#i just really like this detail! the amount of confusion there always is between library and librairie among french students is insane

[purplelea]

One detail I really like in The Dragon Prince is the name of the Lux Aurea Bookery. "Bookery" isn't an English term. It's the incorrect but more literal translation of the French word "bibliothèque", which is more usually translated to "library" instead.

Why didn't they use library instead? Well, it was to insist on language specificity. In French there's the word "librairie" that exists, but doesn't mean library at all. Instead, it means bookstore. As they couldn't simply call it a "bibliothèque", they decided to stay as close as possible to the French word to showcase the specificity of the culture of the Fire Elves, which, if their accent is any indication, is partly based on France.

#léa rambles #tdp #the dragon prince #LOOK their accents are kinda dealing me psychic damage so i can have a free pass to be insane about language on main instead #i just really like this detail! the amount of confusion there always is between library and librairie among french students is insane #so it was a nice reference xD

[piecksz]

dirty little secret | (m)

pairings: jock!eren yeager x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, dub con, cheating, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), mouth fucking, saliva, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, sneaky sex, explicit language

words: 3.2k+

summary: eren’s unsatisfied in his relationship with his girlfriend, so he looks to you for sexual gratification.

a/n: all the characters in this story are adults! it was originally meant to be a college au but the whole “fire drill” detail doesn’t really make sense in a college setting since fire drills are typically held in dorms, so as per usual 18+ minors dni. 

Your legs moved quickly against the polished tile of the hallway while you sped up to meet with your class who had already been far ahead of you, disappearing into the throng of people filing outside at the blaring signal of the fire alarm.

You’d excused yourself during your lesson to use the bathroom, unaware that an unplanned drill had been scheduled for that day, so with haste you finished up and rushed to rendezvous with the rest of your classmates before you were left inside the building.

As you rounded the corner, you felt a pair of hands wrap around your forearm, forcibly pulling you behind the small door that stood at the end of the corridor.

Instinctively, your hands balled into fists, and you threw them blindly in the direction of your assailant. You hoped that you’d at least land one successful hit, and it would give you enough time to break out of their hold and flee.

“Y/N, relax! It’s just me!”

Your hysterical flailing ceased, and you opened your eyes hesitantly at the sound of your attacker’s familiar voice. “Eren?”

Frantic pupils fell upon a pair of mischievous jade eyes, and your terror-stricken expression contorted into an angry scowl as you drove the palms of your hands into his chest, sending him careening back into the metal shelf behind him. “You asshole! What is wrong with you?”

Eren’s quick reflexes allowed him to catch himself and the rack before both were sent tumbling to the floor. “Ow,” he grumbled, rubbing away the soreness spreading over the skin of his arm from your knuckles’ potent impact. “You’ve got a brutal left hook.”

“Yeah? You wanna see my right one?” Your right hand tightened as if you were projecting another throw, but Eren’s outstretched arm maintained a safe amount of space between you two. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

Eren’s tightly-wound eyebrows began to arch as his distressed face eased into a buoyant grin. “I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

You blinked. “Were you the one that pulled the fire alarm?”

“No, I didn’t pull the fucking fire alarm,” he replied sourly, evidently offended that you’d suggest he’d do something so juvenile. “I just got lucky.”

Your curled lip relaxed, and your irritation waned into a resigned stare. You desperately wanted to trust Eren’s saccharine words, and it didn’t take much effort to believe him while you were faced with his stupidly winsome expression. His smile was warm, eyes glossing over with adoration like he was truly expressing what he felt, and it wasn’t just empty flattery, yet you’d been more perceptive than to just take his intentions for what they were. Rather, you’d been smart enough to learn from last time.

He’d said something along the same lines, after you two had hooked up in his car after his lacrosse game. He was feeling mirthful after winning and wanted to celebrate with you, but on the cusp of his orgasm, he’d let the “love” phrase slip, and when you’d asked him about it afterward, Eren mulled over it for a second before nodding, admitting that he had feelings for you.

His confession had been somewhat of a relief, and you’d expected him to end things with his girlfriend shortly after he’d realized what he really wanted, but the following day in the courtyard, you were stunned to see Eren sitting with her and the rest of his friends, showering her with kisses like nothing had taken place the night before.

You swore you’d learned your lesson.

“Are these new? Can I see them?” Eren’s fingers gently wrapped around the frame of your glasses, pulling them from your face, and he slid them onto his ears, adjusting their position on his nose. “How do I look?”

“I can’t see, Eren,” you answered simply.

Eren laughed bashfully. “Right, I think they look better on you instead.” He slid your glasses off and tucked them back behind your ears.

Your lenses restored your lucid vision, and now that you could properly see, you noticed the way Eren’s lips were parted, lids low and languid as his face lingered only inches from yours. He’d used your glasses as leverage to get closer to you, a crafty technique, and now that he was close enough, he could whisper.

“You know what else looks better on you?” The corner of his mouth quirked upwards into his cheek, and he closed the space between you two, fixing his lips onto yours while his thumb and index finger supported the curve of your chin. His kiss was slow, mouth undulating with the most tender of movements, and when he carefully slid his tongue between your teeth you could taste the vague chill of spearmint on his breath. He proceeded timidly, as though he was touching you for the first time, but that was the very detail of your couplings that always had you running back. He handled you like he cared.  

The tip of Eren’s nose skimmed against yours, ever so slightly, while he continued prompting his tongue further into the depths of your mouth, eager to have you savor his desire.

Your body was traitorous and unmoving, allowing Eren to command you with his lips, and for a few blissful minutes, you forgot the two of you were crammed into the unyielding space of a storage room.

Eren withdrew from your mouth, and tilted his head to the side so he could occupy the empty curve of your neck, and once you felt him press mild kisses to the hollow of your throat, you freed a displeased sigh and sent him backwards with an assertive push.

“Seriously? In the supply closet?”

“We’ve got like fifteen minutes before everyone comes back.” He reassured you, shrugging dismissively before tipping his head in for another kiss.

You shifted backward, studying Eren as he continued to lean in until his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Wondering why he wasn’t receiving any contact, his eyes flitted open.

“You still haven’t broken up with her have you?” You pressed your lips into an unamused line.

Your question had Eren angling until he was standing upright, and then he rolled his head back and released a groan as though already tired from your question. “Y/N, come on. I don’t feel like having this conversation.”

“Have you?” you probed.

“No, I haven’t. It’s not that easy.”

“It really is.”

Eren drew his eyebrows up, now in regret. “We’ve been together since freshman year. Do you know how big of a douchebag it makes me look if I break up with her two months before graduation?”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest. “Do you know how big of a douchebag you look fucking me behind her back?”

Eren’s eyes drifted to the side.

“Or are you just embarrassed to be seen with me?” you questioned, canting your body into his view.

“Okay, you sound ridiculous,” Eren laughed dryly.

“Because I’m not a cheerleader or an athlete, and I have about one other friend. You don’t want everyone to know you’re fucking the girl that spends lunch in the library.”

“What kind of cliche movie do you think we’re in right now?”

“It’s just something I’d expect from someone who peaked in high school.” Your words were sharp on the tip of your tongue, and you could tell by the way Eren recoiled that your statement managed to penetrate his seemingly careless guise.

“I’ll handle it okay?” Eren’s hand slid over the back of his neck, looking blameworthy of all the faults you’d accused him of. “But right now I really need help handling something else.”

Your eyes narrowed in his direction after realizing he’d managed to do it again, forcing you into forgiveness with his charming abashed impression. He’d taken advantage of how spineless you were when it came to matters concerning him.

“Please?” he urged.

It was his thick brown brows that were creased in the middle and opalescent green eyes that stared you down that made him look so sincere. He was easily one of the most spellbinding people you’d ever met, attractive and likable, he knew exactly what cards to play to get his way, and even though you were aware of it, you always found yourself wrapped around his finger. A pretty face and a sweet tongue was a recipe written up by the devil himself.

You lowered yourself onto your knees, leveled with Eren’s hands working swiftly against the buttons of his slacks. “I’m done doing this, Yeager,” you announced wryly.

“I know,” Eren said, as though guaranteeing you it would be the last time.

He pushed his pants down along with his briefs in one swift motion, freeing his cock from the tight cotton confines of his underwear. His length was already rigid, the sticky beads of precum leaking out of his swollen head the result of your stalling. He’d already provoked himself by thinking of all the ways he wanted to have you, you didn’t have to do anything more to get him hard.

A relieved exhale left Eren’s lips once he grabbed the base of his cock in the sweaty heat of his palm, tapping his wet tip against your bottom lip, then he pulled the hem of his shirt up slightly, allowing you enough clearance to take him into your mouth.

You wrapped a ginger hand around his length, feeling the way his warmth throbbed in your fingers, and you leaned in, using your tongue to lap along the rim of his cock.

“Fuck—” Eren’s voice was husky as it ripped through the depths of his throat. He watched you with heavy lids, observing the way your tongue’s tip danced around his swollen head, giving coy licks to his slit, and the way his cock twitched with need at the slightest provocation. “Jesus Christ—”

You gave him a few generous pumps before taking him whole, humming at the way his girth felt against the inside of your cheeks. The skin of his length ran like hot silk over your tongue as you fell into a natural rhythm, and your lips and hand rocked back and forth against him.

Eren’s face broke out into a dirty grin. “You’re such a little slut for my cock, aren’t you?”

You glared up at him over the edge of your glasses.

“Sorry,” he responded meekly, fingers brushing away the strands of hair that fell loosely against his forehead.

You continued working against him, excited by the honeyed melody of his moans every time your fingertips ran over the sensitive skin of his balls. Eren’s cock pulsated against the surface of your tongue with each small ministration, and you watched the muscles across his abdomen tense.

“I know you hate me,” he started. “But you have no idea how hot you look on your knees right now. Keep glaring at me like that, and I’m gonna cum in your mouth.”

The mention of Eren’s warning had a torrent of heat surging between your legs, and you fought off the urge to dip your fingers beneath your skirt and begin rubbing away your discomfort. You didn’t want him to know you were enjoying this almost as much as he was.

Your heavy yet stifled breathing caused your glasses to fog lightly, so you sat back on your knees, withdrawing your mouth from him briefly to catch your breath. You lifted a thumb to wipe away at the saliva that dribbled down your chin, but Eren’s fast fingers stopped you, holding your wrist away from your face.

“Don’t,” he breathed. “You look pretty like that.”

You ran the back of your hand across your cheeks, as though you were trying to rub off the furious heat that crept across your skin and over your nose. “Shut up.”

Eren only responded with an amused smile.

Then when you brought him back to your lips for the last time, his hands settled on the crown of your head, and he pushed his cock back in until his tip relentlessly prodded the back of your throat. Holding your head in place, he began jerking his hips, fucking your mouth at an agonizingly slow pace that had heavy tears cascading down your cheeks.

Every time his cock slowly and deliberately pressed against the back of your throat, you gagged involuntarily, fingertips digging into the side of his thighs.

“Feel how hard I am?” Eren asked. “You did that.” He rocked his pelvis forward again, muffling your whines.

“Yeah? You like it when I fuck your pretty little face, don’t you?” He thrusted himself between your jaws, throwing his head back and liberating a series of foul swears. “I really need to feel you.”

With the declaration of his wish, he pulled his cock out of your mouth, inhaling sharply at the obscene sight of his length coated and dripping with your spit.

After your dry heaving subsided, Eren helped you up with a gentle hand, running his palm between your shoulder blades to soothe your coughing. He made sure you were steady before cuing you to turn so that your back was facing him, then he watched as your shaky hands slid underneath your skirt and fingers hooked around the fabric of your underwear.

“Pull out this time, Eren. I mean it,” you rasped, cautioning him ahead of time. You stepped out of your underwear and used the toe of your shoe to cast it aside.

Eren’s hands reached under your hem, large palms gliding over the curve of your ass. “The odds of you getting pregnant are like one in what?” He flipped up your skirt and continued teasing the skin of your backside. “Plus I always cover you for the pill, don’t I?”

“I don’t care, cum in me and you’re dead.” Your fingers gripped the edge of the metal shelf, and you slid your arm around Eren’s shoulder while he placed one hand on your waist for support and curved the other under your thigh. Then, he brought your knee up to his chest until all of your weight was allocated onto one leg.

Eren held his cock with his fingertips and slid himself between your folds from behind. You let out a soft, unanticipated whimper, but quickly brought your teeth down on the flesh of your tongue to smother any more sounds of pleasure. You didn’t even bother looking over your shoulder at Eren’s satisfied smirk, you could tell by the way his hand squeezed your thigh that he had noticed it.

Eren positioned himself at your entrance, skimming his wet tip over your hole before sliding himself inside you. His cock slipped in with ease, your saliva acting as a crude lubricant.

“Oh fuck—” His breath was hot over the span of your neck.

“Eren—” you sighed, forgetting all your pretenses. You closed your eyes, enjoying the way he stretched you out, and then he started moving causing a pattern of shallow cries and moans to fall from your lips.

“Fuck Y/N, you drive me fucking crazy,” Eren groaned, thrusting up into you, slowly and rhyhmically, steadily filling you to the hilt every time, while his hand traveled beneath your ribcage to cup your breast over the crisp fabric of your uniform. “She doesn’t take me as well as you do.”

You shook your head, making weak sounds of protest between delicate whines. “I don’t wanna hear that, Eren—”

“But it’s true.” Eren moved quickly between your legs, hissing every time your slick walls tightened around his aching cock. With each punctuated thrust, you continued to lose yourself, until your need unfurled and Eren had you under siege. His methodical pace sent you into a flurry of moans, and you cried his name over and over.

His even strokes began to stagger, and his breathing became rapid and shallow, chaotic pants of hot air rolling out over the span of your shoulder.

“I’m gonna cum—” He continued pounding into you, faster now, harder, keen on drawing out his orgasm, and then Eren gave one last thrust, so deep it had you shutting your eyes and pursing your lips to keep from screaming. Then he shuddered, his body convulsing with the bout of his orgasm, and you felt him release inside of you, thick, hot ropes of cum flooding your pussy with every twitch of his cock.

“Y/N—” he moaned, resting his chin in the curve of your shoulder while he continued to jettison every drop of his release until he was sure he was empty.

Your hands tightened around his shoulder, as the ripple from Eren’s climax had your cunt tightening around his length, and ecstasy spread over the span of your pelvis and down your thighs. Once he grew limp, he slipped himself out of you, and you felt a slow stream of his cum run down the inside of your thigh.

“I said not to cum in me you fucking idiot.” Your legs were sweaty, making it easier for you to twist yourself out of Eren’s hold until you were now standing upright, both legs planted unsteadily on the ground.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.” Eren wrapped his arms around you apologetically, but you shrugged him off, using your elbow to drive him back.

Your eyes scanned the closet with haste, looking for tissue paper you could steal to clean up the mess between your thighs, and Eren must have sensed your aim because he made use of his height, seizing a large roll from the top shelf and unwrapping it before handing it to you.

You grabbed it out of his hands, waiving a statement of gratitude, and ripped away a few plies, crumpling them up into a generous wad. “You owe me eighty dollars.”

Eren’s eyebrows lifted and his face twisted into an incredulous expression while he stuffed himself back into his pants and buttoned them up. “Are you running a prostitution ring?”

“I’m serious. Fifty for the pill and thirty just for dealing with you.” You straightened out your uniform, and watched as Eren did the same, tugging on his collar to smooth out the creases.

“You’re a mean little bitch,” he jeered with a slight playful undertone, and then he looked off to the side in concentration. He turned around, pressing his ear to the door of the supply closet, and then he looked back at you. “I think they’re coming back.”

You hummed.

“I’ll walk out first.”

“Right,” you said unenthusiastically, recalling that no matter how many praises he lavished you with in private, in public you were still his dirty little secret. He vowed to you that he would end his current relationship because it was clear you were growing tired of being his toy, good enough for him to fuck but undeserving of anything else. And after all was said and done, when you two passed each other in the halls, he’d still glance at you with the cordiality of a stranger.

Eren had promised to handle it, yet it was obvious he had no intentions to, and you knew that while you watched him give you a fond smile before slipping out of the supply closet.

#eren smut #eren yeager smut #eren x reader #eren x reader smut #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x reader smut #aot smut #aot x reader #aot x reader smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x reader smut #aot au #eren au #attack on titan au

[watchmegetobsessed]

Tastes Like Strawberries - Harry Styles

a/n: oh this one is a long boi and might not be the end??? i’ve been working on this fic for days and i have an idea for a possible second part, but i wrote this one so it has a fulfilling ending so it can stand as a oneshot as well! i barely just started working on the sequel, we’ll se how it’ll turn out, maybe it goes to shit lmao but whatever, it’s still a nice and whole story without a second part! this is my V-day gift to you all, have this nice professor!harry fic as if it was a box of chocolate! 🍓 🍫 🍬

special thanks to @pastequeharry​ who put up with my constant rambling and whining while i was writing this, you are a hero, his is dedicated to you!!

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

warning: sexual content, abusing relationship, it’s got smut, angst, lot’s of banter and all that jazz!

word count: 21.4k

masterlist

There’s just a handful of things to know about Professor Harry Styles and that’s because of one of those very few known facts, the first one being that he is a highly private person. He rarely talks about himself or any aspects of his life, he always makes sure to keep it as professional as possible whenever he is teaching.

Second, he is easily the smartest professor to ever walk on campus, but he doesn’t like to brag about it. You never catch him showing off how much he knows, how big of a genius he is, you’ll just start to realize from the way he teaches and approaches certain topics, how he interacts with others and tries to pass his knowledge down to his students. He is brilliant and he should have all the credits for it, yet he still chooses to keep it to himself.

Third, and it’s the most well-known fact because to see this you just need to have a pair of eyes, he is undeniably the most handsome man to ever teach or if you’re being more precise, walk the hallways of the university. No football crazy, alcoholic fratboy or dreamy looking indie guy from the library can live up to what Professor Harry Styles is. With a face clearly carved by the angels, a nicely built but not too muscular frame, and occasionally displayed tattooed arm that makes you wonder what other artworks his stylish outfits are hiding, there’s no man like him and every female on campus agrees with that.

His lectures and courses are jampacked with sighing and heart-eyed college girls, daydreaming about the man who is solemnly just trying to teach the things he is so passionate about. But it’s not just the students, Professor Styles has managed to charm the female professors of all faculties, you can see them wander by his office way too often, they take any opportunity to talk to the man and try to seduce him. It’s unknown if he is oblivious to the effect he has on women or he chooses to ignore every and any attempts, but this is what leads us to the fourth fact.

Despite all the effort and energy that’s been put into his case by every single woman on campus to break the walls the professor has built around himself, he never let any of his students or colleagues to even think they could be romantically linked for real. Professor Styles keeps his distance and turns down any offer that could be mistaken to anything that doesn’t fit in the professional boundaries.

Anytime a student puts on the slightest flirtatious act towards the professor, he either rejects it straight away or ignores it completely and blatantly, making it his clear answer that he is not interested and then he goes back to teaching. You’ve seen it yourself, having him as one of your professors first year of uni, you fell for him just like every other girl in the lecture hall, dreaming about him in ways you probably shouldn’t think of a teacher while he was just casually talking about his grading system and how he is going to build up the lectures throughout the semester. Some brave girls who you assume were highly celebrated by boys in high school took the courage to openly flirt with him, but he didn’t even flinch before shutting all attempts down, not even a blush appeared on his perfectly cut cheekbones.

You thought of ways you’d try to seduce him yourself, but you never actually tried. You never had the balls to actually give it a go and then suffer from the worst embarrassment of your life when he rejects you. So you kept it all to yourself, only entertaining yourself with your elaborate plans about the seduction of your professor.

Second year passed without any classes with Professor Styles, you had only occasionally seen him come and go, rushing down the hallways holding his notebooks to his chest, a steaming cup of coffee in his other hand as he was heading to his lecture hall that you just knew was filled with girls. You always took a moment to yourself to admire his outfit. He has a tendency to pair odd items and make them look like the most put together fit ever that only he can pull off. However, you and your girlfriends always loved to tease him between each other for his grandpa-like sweaters and vests he seemed to love dearly.

“He confuses me, because I want him to fuck me on his desk but also, I feel like he is about to ask me what periodt means because he is too old to understand slang these days,” your friend, Nat said once when your little group was lounging under the huge oak tree between classes and the professor rushed past you, disappearing in the building without paying any of you a look. He wore a pair of beige slacks and a striped sweater, a wrinkly grey shirt peeking from under it at the bottom. The colors and the style overall once again gave you that old people feeling, but then you looked at his handsome face and couldn’t care any less about whatever he was wearing.

The most intimate way you ever saw him was a few days after your twenty-first birthday the summer before your last year of uni started. You just got back from your hometown, the first person to arrive back to your shared flat with Nat and Eden, so you had a few days on your own. You decided to redecorate your room so you took a trip to IKEA, taking your time looking through the set up rooms, just wandering around as you try to figure out what you really want to buy. Walking through the living room section you spotted the professor and first, you didn’t even recognize him.

He was wearing a pair of bright yellow shorts and a short sleeved shirt with floral prints on it, a pair of white framed sunglass on top of his head, keeping his unruly strands out of his face as he was eyeing a couch, seemingly deep in his thoughts. You stopped in your tracks, seeing him in such a casual and everyday setting. For some reason, he seemed like a completely different person.

A woman was there with him and as you walked closer you could hear a fraction of their discussion.

“I don’t know, Gems. Do I need a couch this big?”

“Looks comfy and I like the color. It would also fit in the space just right, I think you should get the bigger one if you have the space for it,” the woman put her two cents in and you wondered who she could be. Girlfriend? Just a casual friend? Maybe fiancé? She did have a ring that could easily go as an engagement ring so you couldn’t tell for sure.

As you were about to walk past you suddenly took the courage to say hi.

“Hello, Professor Styles!” you greeted him with a warm smile and his eyes flickered over to you from the couch in question. One thing you always admired about him is that he never forgot the faces of his students and as he looked at you, you knew he recognized you even if he didn’t know your name specifically.

“Oh, hello,” he nodded in your way.

“I like the couch,” you commented before slowly moving on. “Have a nice rest of your summer!”

“You too, Y/N,” he called after you and it took you by surprise that he remembered your name. Your lecture he taught had almost over a hundred students in it and you weren’t the most active one to stand out that easily, yet he still remembered you more than you were expecting.

That small encounter kept you thinking about him for way longer than you probably should have, especially because you knew you’d have a lecture with him again in the upcoming semester. Your daydreams about him made their way back into your mind as you spent the last days of your summer mostly with your friends. It got you thinking that if you managed to get him to remember your name, maybe you would give one of your plans a go and shoot your shot. He wouldn’t be teaching you in your last semester so you wouldn’t have to face him after he rejects you.

And this is how you came up with your little scheme.

On your last Sunday evening before school starts, you, Nat and Eden sit in the floor of your living room, drinking some white wine as a way of saying goodbye to the carefree summer moments and getting back to the working days of being a senior at uni. Professor Styles came up completely randomly and you let it slip that you’ve just seen him recently at IKEA with a woman and it all led to you admitting that you’ll finally shoot your shot at the professor. Nat and Eden both did the same already, however their attempts were completely ignored and they always bugged you to give it a try yourself, being the only one in your group who hasn’t tried to seduce the professor yet.

“I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell me it’s stupid because I actually think it’ll be funny and a little bit genius,” you tell them before you start sharing the details on your plan.

“Just spill the beans already!” Eden pokes you before she reaches for the bottle and refills her glass.

“Okay, so you both know I took this psychology class last semester for extra credits, right?” The nod and you continue. “The teacher told us about this thing called classical conditioning or they call it pavlovian response too. The guy, Pavlov, did an experiment where he paired the feeding of dogs with a bell ring and after a certain amount of time the dogs started salivating at just the sound of the bell, because they remembered that it’s connected to food. The teacher said this is literally one of the easiest tricks to pull on people.”

“Oh, isn’t this one of the things Jim did on Dwight in The Office?” Nat asks furrowing her eyebrows.

“It is!” you nod, glad that they are understanding the base of your plan. “So, I’ve heard that Professor Styles loves strawberry flavored candies. I thought that I would bring some every day when I see him and offer him some. Slowly, he’ll pair the candy with the thought of me and he’ll get excited when he sees me because he’ll think I have candy for him and it will hopefully work the other way around and he’ll think of me when he is eating strawberry flavored candy that’s not from me.”

Your friends blink at you for a moment, processing what you just shared with them before Eden takes a huge sip of her drink.

“This is the most ridiculous but also the most genius thing I’ve ever heard,” she nods holding her glass up towards you.

“I can’t believe you will pull a psychological experiment on Professor Styles,” Nat shakes her head with a soft chuckle.

“It’s not a blunt way to get closer to him and if he accuses me of trying to flirt I can just say that I’ve been only sharing candy with him, I literally did nothing,” you point out, pretty proud of your solution to your deep fear of having to take his rejection publicly.

“If you get a Noble for this shit, make sure to thank us in your speech,” Eden laughs and you promise to do so when the big moment comes.

Monday morning you make a quick trip to Target and buy a big bag of strawberry flavored candies, probably enough to last for the whole semester, and then you make your way to campus. Following your first lecture you meet up with Eden who also signed up for Professor Styles’ lecture this semester, so the two of you make your way towards the lecture hall together.

“I really can’t believe you are doing this,” she chuckles when you get the candy ready as you near the room. The professor is always the first one in the lecture hall so you know you’ll find him there already.

“You can’t tell me it’s not a funny plan,” you smirk at her. And just as you walk in, you immediately spot the professor sitting at the desk at the front, going over the syllabus before the start. “Save a seat for me,” you tell Eden who just laughs and makes her way up the stairs along the desks.

Grabbing the pack of sweets from your bag you walk up to the professor, feeling confident with your plan. He lifts his head up when he notices your arrival and your eyes meet with his green ones.

“Hello, professor. Would you like some candy?” you simply ask with an innocent smile.

Professor Styles stares at you for a moment before his eyes move down to the candy in your hand, the opening of the bag facing him in a welcoming manner.

“I, uhh… what flavor?” he curiously asks and you can barely push down your smirk.

“Strawberry.”

“Oh. I’ll… take one, thank you,” he nods, hand reaching into the bag as he grabs just one single candy, unwrapping the package before he pops it into his mouth. “Thank you,” he nods again with a delightful smile.

“Of course. Did you buy the couch?” you ask, taking slow steps away from the desk as he keeps his eyes on you.

“I… did not. Bought another one,” he admits shortly and you know you’ve reached the limit. If you ask more, he’ll get suspicious, so you just nod smiling before walking up to the spot Eden has reserved for you. When you sit down, you catch the professor paying you one last glance before he returns to what he was previously doing.

“You are a genius, because now we can watch him suck on a fucking candy for the next few minutes,” Eden mumbles quietly, making you laugh.

“I knew this would be a good plan,” you sigh, satisfied with the work you’ve done. Now it’s just a matter of time.

Every Monday and Wednesday, you arrive with the same bag of candy to the lecture hall, walk up to Professor Styles and offer him one. And he always takes one. The first few times he seems hesitant when he spots you approaching him, but he slowly grows used to your tiny act of kindness that occurs every time you see him. On week three you expand the plan. You usually have lunch with Nat on Thursdays since you both have a break between one and two pm. The two of you try to take advantage of the warm early autumn days and sit under the pergola that’s near the building where Professor Styles’ office is as well. It’s mere coincidence, you only like that place because it’s close to the lecture hall you have to go to after lunch, but you notice that the professor emerges from Building C around one thirty, walking back to his office probably after one of his classes. The sidewalk runs directly next to the pergola so it gives you a chance to bring the candy out one more time every week. You nicely greet him when he is nearing the two of you and then hold out the bag, asking if he wants some. He always takes one and thanks you with a sweet smile that leaves you a tad bit blushed.

“I can’t fucking believe your plan is working,” Nat chuckles in disbelief on one occasion when the professor just disappeared in the building, probably happily unwrapping his candy of the day.

“It’s funny, innit?” you grin at her proudly.

Frankly, this is just a fun experiment for you. You don’t actually think that the professor will think of you differently even the slightest. You might be able to plant the thought of you in his head, but that doesn’t instantly mean that he’ll start fancying you and actually do something about it. It would be ridiculously naïve to think it’s going to be you who breaks through the wall that hundreds of women had already tried to knock down.

Week six is what brings the breakthrough. After long consideration and discussion with Nat and Eden, you decide to test if the experiment has been successful. You offer one last candy on Monday, but Wednesday brings the change. You go to lecture without candy. Well, you have it on you, but you decide not to ask him if he wants some.

Walking into the lecture hall, as always, he is already sitting at his desk, flipping through the pages of a book when you walk up to him with the intention of asking him a question on the paper that’s due next week.

“Professor Styles?” you softly speak up, catching his attention. “Can I have a question about the paper?”

“Of course,” he nods and you can’t tell just yet if he was expecting the candy or not.

“I was wondering if I can use a diagram to visualize my results at the end. I have a brilliant idea to summarize the data with one.”

“Sure, just make sure to give credit wherever it’s due, if you are using someone else’s work for the diagram.”

“Definitely,” you smile at him and wait a moment. That’s where you see the anticipation in his eyes.

His gaze flickers down to your hands and then to your bag where you always carry the candy and when his eyes meet yours again, you see him swallow hard.

He was expecting the candy. Not only expecting, but he started salivating when he saw you, thinking that he would get the candy from you as always.

“Is… that all?” he asks, the slightest hint of hope appearing in his tone, probably waiting for you to pull the bag of candy out of your bag and offer him one. But it’s not happening today.

“Yes, thank you very much,” you nod smiling widely before you turn around and walk away, a shocked and triumphant look appearing on your face once he can’t see it anymore and when Eden sees you, she gasps.

“He fucking expected the candy, didn’t he?!” she whispers at you in shock and you nod frantically, still not believing your plan worked.

“You should have seen the anticipation in his eyes, he really thought I was gonna offer him some!”

“Oh my God, this is hilarious!” Eden laughs covering her mouth as the lecture hall starts to fill up slowly.

Turning forward, you see that the professor is sitting behind his desk, the book that had his attention before your arrival is long forgotten in front of him, now he is staring ahead of him with slightly furrowed eyebrows, deep in his thoughts.

Is he thinking about you? Or why he was expecting candy from you?

You see him reach for his water bottle and he takes two big gulps probably to wash away his need for the candy before he narrows his eyes and at last they find you in the auditorium. You tilt your head to the side innocently smiling, as if you know absolutely nothing about anything. You keep eye-contact, forcing you not to be the one who breaks it and he is intimidating. You feel like he can read your mind as he stares at you and when he finally turns his gaze back at the book, you exhale sharply.

The lecture goes down just as usual and when the professor dismisses the class you decide to put the cherry to the top. Walking down between the desks you grab a candy from your bag and while the professor is talking to a girl who also had a question about the paper, you place the candy to his desk next to his book. He doesn’t see you walk out and you don’t see him when he finds it, but something is telling you he figured you out. No way a man as smart as him doesn’t realize what game you’ve been playing with him.

Sitting under the pergola on Thursday you are deep in discussion with Nat, helping her with a task sheet she has to turn in after lunch but she completely forgot about it. As the two of you are trying to do the seemingly endless sheet, you don’t even notice the professor walking from Building C, as always, but he spots you.

“No, I don’t think that’s even a thing, you can’t write that,” you tell Nat, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t care if it’s a thing, I just want to fill in the whole thing so the teacher doesn’t think I finished it in twenty minutes before class,” she mumbles, scribbling down her answer as you just chuckle at her.

Suddenly, you see a pair of dusty Vans appear in your sight and as your eyes move up, you are facing none other than Professor Styles, standing right in front of you, holding out his hand with his hand turned upwards, a cheeky smile tugging on his lips. His appearance takes you by surprise and for a moment you just dumbly stare down at his palm, then up at his eyes.

“Very smart. Pulling a pavlovian on me with my favorite candy,” he speaks up, dropping his hand as he cocks his head to the side. Nat looks up from her sheet with wide eyes as you stare at the professor with blushing cheeks.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, professor,” you tell him with a knowing smirk.

“Of course. You know, it took me a moment to realize yesterday, but I wanted to let you know that… I think it was clever.”

“If I knew anything about what you’re talking about… I would say thank you. But I stand up for my innocence.”

“Surely,” he chuckles softy. “Have a great rest of your week,” he then nods before turning around to walk away, but you quickly reach into your bag and grab a candy.

“Professor Styles!” you call out and he turns back just in time to catch the candy you throw in his way. He glances at it in his palm before his eyes snap up to you again, smirking at you shortly before he disappears in the building.

“Okay, call me stupid, but I could feel the sexual tension between the two of you,” Nat says as soon as the professor is out of sight.

“Don’t be silly, it was just… a joke and he liked it.”

“He called you clever, Y/N!”

“No, he called my trick clever.”

“But you came up with it so you’re clever too. Say whatever you want, but I actually think you have a shot at him.”

“I definitely don’t,” you laugh shaking your head and you genuinely believe it. Nat scoffs before she gets back to her sheet, but not without having one last thought about the situation.

“We’ll be laughing at how you brainwashed him into liking you when you’ll be dating for years, living together and all that shit.”

You’ve made some very questionable choices in your dating life prior. Like when you dated a boy in high school and let him take your virginity at the back of his mom’s minivan just to break up with your right after that, or when you briefly dated the guy you met at the mall, but it later turned out he was gay and he used you as his cover up in front of his family. But the worst decision of all was dating an egoistic forty years old loser who just freshly got divorced and went after you at some tacky bar you were at with your friends.

The time you spent dating Victor is way less than the time he has been bothering you, trying to make you go back to him when you’ve actually told him you don’t want anything to do with him anymore. You broke up with him just before you went home for the summer and he didn’t take it well, even drove up to your hometown and showed up at your parents’ house drunk, begging for you to take him back. He never stood a chance, not after that one time he slapped you across the face during a fight the two of you had. You tolerate a lot of things but not violence and you don’t believe him when he says it was just a onetime thing. There’s no guarantee he won’t hit you ever again and you are definitely not waiting around to see if he told you the truth.

On this particular late October evening you are searching through your whole room looking for a book you know you have, but can’t seem to find anywhere. It’s your holy bible about research methodology and you need it for your thesis work, but it seems like the small apartment has completely swallowed it.

“Didn’t you leave it at Victor’s? You were working on that long essay when you were dating him, saw you use the book all the time,” Eden tells you when you ask her if she’s seen it anywhere and then it clicks.

She is right, now you remember leaving the book at his once and you completely forgot to pick it up after things got nasty between the two of you.

“Damn it,” you growl in annoyance.

Not feeling like calling him, you send him a quick text, hoping he still has it and hasn’t burned it after one of your fights.

Y/N: Hey, I think I left my research methodology book at yours. You still have it?

Victor: I do.

Y/N: Cool, can I drop by to pick it up?

Victor: I’m leaving for work, you can come to the bar if you want it.

You sigh in defeat. Victor is a bartender at a place that’s all the way across town, takes almost an entire hour to get there, but you are left with no other choice.

Y/N: Okay, I’ll see you there.

The raining has finally stopped this morning so you feel better leaving the house than you would have if it was still pouring. You take the bus and travel across town, feeling anxious to see Victor again. Last time you met him he cursed you out and threw his phone at you, barely missing your head. You promised yourself you wouldn’t go near him again after that, but it seems like you can never get completely rid of him.

Students rarely come to this part of the town, it’s way too far from campus and has nothing to offer that can’t be found closer to the dormitories or the school’s buildings. It’s not entirely your scene either, the bars around here are liked by older generations, not by people your age, this is another reason why you don’t like coming around here.

The bar where Victor works is a place where they have different local bands perform every Friday and Saturday. It’s not a tacky nook with creepy dudes, they actually have prices on the higher end, not something you can necessarily afford with your part time job’s paycheck from the small accounting office near your apartment where you work as an assistant on your free afternoons.

Walking into the place you immediately spot Victor behind the bar and you take a deep breath before you walk up to him.

“Hey,” you call out for him, taking one of the stools along the bar.

“Hey. Long time no see.”

“Happens when you break up with someone,” you respond with a little spice and he frowns at your words. “Can you give me the book?”

“I’ll have a break in ten, can you wait for that or you have something extra urgent shit to do, as always?” You can tell he is still bitter from how things ended between the two of you, but you’ve learned not to care about it. His way of dealing with the breakup is not your responsibility, no matter how hard he is trying to prove it wrong.

You roll your eyes but nod, knowing well there’s no use to fight him. Ten minutes is not the end of the world. Busying yourself on your phone, you try to stay unnoticed and luckily, Victor can’t keep chatting with you, because customers keep coming up to him and ordering drinks. When he finally has his break he tells you to follow him to the back.

“So how have you been?” he asks as you walk down the hallway that leads to the small break room, there’s an office at the end and some kind of changing room you guess for the bands, along with a storage.

“Fine.”

“You really gonna be a bitter bitch and not talk to me?” he asks you, giving you a disgusted look, but you know it’s just the anger talking from him.

“Victor, I didn’t come here to talk, I just need my book!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t answer my question.”

“I answered it! I’ve been fine, now give me the damn book!” you growl, losing your patience with him, but he is seemingly in the same shoes.

“When will you stop being a bitch and just drop this ridiculous act, Y/N? I’ve been after you for months yet you keep ignoring me!”

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m ignoring you because I don’t want anything to do with you? Victor, it’s been months, just… move the fuck on! Go cry to your ex-wife or something, I don’t care!”

You didn’t mean to snap, but he always brings the worst out of you. From the corner of your eyes you can see movement at the other end of the hallway where the changing room is, but you don’t get to pay much attention to it, because the next moment Victor grabs you by your arm and yanks you towards him.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that! You ungrateful slut, I swear…”

There’s little you can do, he is twice as big as you are, his grip on your arm so strong there’s no doubt it will leave a mark. Your heart is racing as you try to pull yourself out of his hold, but he doesn’t even bat an eye at your attempt.

However, before he could drag you into the empty breakroom to do god knows what, he is stopped by a voice.

“Hey! Let her go!”

If you weren’t shocked enough at his violent reaction, now you are definitely think you’re going nuts, because it’s none other than Professor Styles who is now nearing you with a hard expression on his face, two other guys following right behind him and though none of them are bigger than Victor, he knows he can’t just start a fight with three men.

Your chest is heaving when the professor finally reaches you and Victor’s hold lets go of you, making you fall back a little.

“You perform here twice and think you’re some kind of rockstar?” Victor spats at the professor, but you’re a little lost in what’s really going on. Professor Styles gently grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him, eyes never leaving Victor’s burning gaze.

“You alright?” one of the other two men asks and you nod, not finding your voice to actually speak.

“Get the hell out of my sight before I call the police on you,” the professor answers in a calm yet threatening voice

Victor takes a second to himself, thinking about the choices he has before he turns around and disappears in the breakroom, slamming the door behind him, leaving you in complete shock about what just happened.

Professor Styles then turns around, his eyes soften at seeing how shaken you are and quite frankly, you feel like you are in a bad and quite weird dream.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asks, clearly worried about you and you just shake your head no.

“I-I’m fine, I think,” you mumble out of breath.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” the guy who asked if you’re alright suggests and you nod in agreement, following them kind of blindly, the three of them keeping you in their little circle as you walk out to the bar and they don’t stop until you are out of the place in the cold night air. You slowly come back to reality and process that Professor Styles just saved you out of fucking nowhere from your abusive asshole ex. That’s what you call a plot twist.

You finally take a moment to look at the other two guys, they both look the same age as the professor, or maybe a little older, both of them are rocking some facial hair, the one that asked you seems a little more open while the other one quite reserved but friendly looking.

“What… What were you doing back there?” you ask, turning to face the professor. He clearly seems upset, but you’re not sure if it’s entirely because of what happened with Victor back then or because you are standing outside some random bar on a Saturday night, definitely crossing his personal boundaries he keeps so high at school.

“We played here tonight, was just about to leave when I saw you.”

“You have a band?” you ask, shocked at the detail.

“A pretty good one,” the talkative guy chuckles. “I’m Adam, nice to meet you. This is Mitch.”

You shake hands with them introducing yourself as well.

“Y/N is… my student,” the professor adds as if he is clearing the air for his bandmates, a kind of warning for them.

From the direction of the parking lot two women emerge, laughing on something as they walk up to the four of you, both of them eyeing you curiously.

“Hey boys, who is this pretty girl?”

“Sarah, Charlotte, this is Y/N, she is my student. Y/N, these are my other band mates, Sarah and Charlotte,” the professor introduces you as you shake hands with them quickly.

“I-I’m sorry I interrupted your time with your friends, professor,” you shyly apologize, feeling like a complete intruder all of a sudden with all his bandmates around you.

“Interrupt? Sweetheart, that dude was about to do some unforgivable things to you, don’t apologize for needing help,” Adam snorts. “You’re lucky we were there.”

“What? What happened?” Sarah asks in confusion.

“Just… my asshole ex got a little too violent when I didn’t want to chit-chat with him,” you admit with a defeated sigh.

“Oh shit, but are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you smile faintly, though you still can feel his grip on your upper arm. “I, um… I better get going, I guess. Thank you for… the saving,” you say, a little lost about what should be said in this situation.

“You’re leaving? We were just about to go to a much better place, why don’t you come with us, forget about your ex a little?” Charlotte offers and you catch the professor’s panicked look for a split second.

“I, um… I don’t think I should, but thank you.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” Sarah questions.

“Because I know how Professor Styles hates to mingle with students outside of lectures and I don’t want to cross any lines,” you truthfully admit. The professor furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t hate mingling with students,” he states.

“Well, you are surely not the most reachable professor on campus,” you chuckle lightly. “But it’s fine, I understand it. So I’ll just head home.”

“Come on, Harry. Let her tag along for just one drink!” Sarah begs and seemingly everyone would be happy to have you join for a little. The professor’s eyes meet yours, as if he is contemplating whether he should say yes or let you go home. When he finally speaks up you’re more surprised than when you realized it was him saving you from Victor.

“I guess you could use a drink after what happened in there,” he says, the tiniest smirk showing on his lips as your eyes shoot up.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, come on,” he nods and your little group heads down the street.

Turns out the place they were heading to was just two corners down, so they left all their stuff at the minivan at the parking lot for the time being. You slide into an empty booth, Adam and Mitch go to get the first round, so it’s just the three of you girls and the professor.

“So you’re in one of Harry’s lectures?” Charlotte asks with a warm smile.

“Yeah, for the second time, actually. Had him in first year, now it’s my fifth semester and I had no doubt I have to take his class if I have the chance.” You pay a glance at him, but he is staring at his hands on his lap, you can’t tell if it’s because he is uncomfortable with you there or if it’s something else.

“It’s so funny, because we’ve heard that he is known to be a good teacher but we never actually heard it from one of his students,” Sarah chuckles. “What’s he like?”

“Sarah, you enjoy talking about me when I’m very much present?” he scoffs, giving her a look, but she just shrugs innocently.

“Come on, I bet even you’re curious about what your students think of you. Now is your time to find it out!”

“I think Professor Styles knows very well that he is one of the best, if not the actual best,” you truthfully say and see him raise his eyebrows a little.

“What makes him so good?” Charlotte questions.

You glance at him again, as a way of asking for permission if you can answer. You definitely don’t want to make him even more uncomfortable by talking about him when he is right next to you. He looks into your eyes, and his expression tells you that he wants to hear your answer as well, but he quickly adds:

“You don’t have to answer, Y/N.”

“It’s not a secret,” you admit it with a smile. “Professor Styles’ lectures always leave you with a question to think about until next week, he is great at getting into your head without you even noticing. He explains the most complicated things in so simple ways, it should be taught,” you say with a soft chuckle. “I think his enormous knowledge about many different fields in science and just life in general is amusing, anyone can learn something from him, it’s guaranteed.”

“Wow, where is this academic genius side of yours when you’re around us, or we only get to see the dad joke version of you?” Sarah teases him and you can’t push down a laugh, imagining him cracking dad jokes feels so alien but still kind of fitting for him.

“That’s what you get when you’re a nosy little thing,” he retorts with a small smirk. He then turns to you, and as Sarah and Charlotte are laughing on something, he lowly tells you: “You can call me Harry outside of school. Feels weird that you call me professor when my friends are around.”

“You sure?”

He nods and you spot a small smile on his lips. He must be getting used to the feel of you being there, but you still don’t want to push his limits too much.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions, leaning back in his seat.

“Of course.”

“If your ex is this aggressive, why were you there with him?”

His question is surprising, you didn’t think he would ask you something personal, but you guess it’s a valid question after he just saved you from Victor.

“I wanted to get a book back that I left at his place. Didn’t even get to the point where he could have given it back,” you mumble under your breath.

“What book?”

“Just this… research methodology book, wanted it back for my thesis work, but I guess I’ll have to buy a new one,” you huff bitterly.

“Is it the one written by William Scott?”

“Y-Yeah, it is. You know it?” you ask, but then realize it’s a bit of a dumb question. He probably knows every academically important book you will ever come across.

“I actually have it myself,” he nods. Just then, Mitch and Adam return with the drinks and you thank them for the beer, already reaching for your money to pay, but Adam shakes his head.

“It’s on me, don’t worry.”

You watch as Mitch sits beside Sarah, curling an arm around her shoulders and though you couldn’t have guessed that they are a couple, seeing them like this it actually makes sense, they look cute together.

You take a sip from your beer, trying to join the conversation Sarah and Charlotte are having, when your attention is pulled back by Harry.

“I can… lend you the book, if you want.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. I’ll just get a new one.”

“No, really. I think I even have two copies, I can give one to you.”

“I couldn’t ask you that, prof—I mean Harry.”

“You’re not asking,” he smiles at you softly. “I probably won’t need both, so why not put the extra into use?”

“Okay, but I’ll pay for it,” you insist, but Harry shakes his head.

“No need, one of them was a gift so I didn’t pay for it either.”

“Well… if you’re sure about it, I would love to have that extra copy, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So Y/N, what do you study exactly?” Adam questions, pulling you out of your little discussion with Harry.

“I’m majoring in anthropology, but I’ve been taking some psychology classes on the side just because I’m interested in the topics.”

“And what is Harry teaching you?”

“Had him for intro Sociology lecture first year, now I’m in his Methodology of Cultural Anthropology class.”

“All these subjects with their GY endings, I don’t know how you two put up with science on this level,” Sarah huffs in amusement.

“The names sometimes sound fancier than the subject itself,” you tell her smiling.

“But I bet you need to be quite smart to study these stuff on this level you are at.”

“Oh, it’s just a bachelorette degree, I wouldn’t say I’m that smart,” you chuckle shyly.

“She is totally toning it down,” Harry speaks up, catching everyone’s attention. “I know students tend to take my into Sociology class for just some extra credits so I always give them two options for the semester. They can either write a two pages long review of any article related to the topics talked about at lecture and get their strong C with the bare minimum, or actually participate and do a research of their own and turn in an at least seven pages long essay about their chosen topic. Y/N turned in an eleven pages long paper on the history of death sentences in the U.S. in the last fifty years and how society is thinking about it nowadays. It was easily one of the best works I’ve ever read and it was just an intro class.”

“You remember my essay?” you ask in complete shock.

“Of course. As I said, one of the bests I’ve read,” he nods confidently.

“So you’re like… on Harry’s smart level, actually?” Sarah asks, tilting her head to the side and you can feel yourself blushing.

You’ve always been said to be the smart kid at school, but you never thought it to be true yourself. In your book, you were just doing your absolute best, soaking in whatever knowledge was thrown in your way. You never actually understood how someone could just not study for an exam or not do an assignment, because you always felt like it was your duty to do the best you can. You thought yourself to be more of a hard-working student rather than a smart one.

“She is definitely a bright one,” Harry agrees, his eyes meeting yours as a small smile appears on his lips and you think that this is the biggest compliment you’ve ever gotten. “She actually tricked me with a psychological experiment and I didn’t even realize it,” he laughs and you can’t hold your smirk back.

“What? What did you do?” Charlotte asks, dying to know how you played Harry.

“Have you heard of the Pavlovian response?” you ask looking around and you can tell it rings a bell for all of them.

“The one with the dogs and the bell?” Mitch asks and you nod.

“Wait you did that on Harry?” Adam laughs with wide eyes and you just nod with a sly smile.

“I just offered him strawberry flavored candies every time I saw him. Took me six weeks to build up the response but he actually started expecting it whenever he saw me,” you tell them chuckling to yourself.

“And I only realized it when she stopped with the candy and I felt this massive feeling that something was missing,” Harry adds shaking his head with a soft laugh.

“Okay, that’s hilarious,” Sarah snorts clapping her hands together. “Y/N, I adore you, you’re brilliant!”

“It was just… an experiment,” you shrug shyly.

The night carries much faster than you realize. One drink turns into three and before you could realize, it’s already past midnight. Eden texts you, asking where you are since you said you’d just get the book and go home right away, but it’s been hours.

Y/N: Don’t freak out, but I’m at a bar with Prof. Styles and his friends. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow!

Eden: HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO FREAK OUT AFTER READING THIS???!?!

Y/N: Lol, chill. Nothing extra is happening.

Eden: It’s already extra that you’re out with him.

Realizing how late it is, you decide you better get going, since it’s a long way back home. When you tell the little group that you’re about to head out, they all agree that it’s time to part ways and leave, so you all slowly make your way back to the parking lot.

“Do you know where the bus stop is back?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, trying to spot where you should be heading.

“You want to go home by bus at this time?” Harry asks.

“Well, I surely won’t pay for a ride, I live almost an hour away from here.”

“An hour?” he frowns. “I’ll take you home, come on,” he tells you, heading towards the minivan.

“What? No need. The bus is fine,” you protest, but he shakes his head.

“You are not taking the bus at this hour, not under my watch,” he simply states and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Didn’t realize I was under your watch,” you tease him and it seems like your comment caught him off-guard. “Don’t piss your pants, I was just joking,” you tell him, and thought for a second you feel like you are being way too comfortable around him, his smile quickly smashes your doubts.

Sarah, Mitch and Charlotte all take an Uber since they live near each other and Adam is picked up by his wife, so when everyone is off to their own way, you and Harry get in the van and head to your place.

“How long have you had the band?” you ask, in need to break the silence that’s been weighing down on the two of you. “If you don’t mind me asking,” you add quickly when you see him.

“About four years. Used to have another one, but we parted ways.”

“And what do you do in the band?”

“I, uhh… Well I mostly sing but I also play the guitar.”

“You know, I’m not that surprised you can sing,” you chuckle to yourself sinking further down in your seat.

“How come?”

“You have a voice that’s great to listen to at lectures, makes sense that you can sing as well.”

You take a moment to look at his hand that’s gripping the steering wheel, he is the kind that drives with one hand on the wheel, the other one on the shifting gear. He makes it look so easy as he steers the wheel whenever he is turning a corner while his other one easily moves around the shifting gear, his tattoos are peeking from under his rolled up shirt sleeve. He catches you staring and you feel a blush burning on your cheeks as you turn your head to the other side. Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk that third beer…

“Am I really seen that rigid by the students?” he speaks up after a while and you turn back to face him.

“What do you mean?”

“You said I’m known about not mingling with students.”

“Well, you don’t mingle, do you? But it doesn’t mean you come off as rigid. More like… closed-off. Private.”

“I know I should be a little friendlier, but I just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, I think everyone gets it why you’re like that.”

“Do they?” he arches an eyebrow.

“Well, you’re obviously a ladies’ favorite, but it doesn’t sit well with you being a person of some sort of power. It’s clear that you don’t want anyone to get the wrong picture about you. I’ve seen how bluntly girls are flirting with you, some of them are quite scandalous if you ask me,” you huff to yourself. “I totally get it that you don’t want even just a rumor to spread about you.”

“Didn’t think I was that obvious,” he admits, running his tongue over his lips.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re still a highly fancied professor, in all means,” you tell him with a warm smile.

“Does this mean you also fancy me?” he suddenly questions and your lips part at his words. He quickly realizes how ambiguous he just sounded. “I mean, am I one of your favorites? Where do I stand in your chart of professors?”

You can’t tell for sure because of the lack of lighting, but you could have sworn there’s a light blush on his cheeks as he corrects himself. Because of this, you don’t know for sure if he really meant it academically. Either way, the answer is the same.

“You’re my favorite,” you confidently state and your eyes meet for a moment before he turns back to face the road.

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet, you keep giving him directions to your place until you finally arrive a little before one am.

“Well, thank you for the ride,” you smile at him, grabbing the door handle.

“See you on Monday,” he nods shortly and watches as you get out of the can.

“Yeah, see you, professor,” you smirk before shutting the door and walking up the stairs and disappearing in your building.

“Was that Professor Styles in the fucking minivan?!” Nat throws the question at you the moment you open the front door.

“Jesus, why are you still up?” you sigh, shutting the door and shimmying yourself out of your coat.

“Because we were waiting for you!” Eden rolls her eyes. “So, care to tell us what the fuck just happened?” The three of you get comfortable on the couch and you give them a quick rundown of your evening from meeting Victor through being saved by Harry right to him offering to drive you home and they listen to you with wide eyes in complete shock that you just spent your entire evening with the most handsome professor on campus who also happens to be the most private as well.

“If I didn’t see him sitting in that van with my own eyes I would straight up think you’re lying, but I saw his tattooed hand over the windshield,” Nat gasps, processing the story.

“I know, I still feel like it didn’t happen, but it did.”

“And what is he like around his friends? What are his friends like?” Eden questions, hugging her knees to her chest.

“He is pretty much just like in lecture, just jokes a little more and he has a looser vocab. His friends are hilarious, I really got along with Sarah.”

“I know you still think it won’t happen, but I actually think you have a shot at him, Y/N,” Eden points it out and you just chuckle.

“Why, because he saved me from my douche ex?”

“No, because he let you stay for the night with him and his friends. This is literally the first ever time a student hung out with him.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Harry is a reserved and private person—“

“Harry?!” they gasp at the same time.

“You are now just casually calling him Harry?” Nat asks with ogling eyes.

“Well, yes, he asked me to, because it felt weird that I was calling him Professor Styles with his friends around.”

“Okay, I’m giving it… let’s say, he seems to be moving pretty slow, but y’all will be fucking in about six months,” Nat bluntly tells you and it makes you laugh.

“Oh, sure, whatever. I’m gonna shower and head to bed, you two don’t get too crazy with your fairytales,” you wave at them before disappearing in the bathroom.

The rest of the weekend goes by uneventfully, outside of the pathetic attempt from Victor to get you to talk to him, but you’ve had enough of him for a life so you finally block his number and hope you won’t ever see him again.

Both you and Eden oversleep on Monday morning, skipping your early morning lecture and already being late for Harry’s class as well, so you barely make it to Harry’s class in time, just sprinting up the rows, flopping down to your usual seats when Harry starts the lecture. It all goes as usual as if nothing really happened during the weekend, Harry doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. Glancing over at his desk you spot the book he promised you and you can’t hold your smile back. Still grinning, your eyes accidentally meet with his gaze and he stops for a heartbeat as if he is questioning why you are so smiley, but you just shake your head and he carries on before anyone could suspect a thing.

“I gotta run, my favorite TA is having his office hours now and I have a few questions for him. See you at home?” Eden asks once the lecture is over and you are getting ready to leave.

“Sure, have a good day!” you call after her and she sings a ‘you too!’ before running out of the room.

You pack up and head down between the rows, Harry spotting you right away and you go up to him without him even asking you to.

“Hey, sorry we were a little late to class this morning,” you tell him and he just shakes his head kindly.

“No worries. How… is your arm?” He furrows his eyebrows, his gaze wandering down to your forearm where Victor grabbed you on Saturday.

“Oh, it’s fine. I just have a little bruise,” you shrug, because it really isn’t that big deal, but you can tell Harry is still outraged by what happened.

“M’sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Would be worse if you weren’t there,” you smile at him kindly and he nods to himself before turning to his desk.

“I, uhh, I brought the book we talked about,” he shyly says grabbing it from the desk. As people are exiting the room you can feel the glares on yourself, most of them are probably trying to figure out why Harry is talking to you for so long, but you don’t pay much attention to them as you take the book he hands you.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay for it?”

“No need, keep it, it’s yours,” he shakes his head with a small smile.

“Thank you then.” You slide the book into your bag before looking back up at him. “Well, I’ll see you on Wednesday, professor,” you smile warmly before heading out.

“See you!” he calls after you before you close the door behind you.

The week carries on as usual, you are working on papers that needs to be turned in before the fall break so you spend some extra time at the library, using every bit of free time you have so you finish everything on time.

Things go back to kind of normal with Harry, he greets you in the mornings when you walk into the lecture hall and other than the warm smile he occasionally gives you, nothing has changed.

Friday however brings a surprise, but not from Harry. You’re sitting at work in the afternoon, typing away on your computer, filling in some sheets when you get a notification on your phone from Instagram.

Sarah Jones is now following you!

You tap on her profile but see that it’s private so without a second thought you request following. Luckily, she approves you only a few seconds later and you gain access to her posts, quite a few of them featuring Harry on them.

Photos of birthdays, weekend getaways, band practices and performances, Harry makes a lot of appearances on her feed and you find yourself scrolling all the way down until you reach the first few posts from 2016. Just as you are about to leave her profile you get a message from her.

Sarah: Hey Y/N! Charlotte and I’ve been talking about you recently, loved having you with us last Saturday! Want to grab a drink with the two of us this weekend?

Y/N: Would love to, but I’m not sure Harry would like the idea…

Sarah: He won’t be there and besides, who is he to tell you who you can and can’t hang out with?

She is right. You enjoyed spending time with them as well and Harry has little to no word in if you want to meet up with his friends or not. This invitation has no connection to him being your professor.

Y/N: Alright, I’m down!

 This is how your friendship with Sarah and Charlotte starts. You meet up with them on Saturday and have an amazing time, they are definitely fun people to spend time with and though at first you feel hesitant to get closer to them, you soon forget about your doubts and just enjoy your time with them.

Your little girls night goes so well that they invite you out for dinner on Wednesday with Mitch joining the little trio. You learn that he is a quiet but hilarious guy, he and Sarah make a great couple, you think.

“We have a gig this Saturday at Green Light, want to come?” Charlotte asks at the end of the dinner.

“Okay, I really don’t think Harry would be a fan of that idea,” you point out, feeling like it’s surely over the lines. He still doesn’t know about you meeting some of his friends without him and you’re not sure how he would react if he did.

“Harry can fuck off, not everything is about him. We are inviting you as our friends, he just happens to be in the band as well,” Sarah rolls her eyes, clearly not as bothered by the situation as you are.

“I just don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“He is a big boy, he’ll get himself over it, don’t worry. So, are you coming?”

“I guess, alright,” you nod with a soft chuckle.

 Next week you contemplate telling Harry that Sarah invited you out for their gig, but at last you decide against it, something is telling you he would try to talk you down and now you’re pretty hyped to see them perform. So you keep quiet and just brace yourself for the worst when Saturday comes.

You don’t overdress for the occasion, decide to wear some light washed mom jeans and a simple sweater tucked into it, a casual look for a night out.

Even when you’re on your way to the place you are having second guesses whether it’s a good idea or not, but you tell yourself it’s not that big of a deal and if Harry flips, you’ll just tell him you came for Sarah and Charlotte.

As you get off the bus and walk towards the place, you immediately spot the little group of three next to Harry’s minivan, Sarah waving in your way as you become visible in the streetlights.

“There she is!” she beams happily and you just chuckle at her.

Harry is standing with his back facing your way but seeing Sarah’s reaction he turns around and you swear for a moment you think he is about to faint when he spots you.

“Hey everyone,” you smile as Sarah pulls you into a hug and Charlotte does the same.

“Hey, if it isn’t our little trouble seeker!” Adam teases you and you just roll your eyes at him before shyly glancing at Harry who is standing on your left, awfully quiet and deep in his thoughts since your arrival. He feels your eyes on him and his gaze meets yours and just by one look you can tell he is pissed.

Just as you thought.

The group chats a little longer outside before Adam suggests they head inside and get ready for their start and you are just about to follow them, but Harry keeps you back.

“Y/N, can we have a word?”

Staying back you nod, hiding your hands in your coat’s pockets as you look at him, lips curled into your mouth.

“What are you doing here?” he questions, eyebrows knitted together and he looks so damn intimidating, the neon lights from the front of the building tinting part of his face green, but you think red would suit him better with this look.

“I… came to see the band playing, what do you mean?”

“Is this your sneaky way of trying to come after me? Because I thought we had a very clear discussion about my thoughts regarding situations like this and you seemed to understand it.”

He comes off way angrier than you think he should be. Yes, it might be uncomfortable for him to see you here, but the tone he just hit is way too harsh for your liking and professor or not, you are not letting anyone talk to you like that when it’s completely not relevant.

“Okay, calm down. First of all, I was invited here.”

“By who?” he spats.

“Sarah and Charlotte, we met last weekend and had dinner this week as well. Had a great time and they asked me to come tonight as well, so get off of your high horse, I’m not here for you.” You can see the change on his face as the information sinks in and he realizes he accused you wrongly, but you’re not quite done with him. “But if I was here to see you, why does that bother you so much? You can’t avoid meeting students every minute when you’re off-campus. If I came here because of you, it shouldn’t affect you this much if you weren’t worried about something else than me just being here,” you point out and he furrows his eyebrows at you. “If I didn’t know better I would think you’re afraid to be around me because you actually like me, huh!” you tell him with an innocent yet suggesting look. His eyes widen and the confidence in himself quickly vanishes from him, replaced by anxiety and nervous looks as he realizes the meaning behind your words.

“I-I, that’s not—I’m not—“

“Take a breath before you pass out, Harry,” you sigh, dropping the hard act. “I didn’t come here for you and if you want to know I actually thought a lot about canceling because of you. But I genuinely like spending time with Sarah and Charlotte so I’m here as their friend.”

Harry stares back at you, completely defeated, regret filling his green eyes. You feel a little guilty for snapping so hard at him, after all you do understand his point of view, but you genuinely don’t think it’s as big of a deal as he makes it to be.

“I-I’m…”

“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just… move past it, alright?” you suggest and he nods as the two of you head inside, joining the rest of the group.

You stay behind while they are waiting for their time to perform, keeping some distance from Harry so he can’t accuse you again, but you occasionally look his way, catching him already looking at you, but you just can’t tell what could be possibly going on in his head. When it’s time for them to go on stage, you go out to the actual bar area and sit by the counter, not too much at the front but close enough to see everything that happens on the stage.

When they start playing you can’t take your eyes off Harry. His energy behind the microphone just knocks you off the stool and you watch him completely mesmerized as if he has put a spell on you. It feels like he turns into an entirely different person on stage, nothing like the man you see at lectures every Monday and Wednesday. He sings perfectly on key, putting some extra charm into the songs with his little additional tunes whenever he is not singing a line.

But what makes it absolutely impossible to look away from him is because he keeps staring at you, eyes locking with yours for way too long every time he catches your gaze. You try to ignore it, but it’s quite hard when his eyes are basically burning into you, it leaves you breathless.

Once the concert is over you order yourself two tequila shots quickly, because something is telling you that you’ll need the boosting if you want to face Harry after his little performance.

But for your surprise, when you join the band again and get near him, nothing really happens. It seems like Harry has come to peace with your presence in his little group of friends and he actually treats you like you’re part of the circle.

The six of you occupy a table at the back of the bar to spend there the rest of the evening and it’s all good, it seems. A harmless night out with a bunch of friends, nothing extra. Harry actually strikes up conversations with you involved and you feel like you’ve overcome a banter finally.

“Do you need a ride home?” Harry asks at the end of the night when everyone is about to head home.

“Only if it’s fine by you.”

“Wouldn’t offer it if it wasn’t,” he smiles shortly before the two of you say goodbye to the rest of the group and head to his van that was previously loaded with their stuff.

The ride back to your place is now much shorter, it takes less than ten minutes to arrive and you are just about to say goodbye when he speaks up.

“I want to apologize for the way I reacted to your arrival earlier tonight. It was… unnecessary.”

“It’s fine, I’m sorry for what I said after that too.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he shakes his head, staring down at his hands in his lap.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you shouldn’t be sorry for saying something that’s true.”

It feels like all air is knocked out of you as his words process and you stare at him with parted lips and raised eyebrows. When he finally looks up at you, he looks so lost and tortured, you feel the urge to hug him, but you stay still as he continues talking.

“I got mad because I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very… confusing for me. And this is why I’m gonna be very straightforward with you now. I can tell Sarah and Charlotte like you a lot and they are stubborn, they won’t see the situation from my point of view and I’m no one to tell you if you can hang out with us or not. But what I can most certainly tell you is that nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N. You are very much welcomed to spend more time with us, but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

For a couple of moments you’re only able to stare back at him, blinking completely frozen at his sudden confession. You could tell tonight has been a turning point of some kind, but you were not expecting this speech from him at all and now you are at a complete loss of words. It takes some time before you actually find your voice.

“Okay,” is all you can breathe out, nothing more, but it’s pretty much all you have to tell him. You won’t go against his will and force him to do something he doesn’t want. He deserves the respect.

He nods shortly, seemingly still very torn about the situation and you figure it’s better if you just leave now.

“Thank you for the ride,” you quietly tell him opening the door. “Good night.”

“Good night, Y/N,” you hear him before you shut the door and walk into your building, feeling like you’ve been just hit by a pile of bricks.

Unlike the last time when Harry brought you home, Nat and Eden are not waiting for you in the living room. Nat is probably already asleep and Eden went out for a date earlier and she hasn’t been back. You don’t bother to turn the lights on as you walk inside, just kick your boots off and hang your coat before collapsing onto the couch, just staring into the darkness, Harry’s words repeating in your head again and again.

“… I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very confusing for me.”

“… nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N.”

“… but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

Harry, your professor, The Harry Styles admitted that he likes you but also told you pretty forward that nothing is ever going to happen between the two of you. It still feels like a fever dream and you’re not sure how you are feeling about it just yet. Hanging out with him was already quite overwhelming, but you were not expecting this confession from him at all.

What are you supposed to do with this information? If he is so set on not taking any further steps, why did he even share it with you? He could have just easily keep his thoughts and feelings to himself and get away with it without you ever figuring it out. It doesn’t make sense.

For the first time in your life, something Harry Styles said doesn’t make sense. That’s new.

Following Harry’s confession you truly have no idea what to do, so you just go with the flow. He seemingly stays the same when it comes to you, friendly, but still keeping his distance. Nothing changes in the lecture hall, he just occasionally asks if you’re alright and you are guessing he only wants to know if you are having any trouble with Victor, but you haven’t even heard from him since you’ve blocked his number and you hope it’s going to stay like that.

You meet up with him and the band a few times outside of school and it’s not necessarily awkward, but you can tell he is keeping his distance from you, he never sits next to you or has one-on-one conversations with you, only if it’s necessary. The only time he dares to be alone with you is when he sometimes offers you to drive you home. You usually say no at first, but he insists, so you end up sitting in silence in the car until you arrive home, say goodbye and end of story.

No one in school even suspects that you’ve made your way into Harry’s group of friends, only Nat and Eden knows about it but they swore to keep it a secret, but you didn’t tell them about Harry’s confession. Whatever it is that’s happening between you and Harry, you would never put him into a situation he is trying to avoid so badly. You sit in his classes like everyone else, but while all the other girls are drooling over him, trying to get just slightly closer to him in any way possible, you sit in silence and think about the precious times when you get to see him outside of school.

Even with him being so distant towards you, you can’t help but slowly start falling for him. He doesn’t have to talk to you or be direct to you, it’s enough that you see him as himself, you see him with his friends, how he acts whenever he is not teaching, standing on the podium. And he is an amazing person, there’s no doubt about that.

The semester is gradually moving forward, once you get back from fall break, you basically move into the library, studying for your exams and finishing up all your papers. December arrives pretty fast and before you realize, the whole town is decorated with lights and Christmas trees everywhere, the shops are trying to lure customers in with all the sales and the Christmas shopping officially starts.

One weekend, when there’s only two weeks left of school before everyone heads home for the holidays, you and Nat go for a shopping trip, trying to buy every gift in time so you don’t have to worry about that at least last minute.

Wandering around the mall you naturally take a trip to the bookstore, always ready to buy something new to read. Nat dives into the cooking books wanting to get one for her mother while you’re just aimlessly looking through the shelves. As your eyes are running through the titles in the psychology department, you stop at one particular book, pulling it off the shelf as you can’t help but smile to yourself.

The secrets of Classical Conditioning.

You flip through the pages and though it doesn’t seem to be a groundbreaking work, it’s just explaining Pavlov’s experiment and further uses of it, you still decide to buy it.

That evening you sit at your desk, the book open in front of you, a pen next to it as you try to think of something to write into it. At first you just wanted to give it to Harry as it is, but you figured it would be a nice gesture to write a few words into it he could always read when he opens the book. After some consideration, you finally grab the pen and start writing.

-

Dear Harry,

I will always think of you whenever I hear of Mr. Ivan Petrovics Pavlov or Classical Conditioning. Thank you for another amazing semester and I’m happy I got to see you without standing on a podium. You are an amazing man, never change.

Happy holidays,

Y/N

-

Last week of school, you go to the Wednesday lecture, the last one of the semester with the book sitting in your bag. All through the 90 minutes class as Harry is having an open discussion about the lecture with the students, you keep debating whether you should give him the book or not. When the lecture is over and Harry wishes everyone happy holidays, you grab it from your bag and holding it to your chest you wait until there’s only a few people in the room. Eden has already left to hand in a paper so you walk down the rows on your own, eyes on the man behind his desk who is now packing up his papers and notes, getting ready to leave.

“Harry?” you faintly speak his name, grabbing his attention as he looks up at you from behind the desk. You glance down at the book in your hands and before you could change your mind, you place it down in front of him. “This is… for you.”

His gaze wanders down to the book, then back at you as he stares at you in awe, obviously surprised by the gesture.

“What’s this for?”

“Christmas gift?” you answer unsurely with a nervous chuckle. “I just saw it at the store and… thought of you.”

“Y/N, I can’t—“

“Yes you can and you will,” you roll your eyes at him, tired of hearing all these negations from him. He can’t, he won’t, he shouldn’t… for once, he definitely will if it’s on you. “Take it as my payment for the book you gave me.”

His eyes soften at you before he looks down at the book again, reading the title before he chuckles to himself.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he then finally says, accepting that you won’t let him return the gift under any circumstances.

“Have a nice Christmas, Harry,” you smile at him shyly, hands holding onto the strap of your bag as you start walking away.

“You too,” he faintly says and turning around you start walking, but then he stops you. “Y/N, wait!”

You stop in your track and face him curiously. He seems hesitant, stepping away from the desk, walking closer to you but still keeping some distance between the two of you.

“Do you… have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

“I, uhh—No, not yet.”

“If you happen to be back in town by then… Sarah is having this little get together. I have a feeling she already invited you, but if you said no because of me, I want you to know that it’s fine by me. Would be nice if you could come.”

He is right, Sarah did invite you over, but you kindly declined thinking Harry wouldn’t appreciate if you spent it with them. You wanted to give him a breather, have a night with his friends without having to avoid you all the time, but it seems like the situation has changed for him.

“You don’t have to invite me just because I gave you a gift, Harry.”

“It’s not about that,” he shakes his head softly. “I can tell you are getting along well with Sarah and all the others. I want you to know that I would never stand in the way and you are very much welcomed at any and all events.”

He seems and sounds genuine, you don’t see any sign of him just saying it because Sarah asked him to or something. No, this definitely came from him.

“Okay, I’ll… think about it,” you tell him with a warm smile. “See you around,” you wave at him before walking out of the room.

You don’t get to see his reaction to the words you wrote into the book and for a while, you’re not even sure he saw it. Maybe he took it home and put it on his shelf without even having a look into it, but two days later, when you’re already packing, getting ready to go home for Christmas, you get a notification that at first confuses you.

Breakfast is now following you!

You open Instagram with furrowed eyebrows as you go to the profile that just followed you. It’s a small account and private, of course and you almost close it thinking it’s just someone random when you see that it’s followed by both Sarah and Charlotte.

Could this be Harry’s profile?

The username is colazione8, it doesn’t give away much but now that you are thinking about it, it’s perfect if he wanted to stay unnoticed by his students that surely can use Instagram way better than him.

You tap on the follow request button and anxiously wait for an approval, hoping that the person behind the account is still online. You wait and wait, slowly losing hope but then the notification finally arrives. Your request has been approved.

You tap on the profile vigorously and three pictures appear in front of you. One is a picture of some random building, the first ever posted is a plate of nicely served breakfast of some sort and then there’s one that features the person you were desperately hoping to see.

It’s a picture of Harry sitting at a big dining table, a glass of wine in front of him as he is squinting his eyes towards the camera. You zoom into the picture just to make sure it’s him, but his features are clearer than daylight, it really is Harry that just followed you.

You’re still stalking his very private and not too eventful profile when you get a message from him, making your heart skip a beat.

Harry: Hey! Just wanted to thank you again for the gift, it’s really thoughtful. Read what you wrote in it… thank you, Y/N.

Y/N: I meant every word. Thank you for everything you did this semester!

It takes a few minutes for a response to arrive from him.

Harry: Are you already on your way home?

Y/N: Not yet, leaving tomorrow morning.

Harry: If I drop by your place in 20, can you come down for a sec?

Y/N: Sure!

Though your response seemed totally cool, you started panicking right away. What does this mean? Why is he coming here? Are you in trouble? You couldn’t be, you didn’t do anything wrong.

You quickly change out of your worn-out sweats and stained shirt, putting on a pair of jeans and a black hoodie, not wanting to see him looking like a total wreck. You sit on your bed, anxiously checking your phone every ten seconds to see if he has messaged you and those twenty minutes never seem to pass.

Then your phone finally chimes again.

Harry: I’m here.

Y/N: Be there in a sec.

You jump into a pair of trainers and grabbing your keys from the little sidetable you have in the hallway you storm out of the apartment, running down the stairs. As you walk out you stop in your track for a second, for some reason you were expecting the minivan, but this time, it’s a black Range Rover that’s parked in front of your building and Harry emerges from it the moment you step outside.

“Hey!” he smiles at you, shutting the door before he jogs around and you notice the little gift bag in his hands.

“Harry, is this what I think it is? Because you shouldn’t have, really,” you tell him right away as he stands in front of you, glancing down at the little bag in his hands.

“What? So you are allowed to give me a gift, but I’m not allowed to do the same?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

“But you already gave me one!”

“That wasn’t a real gift, so no,” he shakes his head, too stubborn to let it go. So instead, he nervously glances down at the little bag before handing it to you. “Here. Happy Christmas. But you can only open it when I’m gone, alright?”

“Why?”

“Just… please,” he breathes out and you not, keeping your curious hands to yourself.

“Alright. Well, thank you, Harry.”

“Sure. Um, have a great winter break and… I’ll see you around,” he smiles, walking around the car back to the side of the driving seat.

“You too, Harry. See you!”

You see him drive away as you walk back into the building, basically running up the stairs to your apartment, dying to see what’s in the little bag. Once you are locked in the safe haven of your room, you throw yourself to the bed and reach into the bag, finding a small box. One that’s usually used for jewelry. You pull it out with shaky fingers and take a deep breath before opening it.

Inside sits the cutest little silver ring you’ve literally ever seen. It’s thin and very detailed, tiny little strawberries lining next to each other and that’s the whole ring. Just the little strawberries, but it’s still the cutest you’ve ever seen. You put it on and it fits perfectly on your ring finger, holding up your hand you take a good look at how it sits on your finger. You’re in love with it.

Rolling to your back on the bed you stare up at the ceiling with a heavy heart aching for a man you know will never be yours, but you just can’t help it. The heart wants what it wants, right?

Reaching for your phone you type him a quick message

Y/N: Harry, thank you so much! It’s beautiful! But you shouldn’t have bought me anything!

Harry: I’m glad you like it :)

Y/N: I love it.

He doesn’t respond, just likes your message.

Christmas is always the same, especially because your family just never had those juicy dramas that could ruin any family events. Holidays have always been quiet and loving, pretty predictable. It’s good to be home again and spend quality time with your loved one, though your mind keeps wandering to a particular someone.

Sarah mentioned that Harry has traveled home to his mom and sister and from time to time you catch yourself thinking about what he could be possibly doing at the moment.

The only interaction between the two of you is when you post a photo with your sister and brother at Christmas dinner and he likes the photo, but nothing more. He doesn’t post or add to his story so you are left with your own elaborate fantasies of what he could possiblybe doing at home.

Sarah convinces you to spend the New Year’s Eve at hers and you are accepting the invitation a lot easier now that Harry has told you he is fine with you joining.

Just one day before the 31st you get back to your apartment and spend the second to last night of the year spiraling about the whole situation with Harry. Where are you two standing as of right now? Was his gift a gesture with a deeper meaning behind it?

You can’t step over the fact that you are not his student anymore. He has officially graded you and you’ve received your credits for his class, the ties are off, but he situation might still be risky and you doubt Harry is willing to change his mind about what he told you earlier. He made it clear that nothing will ever happen between the two of you, however you can’t help but feel a little hopeful that the new semester might bring a change into that.

After two hours spent in front of your closet and at least three mental breakdowns you finally decide to wear a black turtleneck dress which is just the perfect mixture of modest and sexy at the same time. You feel anxious to see Harry again, not sure how to act around him following your little gift exchange. There’s a chance he’ll just shut himself off once again and avoid you all night, you can’t tell.

Sarah’s place is already buzzing by the time you arrive, several guests are lounging in the living room and kitchen, some soft music is playing and it appears that everyone is enjoying the evening so far, judging from the laughter you hear from time to time.

“I’m so glad you came!” Sarah envelopes in a tight hug when you arrive.

“Thank you for inviting me. Here, brought some snacks,” you hand her the grocery bag you picked up on your way, not wanting to arrive empty-handed.

“Oh, you are an angel, some on in, make yourself home, take whatever you want to eat or drink!” she gestures around before bringing the bag into the kitchen.

The cozy home is already filled with a lot of people you don’t know, but you also spot Charlotte and Mitch right away so you take the safe spot in their little circle. You try your best to stay present in the conversation but you keep glancing around, looking for one particular person.

And then you finally see him. Harry emerges from the little hallway that leads to the bedroom and bathroom with Adam, seemingly deep in conversation as he nurses a beer in his hand. His checkered slacks and vintage printed t-shirt makes him appear so casual, if you didn’t know him you wouldn’t even guess that he is actually a professor.

Harry laughs at something Adam just told him and his eyes glide around the room until they find you standing near the kitchen. He stops in his track, gaze running down your figure before it returns to your eyes and he seems to be in awe, like he doesn’t entirely believe it’s you he is seeing even though he knew you’d be coming. There’s nothing you want more than to run across the room and throw yourself into his arms. You spent way too much time thinking about him during Christmas and seeing him in the flesh now is a mixture of feelings you can’t really describe just now.

Neither of you leaves the conversation you are in the middle, but you keep glancing towards each other. You’re nervously moving the strawberry ring around your finger, feeling his burning gaze on your figure all the time. You haven’t taken it down since he has given it to you, it partially made it harder for you to stop thinking about him, because the jewelry was quite a loud reminder every time you glanced down at your hands.

Two drinks later your sister calls you, as always she wants to say happy new year before the lines get hectic at midnight, so you move out to the small balcony facing the street as you talk to your sister. The spicy night air feels amazing on your heated up skin, the turtleneck dress was a good choice, but it’s definitely getting hotter with each drink, especially with Harry’s lingering eyes as well. When you end the call you decide to stay outside a little longer, take a few moments to yourself.

You jump a little when you hear the sliding door open and you’re surprised to see Harry walk out.

“Hey, thought you might need this,” he smiles softly, holding a blanket in his hands.

“Oh, thank you,” you mumble and let him wrap it around your shoulders. It provides just enough heat that your lips are not shaking anymore from the cold.

“What are you doing out here alone? Not enjoying the evening?”

“I am, I was just on the phone with my sister.”

“She’s older than you, right?” he asks and you tilt your head a little looking at him.

“How do you know that?”

“I, uhh… You have a lot of pictures with her on your Instagram,” he admits with a nervous chuckle.

“Have you been stalking my profile?” you tease him, but he clearly takes it way more serious than you intended it to be.

“No, I swear it’s not like that, I just—“ he stammers but you cut him off placing a hand on his arms that are crossed over his chest.

“Harry, I was just teasing you. It’s fine,” you assure him, giving him a gentle squeeze before you are about to pull your hand back, but his hold stops you. He takes your hand in his, gently bringing it closer to his face as he examines the ring sitting on your finger.

“You’re wearing it,” he breathes out, a small cloud emitting from his pink lips as his thumb softly runs over the ring.

“Of course. I told you I love it.”

You can’t ignore the shiver that runs down your spine at the feeling of his warm palm against yours, his thumb delicately running over not just the ring, but down your finger as well before he lets go of your hand. You already miss his touch.

“So, how was Christmas?” he asks clearing his throat.

“Good, nothing extra. What about yours?”

“Same, went home to the family.”

“Do you often visit them?”

“Not as often as I would want to, but I’m trying to go every couple of months.” Harry turns towards the street, eyes running along the not too busy road that stretches past Sarah’s building. His hand comes up to the railing, fingers slightly drumming on it. “How come you didn’t bring anyone tonight?”

“Well, my roommates are still home and I also didn’t think you’d like the idea to have another student of yours around.”

“Right, yeah,” he nods, but you can tell something else is still on his mind. “So… no boyfriend to bring?”

You give him a puzzled look. Is this his way of asking if you are seeing anyone at the moment? Because if it is, it’s kind of ridiculous.

“No, not really. I guess you can say I’m not looking for one actively.”

“How come?” he asks with raised eyebrows, his body turning towards you as he leans against the railing. You give him a ‘really?’ look. You think about getting a little sassy and teasing with him, but then decide to just be straightforward instead.

“Because I’m kind of into my Methodology of Cultural Anthropology professor.”

Harry’s lips part as his eyes pierce into yours and for a moment you really think that he is about to flip, tell me how dare you say such thing to him and curse you out, but a second passes and his gaze softens as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Y/N…”

“What? I just answered your question,” you innocently shrug, looking away from him. Despite this long and weird game the two of have been playing these past months, this is the first time you openly admitted that you have a thing for him.

“You know how complicated it is and I told you that nothing can happen.” He shakes his head in defeat, a hint of disappointment in his tone, but it just grinds your gears.

“What, so you can ask about my dating life but I can’t say that I’m into you? How is that fair?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Well I think it is. Both are highly inappropriate to bring up in our situation, don’t you think? Yet you’re trying to put all the blame on me.”

“Alright, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Let’s just… forget about it. I really don’t want to fight with you.”

“Because you’re afraid I might actually win?” you sassily reply, crossing your arms on your chest.

“I’m just trying to do the right thing, okay? Would you… let me?”

“If you haven’t realized it yet, I’m trying really hard to stay in my lane, but you’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m trying too, okay?” he growls, clearly losing his calmness at this point. “I’m really fucking trying, Y/N, but it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!”

“You’re the one making it hard!”

“It’s not my fucking fault I can’t stop thinking about you!”

“Well it’s not my fault either!” you snap at him, both of you raising your voice, the rest of the party oblivious about the screaming match the two of you are having on the balcony. “If you’re so set on not letting anything happen, why do you come to me and act the opposite?”

“The opposite?!”

“Yes! It’s not quite appropriate to gift your student with a ring or ask them about their dating life. Or is it all new information to you?”

“You started with the gifting!”

“So what? You could have just left it there, but you didn’t. It’s not that it didn’t make me happy, but don’t try to put all the blame on me for saying something when you’re already crossing the lines.”

Harry stares at you with a hard look and you’d pay great amounts to actually read his thoughts at this moment. His jaw clenches as he exhales sharply, eyes turning away from you, as if he couldn’t even bear to look at you.

“Make up your fucking mind,” you growl under your breath as you push your way past him and walk inside before he could get a word out.

For a well-respected, educated and smart man, Harry can act pretty fucking stupid, you think. He is not being fair and you will not apologize for anything you’ve said. If he doesn’t want anything to do with you, he needs to stay in his lane and not dance on the line, poking the sleeping lion. He doesn’t get to fuck around and then put all the blame on you, that’s just not how it works and he needs to learn that.

In the last hour that’s left until midnight you mingle with the guests and try to keep your thoughts of Harry at bay, though it’s quite the challenge since he lingers around you, keeping his eyes on you all the time, as if he is trying to piss you off or something, but you’re determined to be a mature adult and keep your composure.

You’re getting tired of this game and you’re not sure anymore if you are willing to wait around until Harry makes his mind up. Not when he doesn’t keep his own rules at least.

“Come on,” you mumble to yourself as you’re trying to open up a new bottle of wine, but the screw just wouldn’t move, no matter what you do. A hand reaches forward and wraps around the neck of the bottle, interrupting your pathetic misery.

“Let me help you.”

You let Harry take the bottle, biting into your bottom lip as you turn around and watch him easily open the bottle you’ve been fighting with the past ten minutes, he grabs your empty glass from the counter and fills it.

“Thank you,” you mumble when he hands it back and you take a sip right away. He places the bottle to the counter, fingers strumming on the surface before he takes a deep breath and speaks up.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“For what exactly?”

“For the way I acted. You were totally right, I called you out for things that I did myself too, that was unfair of me.” He clears his throat, leaning against the counter with his back side as he crosses his arms on his chest. It brings out how toned his arms really are and you give yourself half a second to drool over that before you take another sip from your drink, forcing yourself to keep your thoughts under control.

“Thanks for acknowledging it,” you mumble, not sure what to say exactly. The two of you stand like that in silence, eyes roaming the guests, something clearly weighing down on both of you, but it’s hard to name and address it.

You can tell he is overthinking, the gears are almost visible, turning in that smart head of his, but you don’t want him to go into depths he shouldn’t. He really is making a bigger deal out of the situation that it already is, but it’s going to wreck him.

“Okay, I want to know, what was the worst way someone tried to flirt with you?”

Harry turns to you with a puzzled look, but you just sip on your wine, waiting for his answer.

“Um, I don’t… really keep track of it.”

“Oh come on,” you give him a look. “I know you have a story. I wanna hear it!”

Your eyes meet and he is searching in yours, trying to figure out what’s the sudden change in your mood when an hour ago you were ready to throw him off the balcony. Truth is you are just frustrated, because the situation feels so impossible. You never had to deal with such an amazing man, knowing he is into you as well, but you just can’t have him. The struggle is hard for the both of you but you can’t blame him entirely. Hating on him because he is not willing to take a risk that could easily ruin his entire life but at least his academic career is just not fair and you won’t put him through that.

Harry sees where you’re coming from and he shoots you a thankful smile before it turns into a smirk as he looks down at his hands.

“Professor Davids from the department of linguistics asked me to be her date for her ex-husband’s wedding.”

“What?” you gasp with wide eyes. “For real?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “She started swinging by my office all the time, trying to chat me up and then one day she asked if I wanted to go with her, that we would be staying at this nice hotel and all… she really thought it was a good idea.”

“That’s very awkward,” you laugh, entertained by the thought that Professor Davids would go so low when it came to dating. “I assume, you declined the invitation.”

“Faster than ever,” he chuckles making you laugh even louder. “Okay, your turn.”

“What?”

“I told you an awkward story, now it’s your turn.”

“Um, the worst was probably a promposal I got.”

“A promposal?” he asks with a puzzled look, his forehead creasing as he pulls his eyebrows together.

“Yeah, when they ask you out to go to prom.” “Oh, yeah. Didn’t know it had a specific name.”

“Because you are way too British,” you tease him and he just gives you a narrow-eyed look, but you can see the smirk hiding on his lips. “Well, anyway, I was dating a guy senior year, but this other one was convinced he could win me over and take me to prom. He brought a fucking mariachi band to school and gave me a serenade in the middle of the hallway while my boyfriend was standing next to me. He asked me to prom so confidently at the end of the song, like he actually had a shot but it was so painfully awkward,” you laugh at the memory shaking your head and Harry joins, finding it quite entertaining.

“He really did that to himself.”

“He did, I felt bad a little, but what was I supposed to do?”

You slip into telling more and more awkward stories, staying in the kitchen you create a little bubble, the rest of the guests don’t seem to exist as you enjoy yourself with Harry. This is the most carefree and loosest you’ve ever seen him around you and you quite like this version of him. So easy to talk to and even funnier than his usual self.

A little before midnight Sarah runs around with champagne, filling everyone’s glass, getting ready for the countdown. You and Harry join Charlotte, Adam and his wife in the corner of the living room as everyone is slowly getting excited for the last moments of the year.

Looking around you see a lot of couples, holding hands, hugging, clearly planning to snog the moment the clock hits midnight and when you glance at Harry on your right you’re convinced he is thinking about the same thing.

You’re not naïve, you don’t think he is going to kiss you, but you still allow yourself to play with the thought just a little. He is standing so close to you, just the tiniest move and you’d be touching him, skin to skin again, feel him under your—

The thought is abruptly interrupted when you feel his warm palm wrap around your hand, your whole body freezing and for a split second you think it’s just an accident, that his touch will disappear before you could even blink, but it stays there. Harry maneuvers his fingers until they are laced together with yours and he keeps a firm hold of your hand, hanging between the two of you, staying hidden because you’re standing close to each other. Your breath catches in your throat and you’re afraid if you dare to move he’ll let go of your hand.

Another version of yourself would laugh hysterically at how worked up you are right now just because he is holding your hand, but the you that’s actually in the moment is about to burst just by this small touch. You have absolutely no idea what it means or why he chose to do it, but you don’t really care about it. You just want to absorb all the heat you feel coming from him where his palm meets yours, fingers braided together tightly, as if he is trying to keep you next to him, like he thinks you are about to disappear and it’s way of anchoring you to him, but truth is you don’t want to go anywhere.

“One minute, everyone!” Sarah sings in excitement as she turns on the TV and puts a huge clock on the screen that’s counting the seconds as well. You shyly glance to the side, finding Harry standing motionless next to you and when he notices you looking, his eyes meet yours. He looks terrified, like a lost little boy and you can’t tell if he is afraid of your reaction or because of what his actions might bring on him. But you want him to know that you are completely okay with where it’s heading.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” The countdown begins and you inch closer to Harry so you’re pressed against his side, his body heat radiating into your skin even through the layers of clothes you two are wearing.

Harry leans down the moment you lift your head, his face is so close, it wouldn’t take much for you to finally kiss him, do the one thing you haven’t stopped thinking about for months.

“Y/N…” he breathes out and it’s a tortured plea, he is begging you to stop him from doing something he might regret, but you are dying for him to finally sin. You want him to give it up already, you have absolutely no desire to be the burden that keeps him in his lane. You need him to cross the line and stay there.

“I’m not stopping you, Harry,” you tell him quietly, the urge to close the distance between the two of you is burning inside you.

“Seven! Six! Five!” the countdown continues, but it all tones out, you can only see, hear and feel Harry.

“We can’t,” he whines, closing his eyes as he exhales shakily.

“We can, we just shouldn’t,” you correct him, his eyes snap open and meet yours again. You can tell he is so close to finally giving in and let his feelings and desires take control and you will not try to stop him.

His face inches the tiniest bit closer and his forehead is almost touching yours now, you can see every curly eyelash that frames his gorgeous green eyes that are now filled with fear and nerves.

“Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Everyone screams together as the clock finally hits midnight while you just stare at Harry holding your breath, praying that he is finally ballsy enough to take this step.

“Harry, please,” you beg, not too proud of it, but you just can’t take it any longer. His hand is gripping yours tightly as he closes his eyes again and for a second you think that it’s gonna happen. He is going to give up the act and finally kiss you.

But right when the moment is burning the most… he pulls back and your heart sinks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hand lets go of yours and it feels like your arm is ripped off, tears are welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, me too,” you mumble under your breath, chugging down the champagne before making your way through the living room, determined to leave as soon as possible.

“Y/N, wait, where are you going?” you hear him calling after you, but you don’t stop. You get rid of the empty champagne glass and grab your coat from the rack, storming out of the apartment as if you had somewhere to be.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you run down the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. You hear the other pair of feet running behind you and Harry calling after you, but it’s not stopping you.

You push the front door of the building open, but it’s heavy, so it slows you down just enough that Harry can grab your wrist when you are about to start running down the street.

“Y/N, don’t go, let me explain!”

“No!” you snap at him. “I don’t fucking want to hear your explanation! I’m done, Harry! I’m fucking done! I was trying to be patient and respectful, I didn’t want to make it worse for you and let you do your thing, but you kept dancing back and forth and I can’t keep doing this, so I guess I’m sorry too.”

You’re choking on your own words that echo from the walls, the street is almost entirely empty, the world is still celebrating the new year while you’re at your breaking point. Harry stands in front of you, defeated and panic all over his face as he listens to you.

“I will not sit around and let you play your little games any longer, because you can’t make up your mind whether you want me or not.”

“Y/N I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life!” he snaps, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s the problem! This shouldn’t be happening, but I can’t fucking stop thinking about you, I can’t stop wanting you!”

“Then do something about it!” you beg through your tears.

“I can’t!”

“Yes you can!” you scream at him. “You can but you probably just don’t want me enough to actually do it! And it’s fine, but—“

You don’t get to finish your rant because Harry firmly grabs your arm, yanks you towards him and with one swift movement, his lips are crashing against yours.

It all happens so fast but your body reacts before your mind could process what’s really happening, fists bunching a handful of his sweater as you pull him against you, his hands flying up to your face, cupping them confidently as he kisses you hard and demandingly.

It’s like a fucking dam that’s been broken, everything you both kept bottled up and under control just breaks loose and it’s a kind of a wild fight for trying to devour each other now that all lines has been crossed an blurred into nothingness.

He is the dominant one, but you do some pushing and pulling on your own as well. You’re forced to take a few steps backwards, back arching at how forcefully he is pushing forward, lips smacking against each other over and over again, his tongue meeting yours, swirling and dancing around with yours, a shameless moan escaping your mouth.

His hands roam down your sides and you jumps when they reach the back of your thighs, legs wrapping around his waist. He keeps you up easily, fingers digging into your flesh where your butt meets your thighs and this angle allows you to be completely pressed up against him and feel every single inch of his body that burns for you.

It’s beyond anything you’ve ever imagined, you’re not sure it’s because of the build-up that led to this point or simply the chemistry you two got, but it blows your mind, making you question how you could go this long without ever kissing him.

“Harry, I want you,” you moan when his lips move down to your jawline, kissing and biting on the soft skin, tasting you wherever he can reach.

“I want you too, Y/N,” he breathes out resting his forehead against yours before kissing you again.

“Take me home then.”

“Are you sure?” he pants as you run your fingers through his hair and tug on his gently, earning a whimper from his perfectly pink and swollen lips. You love this satisfied dew on his face, especially because you know it’s because of you.

“Never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You unwrap your legs from around his waist and return to the ground, but not without him leaning down to kiss you once more before he grabs your hand and starts pulling you down the street. You spot his Rover right away and start sprinting, Harry following you right behind with a carefree laugh.

Settled in your seats he starts driving, but you can’t keep yourself away from him. His hand that’s not on the steering wheel is gripping your thigh as you lean over the console and start kissing his cheek, jawline and the corner of his mouth as one of your hands runs down his chest until it reaches his pants.

“Love, if you move further down we’re gonna crash,” he warns you with a shaky breath. “I drank a little too and I’m already fucking gone from kissing you, if you touch me I’m gonna lose it.”

You giggle, pressing one last kiss to his lips before sitting back in your seat. You need every bit of your patience and self-control to stay modest on the way back to his place. Hands gripping his you bring it up to your lips, kissing his knuckles gently as he speeds down the empty streets. It’s still barely over midnight, everyone is still celebrating, oblivious to how important this moment is to the two of you.

You really thought this would be the end. When he pulled away at midnight all hope was lost for you and it broke your heart to know that he will never choose you over his better judgment.

It’s your first time at Harry’s but you don’t really care to look around as the two of you make your way inside the townhouse, lips already melted together as you stumble through the dark hallway, not wanting to let go of each other. You successfully make it into his bedroom and Harry turns on the bedside lamp while you’re already eagerly getting rid of your coat and shoes. He does the same, clothes start to litter the hardwood flooring hastily, but neither of you is thinking about them. Harry scoops you into his arms once again, kissing your lips passionately as he bunches your dress up at your hips until he can finally grip the end of it and pull it over your head.

“Oh shit!” you giggle, the turtleneck getting stuck on your head for a moment before you’re free from it.

“That big head of yours,” he chuckles kissing your forehead.

“Shut up,” you smack his chest gently, pushing him down to the bed so you can straddle him, knees on his sides as you sit on his lap, lips meeting again.

He throws his hands up when you start pulling his t-shirt up and once the fabric is off of his body, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close to his chest. Your skin meets his and it feels heavenly, only little clothing separating the two of you at this point.

Harry scoots backwards and then throws you to the mattress, getting on top of you without your lips ever parting. His hips are pushed against yours and you can feel everything through the thin material of his slacks. Without even knowing you grind your hips, your core meeting his erection in the movement and he moans uncontrollably at the sensation.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against your lips and you can’t push your smirk down at his reaction.

“Yeah, fuck me, Harry,” you tease him before your lips get occupied once again.

His hands work fast. He unclasps your bra without you even noticing, the straps falling from your shoulders before he gets rid of it, throwing it across the room as if it did something against him. When his hungry eyes fall down on your naked chest you see the same kind of torture in his eyes that was there when he was fighting with himself before.

“Harry, stop thinking,” you tell him, fingers massaging his scalp as you lace them through his hair. “It’s fine, we’re fine.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he questions again and you pull him down for a reassuring kiss.

“One hundred percent. I want this. I want you.”

“Oh God, I want you so bad,” he whines again, lips kissing down your jawline, neck and collarbone before they attack your breasts.

He cups them, licks and bites them, making you a whimpering mess underneath him every time his tongue meets your hot skin. This man will be the death of you. As he moves down your body, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and he glances up at your for reassurance once again, you nod eagerly, lifting your hips so he can easily glide the fabric down and off of your body. Harry sits up, eyes burning down on your naked body lying in front of him as he undoes his own pants, pushing them down his long legs until they join the rest on the floor. You push yourself up when his hands move to his boxers, you want to be the one to take them off. He gladly backs his hands off when you reach out and start tugging them down. He kneels on the bed as you pull the fabric down and his erection finally becomes free, making you ache for him immediately. Once the boxers are out of the way completely you want to reach out to touch him, but he stops you, hands wrapping around your wrist before they could reach him.

Your eyes snap up to meet his darkened gaze, questioning why he stopped you.

“Y/N, I… If we do this, there’s no going back,” he breathes out with a pained look. You push yourself up to your knees so you meet his height, hands cupping his cheeks as you pull him into a sweet kiss that he hesitantly but returns.

“I know what you think about us, Harry, but I assure you, that I’m completely fine with it. But if you don’t want it to happen, we can just… lie here. I’m fine with that too. Kissing you was already such a gift for me,” you smile at him, gently pecking his lips.

“I just don’t want you to wake up and regret it. I’m not pushing you, right?”

“If anyone, it’s me pushing you,” you chuckle softly, a small smile tugging on his lips as well. “You didn’t push anything on me, alright? We are both adults and it’s completely fine. We’ll figure out the rest, I just want to focus on you now. Can I do that?”

Harry nods, still looking a little unsure, but you can tell he is starting to settle in his mindset. It’s not just him that worries about the other regretting something. You know how torn up he is about anything that’s about you and though you want him more than anything, you still don’t want to push him into doing something he is not entirely comfortable with.

“Do you want this?” you softly ask, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I do. I’m just—“

“Then it’s all good, Harry. We both want it, nothing else matters for now,” you tell him, wanting nothing else than to finally see him enjoy himself entirely. “Lay down for me,” you tell him, feeling like you taking the lead is a good idea now.

He does as you asked him to, lying down on the mattress, head sinking into his pillow as he blinks up at you, watching you swing a leg over him before settling to sit on his thighs.

“Can I touch you?” you ask, wanting to make sure he feels completely comfortable with you. Pleasing him is your number one priority right now. He nods, lips parting as he watches your hand reach out and wrap around the base of his erected length. He whimpers under your touch, his eyes fall closed when you gently pump him a few times, his cock fits so well in your palms, like pieces of a puzzle.

Leaning down you kiss his fern tattoos on each sides of his hips before placing one to his leaking tip, sliding your hands to the base before you slowly and gradually take him into your mouth.

You’re not planning to make him cum with your mouth, but you’ve been dying to taste him and it’s just as good as you imagined. The way his body reacts to your touch, the noises that leave his kissable lips, this man is completely out of this world and you want to explore every inch of his body.

You bob your head a couple of times, just enough to wet his length and work him up for what’s coming next. When you let him go of your mouth and you move a little up on his body so that his cock can be lined up with your hole, you look at him to see if he is still down to continue. One hand holding his cock, the other one flat on his naked chest, you ask him a question with your eyes that he answers with his hands squeezing your hips.

“I have the implant. Do you want to put on a condom?” you ask him at last.

“I trust you,” he breathes out. “Do you want me to put one on?”

“I want to feel you,” you tell him shaking your head.

“Okay,” he nods so it’s settled.

Leaning down you peck his lips one last time before you push the head inside and then slowly ease yourself down on his throbbing length.

“Oh fuck!”

“Harry, oh my God!” you both moan at the sensation of him finally entering you. You’ve had your fair share of sexual intercourses throughout your life, but none of them felt this good. None of them pleasured you this good so fast and easily, just the feel of him being inside you is making you lose your mind.  

You start off slow, wanting to feel him just right, get used to his size, but as soon as you feel more comfortable, you pick up a faster pace. His fingers are digging into your flesh at your hips as he holds onto you for dear life, panting and moaning at your motions. He glides in and out of you perfectly, setting your senses on fire practically.

“Harry, you feel so good,” you gasp, getting lost in the feeling. Sex has always been a good experience for you, but with Harry it’s a whole different story. As if he just opened a completely new world you never even knew about before.

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh fuck!”

Harry pushes himself up, an arm coming around your back as he easily flips the two of you over, your back gently hitting the soft mattress. He holds himself up above you, lips crashing with yours as he starts to do the work this time, thrusting in and out of you, his hips smacking against yours forcefully as you both nearing the end.

“You’re making me lose my fucking mind, Y/N,” he cries out, head falling to the crook of your neck and you wrap your arms around him as a shield, holding him tight against you.

It doesn’t take long after that. He is hitting just the right spots, making you moan his name over and over again as your orgasm slowly devours you and washes over your whole body while he is still relentlessly moving.

“Harry! Oh… Fuck!” you gasp, legs and hands shaking and you clench your muscles around him, throwing him over the edge with you. He falls out of his rhythm, his cock twitching inside you as he moans against the hot skin of your neck, coming undone in your arms.

Nothing has ever felt this intense and mind-blowing and you’re now sure you’re addicted to him, there’s no turning back, not that you want that.

He collapses on top of you, still inside you, his body weighing down on you heavily, but it feels just fine. You run your arms up and down his sides, kissing the side of his head as you are both trying to catch your breath. It takes a few minutes for him to come back to reality with you, he lifts his head and moves to the side so he is not crushing you anymore, but an arm remains thrown over your abdomen. His vibrant green eyes are shining like never before when they meet your tired gaze and cupping his face in your palm you pull him in for a slow kiss where you finally have the time to actually taste him without the rushing of your own needs and urges.

“How are you feeling?” you softly asking, knowing well how major this was for him. You wouldn’t want him to spiral and start to self-destruct because of what just happened.

“I’m feeling fine,” he murmurs lowly, his fingers dancing on your naked side. “Just still a little torn if I did the right thing.”

“You worry too much. We did nothing wrong.”

“Not sure everyone would agree with that.”

“Fuck everyone else,” you chuckle and a smile tugs on his lips as well. “I will not feel bad for having the best sex of my life with a hot as fuck man I’m really into,” you bluntly tell him, earning a smug grin.

“Best sex of your life, huh?”

“Not even ashamed to admit,” you nod into the pillow. “How… was it for you?” you shyly ask, afraid his answer might disappoint you. But Harry pulls you closer until you’re pressed up against his chest, his lips capture yours, kissing you fiercely, making your heart skip a few beats for sure.

“Fucking amazing, baby. Probably the best I ever had too,” he admits, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you nuzzle against his chest once he has rolled to his back.

Silence comes over the two of you, you’re listening to his steady heartbeat, mindlessly drawing patterns over his chest. Lifting your head your eyes meet his and you can tell he has been thinking hard about what this all means for the future now.

“I’m in,” you simply tell him.

“Huh?”

“If you are thinking that I might not want to do this with you, that I just wanted a good fuck, that’s not what I think of this. If you want to give us a chance, I’m totally in.”

“You think we can make it work?” he quietly asks, his voice barely more than just a whisper.

“Of course,” you smile at him warmly. “You don’t?”

“I do, I’m just… there are so many things that can go wrong.”

“Then… we’ll make them right.”

Harry breathes out through his nose, clearly having a hard time to take it as easy as you do and you wish you could magically make all his doubts go away.

Sitting up you put your hands on each of his sides, looking down at him determined to bring out his confidence in the two of you.

“We just have to be patient and careful until I finish. Then we are basically free. That’s just one more semester. It could be way worse, we can make it work for a couple of months before we can finally do whatever we want. That doesn’t sound that bad, does it?” Harry shakes his head, reaching up he tugs your hair behind your ear before running his fingers down the side of your face.

“So we are really doing this?” he breathes out, a small smile on his sweet, pink lips.

“Well, I’m surely not giving up on this, we came a long way to be here,” you chuckle. “Question is, are you gonna give up on us? On… me?”

“Hell no,” he chuckles softly as he shakes his head. You smile down at him and leaning down you peck his lips tenderly.

“Then… we really are doing this.”

SEQUEL: 🌊 AN OCEAN AWAY 🌊

-

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #professor!harry #professor!harry au #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst

[jafndaegur]

Things Said and Unsaid

Jumin Han x MC

Mystic Messenger

a/n: now that the zine is long past, here is my story from the Garden of Eden Zine:) Enjoy!

Jumin twisted the flower stem between his fingers as he reclined further against the chair. Waxy pink petals mocked him in a way that he did not appreciate and the bright bloom weighed heavily, leaning forward in his careless grasp. He rested his chin on the back of his free hand, temple twitching at the not-quite perfect amount of wine for a buzz but enough for a headache. 

MC's voice still floated in the air as if she'd just called about her final report for the RFA event.

"All of the flower arrangements are ready for the party," her voice was stilted over the phone even as she tried to be chipper.

Jumin wondered if she felt uncomfortable around him with everything said and done. "They'll look beautiful I'm sure." He reassured. 

The pause and silence between them felt unnatural and constricting.

"What did you pick? For the bouquets." He finally peeped out, his voice rocking with concern. Had they always struggled with communicating? The memory of being able to freely converse with her, speaking of any little trivial thing that came to mind an easy and amusing way for him to pass the time. Surely he hadn’t ruined things so thoroughly during the time she had spent at the penthouse.

MC’s airy and pitched laugh reached his ears in a painful display of her discomfort. "That'd ruin the surprise."

And what a surprise it'd been.

Jumin had been eager, and even anxious, in awaiting her arrival to the party. Afterall they all owed its renewed existence to her. And he himself owed so much to her too. When they had parted the night before, V rightfully helping her return to the apartment, it had been with a tender apology. She'd embraced him—held him close and promised things would work out the way they should.

He wasn’t sure if it had been a lie or her convincing herself. Perhaps some odd adherration of both to her conviction.

The day of the party came, but MC did not.

It was obvious that Seven had hesitated his journey before finally making the reluctant trek to Jumin with a piece of paper in one hand and a tied bouquet of flowers in the other.

The pink camellia had seemed so bright and vibrant in the light of the ballroom. And even now in Jumin's hand, standing stark and vibrant, the bloom dazzled against the rest of his muted parlor decor. It smiled and flourished, and yet here he sat more dejected and more confused than ever.

Somehow, he managed his way back to the kitchen, where the rest of his  bouquet lay abandoned on his dining room table—scattered petals and bulbs strewn across the wood top due to his careless toss of the bunch. He had been angry and frustrated at the time, but now he felt guilt tugging at the span of his ribs when he thought of the disregard he gave to her last gift to him. The note lay innocently next to it, as if trying to appease him with the gentle slope of MC's handwriting.

I've meant everything Jumin. Said and unsaid. I don't regret anything and I hope you won't either. But we both need this to move forward, I think this is what's right...I hope you'll see that. I've left you the best.

-MC

Among the flowers, pink carnations were the easiest to pick out. The petals crimped and wavy, and the blossoms themselves the most commonplace and plain. And yet MC had made sure the flowers had stayed nestled close amongst bushels of goldenrod. Another odd pick for a formal party. His eye for detail made things easy to recognize that beautiful hardworking and problem-solving touch MC made with every  deliberate and precise choice. He knew that much. From the sorrel that warmly held everything together, to the pink camellias blushing prettily at the center wrapped in forget-me-nots.

In times such as these Jumin realized he had one consultant he could count on, a source where information passed easily from itself to him. Where he could learn unhindered and without bias about the best that MC left behind for him. Because surely, she did not simply mean the best flowers from the bunch. She was too clever for that.

He found himself at a library, in the area with the farmer's almanacs and horticulture how-tos. It was an aisle he frequented when seeking answers to inquiries about his vineyard. 

Heavy and cumbersome, he found an encyclopedic tome titled Whispers from the Flowers. It was an odd name but upon opening it he found satisfaction knowing that his assumption on its topic had been correct. The flower language. Something not in a million years he imagined himself researching. But for MC, he would do anything. And his beloved left behind one very, very important clue. "Things said and unsaid." And he hoped it was more than a mere sentimental way of saying she left him behind regardless of whether or not she was able to relay all she wished to. 

Jumin found the index at the back of the book, searching for sorrel first. MC had meticulously ensured that the green and stringy plant entwined itself around the main bouquet like a cradle. It was hardly a flower and yet the vibrancy of it added life and color outside of the thematic pink hues of the other blooms. Affection. Sorrel is the gateway to confessions and the key to unlocking the heart—it lays bare the raw and pure emotion of those who offer it. His fingers danced over the words, tracing the letters with the faintest of smiles. MC's disappearance seemed like a rather large lack of said-affection, but he knew there had to be further explanation. And all answers resided within the little puzzle she had set aside just for him.

Because she knew and understood he had every capability to solve it. He hoped.

Encouragement. Good fortune. Goldenrod offers the same blade with two edges. One of well wishes and the other of outstretched hands. It is an easy flower to convey both farewells and prosperity. 

Jumin’s breath curled within his chest and his fingers hovered. “Farewells.” It was a mutter, something that he dare not speak more than a whisper.  MC left behind hide nor hair of her existence. The memory of her laugh and gilded eyes were the only proof he could offer. Yet somewhere amongst the agonizing pull in his chest as he read the summary over and over again, he feared that she had truly meant her goodbye hidden within these flowers. 

He knew his own faults had greatly weighed upon her decision to leave with Jihyun that day. But had he really ruined things so much that she chose never to see any of them again to escape him? Were all affections between them nullified because of his shortcomings.

Breath hitched and his fists clenched the book. Memories of true love. Forget-me-nots are the staple flower of sweet love. Anyone gifting their sweetheart with these iconic blooms know every moment spent with their true love will be cherished and treasured. Jumin’s brow furrowed. Contradictory. This was all so illogical and contradictory. If he had not just recently gone through a week-long anxiety attack and now the loss of the woman he had planned to propose to, he’d chalk these meanings up to happenstance and throw the book into the closest recycling bin. But everything said had been meant. And everything unsaid had been meant. He needed for his own sanity and for his own comprehension to know if these flowers truly enveloped MC’s feelings for him. Or if he was just a fool trying to pry into a love that was never his to keep.

“I’ll never forget you.” 

A shudder. The words flowed past his lips as he read the phrase mechanically. “I’ll never forget you.” Each utterance a tremor to his heart as the walls constricted and shook.

I’ll never forget you. Pink carnations are easily the most misused and the most misunderstood. Believed to be a simpleton’s flower, the meaning behind this bloom is often lost due to being handed out of context. It’s beautiful and pastel color can often be misleading. It is a mournful flower, often handed at the cusp of goodbye. A beautiful tendril to remember a fleeting yet vibrant romance. 

The search through the index for the last flower was a trembling one.  Jumin’s fingers skimmed the crisp paper gentle against his skin as he tried to account his increasing pulse to apprehension or suspense. He was approaching the last piece of MC’s riddle and good or bad—real or not—he had been able to come to some conclusion about their parting. About their romance. About them. 

His vision blurred and he felt the world spin.

A note had been tucked away close to the spine where the pages parted. It was a small envelope, no bigger than an index card. “Jumin” had been scripted neatly on the front, and on the back, there was a little flower drawn over the edge of the opening flap. He recognized MC’s handwriting anywhere. Impulse struck a chord with his nerves and he plucked the note quickly before forcing himself to slow down. He wanted to finish this mission. 

Pink camellias. Longing for you.

No more waiting. Jumin dropped the book and tore the envelope open. His heart pitter-pattered and he double took the gentle slope of that oh-so familiar handwriting. The gentle sweep and slant of her penmanship was obvious the moment he gazed upon the ink. There before him, tiny and hopeful, was a phone number. He'd arrived at the end of her puzzle with a growing smile, shaking his head with a fond chuckle. His finger brushed the new note.

"You can be greedy, you know," he whispered reverently. "Around me don't worry. Whatever fears or struggles we may have to face, we'll figure them out together. You don't have to hold back for my sake or for yours."

He pulled two business cards from his wallet, placing one in the forget-me-knots section and the other in the section about pink camellias. Satisfied, he closed the book and walked to the front desk where the head librarian sat typing away on the computer. Noticing his approach, they gave him a warm smile. Holding out their hand, the librarian inclined their head.

"Got everything you need?"

Jumin nodded and handed the book over. "I will soon enough. In the meantime, could you place this on hold? A friend is going to pick it up."

"Of course," the librarian nodded. "Name and number."

"Han MC," Jumin decided with a touch of humor, a welcomed break to his multi-day anxiety high, before reciting the number from the note.

The person assured him that MC would be notified and that the book would be on hold for the next twenty-four hours. He bowed his head slightly and graciously thanked them before heading to the car where Driver Kim awaited. There was so little time to get ready but he wanted to make the most of this anticipation that clung to his lungs with baited breath.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme jumin han #jumin han x mc #mysme jumin

[demonicheadcanons]

Can I request undatables headcanons where they lend/borrow notes and the undatables sees silly little doodles in between the class work?

The Undateables React to an MC who Doodles on Their Class Work

AN: I love this so much ;u; I work in a school and sometimes the kids will doodle little things in the margin, and its always so entertaining to see what they draw - multiple times its been little doodles of me, which is so sweet!!

Anyway, sorry that this headcanon isn’t very detailed, I’m still not quite comfortable with how I portray the Undateables and struggled to place them in this scenario ;u;

Diavolo

He borrowed the notes to check over them and see how you were getting on and if you needed help with anything. He’s flicking over the pages, skimming through it all and then sees the drawings start on one page and continue over the next few.

Diavolo sits down at his desk and spreads the pages out, careful not to disturb the order of them but wanting to see all of the drawings at once. It was clear that they were rushed in between taking notes, just casual little drawings, but he finds himself grinning as he looks over them.

When he hands the note back, he grins at you and says “I loved the little drawings you did!” In a teasing tone, he adds, “I’m not sure how they help with the classwork, but they really made my day.” He laughs if you seem flustered at all, but finds himself glancing over at you more often when he’s supervising classes to see if you’re doodling.

Barbatos

Like Diavolo, his intention is more to look over the notes and get an idea of where you’re at in terms of schoolwork than to copy them. When he sees the first drawing, he pauses. Its not detailed and stuck right in the middle of the work, your writing moving to accommodate for the doodle.

It confuses Barbatos, more-so when he turns to the next page and there are even more drawings, but he decides it’s not really any of his business and continues checking over the notes, efficient as ever. He finds it endearing but he has too much work to do to focus on it.

He does watch you when you’re doodling in future, covers a smile with a gloved hand when you scribble notes around the drawing, but he won’t really comment much on it. If he thinks you’re doing it because you’re starting to lose focus after a certain amount of time, he’ll try to find accommodations for it, but otherwise he just lets you be.

The only thing he does out of the ordinary for him is that he doesn’t report it back to Diavolo unless it seems necessary. He keeps the information to himself, like a little treat, something only he knows about (other than you, of course).

Solomon

There was an issue at Purgatory Hall so Solomon, Simeon, and Luke all missed a class and needed to catch up. Since Solomon couldn’t borrow either of their notes, the next best person to ask was you - he didn’t feel up to asking one of the brothers, knowing their notes would either be useless, they’d downright refuse him, or they’d be annoying about it.

He’s working on writing everything down when he turns the page, sees a drawing, and stops. Stars trail down the margin of the paper and he leans his head on his hand, smiling into his palm as he flicks through the pages. The entire notebook is decorated with doodles here and there, throughout all of the notes.

Solomon doesn’t mention the doodles to anyone and just hands your notes back the next day. When he remembers it, he smiles to himself, but generally its not something that ever gets brought up. He’ll pretend he never noticed if you decide to ask him if he saw them.

Simeon

Like Solomon, he missed class because of some issue at Purgatory Hall. He considered asking Lucifer first, but bumped into you in the hallway and decided he might as well just use your notes.

He heads to the library between classes to catch up so that he can return them right away. He notices the doodles halfway through photocopying the notes and snorts before covering his mouth, overly aware of just how loud that was in the silent library. He quickly copies the other pages and tucks the book away in his bag.

“Ah, MC, there you are! I just wanted to return your book,” Simeon calls, holding up your notebook. He pauses, holding it just out of your reach, and flicks it open. “I just have one question, sorry. What does this mean?” Simeon smiles innocently as he holds out the book, pointing directly at scribbled drawings along the margin of one page. “I just couldn’t seem to figure it out by myself.”

Bonus: Simeon keeps the photocopied notes, even though he copied them up into his book himself. He finds the doodles really cute.

Luke

Also missed class and needed to borrow your notes to catch up - there was no way he was going to go without doing so, and he also didn’t want to ask one of the demon brothers because there was no way in the Devildom that he was going to copy notes from some demon.

He’s anxious as he asks if he can borrow your notes, just for a little bit so he can copy them? You agree right away and hand over your book and he promises he’ll return it with a treat later. Luke heads back to Purgatory Hall to catch up, and when he notices the doodles he puffs out his cheeks and keeps writing, all too aware that Simeon is also in the room and will notice if he reacts at all. (Simeon does see him blush, and smirks but doesn’t say anything).

Luke brings over some pastries he made for you to try when he returns your notes that evening, and he flushes as he hands over your notebook. You can’t figure out why until he pulls out his own and shows you the doodles along the pages. You recognise a few - Lucifer glaring, horns and demon tail scribbled out in a red pen. One of Beel eating something or other, and one of Simeon smiling. And one of you, too, smiling with a halo over your head.

You ruffle his hair and Luke pouts and puts his book away, but he seems happy. “I was worried I’d get in trouble, but if you’re doing it too, then those brothers won’t say anything.”

He’s the sweetest little brother in the world.

AN: Hope these are okay! They’re a bit short and messy, I struggled with this ;u;

#Anonymous #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me headcanons #my headcanons #my writings #request #ask

[ravenvsfox]

Things Fall Apart; the Centre Cannot Hold

Summary: He keeps remembering the chafe of Ronan’s shoulder against his ribs as they got oriented in his little bed, the glisten of tears and nightwash wringing his lovely eyes, the lonely twist in his unguarded late-night voice over the phone, the one that Adam had almost liked, because it meant that he was indisputably missed. It was worse, that Ronan had been trying so hard for Adam, because it was easier to tell when he stopped.

(Adam's perspective throughout Mister Impossible, as his worry reaches a fever pitch, and the two versions of himself begin to converge)

Word Count: 9.5k

Warnings: mi spoilers, death/suicide mention

A/N: batshit middle books my beloveds. adam pov or bust 😌

Read on AO3

In high school, Gansey would very occasionally call Adam in the middle of the night.

He would speak low and fast, his panic pinched between thumb and forefinger and held at a respectable distance. Adam would smother the receiver with his palm and step outside of his family trailer, listening hard for movement at his back.

The news was always the same: Ronan Lynch was on his latest rampage or bender, exercising his dark talent for bullying his way into people’s lives and then breaking down all of their windows and doors trying to get out again.

Gansey would fret and apologize, guilty for luring Adam out of his wolf-den, guiltier for neglecting his duties as Ronan’s warden. Adam would wait tiredly on the line for Gansey’s anxiety to exhaust itself, and then dutifully join the search party.

He would step into his beaten tennis shoes and pry his bike from the fence, silencing the silvery shock of metal on metal, and avoiding the reedy whir of the spokes by holding the whole thing aloft until he reached the gravel road.

From there, he would venture out into the abandoned Henrietta streets, the crunch of his tires cutting clean through the woolly midnight silence. He often circled the perimeter of the park nearest Monmouth, stepped through the great dark portal into St. Agnes, and nipped under the old bridge, squinting into the darkness for the challenging shoulders, the oil-slick BMW gleam, the slump of a body or clatter of bottles.

This is a part of Gansey that I admire, he would think. And with equal fervour, this is a part of Gansey that I resent. This blood attachment to Ronan, who was not even attached to himself. The insomnia that seized two heads of the lopsided Cerberus that Adam, Ronan, and Gansey were all part of, a restlessness on either side of him that shook him awake over and over again.

He chased Ronan’s shadow, hating him. Hating his thoughtlessness, his privilege, his chokehold on Gansey’s interests, his purposefully and continuously ruined potential, and yet bristling with anxiety at the idea of finding him bleeding.

They hadn’t known then that he was a dreamer, but they’d felt the ear-popping pressure of his grief, glimpsed the hulking animal of his self-loathing, urged onwards by the twin spurs of Declan and Gansey, the past and the future, digging into his sides.

Adam had seen Ronan, teeth bared, hurling himself at rock bottom, and he had rubbed the sleep from his eyes and pulled him back by the collar.

Things are completely different now, but he still finds himself sleep-raw and petrified, reaching after Ronan in the dark.

He examines himself in the mirror of the communal bathroom in Thayer hall. The overhead lights are an unflattering yellow, the sink has a long dark hair stuck to its basin, and Adam’s face is gaunt and bruised with lack of sleep.

He’s losing it, a little bit.

He takes his own pulse, focusing on the faraway burble of the ley line. Everything, lately, seems far away.

As if through a stranger’s eyes, he slips from the seafoam tiling and bleach tang in Thayer’s North bathroom to the accordion door of the trailer toilet, the creaky cubicle shower, his gawky, hurt reflection in the burnt-out light. This version of Adam had to watch his best friend’s best friend escape suicide watch and get screaming drunk in public, treading mud and malicious dreams all over Monmouth manufacturing.

He can still smell the salt tang from teenaged Adam’s ocean of disdain.

Now that he loves Ronan, his irritation has only gotten sharper, more deadly. Ronan performs each perilous swan dive into the unknown, each foolhardy act of self-sacrifice, as if the people who care about him aren’t gasping spectators. It makes Adam furious.

Perhaps neither of them have changed as much as they wanted to believe. As Gillian keeps advising the crying club—with the confidence of a seasoned psychiatrist—progress isn’t linear.

He keeps remembering the chafe of Ronan’s shoulder against his ribs as they got oriented in his little bed, the glisten of tears and nightwash wringing his lovely eyes, the lonely twist in his unguarded late-night voice over the phone, the one that Adam had almost liked, because it meant that he was indisputably missed. It was worse, that Ronan had been trying so hard for Adam, because it was easier to tell when he stopped.

He slides fingers over his temples, smooths a knuckle over each eyebrow to ease the tension he always carries there. Sleep is a little knot of gristle lodged at the back of his throat; he can’t swallow it and he can’t spit it up. It never used to be this hard to put his problems to bed. He would worry the weight on his chest into small pieces, and go to sleep knowing that even the worst things about his life were organized correctly.

This time though, he’s out of sorts, divided, always busy but always spinning his wheels. He has a white-hot secret pressed to the roof of his mouth.

Every time he folds himself into bed, his subconscious helpfully reminds him that Ronan might be dead. And then a highlight reel plays in his head like an In Memoriam: Adam’s hand cupping Ronan’s nape, a barn silhouetted against a melancholy sky, a fistful of dreamt light, a dozen hard-won smiles and a hundred easy ones, a white handprint on a flushed thigh, a colourful joke to placate a brother, a kiss pressed to a dream’s forehead. All of that—gone. And Adam, at Harvard.

He highlights long patches of text in his sociology textbook, drinks a sensible amount of jack and coke at Eliot’s birthday party, declines Gansey’s calls by sending cheerful and conciliatory texts, and drifts through the library with his hand knotted in the strap of his satchel, looking for something that he can’t really articulate. He reads the same line of theory over and over and over and over, feeling like he’s scrying, like his focus isn’t his own.

He did all of this before Ronan went missing too, but now it’s a whole different class of performance. It used to be, I’m convincingly attentive, I’m sipping overpriced coffee on the way to class like a good Ivy leaguer, I’m making an impression on my professors, I’m forging friendships. Someday I will cash in these relationship tokens, and it all will have been worth it. It felt impossible that his life could be so simple and rewarding.

Now he thinks, I’m studying for finals and my boyfriend is being hunted by people whose job it is to kill him. I’m drinking a latte and the only people I’ve ever loved have left me, and I'm alone again. I’m putting my hand up in class and somewhere, Ronan’s life is changing, rapidly, dangerously, without me.

He lies to everyone, all the time, and tells himself that this life he’s building is more important than anything.

Once, as they cleared placemats and mugs full of stagnant coffee from the kitchen table, Ronan—still cobwebbed in his most recent dream—had detailed the sensation of hovering over himself afterwards. He was unable to manipulate his physical body or even really recognize it as his own, and his consciousness, detached, had its own limbs, its own intentions. He was like a parasite trying to wriggle back into its host.

Whenever Adam consults his double in a bit of glass, he imagines himself as a nimble dreamer, peering down, working to bring a fantasy to life. He can see his own outline, a slick college student with a flat, pleasant affect and a gaggle of soft-shelled friends. He plays his role impeccably well, but he can’t fit himself into it. If he passed himself in the hallway he would not stop.

Looking in the mirror now, he feels a red pang of fear, then a supercut of the ways he used to let himself love and be loved, then resentfulness hot on the heels of his worry.

His reflection withers, and he looks deliberately down at his hands. It’s a Tuesday, and he needs to sleep, or his tightly-scheduled Wednesday will be a misery. It’s a Tuesday, which means he hasn’t spoken to Ronan in—he stalls. Call me, he thinks, miserably. Just call me.

He can deal with a multitude of challenging and improbable situations if only he can see them clearly. Ronan is, for whatever reason, keeping him in the dark.

The not knowing is bad. It’s not how he functions. It’s not how they function. But instead of dwelling, he puts his back into the narrative that is now his reality: Impeccable student. Devoted friend-group. Tough break-up. Bright future.

Ronan isn’t here. Can’t ever be, physically, so far from the ley line. Adam has to be.

“Croissant, as ordered.” His gaze snaps up, connecting—not with his own image, but with clever, horn-rimmed Gillian. “They tried to foist it upon me without butter, if you can imagine that.” She deposits a crinkly brown and tan paper bag in front of him, and then two little plastic pots of butter. Adam regards the squashed shape of the bag’s contents with confusion.

It’s— “Is it Tuesday?”

“Wednesday,” Eliot corrects airily, licking jam from their thumb.

“My god, Adam. Whatever happened to your infallible circadian rhythm?” Fletcher asks. “You are the Swiss timepiece by which we measure our days.”

A terrible wave of vertigo strikes him, and he’s grateful to find himself sitting, at one of two conjoined wrought-iron tables in the courtyard near Thayer. He can feel the ley line breathing for the first time in a long time.

He must have gone to bed after his late-night breakdown in the bathroom. He must have. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was. His hand strays to his hair. Wet. He’d woken, showered, and met his friends for breakfast, and he can barely remember it.

“Sorry,” he chokes. “Sleep deprivation is catching up to me, I think.”

“Aw, chicken,” Benjy says affectionately. “I’ve sung those end of term blues. The profs think we’re machines. Don’t even get me started on Dr. Fraundberg’s Lit Crit for assholes.”

“Whyever would we?” Eliot says. “We want to make it to class before noon.”

“Har-har. You wound me. Adam you’d better get a tissue ready, I’m about to tear up.”

“Also,” Gillian says, pointing her be-honeyed knife in Eliot’s direction. “Speak for yourself. I want to make it to class never.”

“Your presentation is going to be exceptional,” Fletcher tells her. “Your rough draft already drove me into paroxysms of jealousy. I don’t know why you’re so concerned.”

“I don’t just want to pass,” Gillian says. “I want to win.”

“Admirable,” Benjy sniffs.

“You’re being awfully quiet, Adam,” Eliot says, at length. He’s aware that they’re all trying very hard to act like they don’t notice how poorly composed he is.

“Can’t a man savour his pastry, Eli?” Fletcher rumbles.

“No, that’s fair,” Adam sighs. The four of them peer at him expectantly, eyebrows arranged into an array of benign and non-threatening shapes. “It’s possible I’m having a slight breakdown,” he says, adopting the grim hyperbole of a student for whom finals are the beginning and end of their emotional upset.

Everyone at the twin tables indulges in a bit of mild laughter.

“What a coincidence, so am I!”

“Well if it’s only slight, I’ll stow my concern.”

“Harvard or personal?”

He smiles faintly, and says, “kind of both. The personal is political, or something.”

He thinks he’s laying it on thick, but Gillian grins at him. “'Atta boy.”

Fletcher goes to take a sip of his tea, but chokes when his phone lights up with an incoming text message. “Criminy, is it eight already? Starting the day with a bang, as usual. I’ll meet you at Weld this evening, yes?” he asks, shaking out his tweed jacket and thrusting an arm through it, securing the remains of his bagel between his teeth with his other hand.

“Of course,” Adam says. Fletcher gives him a thumbs up, mouth charmingly stuffed, and sweeps away across the now bustling courtyard.

“Hey magic man,” Eliot says. “Will you do a reading for my sister tonight? The break-up with Margot is hitting her kind of hard. I’m pretty sure she just wants to be told she’ll find love again.”

Adam watches the juddering impact of Benjy kicking Eliot under the table.

He shrugs. “First come first serve, but I’ll give her the friends and family discount.”

“You’re a prince,” Eliot says, blowing him a kiss. Adam tries to imagine any of his friends from Henrietta doing such a thing, and can’t. “Come along Benjy. Bookstore or bust. They’re giving out discount computing textbook codes at sixty dollars a pop.”

A slip of paper for sixty American dollars. Adam’s head aches profoundly.

Gillian waggles her fingers at their friends as they depart, then she turns and fixes Adam with that familiar amateur therapist look.

“What?”

“Are you sleeping?” she asks bluntly.

“I’m a very good sleeper,” Adam says wryly. “Ask anyone.”

“But are you actually doing it?”

“Yes, Gillian.” Liar, liar. “Do you want me to keep a dream journal as evidence?”

“Oh, yes please.” That shark’s grin. “I’d pay to know what the fuck is going on up there.” She taps her own temple to indicate Adam's guarded mind.

He spreads his hands between them. “I’m an open book.”

She hums, only half-smiling now. “I dunno. That Southern charm. I’m never quite sure if I should trust a politeness that perfect.”

“On that note,” Adam says, standing. He’s relieved to find that he’s wearing matching socks, and his pant legs are rolled just so. There’s a tiny streak of yellow on one of his shoes, and with a jolt he realizes that it’s dream-crab guts. He presses on. “Thanks for the croissant. And the psychoanalysis. Send me the bill.”

She salutes him with her coffee cup. “You couldn’t afford me.”

He laughs, and turns, and then spends the whole walk to his 9 AM class trying to straighten all of the haywire compasses in his brain so they point due north.

His assignment is in his bag, pressed neatly into a navy blue folder. He has three classes today, a meeting with his supervisor at three, a study block set aside from four to six, then dinner, then tarot readings all evening—his phone rings. His treacherous heart leaps. Ronan.

He stops mid-stride, scrambling for his cell in the front pocket of his bag.

“Hello?”

“I—oh—Adam! I didn’t expect you to pick up. How on Earth are you?”

“Gansey.” He exhales through his nose. “I’m just on my way to class.”

“Fantastic to hear your voice. How’s—not that one, Jane, the I-90—exactly. How’s Harvard? Are you batting away job offers yet?”

“Constantly. How are your nature hikes and hippie communes? Contracted any backwoods diseases yet?”

“Charming. I’m actually in remarkably fine form, health-wise.”

“Is that a brag?”

A guffaw. “More of a curiosity. It’s actually part of the reason I’ve been trying to get in touch. Have you noticed any surges of power from the ley line lately? I mean, of course you have, but do you have any idea what’s causing them?”

He frowns, pinning his cellphone between his good ear and shoulder as he heaves open the ancient door to the physics building. “I could give you my best guess.”

A beat, and then, “I’m listening, Parrish.” Something about the way he says it makes homesickness pulse painfully in Adam’s chest.

He finds a semi-secluded stone slab bench behind an empty stairwell, and slings his belongings across it before he replies, “Dreamers.”

“Dreamers,” Gansey repeats, but it sounds like he’s saying of course! “Plural?”

“At least three.”

“Doing what?”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure yet.”

“Ronan hasn’t spoken to you,” Gansey guesses.

“Not—in a few days.”

“Is everything alright?”

He swallows, and is horrified to find tears burning at the back of his throat. There’s no pretending with Gansey. It’s why he never calls him.

“Adam,” he says quietly. “Is he in trouble?”

He struggles with his composure for several long seconds. “Possibly.”

A world-weary sigh. “I really wish you had called.”

“Yeah, well,” he says vaguely. He checks his watch. 8:23.

“So he’s playing with others. Why would Ronan want to do that?”

“I think—he’ll do anything not to feel powerless.” He understands as soon as he says it that it’s the pockmark in the windshield from which all of the damage is splintering outwards. “And people take advantage of that.”

Gansey makes a thoughtful noise, somewhere a thousand miles away, and it clicks in a lock and opens Adam’s shoulders up. Maybe he doesn’t have to be alone in this fight. How could he have forgotten careful, persistent Gansey?

“Well. He’s certainly not powerless. I almost feel back to my pre-Cabeswater self. Everything is pleasantly linear. And Blue is—lighting up.” In the background, he hears her say supercharged with relish. “I can only imagine what it’s like for full-blooded dream stuff, with all of that energy at their disposal.”

“I don’t know if I like it,” Adam says carefully. “It’s good for a while, helping all the Matthew’s of the world, and then what? Where does all of that diverted power end up? What makes dreamers qualified to harness it without their worst nightmares manifesting?”

“You’re worried about the Lace.”

The last time they spoke, Adam had told them briefly about his last scrying session, warning them to look out for the hateful, faceless thing that had pierced his cells and magnified all of his pain and fear until all he could possibly do was scream.

“I’m worried about Ronan. I know he’s in over his head, and I know he won’t believe it until it’s too late.”

“Sounds like someone I know. Don’t bite off more than you can chew with this, Adam. I know you’re enormously busy.”

It stings, a little. “I’m still going to—I’m obviously still going to make time for him. Especially when he’s—“

“Struggling. Yes. I understand perfectly.” It occurs to Adam that, unlike his well-meaning Harvard friends, he actually might. A needling murmur in the background, and then, “listen, Blue’s telling me that you should get in touch with the psychics, and Mr. Gray.”

He nods. The rhythm of problem-solving is soothing his frazzled nerves. “I’ve been considering it. I’m also pretty sure that Declan has been keeping his own tabs on things.”

“My money’s on yes,” Gansey says. Adam half-smiles. His money has been on a lot of things. “Poke around when you can. See what turns up. I’ll give Ronan a call, not that it’s ever done me much good before.”

“I’m pretty sure he ditched his phone.” He checks his watch. 8:24. It feels like it’s been much, much longer than a minute. There is so much day ahead of him.

Ordinarily, he would be compartmentalizing better than this. No feverish Gansey phone calls directly before class. No pleasure with his business. No finesse when logic will do the job just as well. But the subterranean, black-eyed Adam is still within him, tethered to the ley line and to his friends, and he wants very badly to fix this.

“Ah, Ronan,” Gansey sighs. “It’s always got to be him, doesn’t it?”

“I know,” Adam says narrowly. “If he’s not looking for trouble it’s looking for him.”

“You sound like Declan.”

Adam makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. Blue must be leaning across Gansey, because she says “that’s a new low,” almost directly into the receiver.

“I’m hanging up now,” he says flatly.

“Update me if anything changes? We’ll come home the moment things go south.”

He resists the urge to check his watch again. “Don’t cut things short on my account.”

“Well. Don’t disrupt your studies on Ronan’s. I’ve never known you to put your future on hold for anything.”

“I’m not—“ he stops. “Ronan is a part of my future.”

“Good,” Gansey says warmly. A test, then. And like most tests, there was never even a possibility that Adam wouldn’t pass.

______

It’s easy to tell when a dreamer is suffering.

As the energy from the ley line ebbs, dreamt creations judder and bolt like horses loosed suddenly from the service of a carriage, galloping towards safer pastures. If the dreamer is in more immediate peril, the dream simply folds its limbs into an agreeable shape and passes into sleep.

In the wee hours of Thursday morning, Adam lies awake in bed, dangling his hand between the wall and his bed frame, feeling along the subtle unfilled crack in the plaster. A flagpole casualty, from the day that everything stopped being enough for Ronan, and he slipped away on a dreamt current like a dark Ophelia.

He’s being dramatic.

He feels the drywall flaking, and digs his thumbnail into the split, wanting to rip the whole wall open with his fingers.

He keeps picturing Matthew’s half-lidded eyes, cloudless and blue as a wide prairie sky. The slouch of his posture, the tarnished golden head, the body briefly without a pilot.

Matthew had looked—Adam turns in bed, taking his chalky hand from the wall and fisting it in the sheets. He had looked like a faded old pillow, tucked unobtrusively into the chair by the window. He wouldn’t respond to Declan’s call, fluttering his drowsy lashes, and Adam had thought, ah. This is how I find out. His heart slumped over in his chest, dizzy with sudden grief. The tarot cards in his hands were dead leaves.

This is what happens when your life is tied to my brother’s, Declan had said, diverting his horror into scorn as he often did. The death of any one member of his family ensured the destruction of another. It had always been that way.

Matthew eventually roused, and Adam had closed his eyes and turned his face towards the ceiling until he could be normal again. He felt suddenly foolish for peddling lies to college students when magic was so obviously in the room with him.

Earlier, he had called Maura over lunch, and she vaulted right over small talk to ask him, with concern, about his loosening grip on his psychic inclinations. She’d said, “You do know that the ley line isn’t the source of your problems, right? Give yourself some credit. You can fuck things up in a completely non-mystical way.”

She pulled the Magician, reversed, and the eight of wands, and then, without further comment, passed the phone to Mr. Gray.

Unexplained weaponry, he’d reported. The Lynch brothers loosed on two separate worlds at the same time. Buttoned-up Declan for the first time unbuttoned, schmoozing with an array of dangerous and connected people, trading in secrets just as his father had. Purposeless Ronan for the first time with a purpose, wading out from the murky waters of his dreamspace and bringing the tides with him.

Bryde, the name in the corner of everyone’s mouth, joined all at once by Ronan’s and Hennessy’s.

Renegades, liberators of dreams, scorchers of earth. He could see, easily, why this would appeal to Ronan. A mission, finally. A father figure to guide his hand. A world that wanted his dreams, and wouldn’t crumple under the weight of his unusual ambition.

When they were teenagers, Aglionby was just another one of Adam’s jobs, but it was one of Ronan’s nightmares. He would go to school, a hooded bird of prey, seething with resentment and squandered ability. He longed for the Barns because of what they represented: the childlike belief that his family would never die; the possibility for creatures like him to roam free; a landscape powered by unconditional love.

Bryde, Adam knows, must be offering him the same relief. Exquisite flight, after the cage.

It’s not possible, is the thing. It’s a pipe dream. A Niall Lynch fairytale.

Foresight has never been Ronan’s strong suit. He gets it into his head that a solution is right up until the point that it falls apart in his hands. He throws himself entirely into belief. It makes him an extraordinarily loyal and trusting person. It also makes him stubborn, rash, and susceptible to manipulation.

He believes in one facet of something, and the rest follows. He can’t just take a sip—he downs the bottle.

Adam is a boy on a bicycle in November, needing to find Ronan alive so that he can hate him without feeling guilty about it. He never stops oscillating between resentment and love, reality and unreality, understanding and disappointment. He wants to be normal so that he can choose to be abnormal. Sometimes he wants the cards without the magic.

He closes his eyes and remembers a slumbering mouse against an angular cheek. He imagines Matthew like that, perpetually immobile, perpetually innocent, like a taxidermied puppy. The pieces of Ronan’s consciousness that will linger after his death, statues in a graveyard. Tamquam—tamquam—

What would Ronan be without his dreams? Here, Adam thinks. He’d be here.

He stays in bed for another wasted hour, and then stands up, disoriented, in the dimness of the room. Fletcher is snoring softly. Someone outside their cracked window is shuffling over the concrete stoop. His upstairs neighbour is playing tinkling soundtracks while he sleeps. Adam can’t be here anymore.

He plucks Fletcher’s laptop silently from its charging station, tucks his bare feet into stiff leather shoes, drags the cardigan from his desk chair, and lets himself out into the hallway. The glare from the overhead light pins him against the wall for a moment.

He shuffles half-blind down the hall and upstairs to the solarium, nearly losing one of his unlaced shoes in the stairwell in the process. The lights are blessedly shut off up in the attic, and he feels his way to the nearest of the tables hunched in the shadows. Aching with fatigue, he sits, unfolds his stolen laptop, and gets quietly to work.

He’s never had the time nor means to be truly proficient with technology, but he extracted a handful of leads from Mr. Gray, and he’s been in touch with a friend of Benjy’s—a computer science grad student and hacking hobbyist.

He chases key phrases down rabbit holes and assembles news articles, tracking Ronan’s movement by his “unexplainable” signature (code for mind-fuckery, joyful innovation, and dark humour). Adam is a practiced note-taker and serial obsesser, so it’s barely a strain to find Ronan—whom he knows better than anyone—cropping up all over the continental United States.

“What are you doing,” Adam murmurs. The sky lightens gradually to periwinkle. He has work today, but his shift doesn’t start until noon. His mouth is bone-dry, and his head feels cotton-stuffed the way it always does when he’s pushing his body to its limit.

When it’s late enough in the morning to be socially acceptable, he messages Benjy’s friend with the bare bones of what he’s looking for: a project under wraps, a lonely last name, a suppressed pattern. They correspond, remotely, until Adam is reading government files over watery coffee, wearing sweatpants, dress shoes, and a cardigan with cracked elbow patches.

He pores over it all, cross-referencing dates, and ignoring the widening sink-hole in his chest.

Industrial espionage isn’t at all Ronan’s usual brand of destruction. Highly controlled, not much up-front gratification. A little more political than Ronan usually leans. A lot more ambitious. Whatever their agenda, ley energy is flowing more easily now that it's unobstructed on such a large scale. Adam has been feeling its effects rippling all the way out to Boston, a persistent background pressure, unavoidable as a migraine.

It’s clear that the Moderators are desperate to eliminate Bryde’s party. Their reports are a comedy of close calls.

Slowly, Adam begins to understand the scope of things.

Billions of dollars in damages, manmade structures ripped from their foundations. Magical fugitives hunted by a team that specializes in murdering the targets they call Zeds. Visionary headlights pointed towards certain apocalypse. A world that is always awake, but always, always feels like it’s dreaming.

It’s pretty much exactly as he feared. Night terrors. The Lace. Beasts and legends. Adam holds his head in his hands. It’s more than what Ronan must be imagining. It’s more than Aurora waking happily in Cabeswater, powered by the swaying trees. It’s the indiscriminate waking of every incredible thing that’s ever been dreamed.

He’s struck by a wave of hopelessness that rushes all around him and tears at his hair. Ronan, dreamer of baubles that dispense music and light, cars that go very fast, and menageries of curious creatures, recruited to a cause that transmutes creation into chaos. Ronan, promising to wait, and then running full tilt at a future that can’t possibly keep Adam in it.

His dream half is going to destroy his human half, and he’ll take everybody else down with him.

If he could just see him, maybe—

His jaw creaks, teeth clenched tight against the emotional groundswell. The late morning sunshine strikes him, and he feel more like a vague, pale shape than a person. Like a dream, maybe.

Alter idem.

If Adam can’t reach Ronan, maybe the Moderators should.

He feels the weight of that awful thought burning a hole through his stomach lining. He can’t think about it. He needs to go to work.

_____

The next evening, he experiences a surge of power so acute that it nearly puts him in a coma.

It’s another Wednesday night, and another batch of his peers hitch polite smiles to his heels as he passes them by, winding his way up into the high, arched sunroom at Weld hall. They’re all wishing for magical solutions for their mundane problems, the opposite of Adam in nearly every way.

He bumps knuckles with Benjy and Eliot in turn, pulls up his chair, and knocks his last reading from Persephone’s deck, mostly out of habit. He consults his phone idly as his friends try to make pleasant conversation, holding up a finger when he finds a new batch of texts from Gansey.

John Amos power plant in WV shut down Monday

Intense. maura said she could’ve brought HER dreams to life afterwards

no word from Ronan yet? Leads from Declan? pls advise

I’ll assume no news is good news

He puts his phone in his satchel and fastens it closed. Every new scrap of information he gets feels like a stroll through Ronan’s security system at the Barns—hopelessness compounding and compounding until he staggers out the far end weeping.

He needs to focus on something productive. He nods at Benjy to start letting people inside, straightening the notebook where he usually scribbles his observations. Here, he is an adjudicator: powerful, organized, and reserved, tallying points and offering constructive critique.

His curious audience starts pouring in then, amateur wiccans and wannabe believers, aggrieved last-resorters and skeptics following friends’ recommendations. It’s a brighter collection of characters than Aglionby could ever have hoped to foster.

Gillian texts him to say that she just passed Weld and his line-up was out the door. He is a prim and unobtrusive con artist, a false prophet, and business is booming.

Eventually, a bespectacled girl who looks anywhere from five to ten years his senior sits across from him, tucking a bag armoured to the teeth with candy-coloured enamel pins between her feet.

“Hi,” she says nervously. “Anna.” She stretches her hands out in front of her, then thinks better of it and drops them into her lap.  “I’m not sure how this usually goes, so you might have to hold my hand a little bit.”

“No problem,” he says smoothly, passing his deck across the tabletop. “Just go ahead and shuffle. Concentrate on what you want to ask the cards.”

She does as directed, struggling a little to keep the papery stack in check. Not a natural born card sharp, then. He studies her neat black shirt, tucked precisely into a plaid skirt. A Marilyn mole drawn on just above the corner of her mouth. A pride flag pin he doesn’t recognize next to a cat wearing a cowboy hat, and the word “rude” in cursive.

She holds the deck fleetingly to her chest, eyes squeezed shut like a child making a birthday wish, and then plops it in the centre of the table. A card slips near the top, slightly uneven, and Adam plucks it free.

He hums thoughtfully. “Eight of cups. Okay. So you’re having some trouble with letting go.” She frowns and nods once, quick.

He lays out the rest of a simple five card spread neatly between them. A couple of stray swords, the chariot, a wand.

“It seems like things are stagnating in your personal life. Maybe your friend group used to feel like your family, but you feel like they’ve lost interest in you. And you love them, but Anna, if you’re being honest with yourself, you’re pretty sure you were done with them before they even started pulling away. Right now you’re kind of just going through the motions. A couple of years overdue to convocate, right? Everyone else moved on to greener pastures.” He taps his thumb thoughtfully against the bones of his opposite wrist. “It’s not even the loneliness that gets you. It’s the not knowing. Are you supposed to chase after them? Is there another community out there for you? There is, you know.”

He notices another card spilling loose, and he grabs it without thinking. The Magician again. He thinks, huh, caught in the coils and dust of Persephone’s overturned cards.

And then the waking world disappears.

Adam is airborne, tumbling up into the atmosphere on a geyser of ley energy, whipped by branches and light. He throws his arms out to stop himself, but he’s only a projection, so his momentum doesn’t slow.

Something—Lindenmere? The cosmos?—shows him a series of images: an upturned nose made from oil and turpentine, a coiled old tree stump, a red-haired woman grinning toothily and then exploding, a rose the colour of warm dark skin, a pale scar-split hand cradling a silky head, the animal haunch of something black, a terrible voice booming turn back—

He skitters away, panicked, and bumps into his own body. Or not his own body. A double, blinking confusedly in the bathroom mirror.

His doppelgänger turns to leave, and Adam reaches after him, through the mirror, following himself into a version of Thayer which is not Thayer. Everything is alive, in this reality. Energy sings and saws its fingers together.

It’s a memory, but it’s also the present, and it’s also a nightmare. Wake up!

Obediently, the city wakes.

He gasps, although he doesn’t have a mouth. It’s the heaving first breath of a sleeping witch, like Gwenllian turning in her grave.

Adam struggles against the current of wild power, thick and pungent as gasoline. Everything feels more intense near magical artifacts, dream stuff, supernatural fault lines, and it is with great effort that he hunts for something familiar, something heavy enough to bind him. He was unprepared for this, and although everything around him is bitingly familiar, he's lost. He wheels around and around, reaching for his most trusted tethers—Gansey, Ronan, Blue, Persephone—

Persephone.

He follows the lingering perfume of her intuition, feeling blindly for those old handholds in her tarot deck, that familiar grip, like the hilt of a trusted weapon.

And then he finds himself looking again at the girl, Anna, her fate bunched around her narrow shoulders. And then at his own empty body, a glowing card clamped between his fingers. As soon as he’s aware of looking at himself, he’s looking out of himself, and he stands up quickly, overturning his chair.

“—Adam? Jesus Christ, are you okay?”

“What on God’s green Earth was that?”

A palm between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t touch me,” he chokes.

The hand retreats. A murmur: I’ve never seen him like this.

“Is it—is it bad? Am I going to be okay? Is it bad?” Anna keeps asking, horrified.

“You’re fine,” he manages to say. “I’m sorry.” The ‘o’ in sorry comes out a little wide and swerving.

“You went blank,” Benjy says, voice high with residual panic. “For like—ten minutes. Beyond hyper-focus.”

“I thought it was a gimmick,” Eliot says. “But a ten minute gimmick? What is this, Las Vegas?”

“I got carried away. I have to,” he swallows. “I need a minute. I promise everything’s fine.”

“Do whatever you need to do,” Eliot says quickly. “But, fair warning, I’m going to ask you a hundred questions when you get back.”

“And then I’m going to ask another hundred,” Benjy says. “Magic man.”

“A riddle, inside an enigma, wrapped in a sweater vest,” Eliot muses. He can tell they’re still shaken. He’ll have to deal with that, later.

“I'll be right back,” Adam says, touching them very lightly on the shoulder as he passes. The ley line is bursting, and he feels so flushed with its vitality that it almost makes him sick.

He stumbles past them, all the way out of the building and into the street. The winter air tears at his thin shirtsleeves, nips at his sock-less ankles. He shields his eyes against the sun, watching a bird swoop low overhead. A silvery, seagull-sized thing, but with knobby legs that taper into—he squints. Hooves?

He keeps moving, propelled by the mad urge to catch the bird, to pin the wild magic down so he can understand it.

Adam walks for what feels like a long time, trying to find the source of all of this haemorrhaging power. He spots a couple of fidgety-looking students, a few more curious creatures. Somewhere, faraway, there’s music crooning, and it sounds exactly the way a hot shower feels.

He stops in the middle of Oxford street, head cocked towards the natural history museum across the way, the orderly buildings, the sparse evening foot traffic. Business as usual. All of it screaming with energy.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a parade of scuttling creatures marching towards an invisible destination. Frowning, Adam crosses the street, chasing the peacock blue shimmer from an unfurled wing. He slows, stooping in the alley to pick one of the strange insects from the stream. He peers through a nail-sized hole in its head. Its spindly legs wave fearfully for a moment, and then it goes limp in his hand.

The ley energy punches out of him, and he sits back on his ankles, winded.

Adam gazes down at the jewelled beetle in his palm, its siblings scattered out like shell casings around his knees. Dreams, all of them. Briefly, impossibly roused in a dead city. He stands, letting the beetle drop from his hand and bounce across the concrete. He kicks them all hurriedly behind a nearby bench, mind racing. Bugs from an exhibit next door, no doubt. Dormant animals, transplanted from their habitats and pinned in place for decades.

What kind of ecoterror was wrought to bring about a flash flood of energy in a drought? How must Ronan be feeling, out there in the world, wracked with waking dreams? What unimaginable monsters were just stirring in the shadows because of him? Is Bryde one of them?

His lives are merging. The distant rumbling of thunder is overhead now, and the downpour is rolling in. There’s no way he’ll be able to keep dry.

Standing in that alleyway by himself, drained and ordinary again, he feels terribly alone.

He weighs his feelings against his logic for several agonizing minutes, standing still and watchful as a predator. He recalls the jarringly clinical accounts of Ronan's most intimate dreams, the sparsely encoded language in those government files outlining the world-ending dangers of something Adam had, for a long time, shared a bed with.

If something happens to Ronan now, it might kill Adam. If something happens because of Ronan, it might kill everybody.

Another minute, and he has his phone out and ringing.

“Hello?” Declan answers. Oddly, it’s not his usual prickly greeting. He sounds almost jovial.

Adam looks out into the darkening street, feeling like a death omen, a shadow across someone’s doorstep. “We really need to talk about Bryde.”

______

It’s the worst possible time for Declan to be withholding information from him.

Adam had graciously tipped his hand and Declan was, infuriatingly, holding back, as if this was a low grade in Ronan’s high school algebra class, and not the cataclysmic fuck-up of a powerful dreamer.

Declan, so uncannily like his brother in vulnerable moments like this, had thought of Matthew first. A world where dreams could stay awake, he’d marvelled. As if they could afford to think so small.

Once, Adam had awoken to find his arm glued to the bedspread. Ronan had dreamt a bee-less hive in the night, and it was oozing a steady stream of honey into the sheets between them.

“Score,” Ronan had said, when he’d rolled back into his body. “Sting-free. Fucking vegan.”

“What happens when we don’t want any more honey?” Adam had asked, critically. Ingesting dreams always felt like a slippery subject. “Does it shut off like a faucet?”

It didn’t. Ronan filled a dozen amber jars full, and then abandoned the hive in a dusty kiddy pool in one of the barns near the back of his family property.

A month later, Opal had crept in through a window looking for trouble, and emerged, shrieking, in a viscous flood of syrup.

Combing the mess out of Opal’s fur, her little legs slung across his lap, Ronan had complained about the magnitude of the clean-up job he would have to do, the special honey hoover he would have to create, what a waste of a dream it would be. Adam reminded him of his faucet idea.

“Too late for that, Parrish,” he’d griped.

It was their pattern. A marvel, too good to be true. Adam, the skeptic. Ronan, too in love with creation to care about consequences.

Eventually, it will all be too late.

Ronan will pursue this liberation fantasy, this golden daydream, even if it never stops oozing. Even if it makes the whole world uninhabitable.

______

That night, Adam tries to scry for the first time in months.

He gently pushes the crying club—only tenuously placated after the tarot incident—to have drinks without him, claiming stress-induced fatigue. He leaves his study notes open and blinking on the bed, lights a sad little tea light, and casts himself out into the ether.

Straining hard, he searches for the familiar contours of Ronan’s dreamspace, plucking the distant strings of the ley line and listening for the particular timbre of Ronan’s consciousness.

He doesn’t like walking this tightrope without a net, but Harvard isn’t exactly flush with psychic spotters. He keeps a delicate balance, far from his body, inching closer and closer to Ronan’s mind, the safe plateau at the end of this rope.

Eventually, he finds himself in a grey bedroom. It's full to the gills with water, there's a toy sailboat bobbing past at chest height, and storm clouds huddling nervously on the ceiling. Adam’s hair plasters instantly to his scalp.

“Ronan?” he calls, sloshing through the curiously luminous water. It starts raining harder. A familiar, curly-headed child stares at him through the darkness, eyes sharpened into silver points in the moonlight. “Ronan?” he asks again, gently this time.

A muffled sentence, a sad, crumpled expression, and then Adam is staring at a closed door.

“What—let me in! Ronan!” He pounds at the door. “Come on!” He can still feel rainwater, unnaturally warm on his neck.

A voice in his head, not Ronan, whispers, turn back.

“No,” he snaps, knocking harder. “Just let me—“ A sudden gust of wind in his sails, and he’s ejected from the dream altogether.

He pinwheels for a horrifying, weightless moment, struggling to tune back in to the feeble light from his stubby candle, and then dragging himself, hand over fist, back to his dorm room.

“Fuck, Lynch,” he says, when he has a voice. “Don’t be stupid.” He recrosses his legs, shaking off the pointless, clinging feeling of rejection.

When he tries to reach out again, searching, searching, Ronan’s expecting him. He never makes it past the threshold.

Back in his body, he knocks his candle over, relishing the controlled destruction, the spill of wax, the sizzle of the squashed wick. A fire he can actually put out.

______

The next time Adam scrys, Ronan looks like himself. Maybe a little scruffier, with what looks like a tunnel piercing on his right ear, and a rare openness to his posture. He’s lounging in a pasture up against a sleeping cow, boots up.

As Adam watches, he tips his shaved head back into its mottled hide, and the sun makes his eyelashes into lit matchsticks. He loves him very much. He’d almost forgotten.

“Don’t lock me out,” he says quickly. Ronan opens his eyes, and when he sees him he smiles instinctively.

“Adam,” he says, vaguely. And then he locks him out.

“No,” he cries. “Would you listen to me.” He feels for the fissure in space and time, the pocket where Ronan is dreaming, sweetly and inaccessibly, about the only home Adam has ever known.

Nothing gives. Nobody replies. He crawls back to Harvard, weak with misery.

In the next dream, Ronan is older, driving a boxy jeep over a foreign landscape. Rolling Irish hills, skies humming with artificial energy. A woman who can only be Jordan Hennessy, chattering in the passenger seat.

Then it’s Ronan with his head in his dead mother’s lap, stroking the downy wing of a black swan.

Then Ronan and Hennessy again, opposite one another in a sunny gallery. One of them examining an impressionist portrait no bigger than a postcard, the other examining the exit.

Then Ronan, discovering Matthew’s corpse in a dim hallway, blinking furiously at the stranger crouched over his prone body. “What did you do?” He sounds like a kid reprimanding his sibling for getting them both in trouble.

Every time Adam gets close, some defence mechanism stops him, like a firm hand against his chest, pushing him away again and again.

He doesn't know what to do except keep trying.

______

Blankly, he looks down at a sink full of tinfoil and uneasy water. In pieces, he becomes aware of his surroundings—green stalls and laminate countertops, a row of hundred-watt lightbulbs, and somebody rattling the locked doorknob.

“Adam, are you in there?” Fletcher. “We’re going to be late. It’s nearly ten. Adam?”

“Just a minute, sorry,” Adam slurs. He stares closely at his face in the mirror until he recognizes his own features. He has an exam at 10:30. He glances down at his watch. 9:52. He had been so sure that he could just drift for a few minutes, maybe catch Ronan before he woke up. That was almost an hour ago.

He drains the sink, hands shaking, cuffs getting damp. The lightbulb filaments float behind his eyelids when he blinks. He throws his satchel over his shoulder, smooths his hair up and out of his eyes, and rubs the bags under his eyes until they hurt.

When he lets himself out of the bathroom, Fletcher is directly outside, tapping a nervous rhythm on his hips. His hands fly from his body and into the air at the sight of him.

“Adam! Thank god. I’ll cancel the search party.”

“I got lost in my notes,” Adam says, as they both make for the stairs.

“Of course you did,” Fletcher says warmly. “A supremely Adam move. I just hope you’re taking care of yourself. Gillian thinks you might be—well—not spiralling, but—“

“I’m handling it.” He takes several mental paces backwards. “Uh—poorly, clearly. I’m sorry Fletcher, I didn’t mean to snap.”

Fletcher, to his credit, recovers quickly. “I can’t imagine going through my first semester of college and a break-up at the same time. You’re a stronger man than I.”

Adam rather doubts that Fletcher can imagine going through a break-up at all, but he nods conspiratorially. They hop down the last few steps and out into the chilly sunshine together.

“You’d be amazed what one can do out of necessity.”

“Too true. We all have our hidden depths, don’t we,” Fletcher says thoughtfully. For a moment, Adam considers telling him—something, looping him into this tangled web with him, but then he says, “now, chapter twenty-three wasn’t on the outline, was it? I beg you to say no. Lie, if you must.”

And Adam is a student again. He doesn’t have out of body episodes. He doesn’t carry wads of tinfoil in his trouser pockets. He doesn’t keep deadly secrets from people whom he is mostly pretending to like and understand.

They walk onwards, towards a test which Adam will rouse himself for long enough to ace. Then he will think of the next thing, and the next. Appease these school acquaintances of his. Tinker with finicky car engines. Make flash cards. Drift into the beyond using one of Fletcher’s three-wick candles from pottery barn. Text Declan, who activates Ronan’s accountability in a way that Adam does not. Call Gansey, if he can bring himself to face his disappointment.

And clear away his feelings, which keep pouring out of him like so much honey.

______

Ronan hangs up on him, and Adam holds himself in the biting wind outside the library for a very long time.

He’d thought, if he could only speak to him, that he could begin to undo Bryde’s poisonous influence. They know each other. They’ve known each other. Ronan would listen to Adam’s fears as he always does. Adam would appeal to Ronan’s heart, which tends to ache for helpless things. They would see how lost they had become without each other. Adam would be allowed back into Ronan’s dreams, and Ronan would be allowed back into Adam’s future.

Why didn’t you text back?

As if they’ve been suspended in time since Ronan’s last tamquam, and none of it—the running away, warding his dreams against Adam, abandoning his phone, trusting a complete stranger over his friends and family—had ever happened.

It’s absurd. He should have expected it. Ronan was searching for a reason to stay, and when he looked for his reflection, his second self, Adam wasn’t there. For a single moment, he wasn’t there, and now he’s paying for it.

Impatient, wrathful Ronan. Leaping from the moving vehicle because Adam was going the speed limit. Going rogue, and then calling Adam with all of these stinging accusations, like he was the one who’d been abandoned.

He thinks again of Bryde manipulating Ronan, preying on his loneliness, his love for his brothers, his fear of himself. This big bad rumour, older and crueler than the Lace itself.

And Ronan letting himself be manipulated, putting on blinders, using Adam’s brief silence as an endorsement for a glorified joyride with unthinkable global ramifications. Self-destructing because things got a little too quiet.

Adam feels hot rage taking ahold of him with its sticky fingers.

Then he thinks of Ronan saying I need to see you, his thin, frightened voice finding Adam from somewhere out there in the city, and his anger goes clammy.

There’s no way Ronan will call again. Negotiations were off as soon as Adam refused to house them both from the Moderators.

And now, without Hennessy, Ronan is the last arrow in Bryde’s quiver. He’s going to be the explosive that brings everything down. He’s going to be buried at ground zero.

If I'd replied an hour sooner, would he really have waited? If I’d gone to school closer, would I have noticed him disintegrating? If I explained that my dream isn’t what I thought it would be either, that he’s the only thing that feels real, would he have said it back to me?

After everything that’s happened, am I going to be the one who gives up on Ronan Lynch?

Everything is so fucked.

He calls Declan.

He picks up on the first ring. “Parrish—”

“He hung up on me,” they both say at the same time.

“Mother of God,” Declan moans. “Then there’s no hope. He thinks I sold him out to the Mods.”

“Did you?”

“No. I did exactly as we discussed. I negotiated for his safety. I thought—I mean, you said it yourself, Adam. Being anti-apocalypse is a pretty solid platform.”

He shakes his head. “Ronan won’t see it that way. He’s not like us. He doesn’t want to be moderated even a little bit.”

“Believe me, I know that. The way he was talking—about the world screwing them over, all of them, dreamers. That’s not the way my brother thinks. That’s all Bryde. And now he’s taken him—Christ—Christ knows where.”

“He wanted to see me,” Adam feels compelled to say. “He was trying to come here.”

“He said that? That's good,” Declan says, relieved. “Where—“

“I let him get away,” Adam says, through numb lips. “I let him go.”

______

He texts Gansey, things have gone south, and then he turns his phone on silent.

His puts his fingertips to the floorboards, a knobbly hand on either side of a scrying tableau: the leaping flame of a candle, a well-organized pile of cards, his overturned phone and discarded tie. He’s just finished crying, and he feels volatile and ill-prepared even as he ties himself to the flickering light.

His mind races through the night like a skipped stone. Vaguely, he pictures a vast body of water and a glittering mountain range, with no horizon line in-between. Darkness reflected in darkness.

“Ronan,” he calls. The dreamspace whirs and grinds its gears and won’t reply. “You know this is wrong. You know, or you wouldn't be hiding from me.”

It’s all water out here in this sublime mirror-space, but it’s also warm, like the steam rising from a hot spring. Something is moving, changing things on a chemical level.

For a moment he thinks he sees himself, a wan doppelgänger with its hands raised. But it’s not Adam. It’s Bryde. Cool, sturdy, a pale Atlas holding the dream together on his back. He recognizes him instinctively.

Adam deliberately throws his mind closer, into the terrible heart of this fire Ronan is creating. Smoke whispers and catches all around him, and it’s even harder to tell the difference between things now. No horizon, no seam, no reality, no death.

What have you done? What are you doing?

The heat is quickly becoming unbearable. Adam is stretched too thin, and the fire is fraying him, eating through each fibre of his connection to reality.

Ronan, please, I need you to stop. I’m losing my grip. Listen to me.

And then, without any warning at all, he collapses on his dorm room floor.

He hacks and retches, lungs full of phantom smoke. Everything feels very wrong. He thinks for a second that he’s blind, but it’s not his vision, it’s another, less tangible sense, it’s—

He scrambles backwards on his hands, heaving. He tries to pull himself up onto his bed, head first, then chest, but he has to stop with his face buried in the comforter.

Ronan is—he must be—he’s—

“God, no, oh my god, no, no.”

He needs to throw up. He needs to call somebody. There’s complete silence in his head.

He was slingshotted back to Cambridge, swatted back along the zipline to his body, because there was nowhere else for him to go.

He’s sure, in a very non-magical, intuitive way, that every dream in the world has just collectively collapsed. Adam staggers to his feet. There’s a smoke alarm going off, somewhere. A background hum of electricity groaning as it shuts off. A high, scared voice.

As if in a trance, he goes to the window.

There are five dead lightbulbs in the nearest row of street lamps, what looks like a sleeping child out in the middle of the square, and a woman clutching her chest and sitting slowly on a bench.

Panic is deadening his senses, crawling blackly into his mouth and nose and eyes. He thinks of Matthew sitting weakly by the window. Opal slumped over a stump in the woods. Chainsaw falling from the sky like a stone. Gansey’s Cabeswater heart decaying in his chest. Ronan, either dissolving into nightwash or felled by a Moderator’s bullet, dead, lost, or powerless.

Every morsel of magic, every innovation, every cherished friend, every sacred place, turned off like a faucet.

The world outside, drooping and disconnected, is now exactly as ordinary as Adam has been pretending it is.

The ley line is gone.

#mister impossible #the dreamer trilogy #mi spoilers #tdt #adam parrish #trc #trc fanfic #pynch #mine #my tfc besties...... soon #in the meantime. here's some adam pov please clap

[mhathotfic]

Here’s another repost, but this time I edited one part because I didn’t like how I wrote it the first time.

Warnings: swearing, omegaverse

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader x Eijirou Kirishima

“How exactly did I end up like this? (Yn) sighed playing with the hem of the new hoodie that adorned her body. It was black with a red hood and the word ‘princess’ scrawled in red cursive diagonally across the torso, the 'i’ was dotted with a skull wearing a crown.

Where Katsuki found it she’ll likely never know, she loved it though. She always loved his courting gifts. he was surprisingly thoughtful about them, typically getting her things he noticed she needed. So, what’s the problem then? If she was happy with his attempts at courtship, then why was she so distraught? Simple, there was another Alpha attempting to court her. Eijirou Kirishima, one of Katsuki’s closest friends was also interested in her.

She reached a hand up, gently stroking the pale orange ribbon holding her hair out of her face. It was kinda funny actually that their gifts to her always had an element that reminded her of the other. It was wishful thinking, she knew it was, but she couldn’t help but hope that it meant something, anything.

It would be easier that way. She wouldn’t have to choose that way. She huffed at herself, annoyed by her own selfishness. She couldn’t stand these feelings of hers, but she couldn’t stand the thought of being without either of them more. A bitter taste crawled its way into her mouth as a revaluation came to mind: if she chose an Alpha, she’d likely ruin their friendship.

Why couldn’t she have just fallen for one Alpha? And why did she have to go and fall for a pair of best friends? Really though how could she not? Eijirou was so kind and caring, always paying attention to things she liked and encouraging her to strive for the best. He always knew what to say to cheer her up and when to say it. And Katsuki? Well, while a little rough around the edges he was caring in his own way. Making sure she took care of herself and scolding her when she didn’t. He was a lot easier on her than most realized, his stern voice holding a harsh tone but never quite rising to a yell.

She sighed once again deciding to put those thoughts to the side for a moment. She had a more relevant, slightly less frustrating situation to deal with. They were late. They always met her outside the library to walk her back to the dorms. Eijirou would happily talk about his day making sure to ask about hers. While Katsuki would occasionally interject to correct a detail or two, or remind them both of homework or a test they needed to study for. They hadn’t ever forgotten before so, where were they?

She huffed starting to think that she should just head off on her own when she heard voices coming closer to her. She perked up when two familiar scents made their way to her nose despite the disgustingly overly sweet scents that fallowed them. "Seriously we really need to go, we hav-” “Oh come on! Can’t you spend a little time with us?” a voice purred out. A very flirty voice. (Yn) could feel anger starting to bubble up in her chest. Were some other Omegas trying to take her Alphas away?

She started her way over to the source of the sound, beyond pissed with she found. Her Alphas looked so uncomfortable. Some girls had practically wrapped themselves around them, it was clear that neither boy wanted to be in the situation. Katsuki looked close to blowing them up and Eijirou was trying desperately to pry himself free without harming the Omega clinging to him. “Wouldn’t you rather spend time with us than some indecisive sl-” “Fuck off!” Katsuki finally snapped “You have some fucking nerve, clinging to us like a pair of desperate fucking skanks and still have the audacity to think that you’re somehow better than our Omega?!”.

Despite her anger she couldn’t help the happy fluttering of her heart. 'Our’ his words replayed in her head 'He said our! Our Omega!’. She took a second to enjoy the feeling before returning to her original goal of getting those brats away from them. She gave a sweet smile while clearing her throat, gaining all their attention and playing innocent as she marched up to the two boys and pushing past the two other Omegas.

“What took you so long!” she whined nuzzling herself between them as close as she could “I’ve been waiting here for the past fifteen minutes at least!”. “Sorry Princess” Katsuki caught on to her game quickly, immediately calming down “We got held up”. Eijirou looked at them both confused for a moment before deciding to play along figuring that he wouldn’t be able to get out of their little game anyways “Yeah, you know we wouldn’t just leave you all by yourself unless something happened”. “Hm…” she hummed looking pointedly at the two Omegas who still stood in front of them with shock and disgust on their faces “I guess that explains why you both smell like cheap trash”.

Both Alphas had to bite their tongues trying not to laugh. They never knew she could be so petty but somehow it was endearing in way. “Excuse me?!” one of them screeched in a shrill voice “You’re excused”. “What?!” she screeched again taking a step closer only to be stopped by her friend who looked a bit fearful. “You heard me, you and your clearly smarter than you friend can leave and if I even smell you near my Alphas again-”.

“You’ll what? Send them after me?” (Yn) had to admit, that bitch had an almost admirable amount of stubborn bravery. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t have to rely on any Alpha to fight my fights for me. I got into the hero course on my own and I can definitely handle two brats who don’t know when to quit on my own” her voice was just as sickly sweet as their scents as she smiled and turned on her heels walking away with her boys and leaving the omegas behind before the had the chance too respond.

Their walk back to the dorms fell back into its normal pattern the only exception being the fact that she held their hands in her own. “So…” she mumbled wishing she could just leave well enough be, but she had to know “Are you two really ok with sharing an Omega?”. She looked at the ground as she spoke to nervous to look at either of them. They stopped walking and she swore she could hear her heart beating in her ears. “What are you talking about?” her heart stopped, she was dead, her heart had stopped and now she was dead. Eijirou sighed continuing to talk “We aren’t some five-year old’s who are fighting over the same toy, and you’re not a toy”. She breathed a sigh of relief but couldn’t quite shake all of her worries “You’re sure, right? This won’t be a problem?”. “Of course, not” Katsuki grumbled before ruffling her hair “You should know by now that I don’t share, you’re just as much mine as he is”. “Katsuki!” Eijirou yelled at him scolding him for his phrasing. (Yn) laughed watching them bicker, she couldn’t imagine herself without them.

#kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #kiribaku x reader

[ghostlywritten]

If Only I Had Stayed In The Shadows - Chapter Eight

James Potter x OC

Words: 3,7k

Prologue  Chapter One   Chapter Two  Chapter Three  Chapter Four  Chapter Five  Chapter Six  Chapter Seven

I rushed up the stairs as soon as James left for the boy dorms, trying my best to not squeal right then and there. I had to repeatedly remind myself that everyone else was still sleeping and hardly managed to not burst into my dorm room and jump on Marlene's bed. Okay, I did the last part.

"Marlene, wake up!" I whisper-yelled, shaking her vigorously.

"Wha..," Marlene mumbled, eyes still closed and drool dripping on her pillow. It was a bit disgusting to be honest, but natural.

"Get up, I have to tell you something," I whisper-squealed this time.

The brown-haired beauty groaned, stuffing her face into her pillow.

"James kissed me!"

"WHAT?!" she sprung up and I recoiled as our heads banged together. "Ow!"

"Merlin, I should have said that sooner," I said, rubbing my forehead and nose.

"What did you just say?" Marlene demanded to know, suddenly wide awake.

"I said 'Merlin, I should have said that-"

"Not that. Before that!"

"Oh, right." A wide grin spread on my face again and I gripped her shoulders in excitement, "James kissed me!" Marlene - ever not so careful with her surroundings - gave out a mighty squeal that woke up the rest of the dorm. Cringing slightly, I figured the damage was done and joined her.

"I can't believe it!" Marlene exclaimed, taking my forearms and shaking me, "No, scratch that. I can believe it! It was about time! Tell me everything!" I giggled, a pure rush of euphoria hitting me square in the chest when I thought back on the moment.

"Well-"

"What's going on?" Alice asked groggily as she sat up, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles.

"James and Cec kissed!" Marlene squealed and Alice's eyes widened. "Wow, really?" she asked warily, and I nodded, not knowing what to think of her expression. It almost seemed dubious, but I shrugged it off as Marlene insisted, I told her every single detail.

"...and well, it lasted for like a few seconds and then we just stood there, staring at each other...," I sighed dreamily, my heart pounding hard again when I thought about it.

Marlene sighed with me, "And then?"

"And then...he left with a good night," I said, and she giggled at the abruptness, "Loverboy probably got shy. I bet that was his first kiss." My eyes widened. "You think so?" Marlene shrugged, "Could be. At least he never kissed someone at school. Or I would know."

I gave her a creeped-out look in which she gave me a what-I-like-gossip look in return.

"Wasn't that your first kiss, too?" Alice piped up as she started rummaging through her closet and I nodded. She gave me a warm smile, "I'm happy for you. The first kiss is always memorable."

"Yes, I'm never going to forget it," I said with dopey grin, causing her to giggle. Just then I took a look around the room, "Where's Lily?"

"Right here," the red head appeared out of the bathroom as if on cue, drying her hair quickly with a swept of her wand.

"Have you heard?" Marlene asked with a sleezy grin, "James and Cec snogged."

"Yeah, I have," she said off-handed as I slapped Marlene's arm, exclaiming 'it wasn't snogging!', "Congrats on your first kiss, Cec."

"Thanks, Lils," I beamed, deciding to ignore her indifference and jumping off Marlene's lap. "Let's get ready for class!"

"Wow, I've never seen her so energetic in the morning," Alice commented as we skipped down for breakfast. Or more like I skipped, and they trailed after me.

"Must be the power of love!" Marlene announced dramatically, causing the others to laugh. My heart went into overdrive as we reached the Great Hall, wondering whether James was already there or not. Fighting down the blush I slapped my cheeks slightly before taking a deep breath. 'Alright, Cec. Act like you're normal. A kiss is a kiss. No biggie. Be cool.'

"Ready to see loverboy?" Marlene whispered into my ear and just like that my semi-calmness left and I couldn't help but giggle with her.

Reaching the Great Hall, my eyes immediately zoomed in on the Gryffindor table, flickering over each face until they landed on the one that mattered right now. He was sitting next to Sirius and across from Remus and Peter, a goblet swinging in his hand as he animatedly chatted about something through a mouthful of cinnamon rolls. I briefly wondered if he was perhaps talking about our kiss, being excited about it as much as myself. Blushing deeply at the thought of the boys talking about this, I felt Marlene nudge me forward to continue walking.

"Shall we sit at your boyfriend's?" she giggled loudly and I shot her look to keep it discreet.

"What about playing hard to get?" I teased her teaching methods.

"Oh, that part was a success. You don't need to do that anymore," she replied, nodding forward. I glanced the way she motioned and noticed James and the other three Marauders looking my way, the former waving me over with a cheerful grin.

"CEC, OVER HERE!" he shouted obnoxiously, and I almost cringed at the heads that turned at the commotion.

"Do you still need me to keep it discreet?" Marlene asked and I gave her the totally-unnecessary-look.

"Hi James," I greeted him almost shyly and his grin turned more into a genuine smile, "Hey. Come sit." Obliging, I settled down next to him, biting back a squeal as he kissed my cheek and naturally wrapped an arm around my waist. Marlene sat down next to me, elbowing me and shooting me a cat-like grin. I shook my head at her to keep quiet as Lily and Alice took their seats next to her.

"Did you sleep well?" James asked conversationally as he poured me a glass of pumpkin juice. I watched him with hawk-eyes, trying to analyse what all these sudden actions were supposed to mean.

"You kidding?" I asked deadpanned. We had literally departed only an hour ago. His shoulders shook with a silent chuckle. "Just asking," he shrugged, gesturing towards the various food in front of us, "What would you like?" he asked, already piling up a huge amount of food on my plate. That was probably the moment I fell in love with him...just joking. Maybe. But in all the time we had been 'dating' for a lack of a better definition he had never been that touchy and...quite frankly acting like a boyfriend to such an extent.

"Do you like bacon?"

"Ehm...no," I said as he squeezed some on the side nevertheless.

Sirius gasped. "Who doesn't like bacon?" he jumped into the conversation after mutely watching us with amused eyes. Now, however, they were widened in horror at my proclamation.

"Meh, they are okay," I said, grinning at his over-the-top display of disbelief.

"They are proof that heaven exists!"

"No, that is chocolate. Don't get it mixed up," Remus intervened, pouring himself a cup of coffee. I noticed he looked more tired than usual. Had it been full moon last night? I wracked my brain for the mental moon calendar. Shouldn't he be still in bed then? He would usually skip the next school day after his transformation. I bit my lip, feeling sorry for him. But he probably wouldn't appreciate the pity so it was good that no one knew what I knew.

Nevertheless, I fumbled for the bar of chocolate from my pocket. "Speaking of."

Remus smiled, taking the established piece of heaven from my outstretched hand, "Thanks, Cecily."

"Oi, how come I never get something sweet from you?" James butted in with a pout.

"You got almost half of the Honeyduke's bags I'd bought for Poppy," I pointed out and he was quick to agree, "Point taken."

"Not to mention he got something else sweet last night," Sirius added with a sly grin and I started blushing before I even fully understood what he meant, purely because of his smirk, "A sweet smooch for the sweet-deprived Prongs!"

Marlene giggled into her cup as I groaned lowly in embarrassment. His proclamation was loud enough for the already curious ears around us to snap to attention in hopes of catching gossip. 'Looks like I'm gonna spend the day in the library,' I thought as some ducked their heads together, whispering and shooting looks at our groups.

"What do you mean?" Remus asked cluelessly, not having arrived back with the others last night.

"They went off all night to Merlin knows where. Prongs only came back in the early morning," Peter filled him in dutifully and the sandy-haired boy's face cleared in understanding. He glanced between James and I, a contemplative look in his gaze. "I see...," he said slowly, and I couldn't exactly decipher the tone in his voice. Whatever it was, it made the messy-haired boy next to me shift slightly in his seat. "I didn't know, you guys were an item now. When did that happen?" The probably smartest one out of the Marauders questioned after taking a sip of his coffee.

I started to speak, "Well, we've never really establish-"

"Since I asked her out, duh," James butted in, casually munching on his toast. I stared at him in disbelief until he looked down at me. "Or not?" he asked, his hazel eyes wide and innocent behind his rounded glasses.

'This is not exactly how a boyfriend-girlfriend-relationship is established,' I thought back to all the romantic novels I had read so far before shrugging, 'But what do I know?'

"You have to ask her to officially be your girlfriend though!" Marlene voiced out, jumping in just as I let the fact sink in that James had already thought of me as his girlfriend for so long...'Wait, WHAT?!'

"Isn't that already implied when you ask someone out?" James asked confused and Sirius barked out a laugh. "If that's the case, I would have had hundreds of girlfriends already!"

"That's disgusting," Lily commented, speaking up for the first time, but there was hardly a bite in her tone. We were all used to his serial womaniser behaviour.

"Don't be jealous," Sirius waved off dismissively as he bit into his bacon.

"I still don't get it. What's the difference between asking someone out and asking someone to be their girlfriend?" James questioned and I could have cooed at his adorably confused expression.

Sirius cleared his throat, adopting a professional tone, "Let me give you a crash course on relationships. If you ask someone to be their girlfriend, your relationship will become exclusive. Asking someone out is the phase before that and you are allowed to date others, too."

"Though, the girl would prefer the dating phase to be exclusive, too," Alice piped in.

"Yes, but it's not in the rules," Sirius added, smirking as she rolled her eyes.

"Why would I date others, though...," James wondered, "If I ask someone out, why would I ask someone else out if I already asked someone? If I ask someone out, I obviously want them to become my girlfriend, don't I?"

Sirius groaned, muttering something about hopeless romantics. The others chuckled as James looked around, almost offended.

"Not everyone thinks that way," I said, my heart warming at his innocent views, "But it's sweet that you do." He gazed down at me, a small smile quirking up the corners of his lips as he saw my sincerity. His arm that was still wrapped around me tightened slightly.

"So, are you my girlfriend then?"

My breath halted in response but before I could open my mouth to stutter and embarrass myself, Marlene butted in, "You have to ask her officially, boy! And more romantically than at breakfast!" James rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, "Fine! As the lady wishes!"

I chuckled along with the others. "You don't have to, really," I told him quietly as we all stood up to head to our first class. James threw his arm over my shoulder and giving me the boyish grin that made my heart skip, "I want to."

The last week passed and before I knew it, the winter break had snuck up on me at last. I had barely registered the time fly with all the fun and sweet days and nights I had spent with James, either chatting in-between classes or holding longer, deeper conversations in front of the fireplace in the Common Room. And whilst I liked to freely talk with him without anyone else around, I couldn't help but prefer his more affectionate behaviour throughout the day where he would always initiate some kind of contact, from simple hand holding to arms constantly wrapped around me.

Something in me was hoping for another kiss but since I was too embarrassed to display affection in public and was also too shy for it when we were alone, it didn't happen again. Maybe he was waiting for me to do the move now since he had taken the step towards me again. The thought raced through my mind, wondering whether he was expecting something from me or not.

However, with the end of the first part of this school year, I had a more major problem to face now: the parents. As much as I had enjoyed the peace in radio silence, I was dreading the point where I would have to face them now.

"Will you calm down?" Alice placed a hand on my shaking knee, a nervous tick I inherited from my dad, "You act like you are going on trial for some committed crime."

"Might as well," I replied, rubbing my hands nervously as I stared out the window of the Hogwarts Express, the white scenery outside passing by in a blur, "Same difference, really."

Alice huffed out a laugh, "Don't be such a drama queen, Cec. It's going to be fine."

"Yeah, they're gonna get over it eventually," Marlene added from across of me, sat next to Lily, whose nose was - as usual - ducked in a book, "If they haven't already. It's been weeks since you've written to them about it."

I sighed, choosing to believe their words in hopes of calming myself down. No point in getting all anxious when we still had hours until we arrived...Hours that went by way too fast. "Seriously, doesn't the ride back to King's Cross usually take longer?"

The door to our compartment slid open in that moment, revealing none other than my self-proclaimed boyfriend and his three best mates. "There you are!" James said cheerfully, nodding at the three girls as he squeezed himself between me and Alice, throwing his arm around me. At this point, I was almost used to his touch. Keyword being almost. Alice scooted over with a silent smile as the other boys tried to pile in.

"No way, we all won't fit in here!" Marlene complained whilst Sirius wiggled down on the seat next to her, causing both her and Lily to move away from him.

"It's fine. Remus and I need to patrol anyways," Lily announced, shutting her book as she stood up and made space for Peter to settle down instead. "See you later on the platform?" We all nodded in consent and the two prefects left. Sirius stretched his limbs out, making himself comfortable and causing Marlene to immediately complain about his lack of manners. "Siriusly, there are other people around here. You are invading my private space, Black!"

"Don't act like you don't enjoy it," Sirius said with a wink and I watched silently as they started to bicker pointlessly, Peter and Alice joining in the attempt to calm them down. And as amusing as it was, it couldn't hold my attention for long and soon I was staring out the window, my mind picturing the stern faces of my parents awaiting my arrival.

"Hey, you alright there?" James asked, placing a hand on my knee that had started shaking again without my notice. He leaned forward slightly to peer at my worried expression. I gnawed on my bottom lip, feeling almost ridiculous at how anxious I was getting over this. Shouldn't I be excited to see my parents again after so many months? "Cec, what's with the sad face?" the dark-haired boy next to me tried again, pulling me out of my reverie.

I turned to him, his warm brown eyes soothing my inner turmoil slightly. I smiled, "It's nothing, really."

"It clearly is something if you are so nervous about it," he pointed out, the small frown not leaving his face. My smile widened though, feeling touched at the obvious worry. 'Merlin, can he be any more precious?'

"Siriusly, don't stress about it," I said, flicking his chin as I suddenly felt bold enough to add, "I'm fine now that you are here." James' eyes flickered in surprise and the boldness immediately left me, embarrassment reddening my cheeks at my comment. I wasn't one to say sappy stuff, so that even took me by surprise. I ducked my head, missing the genuine smile of the boy next to me. Lifting my face back up, he grinned more cheekily, "So cheesy."

I rolled my eyes to hide my bashfulness, "Yeah, whatever. Forget what I said."

"Oh no, love. This I won't ever forget," James retaliated and I ignored the way my heart sped up at his endearing term in favour of groaning in mock exasperation, "You are never going to let me live this down."

"You bet!" James replied and I simply shook my head, smiling as I realised how I hadn't thought about my parents anymore and felt significantly calmer. "Now that...," he added, pointing at my face, "...is way better. Don't worry, be happy." Huffing a laughter, I couldn't help but let his cheerfulness affect me and I felt myself relax more into my seat and his arm, noticing how close we were. He was leaned towards me, his hand still holding my knee. At my gaze, he lifted his hand to take a hold of my own, his warm touch soothing my entire cool limb. "Are you cold?" he asked quietly, shifting his arm to pull me closer.

"I'm fine," I replied, letting myself melt into him as I dropped my head on his shoulder. He leaned his cheek against my head as he stared down at out joined hands.

"You always seem to say that even if you are obviously not..."

"Well, I can't burden you with my troubles all the time now," I said, thinking back on the nights he let me rant about every issue as we sat in front of the fireplace, listening to every problem attentively, no matter how small they were. He was a very good listener, but I didn't want to constantly take advantage of it. And Marlene had stated in one of her million unwanted/wanted relationship advices that constant nagging could be a major turn off and the last thing I wanted was to annoy him away.

"You can, though," James argued softly, playing with my fingers, every touch sending slight electric shocks through my limb. My heart all but melted at his short but sweet retaliation and I intertwined our fingers together. "Thank you," I said softly, "Same goes for you."

We stayed locked in our embrace for the rest of the train ride and I barely noticed the world outside of the little bubble James created for us, feeling like all the problems were miles away and I finally found a bit of inner peace.

But alas, all good things had to come to an end, and I was more than a bit disappointed as we arrived at King's Cross, having to leave his arms and the security with it. The only thing that got me up and going was his hand tugging me outside...and the fact that I wouldn't know where the train would go after this.

"Are your parents picking you up?" James asked and my good mood plummeted at the thought of the inevitable happening. 'Stop being dramatic,' I scolded myself in my head as I nodded mutely. "Cool, mine are probably somewhere around here, too," he stated just as Sirius pointed at someone in the distance, "There they are. Let's go!" he said excitedly, and I smiled at his enthusiasm.

"A nice holiday to you too, Black," I called after him and he waved over his shoulder in dismissive response. I chuckled slightly before turning to his messy-haired best friend. "You should go, too. They are waiting for you," I said, tugging on my hand, not knowing exactly how to bid him goodbye.

"Yeah, just one second," James replied distractedly, tightening his grip on my hand. I watched as he bit his lip nervously, ruffling his hair one, two times before he took a deep breath. "Cec, are we...together now?" he asked almost shyly, staring at me from under his lashes, "Like- together, together? Like in a relationship? As in, boyfriend and girlfriend-"

"Yes," I laughed, surprising both him and I at the immediate response. It was natural for me to say yes. I mean, who would say no at this point? And especially at his beautiful hazel eyes. Maybe Lily would, but I certainly wouldn't. "Yes, we are together," I confirmed, trying to sound as confident as I didn't feel, my insides shaking like jello.

James beamed, causing me to melt inside. "Like, in a relationship?"

"Yes."

"As in, boyfriend and girlfr-"

"Yes!" I laughed, feeling more and more secure with each consent. His grin couldn't get any wider as he tugged me closer by the hand, wrapping his arms tightly around me for a second.

"Awesome! As my girlfriend I expect you to write me every day then," he demanded as soon as he let go, his shy demeanour completely gone. My eyes widened in disbelief, "Every day?"

"Every day," he repeated solemnly.

"Prongs! Come on, already!" I heard Sirius yell in the distance and before I could hastily argue about the 'everyday writing', James pressed a quick kiss on my cheek, rendering me speechless enough to make a quick escape.

"I expect your letter tomorrow!" he shouted as he jogged backwards, flashing me a last grin before he turned to rush to his parents. All the while I stared dumbfounded at his back with a hand on my flushed cheek.

"That brat," I muttered, biting my lips to stop a too wide smile.

Chapter Nine

#james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #james potter x reader #James Potter #marauders imagine #sirius black imagine #remus lupin imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter #marauders era #marauders #fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #OC #original character #Lily Evans #marlene mckinnon

[marshmallow-phd]

Nine Little Letters

Genre: College AU, Fake Dating AU, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before AU

Inspired By: This graphic made by @rcse-tvler​

Pairing: EXO x Reader

Summary: Just when you thought life was done shoving you down, it got much, much worse. After finding out that your latest crush was already in a relationship, you did what you always did when emotions ran high: you wrote a letter. Signed and sealed, you put it away with the eight other letters you’d written to past one-sided loves, never to be seen again. That is, until a mix up accidentally sends those letters out to their respective recipients and you find yourself in the middle of one confusing web of love. With fake relationships, insecurities, and revelations swirling around, things are bound to get a little messy.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11

This was the worst kind of humiliation. Standing there on the sidewalk staring open-mouthed at the one person you were excited to see today, you were crumbling into a million pieces. And no one even noticed. That was what made this humiliation so bad; there was no one to witness it. You were breaking and no one cared.

You should have known better, really. This morning was going too well. You had woken up on time, had a delicious, filling breakfast, and had managed to put an outfit together worthy of any Pinterest board. Your confidence was through the roof and you were going to do the one thing in your life you swore you would never do.

You were going to confess to your crush.

Signing up for math tutoring was the last thing you wanted to do. Who in the world wanted to spend their valuable free time learning more about equations and algorithms? But you needed to pass this class. It was the second time you’d taken college algebra and the thought of taking it a third time made you want to crawl under your bed. So, you buckled down and took the walk of shame into the math lab. (Yes, that was an exaggeration. Everyone knows there is no shame in getting help. Didn’t mean you had to like it.) When you got the call from your assigned tutor, you ignored it. You didn’t like talking on the phone to anyone let alone a number you didn’t recognize. No voicemail was left. Then a text came through.

Hi, (y/n)! This Kim Junmyeon! I’ve been assigned as your math tutor. When you get a chance, let me know when you’re free so we can create a schedule that works for you. Have a great day!

You waited an appropriate amount of time before replying. So, an hour and half later, you texted him your schedule and made a plan to meet up in the library the following Thursday. You marked that day on your calendar with exactly zero enthusiasm. In your head, this Kim Junmyeon was the cliché nerd from movies: dorky glasses, snort-like laugh, and clothes that looked better on a grandfather. Oh, boy were you so happy to be wrong.

Sitting down at one of the tables by the large, ceiling high windows, Junmyeon was nothing like you’d imagined. He had a sophisticated aura about him. He dressed nicely, a thin long-sleeved shirt over a patterned button down, the collar laid nicely over the top of the shirt, and was blessed with sharp, handsome features. You knew you were in trouble. But you didn’t care. You sat down at that table eagerly, ready to… learn.

For the past month and a half, you’d met Junmyeon twice a week to go over the lessons and work on the assignments. By some miracle, your grade was actually going up in the class. Somehow you were able to better comprehend the material and secretly fawn over your tutor simultaneously. At this point, you were sort of feigning how much you weren’t understanding to keep the tutoring sessions going. The nice thing about algebra, once you understood the basics, everything else built on top of it.

But today – today you had decided that you were going to step over the line from tutor and student into the realm of perhaps something more.

You liked Junmyeon. You liked his math puns and the way he scrunched his face when he thought hard about something. His lips would pucker whenever he lifted the sheet of paper to check over your work. Each time you met up with him your heart acted like it was in the middle of a NASCAR race and it was determined to win. You had it bad. This wasn’t the first time you’d had a crush like this, but you had set your mind on making this one different. This time, you wouldn’t hold it inside. You were going to be the brave one, the bold one. The fact that birds were tweeting as you rode your bike onto campus should have been a sign that things would only be downhill from there. Unfortunately, like the optimistic idiot, you took it as a positive instead.

After locking your bike up, you headed straight for the courtyard near the pond. Junmyeon had told you that he often spent his mornings there to finish up homework or to read a book (the fact that he read so much was another factor in your liking of him). In your head, he was all alone, flipping through a novel as he leaned against the trunk of a tree, looking like a prince taking a rest in the shade on a warm summer’s day. The water would be glistening in the background as a lovely, lighthearted melody played softly through the air. He would see you approach and smile that wide, brilliant smile. Your heart would skip as you sat down in the grass next to him and poured out your feelings. The daydream turned into a nightmare the second he came into view.

Junmyeon was not alone nor was he sitting under a tree with a book. He was on one of the benches, splayed out on the wooden beams with his head resting in the lap of a very pretty, more his league type of girl. She laughed as Junmyeon told a story. A delicate hand ran through his soft brown hair. Your heart fell to the ground, forming a crater at your feet.

Shoulders slumped and day ruined, you turned and headed for the student union. If today was going to suck like this, then you were going to sprinkle it with an overly sugary coffee drink. Preferably with extra chocolate drizzle. It helped - a little bit.

Your morning classes went by in a blur. You were certain you took notes, but none of the information sank in. Later you would have to transcribe your quick scribbles to a word document to help you study. You would learn the information then. By lunch, you were starting to peel yourself off the sidewalk of humiliation. Especially when the one person you could always rely on joined you for lunch.

“How did it go?”

You remained silent, continuously munching on the sandwich in your hands as your best friend sat down across from you at the small, two-person table near the middle of the cafeteria.

Baekhyun laughed his signature, SpongeBob-like laugh. “That bad, huh? I told you not to do it.”

“Technically, I didn’t do it,” you corrected. “He already has a girlfriend.”

“Ouch.”

You nodded. How could you not see this before? Did he mention having a girlfriend and you just blocked it out? Junmyeon and you talked casually between math problems, about your friends and fun things you liked to do on the weekends. He’d failed to mention one very important detail.

“Well,” Baekhyun reached over and plucked a potato chip off your plate and plopped it in his mouth, “at least you found out before you said something. I told you he wasn’t worth it.”

“Just because he has a girlfriend doesn’t mean he isn’t worth crushing on.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “You’re so much help.”

Ignoring your quip, Baekhyun snatched another chip. You smacked his hand, but all that managed to do was break off a few pieces, the crumbs falling to the table. Smiling proudly, Baekhyun popped the half-chip into his mouth. “So, are you just going to go home and write a letter?”

“Are you just going to go home and write a letter?” you mocked with a scrunched face.

Byun Baekhyun had been your best friend since the two of you had met in the first grade. He’d stolen your popsicle that your mother had packed as a special treat for your first full day of school. When he saw you start to cry, he broke off the piece he’d been sucking on and handed the rest back to you. There was a bit of a disagreement on the level of nice-ness that act achieved since it was your popsicle to begin with, but somehow it caused the two of you to be inseparable ever since. Being your best friend meant that he was privy to the more private parts of your life.

Like the letters.

Starting as young as ten years old, you’d developed a bit of a tradition when it came to your crushes. Emotions were hard to process, but you found them easier to work through if you thought about them and translated them into words. Those words would fly across the paper, transferring the feelings that made you both laugh and cry into the graphite that formed them. Not to mention, the act made you feel like the heroine in a rom-com. Certainly it was something that Meg Ryan or Rachel McAdams would do once they realized how they felt about the male lead.

The first letter you ever wrote was during your final year of ballet class. Dancing had been a part of your life since you were three, but a new passion had been discovered so you’d decided to quit after this last cluster of classes. A terrible decision, really. Because right after your mind was already made up, a new boy had joined the class.

Kim Jongin.

He had just moved into town after his father was promoted to a new position and had to transfer to headquarters. You’d never seen him at the park or the grocery store before. He was completely new. And beautiful.

He was blessed golden skin that glistened, shining brighter the longer he danced. And, oh, the way he danced. It was well beyond what anyone else could do. His movements were fluid, water-like, as if the very beat of the music were pulling and manipulating his limbs to convey what the notes had to say. Each move was a word and when he formed them together, they could make you smile or cry. And when he smiled… oh, his smile was like starlight. The kind of brightness that stayed in the sky even as the city lights flickered on. To this day, you’d never found one that could rival it. He was a dream that every composer coveted. So, what was your young heart to do?

Well, the movies told you to confess. But there was no way you could find the courage to do so, especially since you only saw him in class and you couldn’t confess in front of everyone. The only other option was to write it out; to write it out like Jane Austen pouring her heart out for Tom Lefroy.

 Dear Jongin,

I’m not sure how to start this. Do I compliment you on your dancing? It’s nothing like I’ve seen before. Prima Donnas in the Russian Ballet would be jealous of you! But you probably hear that all the time. And about how handsome you are, even under all that hair. I can’t help but watch when you pull it back for class so you can see yourself in the mirror. Why can’t I look like that? I somehow ended up looking like a frizzy wet cat that just climbed out of the tub.

I guess what I’m trying to avoid saying is that… I like you. A lot. I like your laugh and your wide smile. I like how much you love music and how you interpret the melody with your moves. No one can freestyle like you! My heart does a dance of its own whenever I see you. I hope you don’t have anyone that you like, just so I can stand a chance. Would you ever think of me like that? If not, it’s okay. I just needed to tell you. Someday, you’ll be on stage dancing to an audience of thousands and I’ll be right there in the front row, cheering you on! Until then, I hope you always find happiness in what you love.

Love,

(y/n).

 That sentence about watching him on stage made you cringe in hindsight. Cute for a ten-year-old, but a bit stalkerish. Luckily, though, you never gave it to him. You chickened out every time up until the last class. The idea of him opening it and reading right there in front of you was mortifying. So, then, you decided to mail it. The teacher gave you his address after you told her you wanted to invite him to your birthday party (it should be a little worrisome that a teacher was willing to pass on private information like that… perhaps it was because you were a kid). Three times you went to the mailbox to send the letter out and three times you ran back inside to hide it under your mattress.

That was the beginning of your weird little tradition. Though you never sent the letter to Jongin, you felt better having somewhat confessed your feelings and worked through them without the humiliation of actually… doing it. So, the next time you had a crush so overwhelming that you needed to get the feelings out, you wrote a letter. You even went all the way each time to address the envelope, giving the confession a sense of finality. There was no fear in them ever going out. Baekhyun was the only other one in the world who knew of their existence. At the current moment, eight were hidden in a drawer in your vanity. The way your fingers were itching, a ninth one was on the way.

“I might,” you finally replied.

Baekhyun leaned forward eagerly. “Can I read it when you’re done?”

“No!”

He snapped his fingers as he sat back in his chair. “Darn.”

“Why am I even friends with you?”

“Because I’m charming.”

There was no question in his voice. He one-hundred percent believed it. And… to be honest, he did have his moments. But that was all in the past. “Like a plank of wood.”

Shaking his head, Baekhyun rapped his hands on the table before standing up. “Alright, I’m going to class. Have fun with your pencil and imagination.” For emphasis on his stupid remark, he stole one last chip before walking off.

You finished off your sandwich in a bit of a rage. By the time you were finished, your mouth muscles were aching as if you’d spent several hours at the gym and it was jaw day.

You only had one class left for the afternoon. But it was algebra. How were you supposed to concentrate on functions when your sad attempt at getting into a relationship with your tutor failed so epically? Somehow you managed, though, and you packed up at the end of class with a new sort of determination. As you hopped on your bike and rode home, you thought over what you were going to write. You were so lost in your head that you hadn’t notice the car pulling out of your neighbor’s driveway, nearly hitting you before the driver hit their brakes.

“Shoot!”

You back peddled to break. Your heart thumped in your chest. No life memories flashed before your eyes, but you were sure you almost died. Slowly, you moved forward to get out of the way of the car. 

“I’m sorry!” you yelled over your shoulder.

The driver leaned out the window.

Oh, great.

It was your neighbor. Or, at least, your neighbor’s son. Do Kyungsoo. He stared at you with an expression that could be blank but could also be a glare. It was hard to tell with him. Shaking his head, he pulled back inside the car and drove away.

Fighting off embarrassment for the second time this day - albeit this situation was much lower on the scale and it happened a bit more often than you’d like to admit - you put your bike up in the backyard and headed up to your room. Your mother, a literary history professor, and your father, a doctor at the local hospital, were both at work and wouldn’t be home until well after dinner. You were used to it. Besides, you were an adult and you liked being able to decide to have pizza for dinner and not worry about what other people wanted for toppings. Once you put your order in, you sat down at your vanity and got to work.

 Dear Junmyeon,

Has anyone told you how your hair looks in the sunlight? The dark brown hues seem so warm and inviting, like an ebony chair that was warmed by the unfiltered rays. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to run my finger through it. Would the strands be as soft as they look? Would you wear the same smile on your face that you do during our sessions? But I guess I might not be meant to feel them. Today, I intended to tell you how I felt. I woke up with a determination, a goal to say how much I like you to your face. I was so nervous riding my bike to the university, but it was the good kind of nervous; the kind that makes you keep going. It seemed, however, that I was too late. Or maybe I simply never had a chance at all. I’d missed any signs that said you were already someone else’s.

I hope she knows how lucky she is. I hope she makes you laugh and listens to you when you’re having a bad day. Your laugh is like a symphony. Does she tell you how light and lovely it is? Or how infectious it is? When you laugh, I can’t help but laugh along. It’ll be sad not to hear it anymore. Or have our talks filled with random subject changes. But I think I’ll miss your smile most of all. The way it crinkles your eyes yet still lets them shine. The way it spreads across your face and the way your cheeks grow. It is truly a sight to behold. I hope wherever you go, you are always smiling. You always let your light shine even on the cloudiest of days. That’s what’s so special about you and what made me fall for you. Even when I was frustrated or couldn’t understand, you were patient, taking my mind off of the negative and turning me so I could face the positive. That’s a rare kind of person. You are a rare kind of person. Please always be happy, Kim Junmyeon.

Love,

(y/n)

 With a sigh you sat back in your chair. The letter had done its job. Though you were still sad about the way things turned out, you no longer felt defeated. The words you needed to say were now out there without being “out there”. Okay, so he had a girlfriend. Big deal. It wasn’t the end of the world. There were more potential love interests out there that you could find. He was only one and obviously wasn’t the one.

Beginning to smile again, you folded the letter and put it in an envelope. You didn’t have Junmyeon’s address, so you wrote out the address for the math lab. Opening the top drawer of the vanity, you placed the latest addition to your collection under the first envelope. The doorbell rang right as you closed it up again. Oh, thank goodness. Food.

Practically skipping down the steps, you hurried to the front door.

“Hi-” You stopped as soon as you’d opened it. The person waiting on the other side was not the pizza delivery guy - it was Baekhyun. The boxes holding the pizza and cheese sticks you’d order for no one but yourself were in his hands. Over his shoulder, you barely caught sight of the delivery man driving away. “Really?”

“What? I was bored. And hungry.” He flipped open the lid to show you the hot, melted cheese of the appetizer. “Cheese stick?”

Rolling your eyes, you stepped aside so he could come inside.

Baekhyun had been to your home plenty of times in the past so it was easy for him to make himself at home. He didn’t wait for you before pulling plates out of the cabinet and pouring a drink. He even went as far as getting you glass as well. “Thirsty?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

The two of you ate at the kitchen table as your mother had a “no meals in the living room” policy. Small snacks like nuts and popcorn were okay, as long as you didn’t spill any on the couches.

“So… how did the writing go?” Baekhyun asked cheekily between bites.

You shrugged. “Fine. I’m deciding that I’m getting over it.”

Now it was Baekhyun’s turn to roll his eyes. “You always get over them fast.”

“What’s the point of dwelling on the things you can’t change?”

That was always your answer. Yes, the hurt was immediate and painful, but Baekhyun was right, you tended to push it aside rather quickly. That was the whole point of your letters, anyway. Get the feelings out of the way so you could move on. What was the point of clinging on to something like that? You would only end up worse if you stayed in that spot. So, you pushed yourself to move on. And eight times out of nine, it had worked. There was only that one nagging letter that failed to do its job. That particular set of feelings refused to go away even as you looked to other crushes, as you found other boys to like. It was the one you would always wonder about, the one that was completely off limits. The dull ache still crept up every once in a while. If moving on was what you had to do, you would do it. Because you would prefer if you never had to go through something like that ever again.

#exo #exo college au #exo college!au #exo x reader #exo fake dating au #exo fake dating!au #to all the boys i've loved before au #exo series #kim minseok #xiumin #kim junmyeon #suho #zhang yixing #lay #byun baekhyun #park chanyeol #kim jongdae #chen #d.o. #do kyungsoo #kim jongin #kai #oh sehun #Nine Little Letters

[annab-nana]

It’s Just Not My Thing - Peter Parker

Empire State University looks like the epitome of all things Valentine’s Day which just so happened to be your least favorite holiday. In fact, you hated the day and with good reason, so Peter plans something special to get you away from all the love and hearts.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day @jellyfishbeansontoast! This is my gift to you from @killingbxys and @earthlyholland’s Valentine’s Day Fic Exchange! I tried to add little details about you that I’m sure you’ll notice hehe and side note: this is the longest thing I have ever written so I really hope you guys like it!

Warnings: some curse words

Word Count: 12.3k+ (kinda sorry, kinda not)

--------------------------------------------------

“God, it looks like Cupid threw up here,” you groaned as you looked around at the campus that surrounded you when you and Peter walked out of the main science building. Splashes of red and pink and small bits of purple littered the outsides of all the buildings around Empire State University and the walkways were heavily decorated as well.

“Yeah,” Peter chuckled from beside you when he caught sight of the disgusted face you made on upon noticing the immense amount of love-centered holiday décor. “ESU really outdid themselves,” he mentioned, his brown eyes falling upon the pink and red twinkly lights that were twisted together and spiraling around the trees. Heart-shaped balloons swung beside the entrance of the dorm across the way. People had drawn on the sidewalks with chalk several little hearts and flowers, words of love written in the same hues as everything else. Even in the water fountain at the center of everything, they had turned the lights pink giving the water a rose tint.

“A little too much,” you shuddered after speaking. Valentine’s Day was very obviously not your cup of tea when it came to holidays. You never understood why people needed a whole day to show their love and appreciation for their significant other when it was really something you should be showing your person every day. It also bothered you a little because you never had someone to show all your love to on the damned day of hearts and flowers. The one time you had a boyfriend for a long period a couple years ago, you two broke up on February 13th so that only further encouraged your hatred for the day. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

Peter chuckled from your side at your dramatics, amused by your clear disdain for all things red and pink that surrounded you as you walked. That was one thing he loved about you. You always brought a smile to his face no matter what you did. He could come to you after a stressful week of tests or after a bad night on patrol and you would make him laugh and feel better within seconds. You did not even have to say anything. Maybe it was just your aura or your presence, but it made his mood rise tenfold.

“Why do you hate Valentine’s Day so much anyway?” he inquired. You two had only become friends since college, meeting in your biology class last semester after you asked if someone was sitting in the free seat next to him on the first day. Sitting next to each other led to snide remarks about your professor to each other and asking questions when things didn’t make sense. One day, he asked if you wanted to study with him for the first test at the library and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to spend more time with the cute curly-headed boy from your biology class. That opened the door to more study sessions and then sometimes y’all would study at the coffee shop across the street. Soon those turned into hanging out at the coffee shop and somewhere along the line, you two became really good friends.

“Valentine’s day just isn’t really my thing, you know bad experiences and all. I also don’t really like how it’s being shoved down our throats,” you told him simply, gesturing to the sheet signs that some of the sororities had made and hung up. You shrugged slightly before speaking once more. “I just don’t like it.”

Peter nodded slowly and you could visibly see the gears turning in his mind. You really knew he was thinking hard when he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue and his cinnamon brown irises danced around at everything in front of him. His eyebrows drew together as you both continued your walk to the coffee shop, and you could not watch him anymore without knowing what was going on in that big, beautiful brain of his.

“What’re you thinkin’ about, Parker? I’m scared you’re gonna exert yourself if you think any harder,” you giggled when the words fell from your lips. He let his lip go from its captivity between his pearly whites and his eyes found you again, his signature smile showing on his face.

“I just had an idea,” he mentioned before leaning across you to press the button on the pole to signal traffic that you two were about to walk across the street as soon as the light changed. It was your turn to furrow your brows, but you did it in confusion instead of hard thinking.

“And would you like to share what it was or leave me in mystery?” you inquired with a quirked brow. He playfully rolled his eyes at you before beginning with his idea.

“So, this is just a thought and we don’t have to if you don’t want to, but what if we got out of the city for the weekend?” he proposed before he noticed the light change from an orange hand to the white outline of a man, signaling him that it was okay to walk. He looked both ways still before his hand found your lower back and he guided you across the street with him.

“Just you and me? Why?” you questioned further as you tried to ignore the warmth you felt inside you at the small but kind action he had just shown you.

“Well, you obviously hate Valentine’s Day so we could get away from all this stuff,” he told you as he gestured back towards the floral-colored campus that sat on the other side of the street.

“That I do,” you nodded in agreement as Peter pushed the door open for you and let you go in first. The overwhelming scent of coffee hit your nostrils like a train when you fully entered the building, Peter close behind. The coffee shop was always slightly busier on Friday’s but today was a bit much. The line was basically backed up to the door, leaving you and Peter squished against each other and the door. Somehow, y’all’s favorite spot in the corner was still available. “Do you want to stay here or go to the library?”

“We can stay if you want. You can go ahead and sit down so no one else steals our spot and I’ll get our drinks,” Peter suggested into your ear after you turned in the small space to face him properly.

“Okay, I want a-” you started but your words were cut off by the boy with who you were sharing your personal space at the moment.

“A hot chocolate with no whipped cream with those little marshmallows on top. I know. I got it,” he chuckled as his hand rested on your shoulder for a second. “Now go sit down before someone takes our spot.” You rolled your eyes at him before turning around and sitting in your seat, placing your book bag in the opposite place just in case someone tried to sit with you.

A few moments later after you and Peter shared a few glances while he waited in the lengthy line, he finally got to the counter and began to order your beverages. You had pulled out your laptop to see what all you needed to do over the weekend and surprisingly, there was not that much to do in comparison to the last few weeks that had been hell and you never really caught a break. Now it looked like you might be able to take a breather and do something fun rather than being holed up in your room writing a paper or studying for a test. All you had to do before Monday was two quizzes and a quick essay and you would be all done.

“Your hot chocolate ma’am,” Peter spoke jokingly as he presented the heated beverage to you. You rolled your eyes, taking the cup and setting it on the table.

“Shut up and sit down, Parker,” you quipped before moving your book bag so that he could do as you asked of him. He smiled at you and took the seat that he always sat in every time you both came to the small coffee shop.

“I don’t even know why you come to a coffee place so often if you don’t like coffee,” Peter mumbled as he took a small sip of his drink, grimacing as he pulled away when the caffeinated liquid was too hot to handle at the moment.

“For starters, that bean juice is disgusting. I don’t know how you drink it. Secondly, it doesn’t do anything for me as far as waking me up or getting me energized. Third, they make really good hot chocolate. And lastly, this is our spot, Peter. Of course I am going to come here all the time,” you informed him while you opened up a blank document on your computer, setting the font to Times New Roman, twelve-point, and making sure it was double spaced before you began typing your two-page essay on why technology is important and how it helps us every day. “Tell me more about this idea you were talking about earlier.”

“Oh yeah.” The boy across from you perked up and took another sip of his drink, forgetting that it was still too hot and burned his tongue. “So, this is what I was thinking. We finish all our schoolwork so that we have all weekend free. We can get out of here and find some place to explore, you know? Like we could find a hotel and just look around and go to new places. It would distract you from all the Valentine’s Day stuff and we could use the break from school since we’ve both been so busy lately.”

“I like that. Let’s do it! All I have is this small paper, our chemistry quiz, and a trig quiz and it shouldn’t take me more than a couple of hours,” you said with a smile, excited for this weekend trip with your best friend and away from all things Valentine’s and school-related.

“I just have the chem quiz that I was waiting to do with you, so I can look for a place to go and a hotel,” he stated while sipping on his now cooled down coffee.

“Sounds like a plan.” So, then the searching began. You’d glance up at him from time to time to see his eyes trained on his computer screen, nodding his head as he read whatever information he was taking in from the device. The way his eyebrows were furrowed and how focused his brown eyes were on his laptop was a little funny to you, but you also thought it was cute. While you were watching him, his eyebrows shot up and his eyes diverted to you. “What?”

“I found the perfect place,” he told you with a big grin.

“Well tell me where, you idiot,” you chuckled but he shook his head, not quite ready to give you that information just yet.

“No, it’s a surprise,” he spoke softly as he typed at his keyboard. He then pulled out his phone to dial a number and put it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” you pondered aloud, tilting your head at him.

“There are two hotels near there so I’m calling one right n- Hi, I was wondering if you have any rooms open for this weekend.” He paused to let the person on the other end talk but based on the way his shoulders slouched, you could tell that this one was a bust. “Okay, that’s fine. Thank you. You have a nice day.”

“No luck?” you asked though you knew the answer. He shook his head at you before looking back at his computer screen. “You going to call the other one?”

“Yep,” he sighed as he brought his phone back up to his ear and waited for someone to pick up. “Yes, hi. I was wondering if you had any rooms available for the weekend.” He shot you a smile when you heard the mumbles of whoever was on the other line, so you assumed it was good news. “Yes, it is two people, and we will be staying tonight, tomorrow night, and Sunday night.” You heard more mumbles from the other end before Peter’s voice cut them off. “Okay, we will take it! Thank you, sir.”

“That went a lot better,” you chuckled at the boy’s wide grin.

“Yeah and we’re lucky too because he said that was the last room they had.” You nodded at him as you finished up your paper.

“Proofread this for me? You always catch things I don’t,” you asked him when you turned your laptop towards him. He gladly took it and quickly skimmed over it, typing here and there at your misspellings or overbearing use of commas that he always picked on you about.

“Looks good. Ready for the chem quiz?” You nodded your head as you both opened the quiz and began to take it together.

...

“So, we’re leaving tonight?” you asked Peter as you both left the coffee shop after being there for a few hours. The sun was beginning to set behind the buildings of ESU and it made the campus look so pretty from across the street where you two stood, waiting your turn to cross.

“Yeah, we’re gonna go to our dorms, pack enough for a few days, then we’ll leave. It’s about two hours outside of the city so we will get there at around ten if we leave within the next hour and we’ll probably stop somewhere for dinner too.” You nodded along to Peter’s words as his hand found your lower back again to lead you across the street when the light changed.

“You’ve got this all figured out, don’t you Pete?” you grinned at the boy while walking next to him as you two approached the central water fountain, the lights illuminating it an even brighter shade of pink in the darker time of day.

“Of course I do. Anything for my best girl,” he chuckled when his arm slipped around your shoulders and pulled you into him. That nickname didn’t come often but it always brought butterflies in your tummy, but you knew there was nothing really to it. Did you really want something more with your best friend? Yes and no. You didn’t see a future with anyone else, but he’s your best friend and you also couldn’t see him and you in a romantic kind of relationship. Well, you could but you didn’t think it would ever happen, so you’ve pushed it into the depths of your mind.

After passing all the lovey-dovey shit that somewhat led to this whole weekend getaway, you both made it back to the dorms. You both went up to the fourth floor and parted ways at the elevator since your dorms were in different directions. Upon entering your room, you quickly emptied your bookbag of all its books and school things so that you could put some clothes in it.

“What are you doing?” your roommate, Raelyn, asked as she leaned against your door frame.

“Peter and I are going on a trip for the weekend,” you told her before you walked past her to get to the sink, grabbing your toothbrush and other things you needed from that area.

“Ooo where to?” she perked up. She was always so interested in your relationship with Peter, waiting for you and him to finally get together. She honestly thought you two were together a long time ago but was disappointed when she found out that you were not.

“I don’t know. He said it’s a surprise. All I know is that it’s about two hours outside the city and there are two hotels near it,” you filled her in as you packed the items that were just in your hands into the smaller pocket on your bag.

“A surprise trip where you stay in a hotel with Peter?” she gushed while wearing the biggest grin.

“Calm down, Rae. It’s just me and Peter going to explore some place to get away from school and all this Valentine’s shit and speaking of Valentine’s, what are you and Florence going to be doing?” You changed the subject effectively and watched the girl’s cheeks flush at the mention of her lovely girlfriend. They have been together for a few months now and this was their first Valentine’s Day together, so you knew she was excited. The girl loved love and she loved Florence, so this was perfect for her.

“We’re going to recreate our first date,” she spoke softly as she watched you go into the bathroom to get your shower things.

“Didn’t y’all do like a cute little picnic on a cliff and stargaze and stuff? Flo’s gonna love that,” you grinned at Rae while she childishly bit at her bottom lip to keep her smile from growing too big.

“Yeah, she’s making chocolate covered strawberries and I’m gonna go down to her favorite bakery and get some goodies as well. It’s gonna be a night to remember for sure,” she giggled before tucking some loose strands of her dark hair behind her ear. “I was actually putting together a little scrapbook for her when I heard you come in, so I’ll let you finish packing for your Valentine’s trip with Peter-“

“It’s to get away from Valentine’s, Rae,” you corrected her as she playfully rolled her light-colored eyes at you.

“Anyway, I am going to get back to what I was doing, and you have fun with Peter. Be safe and use protection!” she shouted when she went back to her room.

“We won’t need it!” you yelled right back.

“Y/n, you dirty girl!” she joked, causing you to groan and roll your eyes.

“Not like that, you dumbass. You are starting to sound like his aunt!” She just laughed in return and you finished your packing when you heard a knock at the door. “I’ll get it!” you shouted as you slung your bag onto your shoulder.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Peter asked when your eyes met his. You nodded your head before turning to say goodbye to Rae.

“Bye Rae. Have fun with Flo this weekend.” You shot her a wink and she giggled as she taped a heart to the corner of a picture of the two together on the page of the scrapbook she was currently working on. “You too! Bye y/n. Bye Peter!”

“Bye Rae!” Peter said loudly before you shut the door behind you and followed him out.

...

“How much longer?” you asked, getting antsy. It was almost ten and you really wanted to know where you would be spending your weekend.

“Like ten minutes. Chill out and eat your pringles,” he chuckled as he pointed to the green can of pringles that he had gotten you earlier when he stopped for gas. You huffed before grabbing some chips, placing a few in his opened hand, and keeping some for yourself. Peter kept one hand on the wheel while he munched on the chips you had given him in his other hand. You capped the can of pringles and leaned your head against your seatbelt a little.

“Okay, we’re here,” Peter told you as he lightly shook your shoulder since you were nearing sleep. You stirred a little, looking over to him while he unclicked his seatbelt and leaned over to do yours as well.

“Thanks,” you mumbled before bringing your hands up to your eyes to wipe the small bits of tiredness out of them, ignoring the slight fluttery feeling that took over your stomach at Peter’s action. You got out, slipping on your jacket that you were using as a blanket in the car to shield yourself from the crisp air of the cold February night. Both of you grabbed your bags from the back seat before Peter locked the car behind him and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him to provide some warmth for you both.

The hotel looked more like a large home or mansion, older looking too but it had a charm to it. It gave off a cozy and welcoming feel and you have not even entered its doors yet. Peter pushed the door to it open and let you in first, him following soon after. It looked even more comforting and homey on the inside as well. It was clearly a family business as there were family pictures hung upon the wall and the couches that sat around a small coffee table reminded you of your grandparent’s house, making you feel more at home.

“Hi, how can I help you?” the sweet voice of an older lady broke you from your thoughts when you looked over at her. She wore a pale yellow apron tied around her waist and a gentle smile upon her lips. You sent her a kind grin as well before Peter turned to you.

“You go sit down. I know you’re tired. I’ll handle this, okay?” You nodded at his words, an insuppressible yawn escaping your lips when you turned to go sit on one of the couches you noticed earlier and resting your head on your hand.

“Hi,” Peter started as he walked up to the front desk that the lady stood behind. “I talked on the phone earlier with a man. He said there was a room available for two.”

“Oh yes, that was George. Let me go get him right quick.” Peter nodded nicely at the woman before she left through a door behind the desk. He turned around to look at you close to sleep again. He didn’t notice the small smile that crept onto his face, but it was definitely there.

“He will be right here in just a second,” the woman spoke softly when she noticed the way Peter was looking at you. “She’s as cute as a button that girl. I’m sure you love her very much.” His head tilted slightly as to what the lady was referring to, but he shook it off.

“Yeah, I do.” He meant it in a friendly way, but the woman clearly thought he meant romantically based on her next words.

“Y’all make an adorable couple. I’ve loved seeing young lovers pass through here over the years. It’s cute.” Before Peter could protest her words, a man, George assumingly, walked in through the door that the lady went through earlier.

“Mr. Parker?” he asked as he searched on his computer for a moment.

“Yes, that’s me,” he chirped, feeling slightly awkward about the woman’s assumptions but did not let it bother him too much. Of course, Peter loved you and he would love to love you in that way, but something always held him back. Fear probably as he wouldn’t dare risk losing you as a best friend. You’re his whole world and if he confessed how he felt and it ruined your relationship, he would hate himself for it.

“Alright, you paid online, and everything is set for you. Here is the key and we hope y’all have a nice stay,” he grinned while passing over the key that had a red heart attached to it. So much for staying away from Valentine’s related things. The heart read ‘214’ so Peter took that as the room number.

“Thank you and have a nice night,” Peter returned the politeness back before turning to go get you. The sight of you sleeping was absolutely adorable to him and made his heart soar. You had shifted from leaning on your hand to hugging your book bag and leaning against that instead. He hated that he had to wake you up when you looked so precious.

“Hey, y/n,” he whispered when he crouched down in front of you and lightly shook your arm. You stirred awake, your tired eyes meeting his big brown ones, and hummed in response. “I’ve got the key. Let’s go upstairs and you can go back to sleep.” You nodded as you stood and stretched before slipping your bag back onto your arm.

“Good night you two! Y’all have fun,” the kind woman you smiled at earlier spoke softly as she shot you a wink and waved you two off. You and Peter both waved back to her and sent sweet smiles her way before you headed up the stairs, choosing to ignore her playful but peculiar gesture. After making it to the second floor, you let Peter lead the way as you leaned into him, his arm where it always was wrapped around your shoulders.

“Okay, I think this is it,” Peter announced when stopping in front of a door numbered 214. You yawned and nodded while watching him fiddle with the key that had a heart charm dangling from it. You found it to be quite cute, just another little thing to add to the allure of this whole hotel. After a second, Peter finally turned the key and opened the door, letting you go in first like the gentleman he always was. He stepped in behind and flipped on the light switch, illuminating the room that was decorated in a way you both least expected.

You busted out laughing at the sight before you. A rather large white circular bed sat against the wall which was normal, but the rose petals that littered the sheets were far from what you were thinking when it came to sharing a hotel room with Peter. Red curtains covered the windows, a large red chair sat in the corner by a tv, and candles sat on the bedside tables. The light that Peter had turned on was quite dim compared to normal lights but was perfect to set the mood for a couple looking to have a fun night which you and Peter were not. You turned to look at Peter whose cheeks were the reddest thing in the room and only laughed a little harder, tears springing to your eyes.

“Y/n, I am so sorry. I was trying to get you away from Valentine’s stuff, not bring you somewhere intended for it. God, I am an idiot. I’m so sorry, you gotta believe me,” he rambled on as you gripped onto his arm to steady yourself, your laughter making your knees weaker. You leaned your head against his shoulder, continuing to giggle but also trying to calm yourself down.

“P-Peter,” you stuttered through chuckles and took a deep breath to calm your laughter before looking up at him. “Peter,” you repeated a little more seriously and stared into his eyes with your tear-filled ones. You could tell he felt so bad, but you did not mind the room that much. It was really funny to you honestly. “It’s okay. This is okay. It’s hilarious actually so lighten up and laugh about it, but this is alright. We needed a place to sleep and this works so we’re good.”

“People have probably had sex on that bed,” he groaned before his eyes flickered over towards the petal-covered sheets and then back to you.

“People would have fucked on any bed at any hotel. Did we get the bed that a lot more people have probably had sex on? Yes, but I’m sure they changed the sheets and cleaned up.” Peter shuddered at your words before pouting again. “What?”

“I feel bad,” he muttered as he looked around at the room and then back to you, the girl who wanted to get away from campus because it looked similar to this. You sighed before wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him into a hug, nuzzling your head under his chin.

“It’s okay, Pete. It doesn’t bother me, and we only have to sleep here. We have got a whole place to explore tomorrow and Sunday, right? So, don’t worry about the room. So far, it has been the highlight of my trip,” you told him before lifting your head up to look at him, a grin on your lips.

“You’re the best, you know that?” he mumbled, squeezing you tighter against him.

“Yeah, I know,” you joked just to hear his amused giggle, making your words worth it.

“Are you okay sleeping together or I can sleep in the big chair if you want?” Peter asked when he pulled away from you. You rolled your eyes at the boy before you.

“Peter, we’ve slept together on those tiny ass twin beds in the dorms. I think we can handle sharing the bed. It’s much bigger and probably much more comfortable as well,” you mentioned as you walked to the bed and sat your bag down on it, ruffling through your things to find your charger. “Unless you’re scared of the sex that’s been had on it,” you teased, wiggling your brows at him tauntingly, “then the chair is all yours.”

“Shut up,” he quipped when he followed your actions and rummaged through his bag for his clothes. “Are you showering tonight or in the morning?”

“The morning. I am too tired to shower right now,” you spoke and yawned as if on cue.

“Great so I’m spending the night with a stinky girl,” he joked while your jaw dropped.

“I do not stink,” you playfully pouted while slipping your hefty jacket off your arms.

“Well,” he shrugged as if he was trying to tell you that you really smelled bad without hurting your feelings.

“Peter!” you frowned, crossing your arms in front of you.

“I’m kidding, y/n. You always smell nice,” he reassured as he collected his clothes and walked towards the bathroom before shutting the door behind him. You took the opportunity to pull out your pajamas which was an ESU sweatshirt and some pink pajama pants you had stolen from Peter. As soon as you heard the water start, you changed and pushed the rose petals to the side, letting them fall to the floor before you hopped in bed and got comfortable under the covers. Though for some reason, you were not as tired as you were previously and couldn’t just fall asleep as easily, so you got on your phone for a moment. Not long after, the water shut off from in the bathroom and a damp, curly-headed Peter Parker emerged from its door.

“The bath is shaped like a heart,” Peter told you before he walked over to his bag to set his dirty clothes beside it.

“You’re kidding,” you giggled, setting your phone down next to you to properly look at him, his wet curls making you feel some type of way though you wouldn’t show that.

“I’m not,” he chuckled, running a light hand through damp hair. He walked over to the light switch to turn the dim light off before he walked back to the bed and climbed in next to you.

“You really got the lover’s suite, didn’t you? You know you could’ve just asked me to be your Valentine. I probably would’ve said yes,” you teased the boy who you laid beside, hearing an exasperated sigh leave his lips.

“It was the only room they had,” he protested while you turned to face him, though you could not see much in the darkness. “And probably? You better say yes if I were to ask you such a question.”

“I’d say yes, you dumbass. We were likely to spend Valentine’s Day together anyway. We’re together all the time,” you pointed out and he hummed in response.

“Yeah, you’re right, but you really aren’t mad about this? I planned this whole thing to get away from all the hearts and flowers and love and stuff,” he brought up, shifting in bed to face you as well. You could hear the worry in his tone, so you reached out your hand to find his and rubbed your thumb over his knuckles.

“You also said it was to get away from school and take a break. We’ve both been busy bees these last few weeks and we needed this, so don’t worry. The room is fine,” you spoke calmly. Though you could barely see in the dark, you could just hardly make out a smile on his face, or at least you could feel the presence of it.

“Now that I think about it, it makes a lot more sense as to why that lady downstairs thought we were a couple,” Peter thought out loud. You chuckled thinking about how she winked at you and told you to ‘have fun tonight’. Silence overcame you both and you let go of Peter’s hand to turn the other way to hopefully fall asleep.

“Hey y/n,” Peter mumbled after a while of no speaking.

“Yeah,” you whispered, tilting your head slightly towards him.

“Can I ask you something?” His words filled the void around you, and it was all you could hear. He sounded serious, but not like it was something about him but more of a curiosity question.

“Of course,” you muttered, laying on your back and facing the boy.

“Earlier when I asked why you hated Valentine’s Day so much, you mentioned something about bad experiences. Can I ask what that was?” You knew it was your curious Peter just asking a random question as it normally was, but you understood why he used an earnest tone.

“Yeah, I, uh, used to date this guy my senior year of high school and I was like head over heels for him. We had been dating for almost ten months and then the day before Valentine’s Day, I found out he cheated on me with my best friend at the time, so I lost the two people I loved and trusted most all in one day. The last few months of high school weren’t fun, and I was ready to get to college so I applied to ones that I knew they couldn’t get into. That led me to ESU and then I met you,” you explained, “and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”

“Oh y/n. I’m sorry about all that. I know that had to suck,” Peter softly spoke before his hand found yours to help comfort you this time.

“It’s okay. It was high school, so I kinda expected it to be hell. I was just lucky enough that I didn’t have to experience the hell of it until the very end. And on the bright side, I have you and Rae and Florence is becoming a good friend of mine too so it worked out for the better.” Peter repeated your actions from earlier and rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand in a soothing manner.

“Yeah, that’s a nice way to look at it,” Peter mumbled while drawing little circles into your skin. The motions of it had brought you a sense of great peace and comfort and were helping you feel sleepier. You were getting closer to a nice long slumber when you felt him pull his hand away.

“Wait, give me that back. It was helping me go to sleep,” you whined. Peter’s chuckle sounded throughout the room before his hand found yours again and began the circular motions with his thumb on your hand. With that, you were asleep in seconds.

...

You were slightly awakened when you felt something move on top of you. Then the fact that something moved on you made your eyes shoot open because last you checked you fell asleep with nothing on you, but now there was definitely something there. You also realized you felt something around you as well. When you opened your eyes, you saw the brown shade of Peter’s nest of curls resting on your chest and put together that he cuddled into you in his sleep. You lifted your head slightly to look at the clock that sat on his nightstand and saw that it was almost nine, so you decided to get up and shower, letting Peter sleep in a little longer. Slowly, you tried to slip out of his grasp without waking him, but as soon as you tried to move, his arms pulled you in tighter. Chuckling lightly to yourself, you tapped at his arm.

“Uh, Peter,” you whispered softly. He stirred a little but did not wake up. “Pete, I need to get up.” He squinted one eye open and saw what you were talking about.

“Oh yeah uh sorry,” he stammered while lifting his body off you. You smiled and rolled your eyes as you slipped out of the warmth and comfort of Peter and the bed to get some clothes for the day. Peter rubbed at his eyes before turning in the sheets, placing his face into the pillow, and trying to fall back asleep. Heading to the bathroom, you chuckled at the boy and opened the door. Once your eyes fell upon the heart-shaped bathtub that Peter was talking about last night, another giggle escaped you as you thought about the events that happened before you fell asleep. Only Peter Parker, the smartest person you know, would get the lover’s suite on a trip to get away from all that stuff.

“You ready?” Peter asked once you were all showered and dressed, appearing to be ready for the day that you knew nothing about.

“I think so,” you told him as you followed him out the door, shoving your phone into your jacket pocket.

“Good morning lovebirds. Did the lovely pair have a nice night?” the lady from the previous  night asked you both when she saw you two coming down the stairs.

“Yes, we did, Mrs. Milly,” you answered, completely disregarding the ‘lovebirds’ part, as you read the name that was printed on the different apron she was wearing today. “I love your name. I have a cat named Milly.”

“Aww thank you, but you can just call me Milly or Mildred. Whichever you prefer,” she spoke kindly as she sat in the desk chair.

“I like Mildred,” you mused, leaning against the counter.

“Thank you,” she grinned at you before she asked, “How long have you two been together?”

“Oh, we’re n-“ Peter started but you cut him off with the jab of your elbow into his side, the whole action being shielded from the older lady with the counter.

“Six months,” you answered before turning to Peter who gazed at you in confusion. “Isn’t that right, Pete?”

“Y-yes,” he agreed, nodding at Mildred. She smiled warmly at you both before speaking again.

“Well, I won’t keep you cuties any longer. Y’all probably have a whole day planned.”

“That we do. We’ll see you later, Mildred,” you told her as you and Peter both waved at her before leaving the cozy hotel.

“Uh what was that?” Peter asked as soon as you two got in the car.

“What? Why I elbowed you?” you questioned, reaching up to grab your seatbelt and clicking it in.

“Yeah, and why you pretended we were dating,” he stated while placing the keys in the ignition and turning them, the car roaring to life in response.

“Do you really want to explain to that poor old woman that you’re a dumbass who got that room for a weekend with his best friend?” He instantly saw your point and did not bother arguing any further. “Yeah, I also didn’t want to break her heart because she really seems to like us, even if that may be as a couple.”

“That makes sense,” he hummed, pulling out of the parking space and beginning to drive on the main road.

“So where to Parker?” you asked since you had literally no idea what he had planned for the day.

“Okay so there’s a little diner between here and the nearest town, so I was thinking we go to the diner for breakfast, then there’s a cool science museum that looked interesting and it has a planetarium too so we can check that out. There is a somewhat rundown mall that looked like something you’d really like. There’s a really pretty park too that we can go to. Does any of this sound good or should we go somewhere else?” Peter asked when you had stayed quiet throughout his whole explanation.

“No Pete, it sounds perfect. I’m really excited,” you said with the hugest grin on your face.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he chirped before further explaining some more things that y’all could do.

...

“The planetarium was the best part for sure,” you told Peter as you walked beside him in the mall he brought up earlier. There were a good bit of people there for a place that was considered to be rundown or abandoned, but it was probably just one of the attractions of this lovely town. While some of the shops were closed, others were open and the food court still had some running businesses as well. The whole building itself was older but the inside was pretty alive and well. It was an interesting sight to see. “So where do you want to eat for lunch?”

“You pick,” he stated quickly. He always let you pick, but this time you didn’t want to.

“No Peter. You have planned this whole trip and made me happy. You pick lunch at least and you know food’s on me since you paid for the hotel so don’t even try that.” He chuckled lightly at your words before his big brown eyes scanned his options for your next meal. His options were limited to a Chinese restaurant, a pizza place, and a soup and sandwich spot.

“I think soup and sandwiches would be pretty good,” he mentioned as he met your eyes to see if you agree. With a quick smile and nod, it was evident that you did agree so the two of you walked toward the small soup shop and got in line behind a few other people.

“So, I was thinking that for the rest of the day, we could…” You let Peter’s words drown out as you looked around at the people that you could see outside of the window that showed the mall. Several different shoppers walked around the old place, but the back of someone in particular looked oddly familiar to you so your eyes darted to who they were talking to and that person was more familiar than you would have liked. The face of someone you had hoped you would never see again stood across the mall and your eyes basically bulged out of your head. On instinct, you grabbed Peter’s arms and shifted his body to stand between you and the guy, hoping he did not catch your gaze.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Peter’s soft and concerned voice broke through your thoughts for a moment before they resumed. How? How could this be happening? You tried so hard to get away from him? And of course, you would find him on the same day he broke your heart two years ago.

“I- yeah. I need to hide and it’s either you stand there and block me, or I go under that table,” you told him, giving him not a clue as to what was going on. Peter slowly turned his body to look at the source of the problem and you caught his eyes, the blue ones that you used to think everything of staring right back at you. “I used to eat playdough under the table as a kid,” you blurted out, your hand quickly slapping over your mouth at your sudden confession.

“What?” Peter mustered, a small smile cracking on his face in amusement.

“Sorry, I say random things when I’m nervous. You know that,” you reminded the curly-headed boy who stood before you with a teasing grin illuminating his features.

“I do know that, but seriously. Playdough?” You slapped at his chest when he laughed at your despair. Out the corner of your eye, you could see your ex and his friend wrapping up their conversation and it appeared like he was leaning towards your direction and anxiety filled you.

“Stop, this isn’t funny. Laugh about that later but right now I need a favor.” Peter’s giggles subsided at your serious tone and he was attentive to whatever you needed. “Act like my boyfriend.”

“What?” he questioned, dumbfounded with wide eyes.

“Just put your arm around me and make me laugh or something,” you instructed of him. Though it was normal for him to have an arm around you, he was a bit hesitant to it now but nonetheless, his arm found its normal spot around your shoulders, nice and friendly.

“No Peter. God, you’re helpless,” you sighed before you grabbed his hand that rested on your shoulder and placed it on your waist. A light dusting of red scattered upon Peter’s cheeks when you leaned your head on his shoulder and let out a sigh.

“He’s here. That guy I was looking at, that’s the reason I hate Valentine’s Day so much.” He nodded understandingly at your words when you looked up at him and his thumb absentmindedly began to rub against your waist, the minuscule action bringing you much comfort. On your way to put your head back down on his shoulder, your eyes caught the blue ones again and you saw him say goodbye to his friend and step in the direction of the soup shop. Your breath hitched and only one thing came to mind as a way to get him to leave you alone or give him some hint that you weren’t available.

“Peter, kiss me,” you half asked, half told him while his eyebrows shot up and brown eyes widened.

“Wha- y/n, I don’t know,” he stammered, gazing deeply into your eyes to make sure you were being completely sure about this, not joking or pulling some funny shit. “This doesn’t seem-“

“Shut up and kiss me,” you spoke sternly before your hand found his cheek, cupping his beautiful face. Your eyes darted between his for a bit of consent and he slightly nodded so you went for it. Your lips connected with his while his other arm wrapped around your waist as well, pulling your body closer to his. Your free hand found the nape of his neck, trailing upwards to thread your fingers through those soft brown locks of his. Kissing Peter was something you never really saw yourself doing, but it was nice. He was surprisingly good at it and he seemed to be enjoying himself as well.

“Next in line,” the man behind the counter repeated himself since you two were too involved with each other to hear him the first time. You both jumped apart, Peter too in a trance to understand what was happening while you grabbed his hand and walked up to the counter.

“Oh sorry, hi! Can I get a cup of broccoli and cheese soup and a grilled cheese? Peter, what do you want?” you asked him, lightly tugging at his hand that you held.

“Uhh,” he stammered as his eyes trailed over their menu but he couldn’t focused on reading the words after what had just happened. “I think I’ll have the same.”

After you ordered and paid, you two found a spot to sit and finally had to face what had just occurred. Peter’s eyes were trained on you while yours were darting all around to see if you could find your ex, but thankfully, the coast was clear.

“He’s gone,” you sighed before meeting Peter’s gaze. “Thank god, I hated that,” you chuckled before pulling out your phone to scroll mindlessly through it.

“I mean I didn’t think it was that bad, but it has been a while since I’ve kissed someone so I-“

“No Pete,” you breathily laughed. “I hated him being here, not the kiss. You aren’t half bad, Parker.” His cheeks tinted pink at the compliment and yours warmed up a fuzz as well. Before you two could continue the conversation, someone came up to your table with your food.

...

“You two must have had a busy day. I haven’t seen you two since nine this morning and it's almost eleven now,” Mildred stated warmly when you and Peter walked in through the front door, chuckling about a deer that was staring at him funnily before y’all came in.

“We did,” Peter grinned at the kind woman, walking behind you as you stepped up to the desk. It was something about this woman that you loved, and you felt like you could talk to her about anything. She just had a cozy aura about her that matched the hotel’s atmosphere perfectly.

“Yes, we did. We went to the science museum, the planetarium, the mall, a park, walked around the town a bit, and then we watched The Sound of Music at the theater,” you explained to Mildred.

“Oh, I love that movie,” she gushed with a wide grin, her eyes just as wide as she took in your words. You could tell she genuinely loved hearing about your day and she truly was a really sweet lady.

“She does too. It’s one of her favorites,” Peter spoke from beside you, your eyes meeting his when your lips curved upwards at his thoughtfulness.

“You both are so precious! And I am sure you are tired too, so I won’t keep you any longer. I should head to bed myself. Good night y’all,” Mildred told you, her words followed by a yawn as she stood from the desk chair.

“Good night,” you and Peter said simultaneously before Peter’s hand found the small of your back, leading you towards the stairs.

“I really like her,” you told Peter when you made it to the top of the staircase.

“Mildred? Yeah, she’s a nice lady,” Peter agreed as you both walked towards your room, his hand still guiding you there.

“She reminds me of a really nice grandma and it’s a plus that she has the same name as my cat,” you chuckled while Peter’s hand left your back to place the key in the door.

“We should go visit Milly some time. I haven’t seen her in a while,” Peter mentioned, swinging the door open and letting you in first.

“Yeah, I miss her and she probably misses you too. She really liked you and so did my dad which was surprising,” you chuckled before flopping down onto the circular bed, the replaced rose petals jumping up when your body hit the mattress.

“He did? He did not act like it. He actually scared me a bit,” Peter told you as his hands fumbled through the contents of his bag, looking for something to sleep in. You let out a yawn after nodding to answer his question. “I assume you’re showering in the morning again?”

“Yeah,” you yawned out as you rolled over to find yourself some pajamas. “Let me brush my teeth before you get in there, okay?”

“Okay, but you’ve got ten seconds,” Peter teased, eyes gauging your reaction.

“Not all of us have superpowers, dork. I can barely get my toothbrush ready in that time.”

“Twenty seconds,” he offered like that was somehow better and you rolled your eyes before walking into the bathroom.

“I’m gonna brush them slower than I ever have before, so you’ll just have to wait.” It was his turn to roll his eyes at you, knowing you were lying. While you glided the toothbrush over your teeth, you heard Peter yell something from in the bedroom.

“Ew!” he shouted and that was followed by the sound of something falling.

“What?” you asked while still brushing your teeth when you walked back into the room. Peter’s face showed nothing but pure disgust and a slight embarrassment as he pointed down into the open drawer of his nightstand. Your eyebrows furrowed when you walked over to the scene to see a pair of fluffy red handcuffs in the drawer. While laughing, you rolled your eyes at Peter. “You wanted the lover’s suite,” you joked, turning to go back to the bathroom.

“It was a mistake! He said they only had one room left and you would think on Valentine’s Day that this one would be taken but obviously not. I am never going to live this down, am I?” Peter exasperated as you finished up in the bathroom.

“Sorry Pete, but no. This is the funniest thing and I will never let it go. Wait until I tell Flash in physics Monday,” you told him while exiting the bathroom. He wore a frown when he passed you, trudging on his way to take a shower. Unlike the night before, you were able to fall asleep pretty quickly after you changed and got in bed.

...

This morning, you did not wake up with Peter on top of you. You were in fact cuddled into him, your arm around his torso and head against his chest, but you were far too tired to care or move.

“Are you awake?” Peter whispered upon feeling you move slightly.

“No,” you mumbled, hiding your face in his chest. His laughter sounded above your head before he spoke up again.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think our plans for today have been canceled. It is supposed to rain really badly all day like practically monsoon out there, so we’re stuck,” he muttered into the space around you. At that moment, you did notice the sound of the pattering rain outside the window.

“That’s okay. We can just have a movie day like we normally do on Sundays and we can sleep in a little more if that’s okay with you,” you spoke with your eyes closed, really dreading waking up since the comfort of the bed and Peter felt too good to leave.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he softly spoke, his arm that sat around your waist tightening for a second.

“Do you want me to move?” you muttered before picking your head up to look at him. You knew your hair was all over the place, but you didn’t have a care at all for its tangled state. Peter’s lips turned upwards into a soft smile as his hand came up to push some of that hair behind your ear.

“I don’t mind. You can stay if you want,” his gentle voice spoke, calming and sweet. You nodded your head before laying your head back on his chest.

“Say less.”

After a few more hours of shut-eye, you finally got up since it was nearing lunchtime, but you made sure to leave Peter sleeping. You reached in your bag for those pringles from the other day and quietly tiptoed over to the large comfy chair to sit there and eat chips while you scrolled through TikTok, the volume incredibly low as not to wake him.

“You left me,” you heard Peter’s pouty voice speak from the bed. Your eyes shot up to meet his as you held up a chip.

“You were sleeping and I wanted to eat these without waking you.” Peter rubbed at his eyes and laid back down for a second before his legs swung over the bed’s edge, sitting up. He came to sit next to you, the chair just barely big enough for you both, and stuck his hand in the Pringles can. “Let me see,” he mumbled, referring to the TikTok you were watching so you shifted in the seat so that your back laid against his front, your head on his shoulder so you could watch the short videos together. The both of you seemed to be substantially clingy since waking up, but you both also didn’t mind it.

It had been about an hour or so of sitting there, eating chips, and laughing at tiktoks before one of you checked the time.

“Shit, it’s already one o’clock,” Peter mentioned as his eyes flittered back to you after looking at the clock.

“Really?” you asked before you checked the time on your phone. “I guess you’re right.”

“Are you hungry? I’m not after the pringles,” Peter asked as he looked down at you still rested against his shoulder.

“Yeah, me neither,” you added, “so we can stay in our pajamas a little longer.” You stood from the chair you shared with him and went to the window to look outside. “You weren’t kidding when you said it was gonna monsoon out here. It’s basically flooding,” you announced after pushing back the red curtains to get a better look. Peter hopped up and followed your previous footsteps, standing behind you and peering over your shoulder. A huff came from him before his head plopped onto your shoulder, you looking down at his grumpy expression and trying to suppress a giggle.

“Hey, it’s okay. We can have a super fun movie day. Cheer up buttercup,” you chuckled as you kissed his cheek. You had never done anything like that before with him but felt bold in the moment. It was just a harmless little kiss and meant nothing, so there was nothing wrong with it in your eyes. When you pulled away, he wore a face of pure surprise as he watched you walk over to the remote. “Let’s find something to watch and we can sit in the chair or lay around in the bed and it will be really fun, okay?” Reluctantly, the still-shocked boy nodded his head before crawling into the bed. You followed suit and channel surfed until you found a Star Wars movie, the perfect thing to lift his spirits.

About an hour into it, you were beginning to get cold. You started to realize why each of you gravitated towards the other the past two nights. It was to seek out warmth and now you really wanted to cuddle up next to him, but you felt weird for asking that and you definitely were not just going to do it on your own.

“Y/n, your teeth are fucking chattering. Get over here,” Peter spoke up at the perfect moment. You hesitated for like a second before sliding into his open arms and wrapping yours around his torso.

“My teeth weren’t chattering, asshole,” you quipped as you relaxed against his body, finally feeling warmer.

“No, but I could tell you were cold and I was a little too, so I decided to fix both our problems.” You giggled against his chest before your eyes settled back on the TV screen, watching Leia talk to her brother. After watching one of his favorite movies, y’all watched one of your favorite movies which was Harry Potter: Prisoner of Azkaban, and then a couple of Grey’s Anatomy episodes until you heard Peter’s stomach rumble beneath your ear.

“Maybe we should go get something to eat,” you suggested with a giggle as Peter’s cheeks reddened from embarrassment. “You could’ve told me you were hungry.”

“Yeah, but I know how much you love this show and I was going to wait until the end of this episode before saying something,” he told you while you sat up from his embrace. “Do you have anything in mind about what you want to eat?”

“Not really,” you answered when you stretched, reaching your arms up towards the ceiling. “All I know is that I don’t want to change, but I don’t want Mildred to pick on me for these,” you told him as you pointed to the pink pajama pants you have worn the last two nights.

“Hey, Mr. Stark got me those and you seemed to love them the one time you wore them so I gave them to you,” Peter explained as he sat up himself. “And I doubt she’d pick on you for those. She’d probably say you look cute in them or something.”

“She does think we are cute, doesn’t she?” you smiled, thinking of the nice old woman downstairs. “I’m gonna miss her.”

“I’m sure she’ll miss you too,” Peter chuckled at the fast connection you had made with the woman in a matter of a few short conversations.

“We should make this a tradition. Like every year on Valentine’s, go to a different place and explore or I would not mind coming here just so I could see Mildred and we could always get this room as a joke. I have had a lot of fun this weekend, Peter. This was a great idea,” you told him as you slipped your shoes on and Peter pulled on a dark blue sweatshirt over the hoodie he was already wearing.

“What would we do if we get boyfriends or girlfriends?” Peter inquired, grabbing his car keys.

“Go the weekend before or after. We will still be best friends, Parker,” you giggled at him after you put your coat on and followed him out the door.

“There you two are! I was beginning to think y’all passed out up there,” Mildred spoke as her eyes fell upon your outfits, Peter in a sweatshirt, hoodie, and sweatpants and you in your pajama pants, a sweatshirt, and your coat. “Well did y’all just wake up?”

“No ma’am,” Peter lightly laughed. “The rain kind of ruined our plans so we stayed in and watched movies and now we’re going to pick up something for dinner.”

“Oh, that’s nice! Y’all are just cute as a button in your pajamas. Y’all are probably starving so you two go ahead. I won’t keep you any longer,” Mildred spoke and shooed you two closer to the door. You both said your goodbyes before stepping out the door and onto the porch. Peter wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and you ducked your head into his chest before you both ran together towards his car.

“We never decided on where to eat,” you brought up as soon as you both were in the car.

“Oh yeah. What about pizza? Or burgers? Both sound really good right now,” Peter offered, his mouth practically watering before you at the thought of some food.

“Either sounds great to me.” So, he looked up which one was closer and drove to a local pizza parlor. The place was not but fifteen minutes away and since Peter called ahead as soon as you two got in the car, it was ready when you had arrived. All y’all had to do was pick it up and you did exactly that. Now, you were on the way back to the hotel and though you had a warm box of pizza resting in your lap, you were quite cold.

“Are you freezing?” you asked the driver whose brown eyes flickered to yours for a moment before finding the road again, squinting a bit to see through the heavy rain that persisted to fall.

“Yeah, a little.” At the same time, you and Peter both reached for the knob that controlled the temperature of the air that flowed through the vehicle, your hands brushing against each other. Immediately, you both retracted your hands and heat rushed to your cheeks. A second later, Peter reached out again and turned the knob to the right to get some warmer air.

“Um, I think we should talk about something,” the boy announced while something in the air shifted, feeling thicker and slightly more suffocating. You kept your eyes trained ahead of you as well before you spoke up.

“Uh, yeah. I guess we should.”

“Something has definitely changed between us this weekend. We don’t act like the same two best friends that we used to,” Peter mentioned, not sparing you a glance. You looked over at him to see his face, but not even his face showed you any indication of what was going through that pretty little head of his.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, trying to make the conversation a little more light-hearted and less serious. You didn’t see much of a big deal. Yes, you both had been clingier and you two shared a kiss, a damn good one at that, but that was to distract someone who had broken you with no remorse from coming your way. Peter, on the other hand, seemed to think there was more to this and his serious tone frightened you a tad, not really ever being so pensive about anything other than school. “I don’t see an issue.”

“So, you’re okay with cuddling and kisses and stuff like that?” The way he said that and gave you the most incredulous look made you feel as if your presence was not wanted by him. Maybe you were not wanted by him. It wouldn’t be a first in your life. No, your brain fought itself, he wouldn’t have planned all this for you if he didn’t love you.

“We only kissed once,” you stated while his normally soft brown eyes stared coldly through the windshield. “I’m sorry if I messed something up by doing that, but you didn’t exactly fight it, Peter.”

“No, that’s not- never mind that kiss, but the one this morning. You kissed me on my cheek.”

“Because you seemed upset!” your voice rose ever so slightly as you fought your point, a feeling you have never felt about Peter bubbling in your chest. It was a mixture of anger, hurt, and sadness. You were also growing annoyed with the conversation as a whole and were ready to get back to the hotel which was mere minutes away. “I didn’t think there was that much to it.”

“It’s not something friends do,” Peter argued not sparing you so much as a glance or some hint as to what he was trying to get at.

“Why do I feel like you are blaming me for how we’ve gotten closer over the past few days? You’ve been acting awful cozy as well,” you tried to calm your voice a little as you spoke, but you hated being blamed for things, especially stupid things like this. “We’re best friends, Peter. It’s okay to be a little closer than normal. It’s okay to cuddle, hold hands, or kiss each other on the cheek. I will admit that the kiss yesterday might have been a bit much, but all the other stuff is perfectly normal. I’ll back off if you want, but don’t come at me when you have been doing the same thing and initiating it sometimes too.”

“Those are things that couples do. I have never done that with my best friends. Granted, you’re my first girl best friend that isn’t terrified to touch or interact with another person, but that’s beside the point,” Peter said as he turned into the hotel lot and found a place to park. “I’ve only ever done this kinda thing with a girlfriend and we aren’t dating. I couldn’t date you, y/n.”

That last sentence struck a nerve in you. I couldn’t date you, y/n. Why the hell not? What was so wrong with you that he couldn’t date you? The words brought you back to a place you were a couple years ago when everything that made you hate today happened. You were so easily replaced by both your boyfriend and best friend. You were never really wanted around by them, and you hated yourself for not noticing sooner. Well, you did notice, but you had hope that it was all in your head until you were proved otherwise.

Was the same thing about to happen with you and Peter? Were you going to lose the only person outside of your family that you loved and spent all your time with? If he couldn’t date you, then how could he be your best friend? The two things were terribly similar with the only differences being sexual intimacy and a different kind of love. Peter was your soulmate for sure, maybe not romantically, though you had hoped otherwise, but he was meant to be with you. Now he did not seem to want to be near you.

You didn’t recognize it, but tears had pooled in your eyes, not yet fallen though. Your breathing felt different, quicker, and you felt like you were losing all that was important to you, him. You had always hoped that sometime in the future you and Peter would get together. You two had made a pact a while ago that if you hadn’t found someone by the age of twenty-six, you two would start dating and then get married within the following year or two. That idea was now seemingly being thrown out the window since he couldn’t date you.

“Y/n…” Peter sighed, his hand reaching out to grab yours but you were quick to pull it away.

“I thought friends didn’t do that,” you threw his words right back at him before you got out, leaving the pizza in your seat and slamming the door shut behind you. Now that you were in the rain, you let your tears flow since they now just appeared to anyone else as raindrops on your face. You tried to speed walk towards the hotel for two reasons: to get away from Peter and to get out of the rain. However, the damn arachnid abilities of your best friend made him much quicker, his hand catching your arm and spinning you back to face him.

You hated yourself for the thoughts running through your mind. The rain on his face that dripped down his cheeks and nose was insanely attractive, and the water made his curls droop onto his forehead, another thing that made him look irresistible. You wanted to kiss him so badly, but how could you after the last one caused so much damage obviously since it was one of the things behind this argument.

“Y/n, that’s not what I meant,” he spoke, his honey brown eyes darted between your own. You wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were. Did he think the water droplets sliding down your face looked pretty? Did he think you were pretty? He had commented on your appearance before, saying you looked beautiful on random occasions but now it all seemed meaningless.

“What did you mean, Peter? How else was I supposed to take that?” you argued with the boy. You didn’t care if he could tell the difference between the freshwater drops on your face and the saltwater tears because his words hurt you and he should know that.

“Of course, I could date you. I would love to date you! You are the most gorgeous girl I have ever laid eyes on and I’m still shocked that you choose to hang out with me every day. Why do you think I made that pact about us dating when we’re older? I can’t wait until then because we promised we’d get together. You do not know how much I hope you don’t find someone before then because my only chance to be with you will be gone because I certainly don’t have to balls to ask you out. The only reason I am telling you all of this now is because I’m scared I’ll lose you, y/n. I can’t even bear to think about that right now. I am an idiot and I’m sorry. I’m so sorr-“

“Peter!” you snapped, tired of hearing his rambles as you desperately wanted to feel his lips against your own.

“What?” he asked, brows knitted and eyes locked on yours.

“Shut up and kiss me,” you repeated the words that you said before your first kiss with the boy as you watched a smile grow on his lips. His hands were quick to cup your cheeks as he brought your face to his, lips connecting and a fire ignited within you both. His left hand slid from your cheek down your shoulder and arm until he found your waist and pulled you closer to his body. You gripped onto his bicep with one hand while your other found the back of his head, your fingers running through the dampened curls. A thought immediately popped in your head and you acted on it, tugging on the strands which resulted in his lips parting. Your plan was achieved successfully, and you slipped your tongue into the entrance. He followed suit and after a little bit, you both needed a little oxygen.

“Um, wow. That was um-“ Peter stumbled over his words, trying to muster up the perfect ones to say in fear of screwing up again. “Nice.” You chuckled at his awkwardness, leaning your head on his forehead and looking up at him.

“Yeah, I agree,” you breathed as your eyes scanned all over his features, taking in every bit of this beautiful moment. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Pete.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, y/n,” Peter responded with a grin, happy he could make you see the holiday as a little more enjoyable for you. The sound of his stomach growling interrupted the moment, and a laugh left your lips. “I’m gonna get the pizza.”

“You do that,” you chuckled at the hungry boy as he walked to the passenger side door, swinging it open to grab the square cardboard box. “You know Mildred is going to kill us. We’re out here drenched in our pajamas in the cold.”

“Yeah, she definitely will,” Peter agreed while walking up the steps with you, “but we can do it together.” He held his free hand out to you for you to take which you gladly did, interlacing your fingers with his. You got up on your tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek as well.

“Together.”

--------------------------------------------------

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[beomglocks]

unlikely allies ; txt x reader

part: zero, ,,,next chapter

plot: when a zombie apocalypse breaks out in your town, you're forced to team up with a group of boys from very different social standards in your school.

genre: fluff, angst, horror i guess?, not really that scary but alright, some funny moments

w/c: 3.3K

warnings: blood, gruesome scenes (kind of really detailed), cursing, everyone hates each other, definitely some major injuries, zombies duh, everyone kinda pining for mc

︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵

"yeonjun you're late...again," your history teacher sighs. you watch as choi yeonjun strolls into class like normal. "sorry teach, i didn't really wanna come."

yeonjun is the school's heartthrob. everyone likes him, at least you think everyone likes him. you wouldn't say you like him but you can see why people would. he's an asshole but a cute asshole. he really doesn't care for his studies and treats people like they owe him something.

you roll your eyes at his answer and decide to focus on the roll call for when your name is called. "choi soobin?" you see a boy with purple hair raise his hand silently. you hear yeonjun snicker from the back of the class. you watch soobin turn around to glare at the other.

"something funny choi?" he seethes. yeonjun raises an eyebrow at soobin, leaning forward in his seat, "yeah something sure is funny."

soobin gets out of his seat and strides up to yeonjun's seat, easily towering over the boy. he grabs the collar of yeonjun's hoodie and lifts him up so that he's standing face to face.

"why don't you laugh in my face then?" soobin challenges. yeonjun looks bored, not even the slightest intimidated by the taller boy.

"ha. ha .ha." he annunciates each word mockingly, smiling in soobin's face.

the next thing you know the two boys are the floor fighting one another. "hey hey hey!" your teacher runs from the front of the class to the back to break up the fight. there's already a small crowd around them and no one seems adamant on helping break the fight up.

the thing is, choi soobin and choi yeonjun are known to fight a lot. you're not sure why they hate each other so much but every time they're near each other fists start flying. who thought putting these two in a class together was a good idea.

soobin was a quiet boy, everyone knew that. somedays he'd come dressed like the fluffiest cat you'd ever seen and sometimes he'd dress like a total greaser. he could just switch up like that; just like his attitude. he was nice, from what you knew he would always participate in extracurricular activities and charity events around the school. however, because people thought he was soft they would always mess with him. he was always able to hold his own though.

"hey break it up!" you hear your teacher shout. the two boys were in their own minds continuously throwing punches at each other. you were still sat at your desk, not really caring for fights between two stupid alpha males.

your teacher somehow manages to pull soobin from yeonjun and hold him back while a friend of yeonjun's holds him back as well. both boys have a good amount of blood on their faces so you can't really tell who won.

"you're fucking weak soobs! that shit barely hurt," yeonjun teases. he has blood trailing down his hairline from when soobin pushed him to the ground and blood on his nose and around his pouty lips. "bold talk for someone who just got their ass beat," soobin spits. he too has blood on his nose and lips but he's also sporting a cut on his cheekbone, yeonjun must've scratched his face.

"enough! yeonjun go to the nurse's room to get fixed up and soobin straight to the principal's office, you'll go to nurse after he's done, you hear me!" your history teacher orders. you watch her look around the room for someone suitable enough to escort yeonjun to the nurse's office.

you silently pray that she doesn't pick on you but seeing as you were the only one not interested in the drama, her eyes fall on you. "y/n please escort yeonjun to the nurse's office, i frankly don't trust him to actually go there on his own."

you curse at her in your mind but stand up anyways. "no problem," you force a light smile.

you and yeonjun leave the class ahead of soobin. as you're walking down the hallway, you glance at yeonjun. he doesn't look angry, if anything he looks calm. "i know i'm hot but stop staring at me," he looks down at you.

you roll your eyes at him. "do you not talk? come to think of it... i didn't even know you were in my class," yeonjun looks at you quizically but with curiosity in his eyes. you know that if you don't answer him he'll keep pestering you. "we've been in the same class for the past four years," you mutter.

you can feel his eyes on you but thankfully he doesn't say anything. while you two are walking through the halls you see a boy on the floor playing with something. "what's that kid doing over there?" yeonjun asks. he's already starting to walk away from you but you grab his sweater.

"sorry yeonjun but our only destination is the nurse's office," you say to him. he looks at you with his eyes narrowed down at where you're grabbing him. you stumble back as he yanks his arm away from your grasp, striding towards the boy. you huff following him.

"hey loser, what you got there?" yeonjun looks down at the boy. the boy turns around with confusion laced on his features. he sighs, "what do you want?" he pouts.

when you reach the boy you recognize him as choi beomgyu. the kid is smart but only when he wants to be. he's in your science class and is always messing around and not actually ever doing the work. either that or he skips class to run off and experiment with random things. he's a nice guy and you sometimes ask him for help during labs since he's probably the smartest kid in your class.

"hey beomgyu, what's up?" you greet him. he turns towards you and smiles warmly. "hey y/n," yeonjun looks between the both of you and rolls his eyes. "what the hell are you doing with one of the baseball teams bats?"

beomgyu moves the bat behind him and glares at yeonjun, "i was just curious as to what makes it so hard-hitting. i've been craving my way into it but can't seem to get too far."

you crouch next to him, "maybe you should've picked up one of the metal ones. i'm pretty sure the wood ones only have wood in them. though i heard they're made with bamboo so," you shrug. beomgyu stares at you silently.

"y-yeah you're probably right...thanks y/n," beomgyu snaps out of his daze and pockets the butterfly knife he was previously using. yeonjun tsks, "cmon y/n, let's go i already lost interest." yeonjun pulls you along as you watch beomgyu wave and head to the auditorium.

"god why did we have to take the long route this is fucking boring," yeonjun complains. you sigh, hoping he'll shut up already. "do you ever not talk?" you ask him. you both are too busy glaring at each other that you don't see when someone bumps into you.

the person drops the pile of books they were holding in their hands. "ah shit," they mumble. you snap out of glaring at yeonjun to see a boy on the floor with books scattered around him. "shit im sorry! i should've been looking at where i was going," you apologize kneeling down to help the boy pick up his books.

"oh don't worry i shouldn't have taken up carrying so many books to the point where i couldn't see!" the boy's voice is so cheerful it makes you smile. you're glad he's not mad at you.

the boy is really cute too. his boyish features suit his face well and his hair is messy but looks like he stylized it that way. he's dressed comfortably in a huge sweater and baggy jeans with a molang keychain attached to one of the belt loops.

"where are you even going with all these books?" you ask. "i offered to take these back to the library for my english teacher, in hindsight i really should've just taken two or three not the whole stack." he chuckles sheepishly. he gets up, picking up as many as he can.

you pick up the rest and set them on top of the already tall stack lightly. "well good luck," you pat the stack in encouragement and it makes him lean forward a bit. he thanks you and makes his way down the hall once again.

you turn to yeonjun who was leaning against the wall watching you. "seeing you being nice to everyone is making me want to choke," he grimaces. "take notes choi."

it felt like forever since you arrived at the nurse's office. walking with yeonjun was really torture to you since he wouldn't shut up about how amazing he thinks he is.

once you walk in you both notice that the nurse isn't at her usual place at the front desk. "she went out to get more ice from the cafeteria," you hear someone speak. you both turn around and see a boy sat on one of the cots the nurse sets up for people who injure themselves.

the boy is kang taehyun, member of the baseball team. "hey tae!" yeonjun greets. taehyun raises his brow and moves the now melted ice bag from his wrist. "what's got you in here?" yeonjun asks sitting on the cot across from taehyun.

"i'd rather you not act like we're friends," taehyun states calmly. "but if you must know, i was practicing my swings and got a little too caught up. i barely noticed that i sprained my wrist." he looks down at his wrist which is slightly swollen.

kang taehyun was the baseball team's most prized possession. they really did cherish him because he was the ace of the team. he always scored home runs and when he was pitching, he always managed to get the batter to strike out. he was really talented no one could deny that. despite his hard work on the field, he was dedicated to his studies and was always at the top of all his classes. you wondered how he felt about spraining possibly the most important part of his body.

"damn, that must suck," yeonjun states, he doesn't sound apologetic at all and you wonder how that guy could have any friends. "im just here to get patched and cleaned up because that dickhead soobin decided this was fight club," he tsks. taehyun chuckles, "hope he knocked some sense into you." yeonjun rolls his eyes.

taehyun finally notices your presence by the front desk and motions you over to them by the cots. he's friendly but not someone you'd normally hang out with. "you don't look hurt?" he chides. you point to yeonjun, "i was asked to bring him here since our teacher didn't trust him to come here and well, actually arrive. since the nurse isn't here im guessing I'll have to stick around in case he tries to escape."

taehyun chuckles, "makes sense."

the room is quiet for a couple of moments, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall. you feel awkward being around two of the biggest names at your school. yeonjun is sprawled out on the cot and taehyun is still cradling his wrist. "uh...when do you think the nurse will be here?" you ask quietly.

taehyun looks up at you, "well when you got here it had been about 15 minutes since she left. she probably took a detour or something?" you nod looking at his wrist once again. "you should probably wrap that in a gauze, it'll help with the swelling," you suggest. he smiles at you, "thanks...uh?"

"y/n"

"right thanks y/n," he stands up and walks over to the cabinet to find the gauze wrap. in the meantime, you turn to yeonjun. it looks like he's sleeping but being in a class with him for 4 years has taught you better. "yeonjun."

he doesn't move. "yeonjun get up, i know you're not sleeping," you try. he sits up with a groan, "what do you want? i barely know you." for some reason you feel rage bubble up inside of you. you're not sure why either. usually, you were fine with not being noticed by the "so-called" popular kids but because of yeonjun, you were stuck in the nurse's office watching over him like a babysitter.

"why the hell did you fight soobin? if it wasn't for you i wouldn't be here talking to you right now," you say through gritted teeth. yeonjun raises an accusing brow at you, "were you not watching the fight? he threw the first punch for fucks sake." "you provoked him," you retort.

"it's not my fault he's dumb, god do i have to take responsibility for that too?" he groans laying back down on the cot. you eye him but decide to leave the conversation at that.

after your mini argument with yeonjun, you see taehyun return with the gauzes already wrapped around his wrist. "this is much better," he smiles down at his wrist. "glad i could help," you smile at him.

silence falls upon you three again until you hear a groan from outside. it doesn't really sound like a groan a human could possibly make, it sounds way to pained and low. "what was that?" taehyun asks. you shrug, "it might be the nurse." you walk over to the door and take a look outside.

the hallways on both sides are dimly lit and desolate. you can't really see down the hall because it just fades to black. you walk back inside the nurse's office. "there's no one out there and honestly, it looks way too cree-," you're cut off as a shrill scream rips through your conversation.

yeonjun sits straight up this time, "what the hell was that?" taehyun's eyes are wide with alarm, "that scream did not sound like a happy scream."

your eyes dart back and forth from yeonjun to taehyun. "i swear when i looked outside there was nothing," you say hurriedly. you're not sure why you feel panicked but you do. "check again," yeonjun tells you. you want to tell him 'no' or 'do it yourself' but you were the one to check first so you figure a second check done by you is only fair.

sighing, you walk to the door once again and look into the halls. for the second time, you don't see anything except for the darkness of the long hallways but you peer further and notice something.

all the way near the end of the hallway you see the nurse running towards her office. "hey i see the nurse," you call out to the boys. they make noises of acknowledgment and you hear yeonjun mumble a 'finally'. you keep watching her but you notice that she's running quite frantically to be considered normal. you don't say anything watching her run towards the office with confusion laced on your face.

that's when you see it. you see a figure running almost at the same speed as her but with more of a limp in their step. that's when you can hear the groaning more clearly but it's not coming from the nurse, its coming from the figure behind her.

the nurse makes the fatal mistake of tripping over her heels because she's running so wildly. her body slides a couple of feet from the door but she struggles to stand. she looks up at you and you can see that she has sweat and blood all over her face and her hair is unruly and matted.

"h-help me please!" she calls out to you. your heart is beating intensely. you don't know why she looks like this but you want to help. "y/n?" you hear taehyun call out to you. "what's going on out there?"

you bite your lip and decide to help her but as soon as you step out of the office the limping figure lurches forward and pounces on the nurse's idle body on the floor. you let out a horrified scream and step back. you can see the 'limping figure' clearer now and it seems to be one of the lunch ladies.

the only thing was that she didn't look the way she did when she served you breakfast this morning. her skin was pale and her veins were strangely very visible throughout her face and arms. her uniform was tattered and ripped as if a struggle of some sort had taken place. her face had deep scratches that had drying blood pouring out of them. her eyes were not warm, they seemed to be greyed out and she seemed very rabid.

you stood there, horrified, as the lunch lady tore through the nurse's clothes and body. you wanted to throw up as a bit of the nurse's blood was unintentionally launched at you. the lunch lady dipped her head down to use her teeth to devour the nurse's flesh in cold blood. you couldn't even rack up a sob.

it was like something out of a horror movie. except this was real life.

before the lunch lady could even finish eating the nurse, you watched as the nurse's body convulsed and thrashed violently before standing up on her own. her head was hung low and she seriously smelled disgusting.

you felt stuck as you watched both women stumble towards you before breaking out in full sprints. you flinched and shut your eyes tightly as you waited for your life to flash before them. it really felt like at any moment you would find yourself being eaten alive and convulsing into whatever monster that was.

but the feeling never came. instead, you felt your body crash against taehyun's on the floor. the only thing you could hear was the door slam shut and the screeching and groaning of whatever the hell those people were outside as they tried to get through the door.

you opened your eyes slowly and noticed that yeonjun was to one to slam the door shut, it seems like taehyun had pulled you inside.

taehyun groaned, moving to stand, "what the hell was that?" you shook your head, now having time to process what you saw. "she ate her...s-she- her body," you couldn't even finish explaining as you broke out in tears. taehyun ran a soothing hand up and down your back.

yeonjun moved away from the door. there was a tiny window on the door so you guys could see that the monsters were still trying to get in. "what the hell are we gonna do! if we go outside they'll tear us to shreds!" yeonjun too had tears streaming down his face. you have to admit you'd never seen him so vulnerable.

taehyun was the only one not crying. you could see tears in his wide eyes but they never fell. you figured he was trying to be the strong stable one in the group right now. "ok guys lets calm down. we don't know if we're the only people alive so we need to be careful." taehyun explains.

you do really feel bad for him right now. you know he's a year younger than you and yeonjun and him having to be the 'leader' at this moment must be tough.

he sighs looking at the both of you. "if we wanna make it out of here alive...we're gonna have to fight."

#txt #txt fic #tomorrow x together #choi yeonjun #choi soobin #choi beomgyu #txt x reader #kang taehyun #hueningkai #huening kai #yeonjun fic #txt imagines #txt scenarios #soobin fic #beomgyu fic #taehyun fic #hueningkai fic #txt fluff #imagines #yeonjun imagines #soobin imagines #beomgyu imagines #taehyun imagines #hueningkai imagines

[angelicmichael]

Willow

Michael Langdon x reader

Summary: Reader, who is a witch (not tied to the og coven) is best friends with Michael. They decide to spend Valentines day together in outpost three. Based on this post, and the 'willow' music video by Taylor Swift.

Words: 3.0k+

Warnings: mentions of rituals/covens (its vague tho), slow burn, light angst, mutual pining, gross fluff, plot heavy and VERY descriptive I'm sorry dhdhd, valentines day fic, mentions of food, friends to lovers

A/N: yall rlly liked my last Michael blurb so I made this kinda similar!! Also the idea of witch! Reader not being tied to the og coven is NOT my idea, others have done it before - I just did it cause it made sense w the music video this fic is based off of ✌🏻. This is mostly me self indulging ngl so if the fic doesnt make sense that's why haha. The v beginning is like Sojourn! Era and then the rest of the fic is somewhere between fire & reign and outpost era. this fic is rlly just me trying to say happy early mf valentines day !! 💖💖 okay bye

February 14th was always a day you dreaded; The idea and concept of a whole fucking holiday being dedicated to just love.. really put a bitter taste in your mouth. In your opinion, it was just a reason for couples to show a disgusting amount of PDA and get away with it.

However; due to a incredibly corny and cliché situation you found yourself in; you now were seeing the incoming holiday in a different light. When you thought of the holiday.. You first thought of Michael. Michael Langdon.

Meeting Michael at all was a complete accident - You met months ago in fall; on a dark cloudy night. Every detail from that evening was etched and woven into your mind as if it had just happened yesterday; and you could only hope that it would remain that way forever. After all; that was the night when you had met your favorite person. You even remembered the weather.. The bitterness of the cold wind making it seem as if it was seconds from storming.

You were part of a small coven which was meeting due to a full moon, it was a rather mundane and basic ritual you were preforming. One of which you had preformed more times you could even count on your fingers.. However; what made that ritual special is that your coven happened to be recruiting.

Full black outfits, including thin, long cloaks is what everyone wore to the occasion.. After everything was over and done with; you went to leave - the bitter coldness of the night urging you to leave rather quickly.

However; something.. almost a invisible force made you stop walking away from the crowd and made you physically stop. You slowly stopped walking; and turned around. You sharply gasped when you saw a figure directly in front of you - wearing a dark ensemble that matched yours nearly identically.

Immediately you grew weary. A sharp, nauseated feeling started to manifest inside of you.

"Were you following me"? You spoke with your voice raised, your hands which previously fell loosely at your side were starting to curl into fists.

You could feel yourself getting defensive. You quickly flicked your eyes over at the other coven members - making sure you weren't causing a scene; not wanting to draw attention to the situation until it grew necessary.

"Yes, but.. look. I just wanted to talk to you.. away from the others". The boy stated.

You bit your lip to suppress a groan. You rolled your eyes, not really caring that he could see how bothered you were.

"Fine. But c'mon, make it quick". You said, not trying to hide the irritation in your voice.

You turned around and walked a few feet away from the crowd, not looking back but merely expecting him to follow you. You were expecting he was just another newbie with dumb questions, or needed clarification on something.

You turned to talk to him, and that's when you noticed something you about him you seemed to overlook earlier - his beauty. You were completely taken aback and breath taken. Light blue eyes met your gaze as you stared blankly at him; momentarily stunned. He looked beyond ethereal; his pale cheeks flushed a light pink from the cold and his blonde hair looked as if it could be spun from gold. It was almost like he could sense how you were suddenly taken aback.. A smug smirk played on his lips; if you didn't know any better you would say he almost seemed cocky.

"There's something about you that's different from the others. I could sense it". He stated.

"How"? You stuttered.

You watched as he took a couple steps toward you and in one quick swoop, pushed the hood of his cloak fully back. He got even closer but you didn't dare move. You watched him curiously as he turned to the side, pushing his blonde locks of hair out of the way to show you something behind his ear.. Your blood instantly went cold once you saw three sixes; however you weren't scared. In fact you were really the first person that Michael met that didn't practically faint when they saw his mark. Looking back; you supposed that's why you and Michael bonded so quickly and became so close.

It didn't take long for him after that to confine in you that people either avoided him or became obsessed once they knew; both reactions ultimately stemming from fear. You were the first person to look past that and to just see him as a actual human being - not just a vessel for some fucked up prophecy to play out.

Even though Michael's beauty was undeniable to you; the relationship you two had was strictly platonic.. and in the past that was never something that bothered you. You supposed that he was tired of people throwing themselves at his feet and what he really needed more than anything was a friend - so you chose to be that for him, not daring to try and test the boundaries your relationship had.

However; the boundaries were seemingly starting to come down naturally - because your relationship wasnt entirely platonic anymore. Things between you two weren't exactly black and white as they used to be; a great example of this, was how you two were planning on spending Valentines Day together.

You and Michael agreed to spend it as friends. Neither of you had a date and spending Valentines alone when you had Michael seemed redundant.. and honestly just boring. Instead of making Valentines day an all day event; it started for you two as a 'date' at 6 pm.

In order to avoid having to confront putting a label on your.. situationship, the venue for your lavish Valentines date was at a more.. private venue. He only gave you a address and instructions, you didn't really know what exactly to expect but you knew you weren't going to his house. It was somewhere new.

It was nearly six pm, the sun had just set - leaving the sky a shade somewhere between navy blue and pure black. The air was cold on your skin as you stepped out of the car, wondering where the hell you even were.

The area you found yourself in was completely bare and void of any trees, the only object or building you saw was a giant, black, metal structure. The instructions Michael gave you had told you about this but.. seeing it in person was merely jarring, oddly unsettling. You approached it, trying to ignore the nerves and anxiety you could feel creeping in.

You couldn't help but wonder what the hell this place was and why out of all the places you two could have a 'date', it would have to be here?

As you stood in front of an elevator - stepping in, you felt very reluctant to do so. It definitely felt a bit weird that Michael wanted to meet you in such a secluded place but.. he was your best friend. He would never hurt you.. especially on valentines day.. Right?

The doors opened and you slowly stepped out, immediately taken back. You were now in a oval room, with a long hallway stretching out. You first quickly scanned your surroundings for Michael but, he wasnt here. Not in your line of vision anyway. You nearly forgot you were here for Michael at all for a second. The interior was breathtaking; resembling a old, Victorian style mansion. Even though you were still utterly confused; Michaels reasoning for choosing this venue was starting to become more clear to you.

It was the cozy, romantic vibe the 'house' seemed to radiate. The dim lighting also amplified this affect; seemingly giving everything in sight a subtle golden glow, otherwise everything remained relatively dark. You walked through the building; down hallways, looking for any sounds of life at all. Your witchy senses didn't always work on Michael, so you didn't even bother to try to use those. He was right about how you were powerful but, his powers still outshone yours unfortunately.

You finally heard something, something faint; soft music playing distantly in the background. You followed it swiftly, the music getting louder and louder until you found him - in what appeared to be the library.

The room was immense; books were lined on shelves that bordered the room. Couches, along with a decent sized fireplace and chandelier - and of course a record player, also resided in the library. Playing a tune that sounded similar but you couldn't quite remember what it was.. whatever it was, it sounded old and romantic - maybe from the 50s.

"Your not very good at hiding, you know. The music was a dead giveaway". You commented playfully.

Michael greeted you with a smirk, obviously holding back laughter. He stood up from one of the couches; approaching you. He looked incredibly handsome in the normal black ensemble he was wore but tonight he sported a long black coat. Making you fondly nostalgic of the night you two met.

He got dangerously close to you, almost in your face but you weren't intimidated. Plus, you knew he wasnt trying to actually intimidate you. Michael being the way he was; you knew he wouldn't have asked you to spend Valentines with him if he didn't tolerate you in some way.

"Its a good thing I wasnt trying to hide then, is it"? He spoke; his eyes pierced into yours.

The direct eye contact was starting to get unnerving and so was the.. apparent tension. You took a step back, looking away and laughing awkwardly - trying to remind yourself you two were strictly friends. Best friends, in fact. Nothing more.. and nothing less.

"So.. what even is this place? You don't own this or something.. do you"? You asked, slyly changing the topic.

"Actually I do. It's being saved for something I have in the works; but nothing's official yet. I wanted to get your opinion though.. what do you think"? Michael asked.

Even though you absolutely loved, whatever the hell this place even was, something.. felt off. Perhaps it was the fact it was completely secluded and private. Too private. You knew Michael was into some weird shit with the Satanists but; you figured he would atleast tell you by now if he was planning on something big with them.. Something that would require a huge fucking mansion underground.

"This place is beautiful, Michael. But what is it for"?

"Your too eager for your own good, (y/n). You will know in due time, I promise; but for now.. come sit with me".

He gently grabbed your wrist and guided you over to one of the bare, black couches; you followed - sitting next to him.

The hours continuing were filled with incredibly cheesy gestures that you only rolled your eyes at, and teased him for. The first being a few small, pink flowers he had conjured up and then tucked into your hair. At first you really thought nothing of it, they were just pretty flowers. However; you knew due to Michael's nature that he didn't just so happen to come across those flowers, he summoned them purposefully - specifically for you.. You didn't bother to try and hide how flustered this made you.

"Those are beautiful; what are they"? You asked, gesturing to the flowers.

"Thought you'd never ask. Wild roses. They hold many meanings; most agree they represent both love, suffering, beauty.. life. They're even said to protect the living from the dead".

You couldn't help but to laugh at his explanation.

"Will they protect me from you? You know your not exactly human yourself". You teased.

The corner of Michael's lips slid into a slow smile, one that you couldn't quite decipher whether it was an ironic or genuine gesture.

You nearly jumped at how quickly one of Michael's hands suddenly slid up into your hair; seemingly picking out one of the petals that had fallen from one of the flowers - he retracted his hand, holding onto the petal.

"No. Your going to need something stronger than that to keep me away". He said playfully, before crushing the already wilted petal in his hand - letting it fall carelessly to ground.

You could only roll your eyes.

Next came the food and well.. you were beyond impressed. Your not certain exactly how he managed to get your favorite food down who knows how many feet underground, but.. he did. And it was perfect.

You were both pretty quiet during that time; Michael didn't really have a reason to be but you couldn't help but to get lost within your thoughts. Sure; you two were best friends but.. that didn't necessarily warrant him to do all of this for you. Was it possible that he felt.. something else, like you did?

You couldn't help but to shut that thought down as quick as it came; that had to just be you projecting. There was no way in hell he could love you back..

Wait.. love?

It was like a involuntary reflex the way you suddenly jolted up and backed away from the table. Even though it was just a thought, the fact you just admitted to yourself that you loved him.. What the fuck did that even mean?

Michael looked startled at well, you could tell by the color of his knuckles that he now had a death grip on his silverware. His icy, blue eyes matched yours with a startled gaze.. As if he was trying to contemplate your next move or to get a good read on you. You were more than well acquainted with Michael's powers by now; you knew how he had the ability to read minds and that's partially why you found yourself, slowly at first, starting to take steps away from him. Wanting desperately to get the fuck away from him. You knew that if Michael even suspected what you were thinking or how you felt, that your friendship could possibly be over. That would be it, he would want absolutely nothing to do with you. You would be no better than the dozens of women and even men that threw themselves at Michael; Maybe even worse.

You made it down a random hallway until you found yourself physically colliding into him - fucking transmutation.

You felt a sudden urge to just turn around to try and escape again but you knew he wouldn't let you. Instead you let yourself be captive, you let him hold you. Gently encasing you into a hug. It was painful how hard you were trying to hold back your tears - blindly running away was already embarrassing enough, letting him see you cry would be too much.. Too much for one night, anyways. You felt him let go of you - stepping back a little bit in order to make eye contact with you.

"What has gotten into you-" He started.

"Michael- I'm so sorry but I just need to go. We can talk about this tomorrow but for now I just really need to be alone-"

You tried to turn around in order to make another (more calm) attempt at leaving but you felt something grab at your wrist, yet again. His grasp, along with his hand were achingly soft. You hated how much you enjoyed him making physical contact with you - even if it was something just as docile as this. You also couldn't help but to hate the spark of electricity you felt when his skin touched yours - and you couldn't help but to wonder whether he felt it too.

"No. I need to know what I did wrong. I'm not letting us end today like this". Michael said, his voice was strained with emotion.

His words were spoken urgently, his voice unsteady and even threatening to break.. That's when you knew you completely fucked up. He totally misinterpreted your actions.. the sudden realization hit you, piercing your heart like a knife.

"No, your right. Can we sit"? You asked.

He let go of your wrist coldly, sauntering out of the hallway you two were in. You would be lying if you were to admit that his sudden cold actions didn't hurt you; it definitely stung but you couldn't help to feel in this moment that you kind of deserved it.

The walk over was quiet and even a bit awkward. When you two sat; he looked at you expectedly.. waiting for you to talk first and explain your sudden, impulsive actions.

"It wasnt you.. that's not why I tried to leave at all, Michael. You did everything right. I mean that's really the 'problem', even though calling it a problem still isn't the right word but.." You paused before carrying on.

"What you did tonight for me was perfect, and I'm so thankful for that, truly. But I just feel like I'm starting to interpret your actions in a different way than in which you mean them and that's not fair to you. I know you just want a friend-" Your words continuously came out faster the longer you spoke, you were completely rambling at this point but Michael stopped you.

"Hey, stop". He said softly.

You felt as if you were dreaming when you saw him start to move closer to you.. it happened so quickly it almost felt fake. Michael gently pushed you back onto the couch, so that you were basically laying down flat on your back. You pulled him back with you so that he was on top, your hands automatically going to his shoulders.. feeling the sudden urge to yank his black top off and to feel his skin under your palms. The feeling was tempting; you could feel how hot his skin was even with his shirt on. You assumed your hands were cold by the way Michael shivered and even groaned when you touched him, that had to be the only logical explanation for him acting like that..

The manner in which he bent down, his lips getting closer and closer to yours was nothing but diabolic. He stopped until the point where his lips were just ghosting above yours - maybe only really a mere centimeter away from touching. It felt entirely far too tempting to just - barely tilt your head forward and stop whatever game your friend Langdon was trying to play, but.. you didnt. In reality; the teasing was far too delicious for you to want it to end so soon.

"Who said I just wanted to be friends"? He whispered.

You could taste his breath as he spoke, you felt trapped.. But if you were to be honest with yourself, you wouldn't rather spend Valentines Day any other way than in this manner.. Trapped with your absolute favorite person, with nothing else in the world to do but to get lost in each other.

His lips roughly collided with yours with such passion that you really haven't ever felt before. It threw you off guard for a moment, but you figured there was no sense in shying from it. You had been craving to be loved by him for so long; craving for him to touch you like this and now that it was finally happening.. you only relaxed and embraced the feeling.

Time slipped away from you far too quickly but after all; time didn't really feel real at all when you were underground in a bunker. No windows or clocks to help ground you back into reality..

You knew it was atleast passed midnight now; hours had passed and you two were now residing in one of the random rooms that you had come to learn was of 'Outpost Three'. It was apparent how careful he was with his words when he told you about the place; almost like he didn't want to tell you too much. He told you most of everything, like the cooperative and how this building was for some type of event that would be taking place in the summer but you didn't probe farther. You knew he would tell you in all due time.

You two were lying on a random, spare bed. It was luxurious and dangerously soft, but if you were honest - the sheets almost seemed scratchy in comparison to Michaels bare skin. Your head wasnt on a pillow but instead on Michael's bare chest, his rhythmic heart beat nearly lulling you to sleep. Almost putting you in some type of odd trance.

You both watched the movie that was playing on his laptop; propped up on a few sparse pillows at the end of the bed. Although you really weren't trying to keep up with what was happening or what the actors were even saying. Instead, you chose to be fully present with Michael, almost entranced in his presence. You two weren't talking but, just being surrounded by him - feeling his fingers lazily playing with your hair was heaven to you.

You still felt as if you were in a dream. After all in what timeline would you ever be so lucky to call someone like Michael, yours?? Even though you two weren't exactly official, you really didn't mind at this moment. Labels only seemed to really complicate things and in your opinion; you felt more than privileged to just sit here entangled with Michael, and to escape the rest of reality for a while.

Taglist: @mina672 @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon

#michael x reader #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon fanfiction #ahs fanfiction #my fic #i hope yall like this 🥺 its kinda odd i feel like but.. idk. im proud of the ending lmao #will post to ao3 in a few hours or so #lemme know if u would like to be on the taglist #I almost cut out the backstory of how they met but i just feel like it overall adds to the fic?? #ALSO the timing of this fic is probably not accurate at all like canon wise loll but idc

[softomi]

HQ Characters as NIKI songs and lyrics. 

Friends - Bokuto Kotarou 

You trade my promises for your feelings, we’ve gone too far to turn back

We should try to coexist, should have never even crossed the line

Can’t fall in love with somebody like you, I’m not meant for somebody like you

Akaashi once told you that Bokuto was the type to fall hard; when he tripped he’d tumble harder and faster than you had ever seen anyone do. But what you didn’t know was that Akaashi meant love; Bokuto was the type to stumble into love. His feet would tangle over his own and he would fall, he’d fall hard. Like cold waves crashing into him to wake him up, when the dust settled, when the fog disappeared; all he saw was you.

He pulled the blanket to cover your shoulder, his arm tucked under your head, he was on cloud nine. He grinned throughout the night. The lack of sleep didn’t bother him, seeing you covered in his sheets was worth the sleepless night. He was just heading out the front door when you walked out his bedroom, the blanket wrapped around your body as you were shuffling to grasp your clothes.

He couldn’t help himself, footsteps trudging themselves to you, “Morning beautiful.”

His hands trailed your arms, cupping your cheeks; you pull away, “Kou.” You’re looking at him, “I hope you know that last night wasn’t anything romantic.”

“Oh.” The smile on his face falters for a moment, “Then what was it?”

You’re pulling his sheets to keep them covering yourself, “We were both drunk.” He wasn’t, and you knew too well that you weren’t, “It was just purely physical, let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.”

Your walking back to his room with his heart already in your hands.

Let’s pretend it didn’t happen. It was thrown out the window the moment you decided to go back to his place that night. The jacket you had forgotten from the previous night suddenly dropped back onto its place on his couch. Fingers tugging against his hair, his lips pressing kisses against your skin; as he breathed against your shoulder, you were too aware of the line being crossed.

It was absolutely dreadful, he was the worse at pretending things didn’t happen. His hands were on your waist, when Akaashi noticed the action, you were quick to swat the man’s hand off. Akaashi raised a brow, you tried to brush it off; waving a hand to dismiss the action, trying to play it as Bokuto’s friendly manner.

“Don’t you think you’re making a mistake?” Akaashi sips his coffee, he was quick to question you once Bokuto left to the bathroom.

You’re smiling innocently, “I don’t know what you mean Keiji.”

He takes a deep sigh, “He’s chosen to sit next to you which he rarely does, don’t think I didn’t see how he was touching you by the waist, and don’t get me started on how he’s staring ‘lovingly’ at you every chance he gets.” Akaashi takes another sip from his cup, “Also, he told me about your little adventure that happened last weekend; you can’t trust him to keep a secret.”

You run a hand across your face, “It’s okay. We promised that it wouldn’t amount to anything.” Albeit, promises were made when you were on top of him.

“I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.” You’re suddenly uncomfortable because the way Akaashi looks at you, the way his eyes narrowed with his statement; it was not you he was worried about.

Newsflash - Oikawa Tooru

Go be someone else’s hangover

Newsflash, I can do better you.

Mr. Casanova won’t you, save your intrigue and all your techniques

It was absolutely annoying, he was always accidentally bumping into you; as if he was trying to do a meet-cute. The flirtatious smile on his lips as he hit you with another line, there was even a moment when he had reused a line he had said to you a month earlier. It was incredibly revolting the way other girls practically fell to his feet.

He was no superstar in your mind, he neither the knight in shining armor nor the prince many girls claimed him to be. In fact, you knew too well that his hunting ground mainly consisted of girls from different schools; he was clever enough to keep it all on the downlow. But the moment he laid eyes on you, he was intrigued.

“Well, what a coincidence.” He’s cheeky, throwing you a peace sign as he nears you.

You barely give him a glance, “Not really a coincidence when our classes are right next to each other.” While you weren’t interested in any romantic relationship with him, he was still interesting to talk to.

He’s pulling into the seat in front of you, he always claimed it until it was time to leave for his class, “So, what are you doing this weekend?” His fingers dance upon your notebook, trying to draw your attention to him.

“Not spending it with you.” You don’t look up from your notes, “Perhaps you could find another girl; maybe the one that’s been hanging on your arm this week.” You finally bring your eyes to meet his, “Your girlfriend, right?”

He hums, the tip of his finger touching against your nose, “I was thinking we could go see a movie.” His arms fall over your study material, “at my place? I have the comfiest bed in the world.”

Your elbow leaned onto the desk, your chin resting on your palm, “Do the other girls fall for that?”

“What other girls?” The moment your lips start spouting his previous partners, he’s pressing a finger to your lips, “Please, they’re nothing compared to you.”

“Oh Mr. Casanova.” The sarcastic tone in your voice bites him, “I will never go out with you.”

That never stops him; it only eggs him on. Even with the girl attached to his arm, he still stares at you in the halls. He still brushes his hand against your thigh when he walks by; he still presses himself against you in the library to grab that book you needed, his hand lingering on your hip.

“You’re making it too obvious, love.” He whispers in between bookshelves, “You’re falling for me.”

The book in your hand smacks against his head when you turn, your tongue pokes out at him, “In your dreams, Romeo.” He follows the way your hips move across the library, your hand dragging across the back of your boyfriend; your eyes locked on his as you kiss the man.

Lowkey - Suna Rintarou

Be as quiet as you can, cause if anyone see’s they’ll just blow shit up

You ain’t even gotta lo, lo, lo, lo, lo, lo, lo, love me

Be discreet, gotta dodge all the tabloids

The party was winding down, the last of the alcohol barely keeping people entertained; you knew that when Osamu and the girl volunteered to get more drinks, it meant they weren’t going to come back. Many were already passed out on the couches, your eyes lingering onto the male across from you. For someone so quiet, he was a heavy drinker. After a while, it was just the two of you awake; it was just the two of you making out over the small coffee table.

It was discrete, the back of his hand pushing you more into him; the taste of alcohol still on his tongue. Your hands on the table, holding yourself enough to not disrupt the shot glasses on the hardwood. But the stirring of the male behind you makes you both halt. He was so inviting, his pinkie dragging yours along as you two abandoned the living room; opting for a bedroom.

He’s hushing you, despite his usual slow demeanor; he wasted no time pulling you onto his lap, “Be quiet.” He’s covering your mouth, the knock at the door makes you two turn.

“Suna?” The male on the other side is drawing his words out, “Hey, did you see y/n leave? I swear I saw her just a second ago.”

Yeah, you were pressing kisses onto his neck; your tongue drawing circles over his collarbone, “Yeah, she went home.” The sound of a door shutting makes him relax, “If you don’t want them to blow this out of proportion, you’re going to need to keep quiet.” Even in bed, he wasn’t much of a talker; but you on the other hand, he keeps your sounds low with his mouth over yours.

He snuck you out the morning after, it wasn’t much sneaking as the boys of the apartment were still unconscious. It’s just like him to let you leave on your own, no attachment, in fact; he enjoyed watching you walk out the building in your clothes from the night before.

“So who was it?” All the heads turned to you, your eyes fell on Suna; he wasn’t even a tad interested in the conversation, “I saw you doing the walk of shame.” Osamu looks at every male at the table, “You slept with someone at this table.”

You’re feigning confusion, “I honestly don’t know what you mean Samu. I left during the night, maybe you saw someone who looked like me?”

“Just because you did the walk of shame doesn’t mean you have to drag others in too.” Suna interjects, the men in the group all hum in agreement. Osamu is dumbfounded as he begins a defense for his argument.

Your phone vibrates in the middle of his monologue. Let’s get out of here. It’s unnoticeable, the wink he sends you when you look at him.

“Suna and I need to prepare for our psychology exam.” You’re waving your phone at Osamu, “You can text me your little rant.” The two cell phones vibrate against Suna’s desk, your head buried into his pillow; you feel like your teeth might shatter if you continue to keep quiet.

I Like You - Kita Shinsuke 

You wanted fun, I served you threats.

Ladies and gentlemen, I’m the joke; the punchline they got too old.

It’s so typical for me to fall for your kind.

It wasn’t every day that you got to see him; he only came to the cities every few months or so to deliver rice to Onigiri Miya. It was how you met him; during a particularly lively employee dinner that Osamu insisted he join, the cute rice farmer offered you a ride home. Only, he ended up staying the night; pushing you into the sheets as you gasp for air. He hadn’t left a cell number or any contact information; he only insisted he’d see you next time.

From the time in between, you pestered Osamu to give you little details about his high school friend. The small facts he gave you made your heart flutter, it made you crave him more. When he arrived the next month, he lingered in the restaurant past closing; Osamu bid him farewell, leaving the two of you to close shop for the night. The shop’s light was still on until the middle of the night.

“I like you.” You whispered against his lips, he stopped. His eyes stared into you, almost like he wasn’t sure if he was hearing right. You laugh, your arms wrapping around his neck, “I’m joking.”

Your smile faltered as he lifted you, somehow that night wasn’t like the others. The pleasure mixed with sadness; his lips tasted more like poison than it did sweetness. Your mind jaded, he was noticing your lack of enthusiasm.

“Are you okay?” His concern made your eyes snap to him.

A sigh leaving your lips as you sat up, your hands grasping onto your sheets, “Yeah. I don’t think I’m feeling it tonight.”

“Okay.” He was apathetic, even as he pressed a kiss onto your forehead, it was infuriating.

Two months pass from the day you last confessed. For two months, you cursed yourself out. You promised to never see him again; but the moment he stepped back into the restaurant, the moment the rice farmer laid eyes on you; you knew you couldn’t resist.

It was like time had gone back, the same events happened from the first night. The employee dinner, the offer ride home, the entrance into your bedroom. Your nails dug into his back, the ringing of your cell phone was drowned out by your voice bouncing off the walls.

“Do you know if Kita’s ever dated?” You looked at your boss.

Osamu shrugs, “I guess I’ve never seen or heard about him dating. He’s kind of a private guy.” Osamu turns to you, “Why? Are you interested?”

You flush, “Maybe.”

His words would later echo in your head as Kita presses love bites on your chest.

Pretty sure he’s seeing someone in the cities; why else would he deliver ten bags of rice every month.

You’re pulling him up, sloppy kisses on his lips, you’re grinning; he was just so beautiful.

#haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #oikawa x reader #suna x reader #kita x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #bokuto #oikawa #suna #kita #bokuto koutarou #oikawa toru #suna rintarou #kita shinsuke #hq

[anti-porn-unicorn]

I’m a girl (18 now) who got exposed/addicted to pornography at a really young age, and I wanted to share my specific story on this blog so that the platform can get it out there.

Under the cut is my full story, and it’s a little long winded, so if you don’t want to read the whole thing, I bolded in purple the general topic/idea of that section. Just look for whichever of those interests you and the section will be about that. The first and last paragraph are good for context and end goal, though.

Thank you.

I don't fully remember my first exposure to porn. I know I was in third grade (6-7 yrs old, I had skipped a grade). The reason I had wanted to share my story, in fact, is because I don't see many stories with circumstances similar to mine. Most I see have at least one of the following 'modifiers', for want of a better word. Most I see have at least one of the following 'modifiers', for want of a better word. Most I see have at least one of the following 'modifiers', for want of a better word. 1. The person is a victim of CSA/grooming. 2. The person was at a generally pubescent age (~11-14). And/or 3. The person experienced porn as a quick disturbance. To be clear, these stories are as valid and important as mine, and I simply think more perspectives make evidence of the effects of porn more airtight. I've never been the victim of SA, harassment, or grooming, ever in my life. My story shows the effects of exclusively porn.

The first memory I can recall about this was actually the first time I got caught. I was 6 yrs old, and very into video games,so on this day, I was playing a 3D porn game on my crappy hand-me-down laptop. I kind of knew that what I was doing wasn't acceptable, so I was sitting in my room in the corner as far from my door as possible. My mom walked in so I just slammed the laptop shut because I wasn't that good at hiding things. My mom obviously asked what I was doing, and I tried to keep her from looking, but it was right there when she reopened it. This is where the battle of it begins.

From ages 6-14 I don't have a good timeline of events but a few pop out that exemplify the severity of the issue. These are very probably out of order.

I got an iPod Touch for Christmas (~6-7), and every night I would watch porn on it until they caught on. I literally still remember some names of the sites, most that don't even exist anymore. My parents have always been amazingly caring. I couldn't ask for more. During the earlier ages (~6-8) I was put with a child therapist for fear of a deeper issue. My parents started either taking technology away in the night and/or setting restrictions on the internet. Unfortunately, between my slight tech-savvy, and my crazed addiction at this point, this wasn't a solution.

The addiction got DEEP. It warped my brain. When I had no technology, I used everything I could find.

Whenever I had access to less restricted internet, I used it. Once I asked my older cousin to use her iPod and watched it on there.(she noticed and told my mom. I remember my mom had asked me "Is there anything you need to tell me?", and I knew what she meant, but I just said "nope!" and walked away. At one point my dad's work provided him with a Blackberry, and I asked him could I play one of the built in little games. Once I had it, I watched porn. (when I gave it back to him he pressed the "back" button, and I was caught.)

I used Youtube. This was when YouTube was way less moderated (back when the app was a little old timey TV). I learned I could look up "striptease" and "nip-slip" and other stuff like that, finding more soft-core videos that could suffice when the internet in general was locked down.

I straight-up found out ways to disable the restrictions. Once I found out my mom's PIN for the controls, I went and disabled them, but changed the PIN so it would look like they were still on, and so that she couldn’t access and re-enable them. (I made it 7399. Spells "sexy". My mind was a mess.)

My parents bought a book called "The Classical Tradition". I'm just learning now as I'm looking it up that it was a Harvard Reference Library book (probably why it was so damn thick) about ancient Greek and Roman culture. I didn't know that. I had realized that sprinkled throughout the book there were pages that were more glossy than the rest, which you could see from the sides of the pages (the book was HUGE). These were the photo paper, which had the classical paintings and sculptures. And because these had nudity (Think "The Birth of Venus" type) I would regularly flip through this book when I needed a "fix". Absurd.

My parents got me an American Girl book that was made to ease worries about the developmental years. The pages on breast development / the anatomy of the vagina were what I looked at the most. When my parents had gotten me the child therapist, there was the logical fear that I might have been molested. The therapist gave me a book where there was a page with two cartoon mice, a boy and a girl. They were wearing swimwear/underwear and the point of that was "anywhere the clothing is covering is somewhere that adults can't touch you without telling.” They might as well have been stick figures, there was NO detail. But since they were in ‘underwear’ I'd always look at that page a lot. Anything barely vaguely sexual.

During this part of my life, I got no real pleasure out of this, I was just obsessed. For the first year I even watched it on mute out of fear of being caught. The lowest point during this period was when I very unfortunately filmed a video of me touching myself. I got nothing out of it and had no intent on ever sending or posting it. I was just emulating what I had been seeing. I deleted it the next day. I was 9 then.

From puberty until now (11-18) is when my sexuality was shaped by it. The addiction was far more controllable, I could spend a couple weeks to a couple months without it, but I'd always come back. Because it was now tied to my body. And while my need for it to be constant was gone, now I had to deal with the tolerance issue.

Over time what I watched became more and more depraved. I had the personal preference of hating anything amateur, because of the low quality, so I managed to avoid anything obviously non-consensual or involving visibly underaged girls, but that doesn't really mean much with the stuff the studios were putting out. During the middle points it got REALLY violent and disturbing. Bordering on torture (extreme kink) and even bodily deformation. As a young woman, I couldn't really tolerate any of the role based Kinks (father-daughter, babysitter, schoolgirl), so more extreme for me meant more extreme acts. Just absolute destruction of women's bodies for the purposes of sex. I moved away from that when tumblr banned porn and I started using reddit for it, and also during that time I was realizing how fucked up of an addiction that this was, even before I found feminism/anti-porn. I actively started trying to quit it, for good. But I always went back.

One big effect is heavy confusion with my sexual orientation. A lot of people face this, but the addition of porn for me really throws things off. Like: Am I bi, and a form of comphet/denial/inexperience keeps me from seeing women in a romantic way? Is it a mix of that and porn? (relatively likely) Or am I just straight, and the porn has completley shaped my mind (likely). 90% of the time I watched solo female content or lesbian content, and could only stand to watch certain specific forms if it included men at all. In real life I find a fair amount of men attractive but their bodies in a sexual sense are tolerable at best, but usually cringe inducing. l've never been attracted to a woman romantically, but exclusively women's bodies are sexual to me. It feels like everything in my brain that I would have been able to use in order to figure myself out has been permanently overwritten with incorrect information. Because of porn.

I've still got it bad. Every once in a while, I’ll read something vaguely sexual, or see a woman in a risque photo, and then the seed is planted. I'll always say "I'm not going to do it, I always feel disgusting after, it’s not even really enjoyable at this point, I can do better than this”. I always give in the end of the night. I'm 7 days off of it. I've been on this earth for 18 years. 12 of those years I've been cripplingly addicted to pornography. Two thirds of my life, and for as long as I can remember. I can never undo it. Just like an alcoholic will always be an alcoholic, only able to achieve remission, I will always be a porn addict. I have to be careful. But I have to hope for the future. And with finding the community that is speaking the truth about this, I'm heartened to do better. To no longer be held down by an addiction to consuming my own oppression.

#thank you for sharing #you’re not alone in this #I’m glad you escaped the addiction! #submission

[neokad]

Phantasy Star II - The 1989 JRPG that could

(This post is dedicated to @kuukigajan, my best friend, whom motivated me to post here again, so... I hope you'll enjoy this!)

This game. This freaking game.

I'm gonna say it right now: this post will contain massive spoilers about pretty much everything in Phantasy Star 2's story, so if you do plan on experiencing this game fresh, I strongly advise you to not read this post at all beyond the first paragraph, but... here's the gist of it: Phantasy Star II is one of the most important and groundbreaking JRPGs of its time, and I just did not believe this game was from 1989, at ALL. For that and a few other reasons, it has become one of my new favourite games of all time <3 

In fact, I do want to start with the one big flaw of this adventure so that I can just gush about everything else that's brilliant about PSII. I have to be honest: the dungeon design in this game is horrible. Now to be fair, it does make the many places you visit more memorable, but well... there's a rumor floating around that an actual trainee made the layouts for the dungeons - and since this game was a bit rushed for the Genesis's launch, the devs just didn't have time to replace the... stuff he submitted. And let me tell you, this rumor makes sense: PSII's dungeons are too big, too maze-like, too confusing and also FILLED with strong enemies. And in a game where you don't get a way to save anywhere until the midway point, it can make your adventure very frustrating and potentially grindy because of that... Now I wouldn't say that PSII's nearly as bad in this area as say, the original version of Dragon Warrior or ironically the first Phantasy Star, but the dungeons can totally make you feel like the game's harder than it actually is, at least without a map.

Thankfully, you should never feel bad for using any maps or guides with this game! The execs at SEGA at the time made the very smart decision to include a walkthrough with each copy of the game, including maps, tips, secrets and more! Said guide does encourage youto not look at it as much as possible but... it's totally fair to just use this, without any shame!

And that is a great thing, because... with you armed with this piece of paper, Phantasy Star II can finally show you its actual brilliance.

The game's plot starts off a thousand years after the events of the first Phantasy Star game. Since Alis and her party defeated Dark Force, the inhabitants of the Algol solar system - and its three planets of Palma, Motavia and Dezolis - have enjoyed relative peace. However, at a (to my knowledge) unknown point in time, a computer entity known as Mother Brain has started imposing itself onto mostly Motavia. This, over time, has actually given many benefits to the region: the once deserted wasteland was given rain, water and crops, so that it could finally host viable, comfortable civilizations. The citizens that lived here could finally ditch their (arguably) nomadic, harsh lives in favor of comfort, pleasant weather and more. And most importantly, Mother Brain allowed its citizens, save for a few, to ditch their current jobs and live a life of laziness, without any obligations or pressure to do anything other than well, existence. This is reflected many times during the game through NPC dialogue, too!

It is on such a setting that our protagonist, Rolf, wakes up from a strange nightmare. In it, we see Alis batting Dark Force and struggling in doing so, but as soon as he realizes this, Rolf wakes up in cold sweat. He then proceeds to calm his nerves, realizing that no such dramatic events could possible happen to him - after all, he and many others have been under the universal protection and care of Mother Brain, whom at this point, has provided all of their needs for centuries. He then gets out of bed and goes to the central tower, where we works as an agent in case some things do go wrong.

And gone wrong things have! His superior informs him that biological monsters, which had been created and bred in the Mota biosystems laboratory, have gone rogue and infected the regions of Motavia at a rapid rate. Because of this, Rolf is asked to investigate the cause of this phenomenon. Once he gets home to prepare for his journey, he is ambushed by best girl Nei, who has been rescued by him many months ago from the clutches of a serial killer. She does not want to be left alone anymore, and since she is also worried for Rolf's sefety, asks him to accompany him on the mission. Naturally, Rolf accepts.

Here, I do want to bring up Nei in more detail! She's in fact, the first of PSII's brilliant story-gameplay interactions, and here's why! Nei is in fact, a crossbreed experiment between a human and an unknown animal with cat-like features, but here's the thing: this said experiment was a failure. Because of this, Nei is only one years old, and yet her physical and mental age are progressing way more rapidly than they should. And you can feel this effect on the game itself: she needs way less EXP than any other party member in the game to level up, and because of this she will skyrocket in levels way beyond the rest of your crew... with a catch. Because of the nature of the experiment, the genetic code inside of her is slowly being messed up and corrupted, which not only causes her level ups to be less valuable than anyone else's, but it also becomes an important plot point later...  Unfortunately, despite her absolute cuteness, her status as a half-half made her a victim of bullying, racism and so much more, which is... pretty messed up to bring up at the time not gonna lie o_o

Starting up the journey, the party discovers that rogues have destroyed a neighboring city, and it just so happens that their base is situed at Shure, the first dungeon of the game . One assumption I like to make from this scene is that life has become so easy and careless on Motavia that people just went and did crime out of pure boredom, because life just wasn't thrilling enough anymore with Mother Brain doing everything it could for its inhabitants...

However, upon climbing said tower, Rolf and Nei find out multiple dead rogue bodies, whom have been presumably murdered by the many biomonsters roaming the place. They do, however, manage to find some dynamite and most importantly, a letter. This piece of paper informs our heroes that the daughter of a Darum, the very same person that tried to murder Nei months ago, is held captive in another tower, which explains why he turned to crime in the first place. They then decide to do the obvious, which is to rescue daughter Teim in her captivity location. Once they meet up with her, she explains her desire to talk to her father to set things straight and sway him from the life he's been getting into, as well as hide her from the surviving rogue members with the help of a veil. Our group manages to meet up with Darum, but... her daughter asks the party to stay put, as she does not want them to interfere with her as she explains things to her father. However, in the heat of the moment, she forgets to remove her veil, which causes Darum to not recognize her. In his confusion, he murders her own flesh and blood and sits there, stunned, as he watches the reason he caused many untold atrocities... wither away below him. Shocked and going insane by this situation, he sees no other way out... but to commit suicide with the help of a bomb.

It gets worse.

While this scene was tragic and brutal to say the least, it does allow Rolf to cross the previously guarded bridge where Darum was always located, which allows him to investigate his mission further.

I do want to make a sidenote here actually! Phantasy Star II does include eight playable characters, but unlike Rolf and Nei they do not join you at fixed intervals - instead, they will become available in your home town of Paseo once conditions are met. Sadly while they do have a recruitment quote, a few lines and a backstory, they do not have an impact on the main story in any way. This does blow as this means PSII does not have much in character development and interaction, but I did want to mention that there’s more to this game than just Rolf and Nei :P 

Upon exploring the regions of Motavia, the party manages to make its way to the Biosystems lab, and what they find here is horrifying to say the least. The lab is in horrible shape, with cracked floors everywhere. On top of that, there is no one inside the lab anymore, it being completely deserted, save for some horrible-looking creatures being kept insides tubes, decorating the now sinister looking building... Because of this, Rolf deems it safe to pick up the recorder inside the lab, to analyze it and try to find out just what exactly went wrong - if anything at all - to hopefully figure out why the world has been sacked by biomonsters. And sure enough, the gang make its way back to Paseo.  After handing over the recorder to the library located in Paseo’s Central Tower, it is now made clear: the biomonsters were caused by a large amount of energy used in a very short amount of time in those labs, causing them to mutate extremely rapidly. This had the predictable but unfortunate effect of ruining the natural order of the ecosystem, which is why these species are wrecking havoc without control. The librarian giving this information also makes the following connection: this outpour of energy must have come from Climatrol - another lab which regulates the weather of the terraformed planet so that it can sustain its new shape. Following this, Rolf and co. take a few steps to reach Climatrol - and I want to highlight a specific one!

The story somewhat pauses until then, but one of the dungeons you’ll go through is a garbage dump... and one of the treasures is a jet scooter you can use! Sounds cool, right? Well it is, but even such a cool object has been abandoned by the lazy society, since teleportation is much more convenient to them. I just thought it was a really neat detail, that’s all ^_^

Once making their way through the relatively normal Climatrol, something does wait for them at the top of the building... something... unsettling...

This is Neifirst. She was another failed experiment just like Nei, sharing the same biological data as her. However, unlike her sister, her creators tried to kill her on the spot due to her status. This made her enraged against the species that gave her life, and as an act of revenge, decided to unleash this bio catastrophy to slowly wipe us out. This is where another truth is revealed: Nei did not come with Rolf just to protect him, she actually wanted to put a stop to her sister, because while she did dislike being treated like a freak or a monster, she never wanted to hate her species as a whole... It remains that she still wants to stop her sister’s plans, and despite Rolf’s protests, the two engages in a fight. However, due to Neifirst being much stronger, Nei sustains heavy damage and is incapacitated. But, this is where the rest of the party comes in, and thus they finish the job and kill off Neifirst dead in her tracks, Rolf then quickly rushes in to his dear friend’s side, but as he does... it’s too late... Nei is dead.

This is yet another reason why Phantasy Star II is such an important game: it is, to my knowledge, the very first JRPG in which a major playable character dies permanently. Heck, Rolf even tries to bring her back through the local Clone Lab - because yes, citizens have access to eternal life by cloning their bodies until the end of time - but... since Nei’s genetic code was degenerating rapidly, they could not clone her body anymore. And, since Neifirst was also defeated, it is also impossible to get a fresh code back from anywhere in the world. Nei is dead. And you cannot do anything about it.

But don’t worry! It still gets worse!

But just as you’re about to find a way to fix this, it turns out that Climatrol has collapsed, which caused an immense flood all over the world. Since the government - and by extension, Mother Brain - isn’t happy about this, you are now considered a fugitive, a criminal. You are now the bad guy, and you are wanted for treason. 1989, anyone??

This is where the second brilliant story-gameplay integration of Phantasy Star II happens. Where until now you’ve only fought mutated monsters due to the outbreak, the government has now sent thousands of carious cyborgs and robots against you - and lo and behold, this is now the only thing you are fighting in both the overworld and dungeons, and the previous creatures are now nowhere to be seen. THAT’S REALLY SMART. Now sure, even if you are considered evil to many, you still task yourself with the task of unflooding the planet, and to do so you simply reactivate all four colored dams in the continent. However, upon reactivating the fourth one, your party is suddenly ambushed by a trio of robots sent by the cops, and this time? They succeed in capturing you. Your party is now sent in chains on a hovering satellite, as you are sentenced to slowly wither away and die in there without any trial of any sort, simply because you went against Mother Brain’s dear wishes...

But, something goes amiss. The sattelite starts to malfunction, and is now set to crash on one of the three planets of the Algol system. And despite you all trying to alter its course, it is too late. The satellite crashes onto Palma - the planet of the first Phantasy Star game - and it is gone.

That’s right! The planet in which many players took the time to save with Alis’s gang, to have a huge dungeon crawling adventure, the planet where you defeated Lassic in a glorious fashion. GONE. In only a few seconds. But... what about yourself? Well, you actually died! But a space pirate wandering close to the crash site pulled out your remains and cloned everyone’s body back to life... which makes you technically not yourself, and also dead, for the remainder of the game! ...May I remind you this game was developed in 1989?

Tyler the space pirate then escorts the zombie party back to Paseo, but not for long - you see, your commander, who hasn’t truly approved of Mother Brain’s actions against your group, allows you access to a spaceship. This is a big deal, because space travel as a whole has been banned ten years ago due to a major accident in which Rolf had lost his parents, and thus, the one stationed in Paseo is the last one remaining on the planet. But sure enough, Rolf takes the opportunity and travels to the ice planet of Dezolis, or Dezo.

And honestly? Even though this next part has nothing to do with the main story, it’s probably one of my favourites in the entire game. In this section, you simply must make your way through an abandoned space station, which has not seen use in years. At first, you’d think it was somewhat related to the spaceship incident, but as you explore this space station, you find a bunch of animals and newspapers lying around. You not only find some irrelevant ads about various products, but also news flash about a horrible gas spreading throughout the station, begging every inhabitant to evacuate immediately, which... definitively implies a very bleak fate to the place and its inhabitants o_o 

And on top of this unsettling setting, this is the first time you get to hear “Silent Zone”, my favourite track in the game. While the rest of the soundtrack is very upbeat, catchy and all around excellent, this track in particular is very... sad, desolate, lonely, in spite of it being just as catchy! It all combines for a brilliant example of “show, don’t tell” that really sets the mood perfectly to me <3

Either way, upon exploring more of Dezo - a frigid wasteland with few inhabitants - the party gets to meet up with Noah, a party member from Phantasy Star I! After reawakening from a cryogenic sleep, he then reveals that unlike Paseo and Motavia, Dezo basically never submitted with Mother Brain’s control and benefits simply because they did not want to live a life without any struggles. Unfortunately, this is also where you learn that Paseo came to terms with this *after* being to MB’s whims and as such, you can connect the dots and realize that the satellite crash was no accident after all... it was all planned.

Noah, however, knows about how deeply MB has ruined everything for the inhabitants of Motavia and thus tasks Rolf with collecting eight legendary ancient weapons all throughout Dezo, located within some ruinous, empty, cold dungeons which make for stunning atmosphere and presence, believe me!

Once that’s done, he then entrusts Rolf with the ultimate Sword and, thanks to kinetic abilities, sends him and his troupe to the space station housing Mother Brain. And once there, for the first time in centuries, a human being has met with Mother Brain.

And of course, the computer scoffs at those rebelling against her. She laughs at how they think they’d want a life with struggles, wtihout comfort, without anyone providing their needs, when work and hardship seems so uninviting on a desert wasteland like Motavia, or a frigid hell like Dezo. And yet, after a (pretty difficult!) battle, you emerge victorious! Or do you?

After the victorious outcome, Noah senses some additional presences beyond Mother Brain’s spot, and urges the party to investigate. And then... I don’t think I’ll even explain it in words. Please watch what happens. It is disturbing.

Yeah. We, the humans, were destroying our planet, Earth. Thus, we escaped through this spaceship to avoid extinction, and found the Algo system. It then, to our species, only seemed logical with so few numbers, to instead slowly weaken the population of all three planets with Mother Brain, making it then easy (although a very long process) to get rid of the population and start anew, even if it meant genocide. What I love about this twist ending is not only how it’s presented: the creepy music, the way you did *not* expect it at all, the number of humans on the screen at once, and so on... but also, how you don’t even know for sure how it ends. You don’t know if Rolf, Rudo, Amy, Kain, Hugh, Shir, Anna... if any of them survived. But it looks grim. It looks like we lost. And it looks like everyone we fought and tried to save... will rot until the final days anyway... Phantasy Star II... is important. Sure, I could talk about how the game is challenging due to how both your party members AND the enemies are very capable in battle or the stellar, catchy, memorable soundtrack...   but its story... is stunning. In 1989, we were still used to princesses being saved by armored heroes from dark dragons. We were used to things going all well in the end. But in 1989, Phantasy Star II taught us many things that would become staples in the future of JRPGs:  Yes, your cherished ones may die with you not being able to do anything about it No, you may not be able to save everyone you’d like to. Yes, your actions might make things worse for yourself and everyone else. No, things aren’t quite as black or white as they seem. And no, you might not always win. Phantasy Star II is a masterpiece. It’s a bit hard to approach this game today, but with a guide, this game is a must play. It’s unique. It’s ambitious. It’s chilling. And I adore this game to pieces. Thank you for reading, somehow <3

#long post #phantasy star ii #phantasy star #jrpg #sega genesis

[ghost-party]

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Pairing: Nanami Kento x OC Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: death of a parent A/N: I’m currently reading the manga, but I’m not caught up yet. My brain just went “Nanami + books + meet-cute wholesomeness,” and here we are. I’m still trying to figure out how long this will end up being. And this is the first fanfic I’ve written in... well, a long time.

Nanami Kento has a bad habit.

He purchases books with every intention of reading them. The genre or subject doesn’t matter, as long as they leave him with a lingering curiosity after the first few pages. 

But he never seems to have the time to sit down and read them. No, that’s not right. He doesn’t make the time. Work keeps him busy. It also keeps him absurdly tired. He’s heard Gojo make the joke that sorcerers never sleep. He hates how true that feels. 

By the time he arrives home each night and goes through the motions of his usual routine — bath, dinner, chores, reports — he usually lacks the energy to focus on the words on the page. More than once, he’s woken in the early hours of the morning, bedside lamp still glowing, a barely-read book sprawled across his chest.

These days, he tries to exercise more self-control, reminding himself with the same discipline he brings to field work that his personal library is already at capacity.

But one day — a Friday, thankfully, and one that didn’t involve any overtime — he finds his resolve weakening at the sight of a small, nondescript bookshop tucked in between a florist and a corner café. 

It’s not very surprising that he’s never come across it before. He doesn’t usually take this route home. But having spent most of his day indoors, he had decided to make the most of the brisk autumn weather and prolong his walk.

He stands there, staring up at the sign — Twice-Told Tales — for what feels like an inordinate amount of time. With a frustrated huff, he gives in and steps inside.

A small bell jingles above him, and he’s enveloped in the familiar scent of old books, that subtle hint of vanilla. It always reminds him of his father’s study, with its built-in shelves and massive desk constantly cluttered with the detritus of his work. The same way that petrichor reminds him of walking home from school with his high school girlfriend, kissing her on the doorstep of her parents’ convenience store. (He’s not sure why that memory comes to mind now.)

Although he has a compulsive need for order in his personal life, a firm believer that everything in his apartment and on his person has a proper place, bookstores are, for whatever reason, exempt. Something about overflowing shelves, books stacked in precarious towers, organized by color or preference or size… It feels right.

And this particular shop seems to have found the sweet spot between order and chaos — just orderly enough to not overwhelm, but still brimming with the promise of surprises. Nanami loves few things more than discovering a book he hadn’t expected to find, or unearthing something he would never have thought to look for.

He’s thumbing through a well-worn travel guide — Budapest, one of the too many places he’s never been — when he hears footsteps approaching. He lifts his head and is struck by a strange, heady vertigo, like the floor has shifted beneath his feet.

From between the stacks toward the back of the store walks a woman. Mid-twenties, if he had to guess, wearing a dark green sweater and black pants. Her brown hair had been hastily pulled back and secured in a loose knot, wisps of it haloing her face. He takes in her small details — relaxed posture, lips quirked into a gentle half-smile, sleeves rolled to her elbows, revealing ink-smudged hands and a glimpse of a tattoo on her left wrist. (He was nothing if not exceedingly perceptive.)

When she looks up and meets his gaze, her smile widens. And before he can say hello, she says the last thing he would have expected: “I like your tie.”

Whenever someone told him that, it was nearly always a joke. After all, his usual tie — burnt yellow with bold flecks of black — was what many would call (and what Gojo did call, with an excess of enthusiasm) garish.

But this time, it’s sincere. And it briefly leaves him tongue-tied.

Finally, he manages a “thank you,” and he’s grateful that he doesn’t sound as confused as he feels. For whatever reason, he is finding it hard to look away. Luckily, she seems unbothered by the prolonged eye contact, still smiling.

“Your Japanese is very good.”

At that, she laughs. “That’s kind of you to say. I’ve lived here for a year, and I think I’ve improved. But I’m definitely still learning.”

He wants to ask where she’s from. He doesn’t know why. He wasn’t in the habit of asking personal questions of complete strangers. Instead, he says, “The shop name. It’s a reference to Hawthorne, isn’t it?”

She nods. “He was one of my father’s favorite authors. He had the name picked out before he’d even bought the building.” 

Nanami, to his surprise, feels the same way he does when he stumbles upon an intriguing book — he wants to know the rest of the story. Had her father retired? Or died? Is that why she had moved here? Uprooted her entire life to live abroad?

Why do you care so much? he asks himself. But he doesn’t have an answer.

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

He shakes his head. “Just browsing.”

“Well, if you need anything, let me know. I’ll be around.” 

In an effort to distract himself, he moves from shelf to shelf, perusing poetry, memoirs, thrillers, classics… He is pleased to find a small sitting area at the back of the store, two overstuffed armchairs beneath a window that overlooks a vegetable garden. Having picked up a new-to-him translation of Homer’s Odyssey, he decides to sit and read — at least for a little while. After all, it’s Friday. His usual routine could handle a wrinkle or two.

What he didn’t expect was to lose himself for two hours, until a kind, quiet voice breaks his concentration.

He looks up to find the shopkeeper seated in the chair beside him, holding two cups of what smells like mint tea. Her smile is halfway to a wince as she says, “Sorry... I hope I didn’t startle you. I made some tea and thought you might like some. Or there’s coffee, if you’d prefer that.”

“No, tea is fine. Thank you.” He accepts the cup and glances outside, noticing that the sun is already beginning to set. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. You’re probably closing soon.”

“Half an hour ago, actually. But I didn’t want to interrupt — I really don’t mind.” She nods toward the book resting on his knee. “Have you read it before?”

“Years ago. I’d forgotten how much I liked it.”

“I love that feeling. Like running into an old friend.”

They sit in companionable silence, drinking their tea, and Nanami feels calmer than he has all week. As if the instinctive tension he kept wound inside his body had loosened without him even noticing. It feels strange, in a pleasant way.

Perhaps that’s the reason why he finally asks, “You said this shop belonged to your father?” Using context clues, he opts for the past tense.

She nods. “For twelve years. But then he found out he had cancer, and it was too much work for him. I was in between jobs, had just gotten out of a long relationship…” Here, she pauses, and he notices something flicker in her gaze. But it’s gone too quickly. “And the lease was up on my apartment. So it felt like a sign, I guess. It took a lot of work, but I moved here. And when he died, I inherited this.” She gestures around at the shop. “And the apartment upstairs.”

“Why did you stay?” He’s startled by his own question, and when he notices her eyes widen, he continues, “I imagine it’s been lonely, with him gone, living in another country. You could have sold everything and moved back home.”

“That’s true.” She sets her now-empty teacup on the small table between them and curls one leg beneath her, leaning back into the chair. “I did think about it, at first. Because it all just felt so… overwhelming. But I wanted a fresh start, and that’s what kept me going. Now this feels more like home than my last home ever did.” She turns back to him, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, that was a lot. You’re just easy to talk to.”

Yet another comment he isn’t used to hearing. If anything, he suspects he intimidates most people, with his blunt assessments and polite professionalism. But here is someone he barely knows, opening up to him like... a flower. A sunflower, he idly thinks, not sure exactly why he finds the comparison so fitting.

He glances down at his watch and reluctantly stands, grasping the book. “Thank you for the tea — and the conversation. But I should let you close for the evening.” He holds up Homer’s Odyssey and, indulging that bad habit of his, says, “I’ll take this.”

“Follow me. I’ll ring you up.”

When she hands him his receipt, she smiles at him again — that same open, warm smile that makes him feel like the world is tipping on its axis. It’s unnerving, that she can elicit such a reaction from him. But a small part of him also finds it fascinating.

“My name’s Olivia — Olivia Vale. What’s yours?”

“Nanami Kento.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nanami-san.” She leads him to the door, keys jingling in her hand. “I hope you come back soon.”

“I will.” And he means it.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami kento #nanami x oc #nanami kento x oc