have hot or iced chocolate―depends on their mood―made either by you, Akaashi, or Kuroo.

You never asked Bokuto to do it again. Never again.

One time, he made the mistake of giving the “kids” coffee, and well, was that some night.

Lev and Hinata have common classes, so they work on some of their assignments together.

Expect them to be very excited when they get something right and very frustrated when they can’t understand what they’re doing.

Probably just a spot for you to take a quick break, maybe lie your head down on Lev’s favorite pillow to annoy him.

It’s not because he doesn’t want to share, but because you just took it right out of his lap.

They’ll be really happy kiddos if you join them! Please give these babies the attention they need.

Also, it helps to give them snacks to shut them up.

Bokuto’s Spot on the Couch:

That became his permanent spot after Akaashi sent him there because of that one time that big baby reaaally got on his nerves.

He has a pillow supporting his back as he leans against an armrest, legs stretched out in front of him and laptop on his, well, lap. HAHAHA sorry

He also likes working with the TV on, so it was a suitable place for him.

Bokuto’s drink would either be a can of soda or a protein shake.

Keep your phone on standby.

You have to take a pic of the pouty face he makes when he doesn’t get something.

He’s so cute he can have my heart-

“Akaashiiiii~ Why won’t you help me out?”

Akaashi would remind him that not only was he a year higher, but he also had a different major.

*cue Bo’s emo mode with matching droopy hair fml he’s literally so cute*

He gets distracted easily because he never puts his phone on silent

Probably chats with Konoha idk

Or gets carried away watching game highlights.

He already startled all of you a few times.

“OOOOOOOOOOOH. DAAAAAAAAAAAMN. THAT WAS SO GOOD.”

“Bokuto-san-”

If you choose to go to him, he can’t really help you with the paper you’re writing.

However, he gives THE BESTEST HUGS!

I think a lot of us agree that he’s a walking heater, so getting a hug from that beefy boi? Especially when it’s cold?

H E A V E N

Or that’s just me being biased, but is it really just me?

I love him.

Kuroo’s Kitchen Kounter:

Now, I’m definitely sure I’m being biased because- I mean- JUST-

One of the kitchen counters faces the common living area where everyone is spread out.

Imagine walking from wherever you were previously just staring at your laptop with that constant 132 words plastered on the corner of the screen and you’re well-aware that it has to be 2000 by tomorrow

And seeing business-related major Kuroo, sitting on a stool, immersed in his work, Excel sheets and documents being the only inhabitants of his laptop screen?

I’m literally giving myself away I-

He has glasses on and he’s tapping the end of his pen on his chin and at this point I’m hyperventilating

THE FACE HE MAKES WHEN HE CONCENTRATES

From time to time, he would swivel the stool around, take a sip of the black iced coffee he always brews at night, and eat whatever snack was available (e.g. chips, popcorn, sandwiches, instant noodles, sometimes asks Bokuto to make another protein shake, etc.)

He doesn’t really listen to music and can easily drown out the noise on his own because he concentrates so much.

You can always count on him to entertain you

Because despite the amount of focus he puts into his homework and problem sets, he also wants any excuse to tear his eyes of his screen.

He’s good at papers, so he can help you with that in the best way he can

Also asks if you would like to take a break and grab a snack with him

And can be a flirt if he’s in the mood, but when he’s tired, he has a soft and sleepy smile (except he’s not really sleepy because of the coffee, he’s just not putting that much effort)

Although he will annoy and provoke you while the two of you are on break

He’s the best person to cry to when you’re really stressed out.

I want him.

Akaashi’s Atelier:

He literally owns the dining table, his work neatly spread out.

I can almost imagine him studying architecture

But nah I guess he just really likes practicing how to capture anything and everything he can observe

And by capturing, I really mean that there’s a pile of photos there somewhere.

Afterwards, he draws them, paying attention to every detail.

He finishes schoolwork before any of you do.

His concentration surpasses that of Kuroo’s, no joke.

You can’t disturb him when he’s working on his academic requirements, so come back later when he’s sketching the hours away.

If you want to do your paper beside him though? Go.

His concentration is not only top tier but also contagious.

He’ll share the dining table, but only to you and, occasionally, Kuroo.

Bokuto? Only if he’s super emo.

Akaashi’s really nice!

He’ll initiate a conversation with you if you’re taking a break and he’s just on his sketchbook or experimenting with graphic design or something.

If you want to see a passionate but shy Akaashi, ask him what he’s working on.

I just know his eyes will literally light up.

He might be drinking tea, mint tea?

Water most of the time, but he always smells like mint and fresh laundry ahhh be still, my heart

Go to him if you really want to be productive and not get distracted by anything else because his eyes and the way he’s so into what he’s doing might actually be what distracts you

He is the epitome of grace under pressure, such a beautiful human being ha ha ha I wish

Kenma’s Den:

Well, what did you really expect?

Nah, kidding.

Kenma’s the only one in his room because he’s probably streaming.

His audience is mostly up at night, so yeah.

He definitely has ramen, chips, and soda

Which he’s willing to share with you as long as you don’t mess his game up don’t try I swear

Tbh, it’s actually really comforting to stay in his room especially when you’re really stressed out.

You can rest your eyes and take a quick nap.

He knows that he should wake you up after fifteen minutes, so don’t worry about sleeping through the night without finishing your paper.

He’s so sweet please

It’s so comforting to hear his fingers tapping away, a literal lullaby that gets you every time.

At some point, some people probably caught you slipping under his duvet IT WAS YOUR FIRST LOWKEY SCANDAL HAHAHAHAHA

Which lasted for just an hour because Kenma’s viewers knew him enough to know what his facial expressions meant

He definitely can’t help you with your paper. Such a busy boi.

But if he’s in the lobby that’s what you call it, right? of whatever game he’s playing, he’s willing to listen to your rants.

A quiet listener, but you know that he genuinely cares about you.

Massage his shoulders if you can! He likes that.

───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☪ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────

background photo by NeONBRAND on unsplash

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-3)

Word count: 3.8K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Some angst, some fluff, mention of depression

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​​ I love you, Athina <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

Monday morning rose brighter than it had a right to be; to the point that the sun was stabbing you in the eyes. You had been over and over the plan in your head throughout the weekend. By now, you were absolutely sure that you had mapped every second of the day and nothing could go out of hand.

The plan went sideways almost as soon as it started.

You dropped your bag at the threshold of the lecture room with a loud crash. All of the last row turned to look at who was that much of a klutz. You did not meet anyone’s eye as you took a seat at the very end of the top row. Maybe that would make you inconspicuous.

It did not.

“Y/N!”

Madison slid next to you on the bench, followed by her brood of friends. Lacey and the other two, whose names you didn’t remember.

“How are you, Sweetie?” Madison asked sympathetically. “You looked awfully ill when you left the other day. We were so worried about you! Weren’t we, Mer?”

Meredith- you remembered her name now- did not look worried in the least.

“What happened?” Madison asked.

“I was just really faint,” you answered automatically, having anticipated this. “I’m feeling much better now. Thank you so much.”

Madison looked relieved. “I’m so glad, Y/N. I wanted to check on you over the weekend, but I didn’t have your number or knew where you lived. You have to give me your number right away.”

You did, and she texted you immediately.

“Awesome!” she said. “Now you have my number, too.”

You tried to smile. “Hey, if it’s not too much, could you tell me what I missed in the two days?”

Madison became animated instantly. “Well, lets see. After you left, there was advanced legal writing by professor Mills, then Supreme Court Litigation by Professor Mcleod and Organisation and transactions law after that. Most of Friday was free except for another lecture by Professor Mills. I have the notes. Once you put your email id on the class database, I’ll forward mine to you.”

“That’s seriously more than I can ask from you,” you said, feeling small. 

She placed her hand on top of yours. “You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“Thank you!” You said, looking down.

Madison huffed. “You thank me too much, Y/N! Besides, you really didn’t miss any of the fun.”

“What do you mean?”

“Professor Winchester didn’t show up either,” Lacey giggled. “Didn’t we turn up fifteen minutes early for his class on Thursday? And the man never came.”

Your stomach lurched, a feeling you hadn’t quite experienced in years had you feeling lightheaded. 

“Well, he didn’t completely disappear,” said the blonde. “He did turn up for the last half an hour of his lecture on Friday and outlined the syllabus of the semester.”

“He looked stiff and serious. Nothing like his first day here. And even that day he stormed off, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Madison nodded. “Right after you left, Y/N. It was a bit weird.”

You swallowed nervously, your forehead already clammed up. What was it? Was it fear or worry that you felt for Sam? You had been so wrapped up in your chaos that you hadn’t stopped to consider about Sam, assuming that he must have grown passive and wouldn’t care about the past anymore.

Sam had looked warm and at ease with himself that day, happy even, while you had only survived all these years. You’d be lying to yourself, if you said that the image of Sam on the podium, smiling at the students hadn’t felt like a knife in your gut.

But if he had not turned up for classes either… did that mean….

There was noise at the front and you saw Sam on the podium. He looked every bit as dressed up and neat as he had on your first day, if not a bit more severe. 

He greeted the class curtly, and instantly jumped to the lesson. You tried not to stare, but it was hard to look away. It was harder still to keep looking. His features seemed more angular now, and he was definitely leaner than when you had first set your eyes on him. Today he was dressed in a dark grey suit and no tie, the button at his throat was undone.

He spoke for an hour about the merger of disputes and cases where it had benefited the original plaintiffs and not once did his eyes stray towards the corner of the class where you sat. It was as if he was deliberately avoiding that very portion of the classroom. He wasn’t genial today. A good teacher, just like he always had been, but absolutely formal. When the class ended, he retrieved the attendance sheet from a kid in the first row and exited the class.

“Well, that was quite intense,” whooshed Meredith. “Hadn’t pegged him for the serious sort.”

Blonde hair giggled at the double entendre, and you almost gagged. 

“He’s actually quite good,” Madison murmured, uncharacteristically serious. “He knows what he is talking about.”

Absentmindedly, you nodded. Not that you had paid much attention to the lecture, what with your heart struck in your throat.

The classes that followed weren’t as eventful as the morning and you were more than grateful about it. The other professors all seemed so knowledgeable and expert. You had enough on your mind by the time you left the university, your plate already full of assignments.

When you got home, Meg was sprawled on one of the two sofas that came with the house and were perched in the living room.

“Hey,” you said tentatively.

Meg raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised that you were initiating a conversation after a whole week of thoroughly avoiding her. 

“Hey,” she said. 

You placed your bad and laptop on the side table at the entrance and went to sit on the empty sofa. “I’m sorry about not greeting you earlier… I was going through some stuff.”

“Clearly,” she snorted.

The hurt must have shown in your eyes, because she straightened up into a sitting position.. “I’m not offended,” she said. “Locking myself in my room and avoiding human contact like it’s the fucking plague is my monthly PMS schedule. I’m not mad or anything.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed out.

Meg looked amused. “Your face is like an open book,” she said. “If you keep that up, you’re going to be a terrible lawyer.”

You didn’t fight her on it. It was a problem… it always had been. Over the years mostly it had been a blank and your boss had commented on your excellent poker face… but clearly even the dumb expressive face was back with all the feelings.

“I don’t know what you’re studying,” you changed the topic.

“MS, Applied physics.”

“Damn. That sounds hard.”

Meg chuckled. “You really think that, don’t you? You look terrified.”

You rearranged your expression into what was just polite interest. Enough with Meg’s expert face reading class.

“You wanna grab dinner?” Meg asked.

“Sure,” you said. “What’re we doing?”

“I made some stir fry. I didn’t know if you’d be up for dinner, though.”

You felt terrible about skipping the meals and in turn her company over the past week. 

“No worries,” she said, getting up. “I’ll just toss some pasta and we’re good to go.”

“Hey, Meg?” You asked, “I see you’ve stocked up the pantry. It’s incredibly kind of you. I might drive to the supermarket tomorrow after classes, why don’t you let me know if there’s anything you want.”

She looked at you with some surprise and a hint of actual liking. “Sure. We can make a list over food.”

“Great,” you smiled.

The rest of the week passed without any more surprises, and you took your time to settle in… getting to know Stanford- both, the University and the town. You attended all lectures regularly and gave your hundred percent effort to every assignment.

In classes, you listened with utmost concentration… all except one. Civil Procedure wasn’t a lecture, it was slow seething torture. Watching Sam talk on the podium, interacting with students simply made it hard to breathe. The walls of the lecture room converged in on you while you gasped for air. On Sam’s part, he ignored you completely. It was as if you didn’t exist at all. Over the course of the week, his stiff, formal stance loosened and you could see more and more of the guy who had introduced himself on the first day. You didn’t know what you had been expecting from him? That one day he would suddenly look at you with hatred and throw you out of the class? That he’d lose his mind and yell at you? Ask you the questions that you didn’t want to answer?

But even for all that, he’d have to acknowledge your presence. Look at you. Somehow the ignoring and pretending that you didn’t exist was so, so much worse. It was killing you. Every second of the class, you fought your tears. However, you did not miss a single class. 

Apart from those two hours everyday, you were doing well, all things considered. On Thursday, you packed more food than just your lunch, and after classes, walked to the Green Library. It was just as breathtaking as it had been on the first day. You set out to find that one table that felt right. After a quarter of an hour of testing and teasing, you finally found a desk that looked oh so inviting. It wasn’t the one below the tall, arching windows, but rather a small desk niched between the bookshelves. It was perfect.

You unloaded your bag, and set to work with the assignments that had been set for the class by Professor Mills. You personally thought Jody Mills was a total badass. She took up cases that others were too scared to touch. Her assignments didn’t require you to reference too many books, so you could make yourself comfortable in the chair. Your mind wandered as the time passed. There were a lot of things to be thought through. For starters, if you had to afford living here, you needed a job. Your savings would last a couple of months at most.  The expense of moving across the country then having to pay for the lease of the apartment had taken a massive toll on your bank account. By the time holiday season began, you’d be as broke as the china in your grandma’s old cabinet.

Earlier, you had put in an application at the Student’s employment centre for oncampus jobs. You weren’t hopeful, given the number of applications they received, but you sure meant to check in on them next week in hopes that something suitable might have come up.

It was past 8 in the evening when you finally wrapped your stuff up, somewhat satisfied with how your assignment had turned out. You lowkey congratulated yourself on finishing it a week before the deadline as you made your way back home, crashing the minute you found your bed.

********************

18th July 2008

“Y/N! There’s someone here to see you!” Jo hollered from somewhere in the living room.

Thankfully the door to the room you were sharing with Jo was open.

“Coming!” You yelled back, wondering who could it possibly be. Maybe it was the postman with your grandma’s letter. She was a weird old lady who still loved writing handwritten letters. Gramps had been to the war and their love story had blossomed over letters sent across borders. Even though gramps had passed away many years ago, she still got that rosy look on her face whenever she talked of him. You wanted a love story like hers. Was it too much to ask for?

You made your way down the steps two at a time, excited for the letter. Maybe she had sent cookies along with it. Oh, how you loved her.

On the bottom step, you stopped. Sam Winchester was standing in the hallway, one hand balancing a lot of books, the other scratching the back of his neck, looking adorable in old jeans and an open button up over his t-shirt.

“Hey!” He said.

You were wearing a loose shirt without a bra over a pair of boy shorts, with hair falling over your shoulders. Needless to say, you were mortified. 

“Give me two minutes,” you muttered and rushed back upstairs. 

As you were pulling on a pair of leggings, it occurred to you how dumb the interaction had been. He was here to see you and neither had you invited him in nor asked him why he was here.

To add to your embarrassment, when you returned downstairs, he was still standing at the bottom of the stairs five minutes later, exactly where you had left him.

“Why’re you still standing here? Please come in!” You urged, scandalised that you had kept a guest waiting like that. Gran would have tutted so hard had she been here.

Sam followed you into the living room. Jo was lounging on the smaller sofa chain and you glared at her. She could have easily invited him in when she opened the door.

But no! How else would Y/N suffer in life?

Jo gave you the evil grin and waved to Sam. 

“Would you like something to drink?” You asked, not meeting his eyes.

“I’ll have coffee!” Jo ordered and you threw her the stink eye again. 

You gave Sam a chagrined look. “I’ll put the pot on the stove for her anyway. Do you want coffee?”

He looked like he was trying very hard to smile. “Black please. With half a spoon of sugar.”

You tried to calm your nerves as the pot boiled. Being a nervous wreck wasn’t going to help your case.

When you brought the two mugs of coffee outside, Sam was reading one of the books he had bought along and Jo was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Jo?” You asked, carefully placing the steaming mug before him on the table.

Sam shrugged. “She said she suddenly felt sleepy. And that you should drink her coffee because you both like it the same way.”

Oh, that sly girl.

“So, what brings you here?” You asked, taking a seat next to him on the sofa.

Sam smiled shyly. “You said you could use a second pair of eyes for the application.”

He had come all the way from wherever he stayed just to help you with the applications? 

“Really?” 

“Sure.” He tilted his head, the bangs on his forehead sliding to one side. He just had such beautiful hazel eyes. You have to avert your gaze so you wouldn’t just blatantly stare at him.

You excused yourself a second time and pulled out all your application stuff. Forms, copies of essays, documents and everything. It would be absolutely stupid to not make the most of this opportunity. 

Sam took his time with all of it, going through each paper carefully and you counted your breaths to keep away the anxiety. At least he wasn’t laughing at how ridiculous your applications were. That was something. When he was done, he slowly put the papers down and looked up at you.

“Where else have you applied?” He asked.

You told him.

“You didn’t think of applying to any major universities?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t think I had a chance… and I don’t even think I was cut out for those.”

Sam reached out to place his hand on top of yours. A tingling sensation went up your spine. “Y/N! This looks great. Your essays are top notch. You should apply to Ivy Leagues.”

“I’ve already missed deadlines for them… and there are some good universities on my list as well.”

“But you deserve better!” He insisted.

You shrugged. “I don’t have that sort of money, and before you say scholarships, I don’t have those types of recommendations either. I come from a small town. People who are born there, spend their whole lives in the same house. They are happy with what they have.”

“Are you happy with what you have?” He asked, the light from the setting sun hitting his face, illuminating those eyes so they looked like burning topaz.

“I’m happy,” you said, looking at your lap where his hand rested on yours. He seemed to have forgotten about it. “But I know I can do better… for myself and my Gran.”

You made the mistake of looking up then… into his eyes, and they were closer than you had expected them to be. As if, he had no control over it, his hand reached out to touch your hair, the fingertips caressing your cheek on their way there. Slowly, but surely, he drew your face towards his… and you went, willingly. His lips had barely grazed yours when there was a loud noise in the hallway.

You sprang apart. 

“Y/N!” It was Jo.

Ordinarily, you’d have flicked your tongue at her or something for interrupting like that. Afterall, she was the one who kept egging on you to get lucky, and the one time you had… that too with Sam frigging Winchester, she had to come barging into the room. Uhgg… Jo was going to get it.

But her face was completely white, and her hand, which was holding the phone, was shaking.

“Y/N,” she whispered again. Your neighbour called. It's your grandma… she passed away last night. 

********************

You woke up in a cold sweat to the sound of the blaring alarm.

Gran!

The worry felt so fresh, you had to remind yourself that it had been seven years since she had passed away. Grief was peculiar like that… even after years and years of feeling it, some days it just felt fresh and new. Sad memories opened up the box of more memories, not all of them sad. The thought of gran was always accompanied by a warm feeling and memory of sunlit kitchen, and freshly baked bread.

This… dream or whatever it was had triggered more than just that… you could almost feel the whisper of Sam’s lips on yours. You had suppressed it so long that the feeling was almost forgotten now and how it ached knowing that you would never feel it again. The raw, desperate part of you tried to cling on to that feeling, the memory of his touch. It was three in the night, no one could blame you for wanting this comfort of your own memories. As painful as they were when you were completely in your senses, in this darkness, they were all yours to do what you pleased with them. However, like a dream, the memories kept evading your grasp. The more you tried to hold on it, the further away it slipped. Sleep eluded you completely after that.

Needless to say, you were tired and sleepy and irritated by the time the last lecture for the week commenced. You hadn’t memorised the lecture schedule yet…. you only knew when the Civil Procedure class was. First lecture on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday and the last lecture of Thursday and Friday. Lacey had mentioned something about Sam having to travel to the City for work on the first three days. 

Sam was dressed more informally today. He was without a coat and glasses, hair just a little out of order… less sleek.

“Oooohhh looks like the professor had a rough night!” Lacey giggled.

“You don’t know that,” Madison shushed. “Maybe he’s single.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lacey rolled her eyes. “He lives in the faculty residence on Alverado row. And his house is definitely a family house, not a bachelors pad… So that means he at least has a woman.”

You caught your breath. Alverado row was right behind your Santa Ynes street, where you lived. Literally right behind, less than a block away. You knew a majority senior faculty staff resided there, but it had never crossed your mind...

“I don’t see no ring,” snarked Rebecca, Madison's blonde friend, who was sitting a row ahead of you to the left.

You quickly looked. She was right… there was no ring. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Doesn’t have to be a wife,” Lacey made a face. “Could be just a girlfriend.”

“Whatever,” Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t mean we can’t try our luck.”

It stung, listening to them talk about it stung more than you wanted to admit even to yourself.

“Before we start today's lesson, I have a question for you,” Sam said, calling everyone’s attention and the gossip promptly stopped.

“Basic Property damage,” he said. “The plaintiff has proved beyond a shadow of doubt that the defendant is liable. The only issue of debate which remains is the amount of damages to be recovered. Before the last hearing, new evidence comes to light about a completely unrelated matter where the plaintiff has unintentionally harmed the defendant. If you were playing the part of the DA, what would be your obvious course of action.”

‘Settlement’ you muttered to yourself, just loud enough for the few people around you to hear.

“Anyone?” Sam asked, and on cue, Rebecca raised her hand.

“Settlement!” She called out.

“That’s correct,” Sam said, “It should occur to you faster than lightning to draw out a settlement. Good job there. That was quick.”

Next to her, Madison was looking at her friend incredulously. Then she turned around and gave you a sorry look. The boy sitting on her opposite side, the blond one, who had snickered at you on the first day also raised an eyebrow.

You didn’t care one way or another if Rebecca got the praise for your answer. You were simply relieved that you got that answer right… and that you were able to concentrate in the class better than you had been able to uptil now.

Perhaps that was the reason that it caught your attention, the quickest flick of Sam’s chin in your direction, before he stiffly averted his gaze. When the class ended, few students rushed to Sam’s desk, while you made to leave the room.

“Hey!”

You turned to see the blond dude standing right next to you.

“Y/N, isn’t it?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Brad,” he offered his hand. “Brad Rowan.”

“Nice to meet you.” you murmured, shaking his hand whilst glancing at the door. 

“So, we have a party tomorrow evening,” he said, grinning with too much confidence. “Down at the western dorms. Everyone cool is coming. You should, too.”

“Thank you,” you said politely. “But I already have plans for the weekend.”

“Better than spending time with me?” He winked, stepping ever so slightly in front of you.

You were firm this time. “Yes.”

“Oh, let her be, Brad.” It was Madison, who had come sauntering down the aisle. “If she says she’s busy, she probably is. We’ll miss you, Y/N!”

You threw her a grateful look… Madison didn’t seem to catch it.

You said your goodbyes to her and Brad and left the room quickly.

Maybe it was your imagination, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sam’s gaze flicker towards you… if only for one moment.

********************  

A/N 2: The next chapter is Sam’s POV ;) So we’ll finally know what’s up with him, huh ;)

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[just-a-cheese-stick]

Naeleon week Day 1- confession (non despair au)

@naeleonweek2020

Makoto and Leon had been best friends since the start of their time at Hopes peak. They started talking to each other when they were placed in most of the same classes their first year.

It started when Leon tossed a note to Makoto’s desk, joking about something the teacher said that sounded weird out of context. At first, Makoto decided not to read it since he was in class, but as the kid next to him kept tossing more and more notes, he gave in.

Makoto read each note, each one making him smile without fail. He glanced back at the boy tossing them to him to give a chuckle, only to see who it was.

Before hopes peak, the lucky student had done some research on the other ultimates who were soon to be his classmates. He recognized that particular boy as the ultimate baseball star, Leon Kuwata.

Funny since he didn’t remember Leon’s hair being as scruffy as it was in his pictures.

Makoto was taken aback by this for a second, but responded with a small chuckle.

He took out a paper of his own from his notebook and a pen to respond to the other.

“Why are you throwing notes to me?” He folded the note neatly and slid it to the baseball player sitting across from him.

Leon noticed the neatly folded piece of loose-leaf paper slid over to his desk, and reached down to grab it.

He opened the response from the smaller boy who sat across from him and smiled a bit at it. He picked up his pencil and scribbled a response before attempting to replicate the neat folding of the note when it was passed to him before passing it back.

“Idk you seem nice”

Makoto saw the response, and tried to resist smiling ear to ear. Someone cool and popular like Leon wanted to make conversation with someone as basic as him? He stared at the note feeling his face heat up, before picking up his pen to send a message back to him.

They continued their chat throughout the class introduction, agreeing to meet up at lunch. They had been best friends ever since.

Now it was December. The two had been best friends for 3 months now. They were each others confidants, as well as best friends. Leon sometimes jokingly called Makoto his soulmate, since they understand each other so well.

But that statement was more than just a joke to Leon. He started to notice he was growing feelings for the brunette. Feelings way more intense than he’s felt for any other girl he’s ever met.

He could try and deceive himself, say it’s just what a true friendship is. But at the bottom of his heart he knew he had it bad for Makoto.

Midterm season drew close, which had everyone stressed and dreading the exams.

While Leon could usually care less, Makoto really wanted him to do well. So for him, Leon studied for the midterms. While it wasn’t too much, he still wanted to make Makoto happy.

The two even studied together in their dorms and in the library. Leon still got distracted a lot, but he was actually putting in effort. That made Makoto really happy. And afterwards, they’d walk off school campus to the coffee shop down the street and hang out.

Exam day came, and just walking into the exam hall, it was easy to tell everyone was stressed, tired, anxious, or all of the above. It was freezing outside. Snow was falling at quick speeds in high winds. Some people brought blankets or extra jackets into school. Others huddled into themselves or simply ignored the cold. Nonetheless, it was frigid indoors and out.

Makoto sat down in his assigned desk and took out his phone for them to collect, in order to ensure nobody cheats or gets distracted.

The desks were placed 4 by 4 rows, and students were sat in alphabetical order of their last names.

Aoi sat in the very front of the first row of desks. Behind her was Junko, who sat in front of Chihiro. In the back of the first row was Hiro, and in the front of the second was Mukuro, Junko’s twin sister. Sitting behind her was Kiyotaka, who appeared to be the only person who didn’t look like a zombie. Actually, he seemed quite eager to receive the first exam paper. Behind him sat kirigiri, who would be the runner up in The Who-Looks-The-Least-Lifeless challenge. She kept her calm and quiet nature constant, but appeared slightly tired nonetheless. In the very back of the row was Toko, who was too busy reading something to be paying attention to the cold. In the front of the third row was leon, who, unlike the two diagonal from him, looked like he was going to fall asleep any second now. Behind him was Celeste, who sat in front of sayaka, who was wearing a fuzzy looking hoodie with bear ears at the hood. She definitely looked comfortable. Makoto sat behind the three, and he looked exhausted. He brought a blanket into the exam hall and was wrapped in it, still shivering a little in the cold. At the front of the fourth row was Sakura. She appeared a little tired, which was odd, but not as odd as it would be in the situation they were in. Behind her sat Mondo, who had huddled himself into his jacket, and was trying to hide it. Togami and yamada sat in the two chairs behind him. Both, like toko, seemed too invested in a book to care about their surroundings or the cold.

Jin kirigiri came to the front of the exam hall designated for class 77B and loudly clearing his throat to silence the low chatter, turning the room silent.

From the corner of his eye, Makoto could see kyoko furrowing her eyebrows a little bit at her father. She mentioned once that he often overworked her to the point he refused to let her see her mother as she was on her death bed. The two had rocky relations ever since.

The headmaster began stating the exam rules and expectations, which, very little people paid much attention to.

“Please power off anyelectronic devices and place them on your desk so I can come around and collect them. You will get them back as you leave the exam hall when you’re dismissed.”

School bags and satchels could be heard unzipping almost in unison at that statement. Soon, phones and laptops were placed at the corner of nearly every desk, soon to be confiscated and replaced with a thick packet of papers and a #2 pencil. With that, the exam started.

It was like that every day of that week, leading up to Friday. Every day it snowed buckets, and every day people came into the exam hall cold and tired, and every day they took a midterm exam.

Friday afternoon. Makoto was one of the last ones in the exam hall, finishing his last part of the midterm. The only other people with him were hiro, leon, and mondo.

despite there being no windows in the gymnasium, Makoto could hear the snowstorm picking up.

“I hope everyone’s ok” he thought to himself. He was especially worried since this was when students began to clear out for winter break. His parents weren’t going to be able to come until Sunday, so he was glad they’d be safe.

He finally got to the last question. To his delight, it was a question on a topic he was really familiar with.

With eagerness, he aced the last question and got up from the desk, walking to the front table to turn in the finished exam.

Finally. His exams were done. He was so tired, physically and mentally. Finally. He’d be able to take a rest.

Makoto drowsily walked back to his dorm and flopped down on the bed.

He tried to nap, but he couldn’t sleep. His mind was racing. A lot of things were fuzzed together and racing thorough his head. He was stressed, tired, overwhelmed, and worn out.

But, there was one thing that remained constant on his mind. Leon. He’d recently been having dreams about him quite frequently. Dreams where he asks him out and he says yes. But he always wakes up from them knowing that will never happen. It was pretty clear to him that he had a crush on the redhead. But he never had the guts to say anything. But for whatever reason, he wanted to be close to him more than anything in the world.

But he was too tired.

He stayed in his dorm, gazing blankly at the ceiling; occasionally glancing at his window to watch the snow storm. It was pretty bad outside. Close to blizzard speeds, quite frankly.

He checked his phone to make sure the weather would be clear enough to get home Sunday when he heard a knock at his door. He got up and shuffled towards the door to open it, feeling a wave of cold corse down his body as his feet touched the floor. He turned the doorknob and opened it to be greeted by Leon standing in the doorway, looking excited about something.

“You’ll never believe this, but when I got my phone back, I checked my notifs and saw I got a B on my first two exams! Isn’t that awesome?” Leon said sounding proud of himself.

Makoto could feel himself beam ear to ear, pulling his friend into a tight hug. His entire body coursed with pride. He’d seen how hard he was working and it paid off.

Leon hugged back almost instantly squeezing the other out of pure excitement. Both boys were smiling ear to ear.

“Leon that’s amazing!” Makoto said pulling away from the hug.

“I know right?” Leon paused briefly. “Shit man it’s cold in here. Wanna come to my dorm? It’s a bit warmer in there” Leon then added.

Makoto thought for a brief minute. He was really tired— mentally and physically. But on the other hand he really wanted to spend time with Leon before winter break. “Sure”

Makoto picked up his phone and weighted blanket and fallowed him to his dorm, trudging a little. They made it to the Leon’s room and both sat down. “Those exams were exhausting, huh?” Leon stated.

“Yeah” Makoto said with an exhausted sigh.

“I dunno about you but I’m exhausted. I’m gonna-“ but just as Leon was about to finish his sentence, the lights to the dorm room went out.

“Shit was that the power?” Leon muttered under his breath. The entirety of the dorm building appeared significantly darker, and the tv that was on in the background of the dorm had completely shut down. In addition, the winds from the ongoing snowstorm had seemed to have picked up over the past few minutes.

“Yeah, pretty sure,” Makoto replied, slightly more interested in checking out the window and watching the leafless trees swaying violently in the storm.

“Damn” Leon paused. “Wait, that kills the heater too, right?”

“Oh god,” Makoto said starting to panic.

“Well shit!” Leon cursed. “Smart move bringing that blanket, man. But damn that isn’t good”

“Well, maybe we could have a sleepover” Makoto stated optimistically.

Leon turned his head towards him in curiosity. Makoto could tell that was kind of spontaneous, especially to someone who wasn’t komaru.

“Well, when I was younger and we’d lose power, komaru and I would always stay in the other’s room and have little ‘sleepovers’ where we’d stay in each others rooms and build pillow forts. We don’t have to do any of that but maybe we could just talk?” Makoto offered.

Leon thought for a second. He wasn’t used to friends wanting to spend that much time with him. Heck, he wasn’t even used to people he’d dated wanting to spend that much time with him.

“Yeah sure,” Leon replied with a slight smile.

Makoto’s face visibly lit up.

The two stayed up a few hours playing uno and other sleepover games and wearing those soft hoodies you never want to take off and are super comfy.

Before bed, they both snuck down to the kitchen where sayaka, mukuro, and kirigiri were all talking and holding lanterns.

“Oh, hi guys!” Makoto said seeing his friends.

“Oh, hello Makoto,” kirigiri stated calmly. “Need anything?”

“Nope. Just getting some cocoa,” Makoto replied cheerily.

“Wait Sayaka, weren’t you going home today?” Leon asked his friend.

“Mom couldn’t drive in the weather. She’s probably gonna come pick me up tomorrow, or at least when the storm calms,” Sayaka replied.

“Cool. Stay safe dude!” Leon said to his friend.

They made some cocoa and headed back upstairs to the dorms, where the awkward question of sleeping situation came up. Being as the beds in the dorms are somewhat small, they’d either have to smush together and share, or one would take the floor. While both secretly kind of wanted to lay together on the bed and share body heat, Makoto decided to sleep on the floor.

Makoto took his blanket and an extra pillow from the bed and laid down.

“Need anything, I’m here, ok?” Leon said before turning off the lantern that illuminated the room.

“Ok. Night” Makoto replied, shifting in his blanket to get comfy.

“Night”

It was midnight. There was still no luck with the power, and the temperature had only dropped more. The winds were still strong outside, and snow was piling up. On top of that, Makoto was tossing and turning in his sleep, letting out slightly distressed mutters. He curled up into his blanket more to preserve body heat, but was still undoubtedly cold.

Leon is a light sleeper. The slightest changes can wake him up, so hearing the constant shifting and shaking was enough to begin to wake him up.

Eventually, he couldn’t fall back asleep anymore. The constant disturbance was enough to shake him awake, and once he realized the source of the noise, he became worried.

He glanced down at Makoto shifting anxiously in his sleep, letting out almost inaudible whimpers.

Leon contemplated waking him up, but he didn’t want to be overbearing or annoying. He didn’t want to lose this friend. But his worries got the best of him and he gently shook Makoto awake.

Upon waking him up, Leon was met with a pair of drowsy eyes looking up at him.

“Hey, you ok? Sorry for waking you man, just saw you shifting a lot. Wanted to make sure you’re doing alright.” Leon said placing a hand on Makoto’s shoulder.

Makoto looked up at him wordlessly before throwing himself into a hug with him.

Leon was taken aback by this. He clearly did not expect that.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Leon, but I can’t take this anymore! I like you! I like you in a way that’s more than I would like a friend! I’m in love with you, Kuwata! I’m sorry I couldn’t take the dreams and the falling and the embarrassment I couldn’t take it! I’m sorry for being so selfish, but I like you,” Makoto blurted out. Tears started forming in his eyes; purely out of anxiety. Did he really just blurt that out?

Leon stared at him for a moment, completely shocked. But then, he didn’t yell. He didn't leave. He didn’t even tell him he didn’t feel the same way. He hugged him tighter.

“So I’m not weird, huh?” Leon said somewhat under his breath.

“What do you mean?”

“Look man, I like you too. I don’t know if it’s weird or not, but yeah. Never thought you’d like someone like me,” Leon said resting his chin on Makoto’s head.

“You mean it?” Makoto asked, his face lighting up.

“Wouldn’t lie to ya, man. ‘Course I mean it.”

There was a silence. But not an uncomfortable one. It was actually quite pleasant. The two held each other for a while, enjoying the other’s company and warmth.

“Well, if it’s not too quick, would ya wanna come sleep in the bed with me? Floors gotta be cold,” Leon said breaking the silence.

Makoto’s face flushed. But he wasn’t going to say no. He could really use that right now.

“Ok.”

They climbed into the bed together. Makoto dragged his weighted blanket along with them, and Leon pulled it over the two for warmth.

He pulled Makoto into his arms and rested his head upon the other’s. Makoto returned the embrace, holding his new lover tightly and intertwining their fingers.

This was nice. It felt warm. It felt safe. It felt ok. They love each other so much. It felt nice to finally be able to channel that onto the other.

Barely 5 minutes had passed and Makoto could hear soft snoring coming from the other. This was a calming sound that he could get used to. He fell asleep soon after.

By around 6 in the morning, the power for the school came back on. It was warmer now. But that didn’t disturb the two. This was the closure they both needed.

[walkerismychoice]

Unwritten - Chapter 3

Book: Platinum

Pairing: M!Raleigh X MC

Rating: This series will contain mature themes. Any necessary warnings will be listed before each chapter, but the overall series rating is 18+

Series Summary: Newly discovered talent Aria Campbell get unknowingly assigned to help write Raleigh Carerra’s latest album and rehabilitate his image in the process.

Summary:  Aria is ready to start writing. Raleigh? Not so much.

Chapter Warning: Hints at excessive drinking/alcohol abuse

Word Count: 1750

Master List

She should really go back out there and try to start writing. They only have six weeks to write enough songs to fill an entire album. Then again, six weeks is kind of a long time. What’s a little bit longer?...

Aria picks up the flip phone from her nightstand. She would just text, because who actually likes to talk on the phone anymore, but texting without a keyboard is hardly worth the effort. Seriously, why do they still make cell phones like this? Her finger hovers over the call button momentarily, and then makes the call.

Several rings go by before Aria hears an agitated voice on the end of the other end of the line. "How many times do I have to tell you to take me off your list? How can my car warranty be expired when I don't even own a car?"

"Shane! Wait, don't hang up," Aria pleads into the phone. "It's me!"

"Aria? What are you-" His angry tone gives way to confusion. "Whose number is this and where are you? Wait, are you doing your writing thing? Tell me who you are writing with - is it Avery Willshire?"

If only, she think to herself, hesitating a moment before replying. "I can't tell you that. It's in my contract. If it were to get out, they'd kill me."

"Who are they, the mob?" Shane chuckles. "How many years have we been friends? You know you can trust me. And besides, I had to sign an NDA to be on your contact list, if you go down. I'm going down with you."

"Well that's reassuring," she answers dryly. Sure Shane's in film school and could be the next big director, but as of right now he's unknown, and Aria's got a lot more to lose. But he's right. They tell each other everything and she knows she can trust him. "Fine. But you can't tell anyone."

"Promise."

Aria inhales sharply. “It's...Raleigh Carrera."

"No fucking way!" Shane practically screams into the phone. "Binge drinking, property destroying, R&B singing Raleigh Carrera? You writing for him is...unexpected."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." She replies dryly.

“Ari, you know what I mean. You're more indie pop, with meaningful lyrics. He sings about getting laid in the club. You've never so much as had a tardy at school, and he's got quite the bad boy reputation.”

"Yes, Shane, I know I'm a boring, wholesome girl from the Midwest.”

“No, no! I just don’t want you to have to sacrifice your integrity. It can’t be easy to make sure your voice is heard with with someone like that.”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself,” Aria asserts trying more to convince herself than anyone else. It’s not like she hasn’t feared what Shane has said and more ever since she got here. But she’s determined to fake it until she makes it as they say.

"I know you are. I've seen it in action - like when you dumped that smoothie on Chad's head because he made a comment about your ass."

"Oh my god. I can't believe I didn't get fired for that." Aria laughs genuinely for probably the first time today.

They continue on their path down memory lane until Aria's cheeks hurt from smiling, and she finally says goodbye.

 "Maybe I should just call mom first," she ponders out loud before thinking better of it. Things ended on a high note with Shane, and she doesn't need get all homesick and weepy right now. She supposes it's time to face the music - literally.

Aria peeks in the open doorway across the hall, and Raleigh's room is empty. She checks the main areas downstairs, but all is quiet. Finally she looks out the the beachside picture window to see a human form spread out on the sand.

As she heads out and towards the beach, she makes out a familiar object next to Raleigh and rolls her eyes. Apparently he has no plans to fully sober up before starting to drink again.

His eyes are closed as she approaches, and when she calls out his name, he doesn't stir. She won't shake him awake because that feels a touch too intimate for someone she just met. Especially someone of his status, lying their shirtless in the sand, a sheen of sweat glazing over the tattoos covering his neck and torso. Ugh stop ogling him, she thinks to herself. You hate tattoos and he's an ass. Aria grabs the bottle of rum and jabs him in the side.

"Huh?" Raleigh jolts upright and frantically looks whips his head around until he gets his bearings. "Oh, it's you." He grabs the bottle from her and takes long swig.

"Bacardi straight from the bottle in the middle of the day? Doing your best to live up to the cliché rockstar lifestyle, huh?” She immediately regrets the words and wonders if she went too far.  

He shrugs it off with a laugh and points the bottle at her. "Want some?"

"No." She scrunches her nose and shakes her head. Sipping straight out of the bottle is not her style. Not to mention they're supposed to be working and she prefers to write with a clear head.

"I guess Learning How to Party Like a Rock Star 101 is not part of a music major’s curriculum. You could use some real-world instruction from Professor Carrera." Raleigh teases.

"Haha, very funny.” Wait, how does he know she majored in music? Probably just a lucky guess. "Anyway, I came out here to see if you wanted to get started."

"Nah, I'm good." He takes another pull from the bottle. "I like to write when the mood strikes. If you're so moved though, feel free to whip something up on your own. I really don't give a shit what's on this crap album anymore."

Her blood is boiling now, and she fights a juvenile urge to kick sand in his face and stomp away. "That's not how this works. If they wanted me to just write everything on my own, I could have done so from the comfort of my own home rather than being stuck here with you."

And there it is again - that mischievous twinkle in Raleigh's eye. And before she has much time to worry about what it means, Raleigh's up and scooping her off her feet. He runs towards the water as Aria yells at him to put her down to no avail, and once the water level reaches his knees, a wave hits, sending them toppling under.

Before Aria can get her bearings, she feels Raleigh’s firm grasp pulling her upright. She wipes the seawater from her eyes to see Raleigh standing there with a big shit-eating grin, his hands still bracing her arms to keep her steady. Maybe if she wasn’t so pissed off at his antics she’d notice the slight tingle where her skin was touched by his, but then again she might just attribute that to the chill from the cool water.

She shrugs out of his hold with an exasperated groan. “Why are you such an asshole? I know you don’t want to be here with me, but this wasn’t my idea. You don’t have to take it out on me.”

“Relax, Ice Queen. I’m just trying to thaw you out a bit. We’ll both have a much better time here if you can learn to have fun.”

“Ugh! I’m not..” That remark cuts Aria deep, more than Raleigh could possibly know. “Maybe if you actually agreed to do some work with me, I’d be more in the mood to have some fun.

Raleigh looks her up and down with an undiscernible expression that makes her uneasy before plopping back down on his towel and putting his sunglasses on. “We’ll just have to see about that.”

Fiona looks up from her laptop and spots Raleigh and Aria emerging from the ocean and engaging in what looks to be an intense conversation. The guest house has a spacious wraparound porch with cushy patio furniture. If she’s got to be stuck somewhere on glorified babysitting duty, as if she’s got no other clients and nothing better to do, it’s not a terrible place to be. At least there’s wifi and she can keep working on her projects with other artists on the label.

She’d been skeptical, to put it mildly, when Ellis brought Aria in to discuss working with Raleigh, and based on his initial reaction this morning, she wouldn’t have been surprised if Aria had tried to quit on the spot. Sure Raleigh getting wasted on the beach and throwing his writing partner in the water day one would look bad by anyone else’s standards, but Fiona’s know him a long time. The fact that that he’s engaging at all is a good sign. Maybe that little chat she had with him earlier stuck.

“Looks like things are going as well as can be expected with those two.” Fiona muses aloud. Hank stands and watches attentively, arms folded across his chest. You’d think he was guarding the President with how serious he takes his job. There’s not another human in sight aside from the four of them. He weighs his words before responding. “It seems so, ma’am.”

“Eww, don’t call me ma’am.” Fiona visibly shudders. “We’ve worked together for years now. You can call me Fiona. And anyway, nobody is around. You don’t have to take your job so seriously here. Why don’t you go grab a beer.”

Frank tugs at the knot in his tie. Yes, he’s still wearing his suit and tie - at the beach. “Drinking on the job would be unprofessional, ma-, I mean Fiona.”

"Okay then," she utters under her breath. It says something that self-described workaholic Fiona is the fun one here, but if she's going to make it through this period of time without dying of boredom, getting Frank to loosen up might just be the side-project she needs. Maybe he'll even take his tie off at some point. Fiona looks back to the beach where Raleigh is sunbathing and Aria is nowhere to be seen. "Would it be unprofessional of me to run out there and smack him upside the head?"

"Yes, I believe so," he replies dryly, but Fiona can detect the corners of his mouth curving upward ever so slightly. There might be hope for him yet.

[reeesea]

Something Sweet: Part Two

~sweet lotus~

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

pairing: minsung, jisung/minho

warning: mentions of alcohol I guess...

words: 5k ish

summary: Jisung gets side tracked and ends up following Minho into a host club/bar. That's it really :)

a/n: I’m cross posting this on ao3 but don't know how links work so I hope you enjoy if you do happen to stumble upon this. <3

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jisung’s been busy. Well, kind of. 

Jisung, along with the other two sleep deprived zombies that make up 3racha, have once again barricaded themselves in their shared apartment. The trio has been working nonstop to prepare for their next performance. Their recently hired manager, Sana, had notified them that the venue that they were playing was actually twice as large as their last. The boys had been trying to flesh out a few new songs/covers to play and hopefully win over the crowd.

Busy wouldn’t really describe the boys. Yes, they were working hard producing more and more, but the lulls of writer’s block and exhaustion would set in eventually. Each time would leave them to fend for themselves by staring mindlessly at the ceiling, or collapsing into an unplanned 4 hour nap, or just plain gorging themselves on the various carry outs of the day. 

Changbin, who surprisingly was able to work remotely for his producing job at JJP Ent., was juggling his work for them and his work for 3racha. Bin would sneak out of his studio/bedroom whenever the lull in creativity set in, or the anticipation of their Friday night show started creeping up on him. Almost every time this led to Chan or Jisung playing some of what they were working on and then the realization that the third rapper had joined them, neglecting his paid work, would set in commencing the throwing of shoes and a chorus of animated yells from all parties to arise. One way or another, always returning a reluctant Changbin back to his, as Jisung put it, “big boy work” and the other two back to their respective laptops and keyboards. 

Chan was probably the most focused of the three. His ability to juggle multiple projects at the same time was practically god-like and occasionally left the other two producers completely clueless as to which project he was actually working on. When the exhaustion had finally caught up with him, Chan could be found by the other boys asleep sitting in front of his laptop. Changbin and Jisung had worked out a little system to keep the older in check, taking turns moving an unconscious Bang Chan to the couch and making sure he had eaten before returning to their own assignments. The leader would wake up a few hours later feeling confused, but thankful for the other two's efforts to keep him on his feet. 

Jisung, the ever all-rounder of the group, usually was the one busy writing, composing, producing, and doing anything he could get his hands on. But this time, the main reason Jisung never quite felt busy was because no matter how hard he tried, sometimes he just couldn't quite find the words for his verses. The new addition to their set list actually didn't take much time to make, production wise, but writing his verse always turns out to be a challenge when the writer’s block sets in. Even with days straight of thinking about what he wanted to say on his part, no progress meant no work had been done, which to Jisung meant he had not been busy. It was a slippery slope that all of them had experienced before, but this time Jisung’s descent down that slope came in the form of trashing pages of lyrics and stanzas immediately after spending hours on them, and distracting himself in piles of blankets while scrolling forums, SNS, and internet videos for inspiration. From which the cycle continued. The concept of just freestyling it completely on Friday was starting to sound better and better.

Sana would occasionally come by (daily? None of them really knew what day it was, only that it wasn’t Friday yet), opening up the black-out curtains that lined the floor to ceiling windows of the apartment, always followed by at least one audible groan from one of the members. During one of the many occasions of Jisung staring blankly at the ceiling in the dark, Sana had entered the apartment and practically tripped over Jisung from where he was curled up on the floor in a blanket chimichanga, “Jisung-ssi, why are you on the floor, again. Its literally 3pm.”

Jisung liked to call them chimichangas, mostly because he really liked that it was a four syllable word, but it also described him best when he was in a blanket burrito feeling especially fried from exhaustion.

After tripping over Jisung for maybe the third time that week, Sana had left the apartment telling them to be sure to be ready for their performance tomorrow at five pm, when she would meet them at the venue. Although Jisung was the one currently rolled up on the floor, the other boys had somehow looked even more exhausted on the couch with emptied coffee cups in their hands and obvious dark circles under their eyes. They had finished in the early morning as always, trying their best to prepare for their performance, that apparently was tomorrow. That was news to Jisung, and still nothing written for his verse.

“You guys look so dead, how are you even awake right now” Jisung mused from his bundle on the floor. 

“I honestly don't know. Do you think I could just go to sleep until our performance tomorrow?” Chan chuckled at the realization that their call time wasn't more than 17 hrs away. 

“Honestly you need it, with how much you got done this week. You finished almost all the tracks for the album, right?” Changbin asked from his spot on the couch. Chan nods vaguely at the question . 

“Yeah out of the songs we chose, I was able to brush them up, and fixed the beat on a few. We can look at them closer after Friday.”

“This week didn't seem real. The last thing I remember was dragging Chan’s unconscious body down the hallway after we got back from Menu 98.” Jisung was gesturing wildly beneath the blanket he was under, but the other two didn't have to even look at him to know he was being dramatic. “Bin-hyung it took you like 3 whole minutes to put the right key in the door. I'm glad your attempts with the bottle opener didn’t end up damaging the lock.” 

That one earned Jisung a pillow to the face. 

“Well hopefully this Friday we won't end up in the same condition. Wine hangovers are the fucking worst,” Changbin held his head in remembrance of the pain but a smile was starting to sneak out on to his face. “But guys, since we’re finally officially signed with a company, I wouldn't mind getting to celebrate again this weekend.” 

His smile only grew as the other two joined in the grinning from their respective spots in the living room. It was true, they finally signed with a company. JJP Entertainment had reached out to them after having seen them perform one of their shows. Changbin had submitted a producer application to the company earlier that year, and seemingly as soon as they had seen the three in action all of them were accepted and got to sign with the agency. Changbin had begun working as a producer about a month ago while the other two had just recently been officially signed into the company as group members. To all of them it still seemed like it was too good to be true, but a week into it they were all just excited to be calling themselves recording artists and to have consistent pay for their professional work. 

Their manager Sana was a result of the company beginning to help promote 3racha as a group. Chan had mentioned that they weren’t going to be officially announced as a part of the company until they could properly debut with their album. Jisung wasn't going to complain though, he was just happy to feel like the dreams they’ve had since their underground highschool rapper days were finally being realized. 

All three of them, grinning wildly, were already feeling antsy to be on stage again. The hours until they could step onstage couldn't move fast enough.  

---

Minho had a busy fucking week.

 He had picked up two extra closing shifts that he usually would have days off on, but the reward of a bigger paycheck pulled his leg into accepting to take them. The bright side, he supposed, was that his coworker had taken his Friday shift and he was able to have a night off. His original plan to spend the entire night in the studio was pretty much shattered when his annoyingly loving roommates had scolded him when he had told them his plans. During morning rehearsal the group was able to get a lot done, and had polished their performance piece they had planned for a showcase in the coming week.

Minho told himself that he would have still stayed after practice if it wasn't for Hyunjin’s nagging to visit him at work that night, but he was packing his bag just as soon as the others once they were finished.The truth being that going to Hyunjin’s work almost always included free drinks and good company, and Minho felt like it would be the perfect way to relax his nerves after the week of productive practice, and painful working shifts. 

Hyunjin worked at the host club and bar a couple streets away from their apartment. The establishment was mostly known for the beautiful and handsome hosts and hostesses that worked there who served up drinks and polite conversation. In the more recent years, the place was becoming popularly known as being just a normal service bar that just had beautiful servers and bartenders. Many tourists and locals came to the bar in hopes of seeing and meeting these beautiful people, while also obtaining their weekend quota of alcohol. Of course as Hyunjin could attest to the host club wasnt without clients, as his boss asked him multiple times if he wanted to switch positions from bartender to host due to all the patrons asking if he was available.

“Come on Hyung! You can come and meet my new coworkers. Also you promised to visit Momo-noona last time and she’s still pissed you haven’t been back in like a month. Honestly at this point she wont stop worrying that you aren’t coming back to see her, and keeps asking me like-” 

“Okay, okay Hyunjin I’ll come with you, just stop rambling,” Minho giggled at the younger antics and his tendency to ramble to himself aloud, while in a conversation. It was reasons like this that made Minho glad the boy was only a bartender and not a host. Although, he would probably pay himself just to see the young 21-year-old try and make coherent conversation with a client. Hyunjin was beyond just beautiful, but when it came to conversing with strangers past their drink order, he was quite a bit less than suave. 

Hyunjin cheered as he skipped out the studio doors, joining arms with Felix as they made their way toward their shared apartment. 

---

Jisung left their flat early in hopes of being able to find the venue on his own, but still allow himself time to properly get lost. Surprisingly enough he was able to find the venue on the other side of town without much trouble and with Google Maps opened on his phone. One of the  reasons why it was so easy to find, was that the venue was huge. Among the lavish entrance, and its multicolored lighting, it had a large marquee with “3racha” shown in bold as the night's act. It was still the early evening and the district’s businesses were just starting to show signs of preparation for the night's patrons and customers. There were food stalls setting up, readily pre-cooking the batches of street food for those who would be passing by throughout the night. Clubs were just beginning to open their doors and prepare for the crowd that always came to dance away the start of the weekend. The bars were beginning to gather their additional servers and bartenders, from the looks of the various uniformed strangers on the street entering their respective places of employment. There were a few barhopping adults and students littering the streets with excited chatter and giggles of anticipation. 

Jisung can’t say he ever went out with friends much other than when the group would perform at bars and clubs right out of high school. He never had experienced the “wild night out with your friends” trope that he secretly loved watching in dramas and tv shows. There was just something watching a group of friends all going and enjoying a night together that made Jisung’s heart smile. Looking around again and escaping his thoughts, he spots a familiar face in the distance. 

In front of him is his cute server from last week, Minho, walking down the street not even 50ft away. Granted Jisung had honestly forgotten about the man after that night, as the dull ache of a hangover had occupied his mind the morning after. Jisung never thought he would actually see the man again outside the confines of the restaurant that he worked at. And maybe because this coincidence felt more like fate, and maybe because Jisung is the kind of guy to believe in fate, or maybe because Minho had smiled and from 50 ft away it still took Jisung’s breath away, Jisung found himself stumbling forward to follow the man into the bar he had just entered. 

--- 

Minho had walked into the familiar establishment and immediately went and found his place on a barstool. 

“You didn't have to come this early.” Hyunjin was all dressed up in his collared shirt and vest, with his name tag reflecting the dim lights from above his heart. The completed uniform of all the bartenders and servers at Sweet Lotus, of course, made Hyunjin look even more like a prince than usual. 

It was barely 15 minutes after the bar had opened for the night when Minho’s leather pants and silk shirt wearing ass had entered. 

“Well, it's not like I had any other plans tonight. Felix had left for work and it was too lonely in the apartment to wait for the bar hopping crowd to pass through, so I thought I would just beat them instead.” 

“I knew you missed me.” Hyunjin made a kissy face toward Minho that was met with a gentle face slap by the hand of the older. 

“Please, I only came to get an early start on the night. Maybe try and beat the in house record for free drinks.”

“Oh please you already know you still hold the record, don't act cocky” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, and earned a giggle from the other. There was a running competition between the off duty servers and hosts of who could get the most free drinks from strangers in a night. It was a vanity competition as much as it was a ploy for the employees to boost the bar's sales when off shift. 

Minho thrived off of it, when he had worked as a host for the club. He had been in the highest demand on and off duty, gathering a total 19 drinks paid for by strangers within a single night. Even after Minho had left the club, his record still held. Hyunjin would sometimes come home updating Minho on how close some of his new coworkers had gotten to the record, well aware of how much the title inflated the man’s ego. 

Before Minho had the chance to respond a tuft of brown hair tripped into the bar entrance. A familiar looking boy with big shining eyes, searched the room until making eye contact with Minho. The determined look in the boy’s eyes was completely contrasted by the soft smile starting to appear on his lips as he approached the bar. 

Recognition flooded his memory as Minho looked back at the cute boy that had given him his number on a receipt the previous weekend. The boy struggled slightly at getting atop the stool next to Minho, earning him a slight snicker from the bartender as he watched the scenario play out in front of him. Hyunjin just watched his cocky ass roommate be made speechless by the entrance of a cute high school looking kid dressed in street clothes, there was no way he wasn't going to hound Minho when they got home. 

“Hi.” The younger looking boy smiled again fully creating a heart with his lips, and Minho couldn't help but smile back. That seemed to only make the younger grin wider if that was possible and his eyes sparkled with content. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I met you last week, I mean kind of. You were my server on Friday night, and you recommended a drink and a dish for me, and I’m pretty sure it was the best thing I had ever tasted before. And now that may seem like a completely crazy reason to low key follow you into a bar after seeing you on the street, but for some reason I feel indebted to you for giving me the best thing I’ve ever tasted also I’m pretty sure I was embarrass-”

“Hi Jisung,” Minho didn't know anyone else could ramble even more than Hyunjin, but here he was, Han Jisung, the cute boy in the pink hoodie who had given him his number and a tip that was quite a bit more than his 20% usual. In full honestly Minho had found the receipt a few times during the week in his work pants pocket, but had always returned it before considering actually dialling the number scrawled on it. 

“You don’t have to feel indebted to me, that’s all apart of my job…” A wave of guilt weighed on Minho as he made eye contact with Jisung again. “Also I apologize for never messaging you. I know you left me your number on Friday, and I usually don’t pay too much mind when customers give me their numbers, but for some reason I still kept yours.” Jisung’s eyes widened at that and his expression looked as if he had just realized something. 

Minho just continued, “To be completely honest, I didn't think I would see you again, especially outside of my work.” 

“I didn’t either,” Jisung quickly interjected. “And to also be totally honest, I completely forgot that I gave you my number. Tipsy me can be a little more bold than I thought.” He chuckled inwardly at himself. Looking at Minho now, Jisung had no idea how even tipsy he had found the balls to do something like that. In casual clothes, Minho looked god-like to Jisung, and something about the change in atmosphere made Customer Service Minho almost non-existent. Being able to look at Minho, his glittering sharp eyes, his perfectly styled hair, and breathtaking smile without any filters, and something about it made Jisung’s heart beat even louder. There was a slight pause as Jisung had stopped speaking and had got distracted with staring at all of Minho’s features. “Uh..um… anyway damn now I feel bad. Can I like buy you a drink or something to make up for it?” Jisung barely managed to stutter that out. 

“Hey Min-hyung, that's your first for the night, and it's not even five yet. Damn maybe you will break your record,” Jisung looked over to the voice's owner and seemed to have just acknowledged the presence of the bartender after entering.

“Shut up Jinnie, I don’t wanna make him pay for my drink, the sun’s not even set” 

“That hasn't stopped you before” 

“No I really mean it, I'll pay for your drink if you'll let me. Not really sure what you two are discussing but I don't have a problem paying, even just to mend my consciousness” Jisung pleaded. 

“You sure talk a lot with your wallet there, Han.” Hearing Minho using his last name to address him wasn't lost on Jisung. If anything Jisung was starting to take it as a challenge. 

“Well, let me buy you a drink and we can talk now because we didn't get the chance over the phone.” Jisung really wasn’t sure where that confidence came from but it diminished quickly as he held his breath waiting for Minho to respond.

Minho smirked and nodded agreement, ordering his drink. “What about for you?” the bartender asked Jisung as he was taking out his card to pay for said drink. 

“Oh nothing for me I have to get ready for a show soon,” squinting to read the man’s name tag “Hyunjin-ssi.” 

Minho's curiosities from the previous weekends returned, and he found himself jumping on the opportunity to learn more about the boy. They were just curiosities. Han Jisung was just a curiosity. “What is it you do exactly?” 

“Oh I’m a rapper in a group, with the two other guys you saw. Together were super cool rap trio 3racha~” Jisung put an emphasis on the name with excessive hand gestures. Minho thought they were cute. “And we're actually playing at the venue not too far from here. We’re on at 9 if you want to come watch.” Jisung smiles widely at that, cocking an eyebrow as if that was persuasion enough to get Minho to come. 

It was. “Maybe I’ll stop by then. I can’t say I’m not curious.” Minho tries his best to feign disinterest, but his roommate’s smirk from across the bar meant that he wasn’t completely successful. 

Minho glares at the bartender while Jisung continues the conversation. “So what was it that you were talking about? The record and all that, did I miss something?”

Hyunjin giggles at the question and puts on a dramatic voice, “Well, here at the Sweet Lotus even our employees will come on their off days and breaks to enjoy the bar and club as patrons, but of course flirting with coworkers is generally frowned upon, so we made up a fun little competition.” Hyunjin continues to explain what the casual competition entitles. Minho shifts to watching Jisung instead. Seeing the boy again had been somewhat of a shock, and now actually looking at him, something about Jisung made Minho’s heartbeat a little quicker. Probably just the beginning effects of the sip of alcohol he had yet to consume. Or it could be the way Minho kept thinking about how soft the boy looked, his cheeks, his hair, his smile. Jisung was cute. A cute curiosity

“So what’s the record then? The highest number of free drinks?” Jisung was asking both of them but had turned toward MInho to meet his eyes. They were full of stars, even when the rest of the place was dimly lit. 

“19 drinks in a single night, held by our very own Lee Minho. Making him the hottest guy to ever grace our establishment, at least by the objective body count” Hyunjin dramatically bows to him. 

“Hey I got 17 once” yelled the other bartender from further down the bar. 

“I better keep coming back then, so you can’t take my spot San-ah.” Minho responded and sent him a cheeky smirk. The other bartender responded with a pouty face and a groan, before turning back to another customer. “But technically I’m not an employee anymore, so I think that takes me out of the running,” Minho continues.

“Still, I don’t think you’d ever lose that title… n-no offense to any of the other employees. I mean I only just got here and have only seen a few of you, but you are all respectively very attractive, and-” 

“Jisung stop rambling.” Minho giggled at seeing how flustered he could make the other. “Plus I doubt I’d lose my spot if you have anything to do with it, Mr. rich boy rapstar.” Minho takes a sip of his drink as the other sputters once again into a bumbling mess, blushing even harder. 

“What noooo! Not me pshhhhhh. I am but a lowly underground rapper. Please my heart’s too fragile to handle being called a rapstar by you this early in the night, also I swear I’m not a rich boy! Not yet at least, I haven't even gotten my first paycheck, paycheck, you know?”

“Your tipping habits say otherwise” 

Jisung grumbles under his breath something that sounds like ‘damn it drunk jisungie you did it again’

Before the conversation could continue, Jisung's phone rings from his jacket pocket. “Hello?... AH Sana-noona please don't yell.... Yes I know what time it is. It is-” Jisung checks the clock on his phone “Five-Thirty! Fuck, I’m on the way” Jisung looks apologetically at Minho and Hyunjin and does a few hand gestures that indicate he has to go. “I'll be there in like 30 seconds, I swear!!!” 

Jisung hangs up and hops off his stool, “As you can see I am being forcefully summoned by my manager, I do hope you’ll come to the show later? Thanks for uh- I don’t know, why am I thanking you. But uh..Thanks anyway though, and I-uh hope we can do this again sometime… yeah, bye Minho.” Jisung smiles wide again and scurries out the door, almost at a full sprint. 

Minho really likes his cute smile, and tries to commit the heart shape to memory.

“Hyung, he’s sooo your type it practically hurts.” Hyunjin forms a cheeky look on his face.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Minho retorts, taking another sip of the drink Jisung bought him. 

“Come on, cute, low-key a mess, big eyes, whipped as soon as he saw you. Don't even lie, you love the ones that just fall for you as soon as you smile at them. Practically all your clients were like that, and they all followed you to the restaurant” 

“That’s not true,” Minho denied. 

“It's true our numbers dropped when you left. We had to hire three new guys to make up the loss,” San added, now suddenly a part of the conversation.

“Well now I feel bad,” he did kind of, but it also was a huge ego boost for Minho.

“Don't. You know Momo would let you pick up a shift if you ever needed” San now joining Hyunjin in leaning on the counter. 

“Maybe I don’t know, I'll just boost her drink sales tonight insead to make up for it.” They laugh, and Minho’s cocky smirk returns as more patrons enter the bar, and the two bartenders return to their positions for the night 

-----

Jisung sprinted right into hair and makeup, finding his group mates already being dressed and powdered when he got there. He was able to just barely avoid a scolding from Sana as he ducked into a changing room instead. Switching from his streetwear into something that made him look more like his stage personality ‘J.One’.

By the time it was up for them to perform all three of them shared knowing glances and charged on the stage as their loud and overpowering bass beats flooded the speakers and the entire venue. The venue itself held a couple hundred people and the cheers and energy from the crowd only fueled the rappers as they began their opening song. For the three of them being on stage was like getting a high. 

Jisung felt like he had taken 3 shots at the bar before the performance. He felt drunk on the adrenaline and his ad libs and verses all came out even more powerful than usual. Chan and Changbin took his energetic aura in stride and fed off him to energize their own performances for the whole show. 

When their new track finally starts playing, the verse that Jisung had been agonizing all week appeared in his head as if it had always been there, and he knew that this verse was going to go down as one of his best freestyles yet. Jisung closed out the song with an electric verse that flowed and hit the rhythm in ways he had never thought he could before, and after the last beat echoed throughout the room, the entire venue filled with cheers and screams from the audience. 

Minho watched from the back of the venue witnessing the three boys on stage completely dominate the stage and steal every heart from the audience. He never thought that the big eyed clutz from a few hours ago would be the man he saw on stage. On stage, Jisung practically oozed with charisma, demanding the attention of all those who would listen. At the end of the show the last verse he spit out was so intensely captivating, that it guaranteed that everyone in the audience was now in love with Han Jisung. There was no way anyone would be able to deny it. Not even Minho, even though he would definitely try. 

“I’m CB97” “This has been SpearB” “and I’ve been J.One” 

“and together we are 3racha! See you next time”

---

That night as soon as Minho got home he searched his closet for the only connection he had with the supposed rapstar. Digging into the pockets of his work pants, he pulls out the paper with the boys number and immediately adds in to his contacts before texting him:

[Rich Boy Han Jisung]

This is Lee Minho  

I saw your performance 

at least I think that was you

If it wasn't some rapstar named J.One may be your twin 

Im sure hear you this all the time

But your performance was amazing. Good job Han :)

---

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

[basilgrimbitch]

Day Two: Swap

Normal high school AU where Baz is new to Simon’s English class but Penny is the one that gets assigned a seat next to Baz. Aka English nerds in love.

Words: 3457

Note: this is unedited and super rushed but its something!

No warnings apart from a lot of swearing. Enjoy!

_____ 

SIMON

“Alright so I posted the seating plan on the class page, did everyone get a chance to see it?”

While everyone scrambles to look at their laptops, I’ve already seen Ms. Possibelf’s seating plan and can I just say… What. The. Fuck. She’s sat me across the room from Penny (honestly fair since we never get any work done) next to some random girl named Trixie; she seems nice enough but so bloody boring. How am I supposed to make it through a whole year of English without Penny? I can hear the complaints layering up in the tiny classroom and I can see the teacher ignoring every single one of them. I don’t think I’ll bother asking for a change. Though, maybe she’ll listen to Penny?

I nudge Penny’s arm, I guess she’s already seen the seating plan too because she makes no effort to look at her laptop and moves towards her assigned seat.

“Surely the fuck not?” I don’t bother whispering.

“I think you mean surely the fuck yes. I’m not failing this semester because you want to tell me a gross story about your arms smelling like Cheetos mid class.” I’m smirking and she looks like she’ll bite my head off. That makes me smile more.

“That was once!”

“It still happened, and I’d rather hear about your smelly limbs at lunch time - or better yet, never.”

We’re cut off by Ms. Possibelf starting the class, or at least trying to.

“You should’ve all written a draft of your persuasive orals over the holidays, now you must refine them and prepare a final copy. These will be presented in two days.”

Okay as much as I’m a clown in English, I’m actually decent at it. I’ve already written and edited my script, so I really have nothing to do. I sit in my seat and glance at Penny, it looks like she’s done too. I’m fairly sure she’s playing fire boy and water girl, she’s playing both parts (because I’m not there) and she’s taking up the entire table, her desk mate looks so uncomfortable squashed into a corner. Who is he, by the way? The name on the roll was Tyrannus, what the fuck kind of name is that? So pretentious.

I open up Instagram on my laptop and text Penny.

Penelope Bunce – Simon Snow

Simon Snow [10:04]: who is heeeeeee

Penelope Bunce [10:04]: who?

Simon Snow [10:04]: the guy ur sat next to whats his name?????

Penelope Bunce [10:05]: got a bit of crush huh :0

Simon Snow [10:05]: oh fk off I haven’t even seen his face,,, whats his name??

Penelope Bunce [10:06]: he said to call him baz

Simon Snow [10:07]: hmm weird but cool name

Simon Snow [10:07]: what schools he frm?

Penelope Bunce [10:07]: idk do ur work Si

Penny stops typing, she looks me in the eyes then turns to speak to Baz, shutting her laptop. That’s such an odd name, right?

They talk, she’s laughing, he’s just sitting there so composed. He doesn’t look bored exactly, just that he’s better than seeming overly excited. Dickhead it is then.

Even though I think I’ve already decided I hate him, I don’t stop looking at them. He’s got long hair, its black and loose just above his shoulder, his skin is this gorgeous caramel that doesn’t need tanning and his eyes, they’re so grey a mix of green and blue I think and – fuck. We’re making eye-contact, not in like oh oops, more like oh shit why is this guy staring at me. He must think I’m a fucking creep. Shit.

It’s not like I care though, he probably thinks he’s better than everyone in this room anyway. But he’s just smiling at me? Fuck that’s a good smile. I think I’m smiling back, I can’t help it. He turns back to speak to Penny, they seem like they’re in deep discussion about something, I wonder what? And suddenly, I catch myself wishing I was her. Um, what?

The rest of the period flies by. Too quick, I think, not that I need more time to work, I just kind of wish… whatever.

Penny, as per bloody usual, is taking her precious time packing her stuff away. I walk up to her table, hyper aware of Baz’s presence there,

“Planning on leaving anytime soon?” I ask, trying to seem as nonchalant as can be, but my eyes keep glancing to him. I think Penny must’ve picked up on it because then she says, all smug,

“But then you wouldn’t get to meet Baz,” she gestures to Baz, who’s raising his eyebrow and smiling a little against his better judgement I think, then she gestures to me and then back again, “Baz, Simon. Simon, Baz. There we go.” He’s full on smiling now. Fuck, how can someone be so pretty?

“So nice to meet you, I’m Baz Pitch.” He puts his hand out for me to shake it – that’s so proper. I’m not even convinced he’s 17. He’s so calm and put together, these are not words you use to describe a 17 year old guy.

“H-hey, yeah, Simon.” Of course, I trip over my words, I’ve always struggled with that but I’m also really fucking nervous for some reason.

“Do you wanna have lunch with us, Baz?” Penny’s throwing her bag over her shoulder, looking at me like she knows what she’s doing to me and then back to Baz with genuine eyes. Penny doesn’t usually get on with people like that, that’s why we’ve been friends for so long, she really doesn’t have other options (not like I do either).

“That’d be nice.” He says, the corner of his mouth inching up, giving his cool exterior away. He’s not a pretentious git, is he? He’s just a boy on his first day of school; that’s fucking daunting.

We walk out the classroom – finally – and Baz starts telling us about himself and his old school. Mainly just answering Penny’s questions. Does he have siblings? Yeah, four half siblings. How come he moved schools? dad moves a lot for business. Oh, is he going to be moving again? Probably not until after high school, by then I could move out anyway.

I’m not usually this quiet. Usually I’m more social than Penny. I don’t know what’s come over me, I wish I could be her right now.

Lunch happens, Baz doesn’t really eat. Not like I was watching him. Well he was sat right in front of me and I just noticed that he wasn’t eating anything. Surely that’s normal.

I finally ask Baz what other classes he’s taking; other than English we don’t share any classes and then I let myself say, “that sucks.” But only because its normal, its not flirting. You can want a friend to be in your class. Penny still looks at me anyway.

But then he says, “I’ll just have to look forward to English,” and my heart melts.

______

I try not to think about Baz right now, in bed, but I am anyway, and I remember him telling me his full name; so naturally I’m suddenly typing it into the Instagram search bar. Aha! He’s not on private, thank the gods of social media.

I start scrolling through his feed, careful not to tap anything of course. There are a few photos of him alone, they’re gorgeous; he dresses so nice. Penny says I can’t dress myself. In one photo from a month ago he’s in this incredible suit, taking a mirror selfie in a bathroom that looks nicer than my whole house. His hair is slicked back (I think I prefer it loose – still so bloody fit though) and his cheekbones are so defined, he’s got that same face he had when we first met today – eyebrows raised, little bit a smirk, beautiful eyes.

I scroll down to the next photo, this one is different. It’s not a hot mirror selfie, its him carrying a little girl – his little sister? – on his shoulders looking up at her with a smile, a real big smile. He’s dressed a bit more casual too, still nicer than anything I own though it’s just jeans and a black button down. I keep coming back to the jeans. How can someone look so good in jeans?

I scroll through a few more photos, some with friends, some more of just him and a few of books he’s reading or places he’s visited. I feel like I know him a little bit better now – less in a stalkerish way more in a… well I can’t think of the write word. I can never think of the write word.

My phone vibrates all of a sudden and I literally drop my phone, so I don’t accidently like anything.

Penelope Bunce – Simon Snow

Penelope Bunce [23:13]: up thinking bout prince charming?

Simon Snow [23:14]: shut up

Penelope Bunce [23:14]: don’t blame u he’s v cute.

Penelope Bunce [23:14]: And smart.

Penelope Bunce [23:14]: you have my blessing

Simon Snow [23:15]: bugger off,, as if he’s even into guys

Simon Snow [23:15]: I was literally such an idiot today he probs doesn’t even wanna be my friend

Penelope Bunce [23:16]: AHA SO U ADMIT IT

Simon Snow [23:16]: did I even have to

Penelope Bunce [23:16]: ofc not. For what its worth I think u have a shot.

Simon Snow [23:17]: sureeeee

Simon Snow [23:17]: fuckkkkk im gonna be so dead tomorrow,, gn love u

I turn my phone off, pull my glasses off chucking them somewhere I probably won’t find them tomorrow and roll over to fall asleep.

______

We’ve got English first period today. I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited for English, but then I remember I don’t even get to sit next to him.

I walk into class and he’s already in there, we make eye-contact – way less awkward than yesterday – and he gives me a nod. Its friendly, it’s nice, it’s already a bit familiar. I give him a little wave with my right hand below the books I’m carrying but then I’m nearly dropping then, and my laptop starts sliding through my arms. It’s a shit show and it’s too early in the morning to embarrass myself, but I don’t get a say do I? As a say good bye to my laptop that is threatening to smash in the ground any second now – and any possibility for anything with Baz – I hear a chair scraping at the floor then not being pushed in. Suddenly, Baz’s hand is on my shoulder; the other grabbing my laptop that’s basically just resting on my belt buckle at this point. I beg myself not to blush, not now.

Baz is laughing. We’ve – he’s – saved my laptop and now he’s carrying it and my books; he insisted I was not to be trusted.

“Alright, special delivery all the way to your seat. You sure you’re okay Snow?” He’s using my last name because he thinks it’s ‘such a waste to not make use of such an iconic surname’. I like the way it sounds on his lips. I think I just like his lips and anything after is automatically perfect. Perfect.

He taps my shoulder, “you okay there?”

“Huh? Yeah yeah, just a bit tired. Didn’t sleep very much last night.” That’s not a lie.

Baz nods and says he’s gonna go get started on the work, I watch him walk away. The school trousers, they’re no jeans but he looks good in everything.

I try to do some work, making cue cards for my presentation, but I keep letting myself look over to Baz. Penny just caught me and stuck her tongue out.

Penelope Bunce – Simon Snow

Penelope Bunce [08:31]: ur staring

Simon Snow [08:32]: am not,, go away

I go back to working on my cue cards after making a show of shutting my laptop in front of Penny. I get through two more cards before I see a pair of shoes approaching my table. I look up and sure enough its prince charming – I mean Baz. He clears his throat and says,

“I hear you’re good at English”

“There’s no way Penny said that,” I laugh.

“True, she said ‘he thinks he’s better than everyone else.’ But I take it for good reason.” He smiles while doing air quotes, I smile back at him because I can’t help myself.

“Well, I definitely don’t suck.”

“Good. Do you mind reading over my script, please? I feel like it needs a little bit of editing.” He hands over his laptop, “don’t drop this one okay?” he chuckles.

I honestly don’t know how to act around him. I’m the epitome of those ‘act normal’ memes. He hands me his laptop and I start reading. His presentation is on single use plastics and it is so well written, he definitely doesn’t need my help. My neck is getting warm and I hope I’m not blushing at a script on environmentalism just because it was written by a hot guy. That’s pathetic.

But he’s not just a hot guy, is he? He’s smart – so smart – and he’s so kind even if you wouldn’t think so; when he helped me with my books today, I couldn’t help but think back to that photo of him with his sister, so much warmth and kindness expertly hidden under a cool and calm facade. I get to the end of his conclusion and look up in awe but he’s standing just behind me leaning forward waiting for my response. That explains the warmth I was feeling.

Baz doesn’t seem like the kind that would ever doubt himself but if you could see him now, you’d think he cared about what everyone thought about everything; and maybe he does, maybe he just hides it really well.

“Baz.” I make eye-contact with him, finally on purpose, “this… its incredible. I don’t even know why you’d ask for feedback. Your arguments are excellent, and your use of inductive reasoning is really fitting.”

His face lights up, a kind of innocent smile creeps up on his face and for the first time I think I want to kiss him. But even more so, I want to be responsible for more of those smiles. “Really?”

“It’s perfect.”

I look away because I don’t want him to see me blush. Penny is looking straight at us, she gives me one of her reassuring smiles.

______

It’s been two weeks of school; all my classes suck but it’s our last year and soon enough we’ll miss it. At least that’s what Penny keeps saying, Baz agrees with her.

Baz has been spending more time with us; we hang out at lunch time, he’s joined us for frozen cokes a few times in the past few hot days. It’s nice. I can actually talk to him now too.

He’s so smart, smarter than I had thought. He’s not just academically smart, he knows more than just surface level knowledge. Yesterday, on our walk to English he was talking about some article he read on the relationship between sleep deprivation and blood alcohol concentration just for fun. Though its nerdy and just a bit lame, the way his eyes light up when he talks about things he cares about, I’d listen to the summary of a thousand dumb articles to see that again.

Right now, Baz isn’t here though, and all my brain can do is think about him.

“Pennyyyy!” she’s lying on my bed while I do my art homework on the floor, she always comes home with me on Tuesdays, I don’t know when that started.

“Si, I already said no like three times.”

“Why not? Do you not love me?” I asked her to swap seats with me in English. I just wanna sit next to Baz, I can say I need extra help or something.

“I love you of course but I don’t want Baz to think I’m avoiding him, and I certainly don’t want Ms. P to fail me for disobeying her one rule.”

“Just please.” I give her my best puppy eyes and pouty face, “I fink I’m in wuv,” I say mockingly. She

throws an old stuffed toy in my face. I guess that’s a no.

______  

The next day I see Baz at the school gates, he’s holding a cup of coffee and his hair is up in a bun today. Flawless.

“Fancy seeing you here,” how can he look so perfect at eight in the morning. I don’t even feel awake yet.

Baz bumps my shoulder with his and we start walking to our lockers. We talk about the English reading we were set, we’re reading Lord of the Flies and Baz is going on about how he and Penny think the book would be drastically different if it had female characters.

“Golding said he didn’t add girls to avoid sex being a subject.” I say, and Baz just looks at me with his eyebrow raised. I call this the signature Baz look now.

“Oh, come on, as if every single kid on that island was straight.” I choke on nothing for a second. Baz and I have never talked about relationships or sex or sexuality. It’s not really a matter of discussion I guess but hearing him acknowledge the idea of guys being together, I don’t know, it gives me hope. That makes no sense obviously, he’s taking about characters from an English novel not himself and really its more an act of Baz’s resistance than it is a nod to gay rights or whatever. But, still, it gives me hope.

“True,” is all I manage to get out.

We get to English extra early after home room, and I start making my way to my seat. Ever since Baz started hanging out with us outside of class, English is back to being plain and boring, nothing special. So, with my shoulders slumped I mutter a goodbye to Baz as I walk to opposite way to my seat but then I feel something on my hand. Oh my god, its his hand. Its Baz’s hand. On my hand. Pulling me towards him. Its not especially romantic or anything. But its something!

“Hey! Swap seats with Penny, come sit next to me today,” surely this is a dream, I must’ve hit my head. “I need your uhhh help with the essay.” Baz doesn’t help, he just discussed key themes of the novel for breakfast. I feel it again, lingering in my chest, hope. “It’s okay if you don’t want to…” he says a bit quieter now, trying to seem as cool as possible. How Baz of him. Fuck I still haven’t said anything.

“What no no, I want to. I’m just not sure what Ms. Possibelf will say; or worse, Penny.” He pulls at my hand. He still hasn’t let go of my hand. He still hasn’t let go of my hand.

“What? Scared Snow?”

“We’re not in Harry Potter, Baz.”

“True. I’m wayyy better looking than Draco Malfoy and you wouldn’t be a very good chosen one. The worst chosen one who’s ever been chosen.”

I hear myself saying, “what so I’m not more better looking than Harry Potter?” Is this flirting? He squeezes my hand. He still hasn’t let go of my hand.

“You needed me to point that out? I thought it was a given. You’re well fit, Simon.” Simon. Hope.

I hum in response and with one final tug at my hand, he lets it go. I follow him (I’d follow him anywhere).

“Sit, I won’t bite,” He grins at me.

“Yeah but Penny will,” she better not ruin this for me. For us. I sit next to Baz and we start working on our essays. He doesn’t ask for help once.

Penny walks into class, glances at her seat, sees us and walks to my – her – seat next to Trixie.

Penelope Bunce – Simon Snow

Penelope Bunce [08:14]: u win. Enjoy!

I can’t tell if that’s sarcastic or not.

Baz notices I’ve changed my window to Instagram DMs and nudges me, “how come you don’t follow me?”

“Huh, I don’t know? What’s your user name?” As if I don’t know.

Baz grabs my laptop, “I’ll just type it in.” I let him because I’m lazy and I like watching him type but then he clicks on the search bar and has the biggest grin on his face. Fuck. He can see my search history, “looks like you already know it.” How could I forget about that?

I must look mortified because he places his hand on mine. Second time today. “It’s all good. I already have yours too.”

Hope.

[thecomicsnexus]

TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES #52-56 OCTOBER 1992 - FEBRUARY 1993 BY KEVIN EASTMAN, PETER LAIRD, JIM LAWSON, KEITH AIKEN AND MATT BANNING

SYNOPSIS (MIXED WITH TURTLEPEDIA, TMNT ENTITY AND COMIC VINE)

Casey wakes up in Gabby's trailer, too injured to eat. Gabrielle tells Jones that he can stay there and rest up if he wants to, and Casey says that he might. Jones then dials the local police to report the incident, but when the operator answers he just hangs up. He grabs a drink and heads outside to take a walk.

April is reading about the Foot violence in the New York Times. The story sparks her memories of the Foot burning down her antique store. Robyn interrupts her sister's thoughts and the two head out to do some shopping.

Gabby gets an hour off so she heads home and is surprised to find Casey still there. Jones has cleaned up the trailer and made lunch that they share.

Master Splinter is in the woods of Northampton, Massachusetts, attempting to meditate, but something is on his mind and he cannot concentrate.

Casey and Gabby are talking about the family that Jones left behind in New York.

"You miss your family, huh Casey?" Gabby asks.

"Yeah, I guess..." Casey mumbles, "Yeah..."

Gabrielle takes Casey's hand and tells him, "I just want you to know... when you're ready... if you're ready... to tell me... I'll be here. Until then... I'd like you to stay."

With that out in the open, Gabby kisses Casey.

In New York City, an Asian businessman is riding on a bus. He opens his briefcase and connects a cordless phone to his laptop computer, using it to hack into the power company's computers. He flags an account as seven months overdue. The power company discovers this odd glitch and wonders how it got past them for so long without anyone noticing, but rather than investigate further, they simply shut off the electricity in a building - one that the Foot Soldiers are using as a headquarters.

In Tokyo, Japan we see a conference with numerous business people gathered around a table. A man notes that their software has almost completed beta test phase and that it is a pity that they allowed the New York factions to go to war for so long. A woman notes that it was to their advantage to wait.

"In chaos there is weakness." she states.

Back in New York City, the Turtles prevent a woman from being mugged by three men. Raphael is tired of being a street vigilante and wants to find the Foot.

We see the old man in the hospital, sitting up for the first time with assistance from his nurse.

Leonardo tells Raphael that they just need to wait, and that in time their path will be revealed.

"Could ya keep the Zen crap to yourself for now, Leo?" Raph sneers, "We don't all have your freakin' Buddha nature, ya know... some of us actually enjoy linear thought! Like me... if I can't figure out whose butt I'm supposed to kick soon, I'm just gonna - -"

With that, Raph sees a strange robot emerging from out of a van driven by Foot Soldiers.

"--bust--" Raphael concludes, "Oboy. ALL RIGHT!"

The robot starts destroying a nearby bus, the one that contains the businessman who had earlier hacked into the power company's computers. The Turtles attack the robot and an army of Foot Soldiers appear from nowhere. Chaos ensues. Raph manages to destroy the robot, and the guys regroup, only to find themselves surrounded by Foot Soldiers and two more robots.

"What a revoltin' development this is." Raph notes as the Foot close in.

Well, look at it this way, Raph," Mike states, "It can't get much worse!"

In the final panel we see one of Shredder's Elite poised on top of a building.

Master Splinter is still attempting to meditate in the woods of Northampton, Massachusetts but his efforts once again prove futile.

Casey has taken a job as a grocery bagger, but he messes up by putting the bread on the bottom of the bag, which enrages his boss. The angry older man gets in Jones' face and reads him the riot act and insults Jones. Casey gets angry and puts a bag over the man's head and punches him in the face, sending him flying. Jones then storms out, but as soon as he's outside he realizes that he needs the job and goes back inside. Casey apologizes for the incident and asks for his job back. The man makes Jones get on his knees and beg for the work, but then screams "NO!" in Casey's face. So Space Case lets another punch fly and heads out.

Karai's plane has arrived in the United States, and she boards a helicopter that takes her to Foot headquarters, an imposing skyscraper in New York City.

Casey and Gabby are watching a romantic sunset. Gabrielle announces that she's getting hungry and wants to head for home, but before Casey starts their Jeep, he produces a ring and proposes. Gabby accepts Casey's proposal and the two are engaged.

April is having dinner with a slick weasel with a ponytail. The man brags about his programming prowess and then grabs April by the knee. O'Neil throws her coffee on the fellow and storms out. As she walks home, April reflects on how much she dislikes California.

Master Splinter is awoken by a voice, insisting that the old rat must eat if he's to survive. The Sensei tells the voice that he has nothing to subsist on.

"Help me..." Splinter implores.

"The help you seek," the Voice replies, "Is your own."

"There is little nourishment in riddles, shadow." states Splinter.

"The riddle is yours... that which can sustain you is within your reach... but not yet within your grasp." the Voice notes.

"I'm hungry... cold... in pain... and yet you torment me. You are death." concludes the Sensei.

"I am not," the Voice states, "But I know death."

Leonardo encourages his brothers to go on a training run. Raphael is not interested, but after some cajoling, he agrees to go along.

The old man is sitting up at the hospital, gazing longingly at the shuttered window.

As the Turtles jump from rooftop to rooftop, Raphael steps in some dog dung. This enrages Raph and he angrily stalks off towards home. As Raph makes hi sway back, he's ambushed by one of Shredder's Elite Guard. Raph is badly cut on the face, but he manages to severely wound the Elite by stabbing him in the side with a sai, thus taking the Elite out of action. Leo, Mike and Don arrive just as the fighting ends. The Elite gazes up at Leonardo.

"Y-you... you are the kappa... that killed my Master... Oroku Saki!" he stammers.

"Yes." replies Leonardo.

"I am... duty bound... to slay you... to... avenge my Master..." the man croaks.

"I think your avengin' days are over, pal." notes Raph.

"Perhaps... in the next life..." notes the Elite.

"Perhaps." answers Leo.

With this, the Elite Guard commits seppuku.

Master Splinter continues arguing with the Voice.

"Who are you!!?" Splinter demands.

"I have had several names," comes the answer, "But considering the circumstances, perhaps none is more appropriate than this... you may call me... the Rat King."

At her programming job in LA, April is feeling restless.  She goes to her boss and states that the project he currently has her assigned to is a waste of time.  Her boss sends her back to her desk and tells her to finish it.  April sits back down, frustrated and angry.

At a Justice of the Peace's office in Colorado, Casey and Gabe tie the knot.  Returning to their trailer, Casey has decorated the whole place in a tropical island theme to serve as their honeymoon.  Gabe is thrilled with the gesture.

Inside the abandoned smokestack in Northampton, Splinter has been surviving off melted snow for water, though he needs food soon or he’ll perish.  The Rat King urges him to eat the rats that scurry about his reach, claiming that once Splinter dies, the rats will have no second thoughts about eating his remains.  Splinter refuses, believing himself to be above something as reprehensible as cannibalism.  The Rat King tells Splinter that he is making a mistake by trying to shed his animal nature in search of spiritual perfection.

Back in LA, April returns home to Robyn’s place in a foul mood.  She chides Robyn again for being messy and irresponsible and the two get into an argument. Robyn reminds April that their mother is dead and that April is not their father.

In the smokestack, Splinter grabs a rat, but lets it go; still unable to do the deed.  The Rat King calls Splinter a weak master for his students, but Splinter believes it better to die than give in.  Splinter asks if the Rat King is human and the Rat King reveals that he rejected his humanity long ago.

In New York, Karai and the Foot Clan have tracked the Turtles (who have grown sloppy) back to their water tower.  Karai has assembled a unit of Foot Soldiers from the remains of the New York branch that are lost and looking for leadership.  They plant a bomb beneath the tower, setting it on fire and sending the Turtles fleeing onto the rooftop.  The Turtles, caught totally unawares, struggle to battle the Foot Soldiers (while in the hospital, the old man lays quietly in his bed).

Karai orders her Foot Soldiers to take the Turtles alive and they break out their tasers.  The Foot Soldiers get Leo, zapping him unconscious.  Though they’re loathe to do it, the other Turtles retreat before they’re caught, too.  As they escape, Karai sends an arrow their way with a note attached.  The note contains a phone number.

At Robyn’s place, April receives a phone call from the Empire Estates Nursing Home.  As it turns out, their father passed away that morning.

REVIEW

When this story started, all these characters were in pain with their present. But as the story progresses, they start to figure out that they found their destiny, and that they cannot really avoid it. By being separated, they became weaker. If you like metaphors, all these divisions are reflected in the TV reports about conflicts in Europe and Asia. These fractures are food for vultures.

To make things more interesting, Karai made her debut in these issues. We are still not sure what she wants but... well... I already know the character :p

As for Casey’s story. I never heard of this Gabe before, so I don’t think that story is going to end well. And I think this mostly because of all the characters that are rediscovering themselves, Casey is the only one that seems to have been benefited by this arc. We’ll see.

The art got better with Matt Banning. It’s no secret that certain artists look better paired with certain inkers... maybe Keith Aiken wasn’t the right choice for Lawson.

I give these issues a score of 9.

[sarcastic-sunshines]

ABIONA AU - Before Abiona Interlude Part 1: Leave Me Alone

Pairing: T’ Challa x Black!Reader

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 2319

Link to ABIONA by @writingmarvellousimagines

Link to Face claims (2)

Part: (1) (2) (3)

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! I hope you are all having a good start to the new year. While writing, I decided to explore what Alix and T’challa’s journey would be like as the slowly got ready of the arrival of their bundle of joy and how so much time together would also help improve their relationship. So I came up with these little interludes that will give a little insight on how their relationship came to be. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

Leave Me Alone

Fifteen minutes had gone by and Alix had only been able to put on one shoe. She felt ridiculous for breaking out into a sweat. She leaned into the chair and closed her eyes to have a little meditation session before attempting to put on the other shoe. She was having one of the worst days of her pregnancy. The baby had decided it was time to play football all through the night. She’d finally gotten two hours of rest in the morning only to be woken up by back pain that had refused to settle.

At 24 weeks Alix was ready to call it quits and have the baby come now. She had enjoyed as much of the pregnancy as she thought she could, but she just wanted her body’s mobility back. Was that too much to ask for? She struggled again to get her shoes on with no luck, she let out an exasperated sigh and threw the shoe across the room and gave up. She was ready to get off the couch and go back to bed, until T’challa walked in to the sitting room.

He smiled at her and rubbed her bump hoping to feel a kick only to get nothing. Nothing had been all he had gotten since he showed up. He wondered if the baby knew he was here. Meanwhile, Alix grew more frustrated just looking at him. He was so happy today. His body was so mobile, and here she was suffering all the consequences of their passion. What a world, she thought.

“I thought you said you were going to take a walk to the bakery,” T’Challa asked as he sat across from her.

“I was but I decided not to go,” she replied staring at the wall as she slouched on the couch.

“Well, okay…,” he said a bit confused, especially since she had been talking about this pain au chocolat that she was craving since she woke up. Usually when Alix wanted something very little could stop her.

“Since you are not going anymore let me ask you something.” Alix closed her eyes not ready for any conversation T’Challa wanted to have. “Why is it that you have decided not to find out the sex of the baby?”

“I don’t know T’Challa, because I decided I didn’t want to. I told you I didn’t want to know, didn’t I?”

“But why? You know in Wakanda, finding out the sex is considered a regular affair. By the 4-5 month period, most parents find out. It is like running test to make sure the baby is well. I find it quite peculiar that Western culture leaves it up to the parents as though...”

Alix attempted to tune him out. She couldn’t do this right now. All she wanted was to be left alone to sulk quietly, or maybe take a nap.  Well, a nap was now out of the question as she felt her baby start to do what could be described as somersaults in her belly.

Alix’s chest began to heave as all the frustration of the day began to take a toll on her, only for her to open her eyes and see T’Challa still attempting to explain to her why they should find out the sex of the baby. She wasn’t sure what came over her but next thing she knew she was standing and everything tumbled out of her like a waterfall.

“Just be quiet, T’Challa!”

“What?”

He stared at her stunned.

“Just shut up! For one second, please?! Can you do that for me? I am exhausted! My back feels like there are needles in it! This baby refuses to stop kicking me when all I want is to rest!”

“Wait, the baby is kicking?”

“This pregnancy is taking a toll on my mind, body and spirit! All because of you! You did this to me! I was my minding my own business and in comes Prince T’Challa to turn my life upside down!” Her eyes began to water and voice started shaking. “Now I can’t even put on my own shoes to go for a walk! I don’t know what my own feet look like anymore! So if you could do one last favour for me could you please. Just! Leave! Me! Alone!”

She finished her rant and waddled away as fast as she could to her room slamming the door behind her. She finally collapsed on the bed sobbing until she fell asleep.

T’Challa was completely confused by what just happened. He did not know what he did to deserve that, and he definitely did not know how to react. She had made it very clear that she wanted to be left alone. With absolutely no idea what to do, he grabbed his Kimoyo beads and called his mother.

“Hello, T’Challa, how are you? How is the baby doing? You look a bit thin are you not eating?”

T’Challa rolled his eyes at his mother’s series of questions.

“Mama, I am fine, baby is perfectly fine.”

“Have you found out the sex yet? What is taking so long? I know this amazing seamstress who makes the cutest royal garments and I would love some for the baby.”

“That is why I am actually calling you, Mama...”

T’Challa told his mother everything that had taken place and how he wasn’t sure where to go from here. He always knew Alix to be a stubborn person, but the pregnancy seemed to have making her more susceptible to anger.  Sometimes it felt like dodging landmines. He had been doing his best to avoid them, but he certainly stepped on one today. His mother began to laugh. T’Challa was upset because he didn’t see the joke in the issue.

“My son, she is pregnant. Her hormones are all over the place so it’s normal for her emotions mirror that. She was clearly frustrated and, unfortunately, you were the only one around to throw her frustrations at. I definitely had my moments with your father. Just give her the space she needs and she will come around. Just be patient with her and understand that she is going through many things right now. She was not expecting all of this to happen so fast. The change is always present when she looks at herself. You just have to be by her side waiting for when she needs you. Plus, T’Challa, you talk a lot,” she jokingly added.

T’Challa heard Alix coming back out and told his mother he had to go after having to promise he would arrange for her and Shuri to meet Alix very soon. He calmly waved at Alix but didn’t say anything else. Her eyes were bloodshot and she looked exhausted. How he hadn’t noticed her frustration until now made him shameful. She sat across from him and pulled out her laptop to do some assignments for work she promised to have complete before her maternity leave. She could feel T’Challa staring a hole into her.

“What?!”, she said with a hint of anger still lingering. He shook his head and made his way back to his room. Not long after he returned and left the apartment without saying a word.  Alix began to feel bad, she started to wonder if he was angry. It really wasn’t his fault, technically speaking. It was both of their fault, and she wasn’t angry that she was pregnant. She was just tired. Everything hurt all the time and honestly she felt better after her breakdown. But now she felt like an ass. She didn’t want T’Challa to ever feel as though his efforts were in vain. He really put in so much effort, from flying out every week to be with her to making every appointment, making sure she had prenatals and having all her favourite snacks ready for when she got back from work. He did not crowd her space at all, in fact he was more of a neat freak than she was.

Great, now she felt like crying again. Her hormones were making it really difficult for her to emote the way she wanted.

The door started jingling signalling T’Challa was back. Before he could close the door behind him Alix was up and trying to apologize, but her frustrated sobbing made it difficult for any of her words to come out the way she wanted them to. T’Challa was highly confused. He had hoped that by the time he came back she would be in a better mood but this seemed worse.

“Eh, eh, eh, calm down. I am not even sure which language you are using,” he half-joked.

“Merde!”, Alix swore, which was the first clear word T’Challa could understand.

He led them to the couch and asked Alix to take a few breathes. Once she felt calmer, she began again.

“I am sorry about earlier. I never want you to feel as though I blame you or don’t appreciate you being here. I am just so tired, and I couldn’t put on my shoes and it felt like everything was coming for me at the same time.”

“I was never angry Alix. Confused? Yes.” They laughed. “I have never seen you explode like that, more specifically towards me. I understand. I mean... I don’t because I have never been pregnant, but I do sympathise with you.” Alix smiled and T’Challa had never been more relieved to see that smile. Even in her emotional state, he still thought she was the most beautiful person he ever had the pleasure of meeting. “Beside I have been told I talk a lot.”

“Oh you do. It takes you so much time to say the simplest thing. Not everyone is a world leader you are attempting to convince.”

“Okay, okay, you do not have to come for me like that.” Alix began to laugh which caused T’Challa to laugh. “I almost forgot. I saw you could not make it to the bakery, so I went for you.”

“Is this the pain au chocolat I wanted?! Ugh, T’Challa, thank you. I could cry again,” she said hugging him as much as her bump would allow.

“Please don’t, I have seen probably enough tears for at least a month or two.”

“Someone thinks they are a comedian.”

“I have been known to make Okoye and Ayo shed tears of laughter.”

“I didn’t know the Dora’s were such good actors,” Alix said with a smile as she finished off her pastry.

“I am not even going to give you the satisfaction of a response,” he responded with a scowl.

“Or you can’t come up with a good enough response?”

He sarcastically said: “There is the Alix I know and love, to think she was a blubbering mess 5 minutes ago.”

“Yet, you still want to be with me,” she quickly replied.

“I did  willingly say know and love.”

She stared at him as he stood and asked for her hand to follow him. She always froze when he talked about her in that matter.

When they got to her room, he set up the pillows and asked her her to lie down.

“If you don’t mind, can you please remove your shirt.” She looked at him skeptically and T’Challa rolled his eyes. “You said your back hurt so I was going to give you a massage suitable for pregnant snarky women like yourself.”

Alix rolled her eyes and proceeded to take off her shirt and lie in between the pillows. T’Challa was doing what she could only describe as magic. She caught herself moaning without realising which caused T’Challa to smile to himself. “Let me know if you or the baby feel any pain.”

“Actually, baby has been really quiet since you came back. Probably sleeping preparing for their midnight activities,” Alix joked before seeing T’Challa’s saddened face. She sat up straight and looked in his eyes.

“Hey, it will happen. They may be just shy, or stubborn, like their mama. It will happen. Just keep talking and singing and all the other annoying things you do when I am trying to watch tv.”

T’Challa laughed.  He started to get off the bed to leave Alix when she held his hand.

“Hey, you want to just like, lay here? Together?”

“Like cuddling?”, he said with a smirk

“No.” Alix diverted her eyes. “For the baby to get to know you a little more. I think I read that somewhere.”

“No, you didn’t, ” he said as he got back into the bed as Alix scowled at him. He laid ready.

“Come on, little spoon, let’s see if this works.”

Alix laid down in his arms and though she would never say it out loud, she had never felt more comfortable or at home than in that moment.

“By the way, I didn’t find out the sex because I want it to be a surprise.”

“You hate surprises, or is that only when I do it.”

Alix lightly tapped his hand on her belly.

“I don’t like them, but this will be the first time I fully meet this little person who I have been growing. I don’t want to know anything about them until we formally meet. I want to discover everything about them as they grow in my arms. I know it sounds silly but-”

“It doesn’t. It is sweet,” he said as he kissed her hand.

They stayed in that position for an hour, just talking, until Alix fell asleep.

T’Challa felt like he couldn’t move, so he watched how peaceful she looked finally getting some rest. He asked Bast how he got so lucky. He wasn’t sure what else he had to do to never lose the joy Alix brought to him. He prayed Bast was kind enough to tell him. He knew his life would be meaningless if she wasn’t in it.

________________________________________________________________

Taglist:

@dramaqueenamby @writingmarvellousimagines @teechallas-blog @ashanti-notthesinger @wakanda-inspired @lovely-geek @chaneajoyyy @chefjessypooh @imagine-mbaku @90sinspiredgirl @dopegalkk

[wistfulcynic]

Another Brick In The Wall, Chapter 5

a/n: No secret quite yet, but more clues! Plus Brothers Jones and Emma. I have to give special thanks to @darkcolinodonorgasm for giving me a new perspective on Liam, who I’ve never particularly liked as a character. I hope you like him here! 

New, serious-this-time-summary: Emma Swan, sheriff’s daughter, mayor’s niece, quarterback’s girlfriend, is the undisputed princess of Storybrooke High. She is smart and confident and used to getting what she wants. What she wants is Killian Jones, the new boy in school. But Killian is not easily manipulated, and reluctant to allow the dark secrets in his past to touch the girl he is rapidly falling in love with.

Rating: T+

Read it on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Tags for: @jennjenn615 and @resident-of-storybrooke

Chapter 5: 

It was astounding and rather disturbing to Killian how different his life at Storybrooke High became after Emma’s party. Where before he had been largely able to repel his classmates by hiding behind his laptop and headphones, turning Neal’s attempted frame job around on him seemed to have garnered Killian something of a reputation. Suddenly everyone was interested in knowing him better. People he didn’t think he’d ever even seen before were now greeting him by name in the halls, and the giggling girls who were so fascinated by hearing him pronounce simple words had unaccountably multiplied. He took to hiding out in a quiet corner of the library at lunchtime, just to get some peace. Fortunately the library was a bridge too far for most of his newfound fans, and only Emma managed to hunt him down there. 

He didn’t mind that so much. 

“I was worried people would be mad when Neal got suspended from the football team and blame you,” Emma confessed to him one Friday lunchtime in November, about three weeks after her party. “But it turns out everyone pretty much hated him and only put up with his crap because he won football games. And it helps that August has really come through. He’s a junior, and never had much chance to play until now because Neal hogged all the game time, but I really think he’s got more talent than Neal. He’s better at calling plays and doesn’t throw so many dumb interceptions because he’s trying to make a big play to make himself look good. And our running game has gotten way better because Neal always wanted to run passing plays, even on third and short yardage. It was seriously annoying sometimes.”

“Swan,” said Killian in exasperation, “You do know that I only understand about one out of every three of those words, and no one has yet been able satisfactorily to explain to me why a you call this game ‘football’ when only one player’s foot ever even touches the ball. Can we talk about something else, please?”

Emma laughed. “Sure. You doing anything this weekend?”

Killian flushed pink. “I’m going sailing with my brother, then we’re cooking dinner together.” 

“That sounds great,” said Emma, wondering why he looked so embarrassed. “Any special occasion?”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “It’s my birthday,” he mumbled, almost inaudibly. 

“What?!” 

“It’s my birthday, okay? Today, actually. But of course I have school and Liam has work, so we’re celebrating tomorrow.” He noted with alarm her wide eyes and excited face. “Emma, no,” he begged. “Please don’t make a big deal about this.”

“But it’s your birthday!” 

“And I just want it to be a low-key day, no big celebration, no stress.” 

She tried not to feel deflated. “Just you and your brother.” 

“Unless you’d care to come along?” Killian tried not to sound too hopeful, tried not to be too hopeful, though the idea of spending a whole Saturday with Emma, even with Liam along as well, was just about the best birthday gift he could imagine. 

“Could I?” asked Emma, not troubling to hide her own hopefulness. 

“Um, do you want to?”

“Well… yeah, actually. It sounds really fun. I haven’t been sailing in ages, and I’d kinda like to meet your brother. You talk about him so much I feel like I know him already.” 

“Funny, he says the same about you,” said Killian without thinking. 

“You talk to your brother about me?”

She had that look in her eyes again, the one she’d had at her party right before she kissed him. The one that said she wanted to kiss him again. The one that made him want to let her. Killian gave himself a mental slap. Damn it, no! “Well, you are basically my only friend, Swan, who else would I talk about?” he said, attempting to cover his slip. 

“Maybe I was your only friend, but you seem to have acquired quite a few little admirers lately.” She sounded disgruntled, and he felt absurdly pleased. 

“You’re still my only friend,” he assured her. “And I would be honoured to have you accompany Liam and me on my birthday sailing trip. And to dinner too, if you like.” 

“Didn’t you say you’re cooking together?” she said hesitantly. “I’m not much of a cook.” 

“No, nor I, but Liam is a master of the barbecue, so we’re going to do steaks.” 

“What, outside?” He nodded. “In November? In Maine?”

“We’re from England, love, if we let a little miserable weather deter us from barbecuing we’d never get steak.”

“All right,” she laughed. In that case, I’d love to.” 

His answering smile was radiant, sending the familiar butterflies dancing through her belly, this time in a sophisticated cha-cha-cha. She wanted to kiss him so badly when he looked like this that resisting the urge took a physical effort. 

“We’re scheduled to cast off at ten, so why don’t you meet us at the marina at nine forty-five?” he said. 

“Okay,” she agreed, just as the bell rang signalling the end of lunchtime. They gathered their things and walked to their history class together, not holding hands but both definitely thinking about it, wishing they could, their arms hanging loose at their sides, hands as close as they could get without actually touching. Upon arrival they went to their desks at opposite sides of the classroom, their history teacher having assigned seats at the beginning of the semester. Emma scowled slightly as she watched Killian take his seat between Aurora and Tina, two juniors who had always giggled to each other over him but whose flirting had reached new hights of coquetry In the weeks since the party. She watched as they peppered him with questions and he smiled and charmed them with his replies, and she couldn’t believe they didn’t see how tense he was beneath the charm and how he visibly relaxed when the teacher stood up and started the class, drawing their attention away from him. 

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

“So what time is your girlfriend getting here?” shouted Liam, loud enough to wake the dead. 

Killian sighed. He knew that Liam was just trying to lighten the mood with his teasing but really wished he wouldn’t. His brother knew perfectly well that Emma wasn’t Killian’s girlfriend. What he didn’t know is how the knowledge that she could be tormented Killian, and how any teasing on that point just drove the knife point deeper into his heart. Knowing that he could have her, her smiles and her kisses and her hand in his as they walked through the halls at school, that all that and more was within his reach if he could only forget about all the reasons why he couldn’t take it ate away at him. If he could just bring himself not to care about the consequences, to be a heartless bastard who didn’t give a damn about anyone else, then he could have what he wanted more than he’d ever wanted anything before in his life. 

But he couldn’t. No matter how much he longed for Emma, he couldn’t do it. 

Liam was thrilled he’d made a friend, and that the friend was a girl. He thought it meant that Killian was forgetting, moving on, and that Emma actually becoming his girlfriend was only a matter of time. 

But Liam didn’t know the worst of it, the full weight of the burden Killian carried, bearing it alone because he didn’t dare share it. As much as he wished to tell Liam or Dr Hopper or Emma or anyone —really, anyone, as long as it wouldn’t be his alone to carry anymore— he was too scared of what they might do, of the potential consequences of people bumbling in trying to fix what they didn’t understand. He would fix it, when he got back to England. It had to be him. 

It had been four months. Another five to go. Nearly eight until the AP exam results would be released. Killian felt panic rising in him at the thought of that three month gap, but he swallowed it back. It would be okay. He forced himself to breathe deeply, calmly. It would be okay. He would fix it. 

Before he could answer Liam’s question, Emma’s yellow bug swung into a parking space right near where their boat was moored. She hopped out, smiling brightly, and Killian’s heart leapt and tumbled in his chest. She was so impossibly beautiful, he thought, so beautiful and bright and pure and good, and just everything he could ever wish for in a girl. Everything he could have had if he hadn’t made made such terrible mistakes, hadn’t completely fucked up his life before it had even really begun. But he pushed those thoughts away. She was here now, to celebrate his birthday with him, and he intended to enjoy what time he had with her. He grinned foolishly as she approached, keeping his hands stuffed deep in his coat pockets to stop himself reaching for her. 

She was dressed in chinos and deck shoes and a bright red woollen coat, with a beanie on her head and a large scarf wrapped around her neck. She laughed. “It’s freaking freezing out here, Jones,” she said. “And it’ll be even colder on the water. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“It’s not cold, Swan, it’s bracing,” he said firmly, and she laughed again. He was so caught up in the delightful sound of it that he didn’t notice Liam appearing at his elbow until his brother loudly cleared his throat. Killian glanced over, grimacing at Liam’s appraising look and raised eyebrow. 

“Um, Emma, this is my brother Liam,” he said grudgingly.  

“Mr Jones,” said Emma, flushing slightly and looking suddenly nervous. 

Liam’s smile widened. “Call me Liam, I beg you,” he said. “There must be no undue formality between the only two people in the world able to stomach the company of my little brother.” 

He elbowed Killian, who rolled his eyes. “Younger brother,” he muttered, not quite under his breath. 

Liam chuckled and gestured for Emma to follow him onto the boat. “So, Emma, what sort of sailing experience do you have?”

“Well, my dad has a boat.” 

“Ah, yes, Sheriff Swan. He’s been down here a few times.” 

“Yeah, when I was little we used to go sailing quite a lot, but for the past couple of years it seems like we never have the time.” 

“Your father mentioned you were busy with cheerleading and college applications.”

“Yeah, that’s mostly it.” 

“Where are you planning to study?”

“I’m hoping for Columbia, or else NYU or Boston University.” 

“Any ideas about your major?”

Killian scowled as his brother drew Emma away, busying her with pre-sailing tasks as they chatted. How the hell did Liam know so much about American universities all of a sudden, he wondered crossly. He’d only just learned what a major was himself. 

“I’d like to do psychology, maybe with a criminal justice minor. I’m thinking of being a forensic psychologist.” 

Killian’s scowl deepened. She’d never told him that. Of course, they’d never really discussed their plans for the future aside from his intention to return to England. Suddenly he felt desperately sad, realising that he’d likely never know if Emma achieved her goals. 

Though he had little doubt that she would. She was brilliant and determined, there wouldn’t be much she couldn’t do. If only he could be there to see her succeed. 

“Ahoy there, Killian, don’t just stand there like a lump!” shouted Liam. “Come and help us prepare to set sail. You check the sheets while Emma tells us what exactly a forensic psychologist does.”

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

They sailed out to the edge of Storybrooke’s cape then around the harbour before heading back to their mooring. It was just as cold as Emma had feared, the icy wind whipping her hair into a frenzy and turning the tips of Killian’s ears so red that she worried he’d get frostbite. Pulling her beanie off her head, she thrust it at him. “Put this on,” she commanded. 

“What?”

“Put the hat on, idiot, before your ears fall off.” 

“And what about your ears, Swan?”

“I’ve got my scarf. See?” She wrapped the scarf over her head and around her neck, securing it underneath the collar of her coat. “It’s actually better like this because it holds my hair down. Now put on the damn hat.” 

“Such language, princess,” he teased, pulling the hat on over his ears, where it looked just ridiculously cute. “I’ve never heard you curse so fluently. Is it the influence of us rough seamen?” He waggled his eyebrows and she laughed, throwing back her head and shoving him playfully in the chest. 

Liam watched their byplay, not bothering to hide his delighted grin. It warmed his heart to see his brother smiling like that again, and after meeting Emma he had no qualms about encouraging their relationship. They were both so obviously smitten, the looks they gave each other so positively brimming with teenage angst and longing that Liam felt it could only be a matter of time before Killian finally gave in and asked her out properly. He had clung far longer than Liam had expected to this obligation he seemed to feel towards Milah Gold, but that was firmly in the past now, and Liam had no intention of letting his brother stumble down a similar path ever again. Killian was seeing Dr Hopper regularly and making good progress, according to the psychiatrist’s reports. He was getting good marks in school, seemed to enjoy playing his music again, and now he had a pretty girl his age who was clearly crazy about him. The tight knot of anxiety that had taken up residence in Liam’s chest the previous summer and had been his constant companion ever since eased slightly. The decision to move Killian to America despite his vehement protests had been the right one, Liam was more sure of that now than ever. His little brother was healing, slowly, but he would get there. Soon he would be his old self again. 

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

It was well past eleven when Emma finally dragged herself away from the Jones house after one of the single best days she could remember, sailing and grilling and eating steak and loaded baked potatoes and birthday cake until she couldn’t eat any more. Killian had played his guitar and Liam had sung along; even she had joined in after considerable coaxing and teasing from both of them. She didn’t think she’d ever laughed so hard in her life. Resolutely, she ignored the plaintive voice in her head urging her to stay just a few minutes longer, knowing that she needed time to drive slowly through the icy streets in order to make it home for her midnight curfew. 

Killian walked her to her car. “Thanks for coming today, Emma,” he said softly, taking the beanie from his pocket and pulling it down onto her head, letting his fingertips brush through her hair as he did. “It was the best birthday I’ve had in a while.” 

“I had a great time,” she replied. He dropped his hands from her hair but she caught them and placed them on her hips, stepping closer and leaning her head against his shoulder, smiling as she heard him catch his breath. She let go of his hands and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding her own breath for an anxious few seconds until he finally pulled her close, his arms enclosing her tightly. Sighing, she melted into the hug. “Happy birthday, Killian,” she whispered.  

They stood like that for as long as Emma dared, until finally she knew she had to get going. As she started to pull back Killian’s arms tightened around her almost reflexively, as if not wishing to let her go. She looked up at him, their faces so close there was barely a breath between them, and willed him to kiss her. 

She knew it had to be his move. She’d made the last one, now it was up to him. 

He swayed towards her, his eyes fixed on her lips as his own parted slightly, and she fisted her hands in his coat, forcing herself to wait. She could almost feel the conflict within him as he struggled against his attraction to her, and against whatever he was holding inside that wouldn’t allow him to act on it. The tension stretched her nerves tight and the butterflies performed an energetic jitterbug in her belly until Killian seemed to pull himself out of a trance, blinking rapidly and shaking himself and then abruptly his arms were gone and he was stepping away. 

“Drive safely, love,” he said hoarsely. 

Emma hid her disappointment behind a bright smile. “See you at fencing club tomorrow?” she asked, her own voice lower than normal. 

“I’ll be there.” 

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

Outside the door of Dr Hopper’s office, Neal waited. This time of year darkness fell quite early in Maine, and the sun had long since set by the time the psychiatrist went home for the day, whistling as he went. The office door closed behind him with a decisive click and he followed an eager Pongo to the exit, not noticing the boy hidden in the deep shadows of the darkened hallway. 

Once he was sure he was alone Neal knelt in front of the door, withdrawing a set of lock picks from his pocket and quickly jimmying the door open. No security at all, he thought scornfully. You’d think the man guarding Storybrooke’s darkest secrets would have a sturdier lock. He hurried to the filing cabinet, picking that lock just as easily, and soon he had in his hands the thick manila file bearing the name of Killian Jones. Placing it on the coffee table, he made himself comfortable on the sofa and flipped the file open, illuminating its contents with the flashlight from his phone. 

Several minutes later he sat back, feeling gleeful and exhilarated, and thoroughly pleased with himself. This was fucking huge and with it he could annihilate Killian, not just at school but also with Emma. There was no way she would forgive him. Not a prissy little prude like her. Not for this. 

Grinning smugly, he snapped a few pictures with his phone then returned the file to the cabinet and locked everything behind him as he left. For the first time in his life, he couldn't wait to get back to school

(We’ll get the secret in the next chapter, I promise!)