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bitchimasnake-sss · 21 days

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just a distraction ft. choso kamo!

academic rivals, academic rivals, academic rivals, academic rivals- set-up: in which, choso and you are academic rivals. in every exam, the raven-haired cunt always seems to be just a negligible percent ahead of you. maybe you've had enough of his bullshit. maybe you should find better ways to get him off that first rank? (both the reader and choso are in second year of college)

warnings: PORN WITH (A LITTLE) PLOT. nsfw babes. contains blowjob, cunnilingus, dirty talking, pet names (baby, darling, etc.), banter (lots and lots). yeah mdni <3

you didn't know much about choso kamo. not really, no.

i mean you knew the basics. you knew his name, his voice. you knew that he always was dressed in black and that he had that weird (somewhat hot) tattoo cutting a horizontal across his pretty face. you knew he had two younger brothers (the pink-haired twin underclassmen) and how he doted on them outside of these wretched lecture rooms.

oh, and what else? you knew he was a fucking bastard.

you knew how smug he was. how absolutely insufferable. you knew the way he scoffed when the professor asked you for the answer instead of him. you knew the way he rolled his eyes when you told him he was wrong. and you knew his full lips always curled up when all the students would gather around the notice board after the exams.

you knew he would always scan his gaze over the crowd, meet your eyes and mouth, "maybe next time, sweetheart." and then walk away.

there's no way an arrogant asshole like him should ever come first in anything! but here you stood in front of the fucking notice board, seeing his name next to the first rank. again.

you had tried everything, really. you had been studying everyday in the library until the staff physically pushed you out of the gates and asked you to go home. you had practiced every question paper in existence, really. then how was he still sitting on top with that stupid fucking smirk of his?

"ugh, don't tell me you're going to the library today." nobara groaned, sprawled out on your dorm bed. "exams literally ended two days ago. you should take some time off!! you promised me you would shop with me once the break came-"

"that was before that bastard beat me again." you mumbled, stuffing a thick notebook into your bag haphazardly.

"are you gonna ditch me for that guy? again? nobody even cares about coming first in uni!! it's a miracle we're all passing, even."

"it matters to me."

"sure does..." nobara pouted. then she sat up and tucked her legs one under the other. she eyed you cautiously and uncannily slow, then grinned like a devil, "what are you doing?"

"what? packing my bag to go to the library?"

"why are you trying so hard to impress him?"

if your body was not a human body, you were sure your eyes would have fallen off and onto the ground. you spluttered, "excuse me? i- i am not trying to impress anybody!"

"uh huh, uh huh." she rested her face on her open palm as if oblivious to the accusations she had placed upon you and your character.

"don't uh huh, uh huh me."

"i am just saying that there are more ways to get a first rank than just studying your ass off you know?" she followed with a cashmere smile, "maybe you should take up another strategy. distract your opponent a little?"

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

this was stupid. really, really stupid.

but nonetheless, you knocked on his dorm room and awaited an answer.

the rest of the floor was empty, most people on vacation or back home for the spring break but not him. he was holed up in his room doing god knows what (studying, probably.)

you subconsciously pulled down the hem of your short denim skirt while awaiting his answer. it's not like you dressed too modest or something. but knowing that you had purposely put on a white, almost see-through long sleeve with a mini, mini denim skirt for all the wrong purposes felt embarrassing.

he would probably see through your act so quickly.

the door finally swung open and there stood an annoyed man in a black, fitted tee and black sweats. his long, choppy hair had been put up in a half-up and his annoyed expression morphed into a sadistic, half-satisfied smile when he saw you. his lips tugged upwards as he took you in, up and down.

"want something?" he asked slowly, leaning against the door frame and towering over you.

you held the books flush against your chest, as if hiding yourself from his scrutinizing gaze. "i-" you swallowed thickly, the words going sour on your tongue, "i just was wondering if you would help me out."

"awh, finally asking for me help, sweetheart?"

the urge to flip him off and walk away was big. but the urge to defeat him and see his crying face was bigger.

"are you gonna invite me in or are we supposed to do this in the middle of the hallway?" you snapped.

god, your self esteem was taking brutal hits right now.

he stepped to his right and mockingly invited you in. you stepped inside into his dark, disheveled dorm room. only purple LED lights had been turned on and from the looks of it, his roommate was gone. possibly on vacation. the raven-head's laptop lay forgotten on his bed and the dimly lit screen had some pop-up game menu asking if he wanted to exit the game.

you looked back at him as he locked off the door. you swallowed yet again, "uhm, so what were you doing?"

"playing." he remarked nonchalantly, nodding towards his laptop. he sat on his roommate's clean bed and you mirrored his actions by sitting on choso's messed bed.

"so?" he quipped again, and the purple led lights casted ghostly shadows across his face, "what does the princess need help with?"

"first, she needs you to drop that cocky, bitchy attitude." you chewed on the inside on your cheek to bite back insults, "second, i- uhm, needed help with the integral problems."

"ah, really? which part?" he stood up, walking over to where you were sitting. looking down, he casted a dubious look as your fingers pulled his tshirt downwards as if nudging him to sit down besides you.

he sat down, uncomfortably close to you on that small bed. he refused to meet your gaze, choosing to pick up the book you had brought with you and flipping through it.

you leaned forward, purposely brushing your perked chest against his biceps. you pointed towards a random problem and whispered, "that one, please."

and just like that, choso kamo was fucked.

you could feel the man's composure was evaporating when he nodded dryly and swallowed in vain. he tried to put distance between you two but you felt confident in your teasing. deciding to press himself closer to his side, molding your curves against his sculpted body, you noticed how he shifted his pants ever so subtly.

"so, you know this needs to be integrated separately first-" his breath hitched as your light fingers skimmed over his arm and you nodded enthusiastically to continue. "right- so. so, you know then you take the numerator okay? and you should- hey w-what?"

he stopped confused as you lightly skimmed over his thighs. your fingers barely brushed over his hard-on. you flashed him a smile, "you look a bit tensed up. i feel like i can't study if you'd be so stiff around me."

"yn." choso breathed as you brushed your soft fingers past the growing tent again. his rough hands held your wrist still as he gave you a pleading look, "what are you doing?"

you took the book out of his hands, placing it somewhere on the bed. then you gave him a reassuring smile, "choso, relax."

and then you sat down on the floor. your hands separated his thighs gingerly and you looked up at him one more time. he had closed his eyes, as if looking at you would make him cum.

you dragged your fingers to the waistband of his pants and tugged them down slowly. his erect dick sprung up, slightly hitting his clothed abdomen. hiding your amusement at his apparent shyness, you slowly pumped his dick.

"look at me." you whispered and he exhaled softly. when his eyes met yours, you took off your shirt, presenting him with your bare torso.

"fuck-" he choked up, eyes transfixed on your perked nipples and the slight goosebumps on your supple skin.

your fingers pumped him languidly and you finally placed wet, kitten licks on the mushroom tip. tasting his salty pre, you swirled your tongue around it, relishing in his breathless whimpers. then, in one go, you took him in. you sucked on it while your hands worked his base.

you looked up at him through fluttering eyelashes and something in his demeanor broke. as if he had finally let lose.

his rough palm pressed against the back of your head, pushing you to take in more. you momentarily gagged around his cock and he moaned as your helpless voice reverberated against his shaft. he pushed you in slowly, looking at the way your eyes started tearing up.

fighting off a feral grin, he whispered, "you have no idea how long i've waited to do this."

then his hands guided you up and down, using your face as a toy for his pleasure. your manicured nails dug into the fabric as he abused your mouth for his pleasures.

"fuck- fuck. fuck. look at you, on your fucking knees. you're so fuckin' pretty, god." he threw his head back and strings of curses and moans left him as you worked in tandem with him. sucking him in pacing with the way he moved your head up and down. you eyes were getting watery and your throat feeling sore but you kept going, sucking harder till you felt him tremble under your strained touches and spit-soaked, red lips.

"i think im gonna cum- f-fuck i-" his voice broke and suddenly your mouth was full of a salty liquid. you swallowed down and ignored the sting that his dick had left behind in your throat.

still struggling to breath, he looked down at you. his calloused fingers softly wiped off the drool on your chin and he pulled you back up to sit you on his lap.

"pretty sure that wasn't a part of calculus." he whispered, almost laughing at his own joke but you were having none of it.

"choso." you breathed, desperation etched into your voice as you rut your hot, wet core against his clothed thigh. your eyes were watery, voice hoarse, "cho-"

"what do you want?" he pulled you in and pressed a kiss on your throat, his hands running over your smooth back, "ask me 'n ill give you the fuckin' world."

you leaned into his soft kisses. his clothed chest rubbed against your perked buds as you grinded yourself harder on him, "i dont know- you. i want you."

"you already have me." he insisted.

turning you around and laying you on his bed as softly as he could, he gave you a last hesitant gaze. his lips pressed chaste kisses down your body till he reached the swell of your breasts. his hand roughly pressed against one while his mouth latched onto the other.

he hummed, too drunk to say anything other than the feeling on your skin on his tongue. his fingers pulled at your hard nipple and you jolted under him, fighting off a moan. he let go with a pop, his eyes trained on your face as he licked a stripe down on your skin before focusing on the previously ignored side.

your hands tangled in his hair and you pressed down his face harder against yourself, insisting him to go rougher on you. as in on cue, he bit you slightly. grazing his sharp canine against your soft tits, he smirked when you shuddered under him.

moving even downwards, he kissed down on the soft fat on your stomach. his hands slowly played with the soft skin and he looked up at you, mumbling against your skin, "you're so fucking beautiful."

he undid the skirt, pulling it past your hips and thighs and throwing it somewhere on the floor. then, he took off his shirt, leaving him bare to be ogled at. you propped up, eyes running over every taut muscle rippling under his skin. mindlessly, you mumbled, "i hate you, you know?"

he gave you an easy smile, "maybe if you focused as much on integrals as you do on my abs, you would have been first."

"excuse me?" you sat up haughtily, "are you fucking stupid? asshole!"

his hands gently guided you back, laying you down. he gave you a teasing smile, "you run your mouth too much. that's your issue, yk."

"did i ask for your opinion or he-lp-" you closed your eyes as the pad of his thumb rubbed your clit through your slick-drenched panties.

he slowly traced circles on the sensitive nub, kissing the inner side of your plush thighs, "i thought that's why you came here?" he pressed an open-mouthed kiss close to where you wanted him. then he looked up and mumbled through a hooded gaze, "i thought you needed my help?"

he pulled the translucent fabric aside, he kissed the bundle of nerves before licking down a patient stripe down to your entrance, "fuc- choso ngh-"

"or is this it?" he spread your thighs apart more, looking at the glistening core, "did you want my help to fuck you as dumb as you are?"

before you could argue, he dipped his tongue in your entrance. his tongue lapping up the juices. he dragged his tongue up, focusing on your clit and the way you squirmed under him when he sucked on the puffy bud harshly.

looking over at your flushed face and being guided by your desperate hands, he pushed in two fingers inside. dragging them in and out, he marveled in the way your body responded to his touches.

your walls spasmed every time he entered and refused to let him go. you bit your lip to quiet yourself down. your thighs were shaking ever so slightly, your mouth agape, lips stained red. your back arched off the bed when he increased the pace and you tugged on his hair and cried out a moan when he used his thumb on your clit and pressed a kiss to your thigh.

"oh my god-" your back arched off as he sucked at your clit again, "fuck fuck fuck, choso. i'm gon'- cum, im gonna cum."

he pressed one last, fleeting kiss to your flushed clit. and he stayed there, drinking up any wayward nectar till you stilled under him. once he was sure you were through your orgasm, he stood up on his knees. wiping his face off, he asked, "you okay?"

you gave him a lazy, unenthusiastic thumbs up and he laughed at the gesture. climbing up, he came up and kissed your nose. you were sure he could taste the salt on your skin.

well, not like it wasn't his fault you were like this anyways.

laying next to you, he stared up at the ceiling and you fidgeted with your hair because it felt as if there was nothing else to do. you chewed on your lips, mulling your words over, "i don't run my mouth too much."

now that the sexual tension was gone. it was awkward, "sorry i said it like that."

"yeah, i guess it's okay."

well there were other things he had said aswell. like "i have been waiting so long for this" or "you have me"... but you didn't feel like raising such important questions when your limbs ached with fatigue and your mind was clouded over with thoughts of choso in your veins.

he gave you a tight-lipped smile and after a minute, he climbed off the bed.

"uh, hey?" you got up too, "do you want me to like... leave?"

"what? no no. i figured you'd get cold." he shook his head and grabbed a plain, blue t-shirt from his closet. he handed it over to you and climbed back in bed, dragging the covers up to cover you both. hesitantly, he draped his hand over your waist and no sooner was he asleep. his soft snores rang through the room and now you lay confused next to him.

nobara had given you some ideas and you followed it. now what? choso barely seem distracted. if anything, it seemed like it had taken off some sort of load off of his chest. he was sleeping so peacefully that you resisted the urge to sock him in the face and run back to your dorm.

while choso lay unaffected, it seems as though this escapade is gonna be rough on you.

well, this is your sign to never take nobara's advice again.

a/n: i actually have a part two written out already. let me know if anyone wants to see it lol. part two is now up! hope you liked it <3

#jjk smut #choso smut #choso #choso kamo #choso kamo smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk choso #choso x reader

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the---hermit · 7 months

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Messy desk on a gloomy autumn day

16|10|2023

If you couldn't tell I get to the end of the week and I am too exhausted to even consider writing my daily post. This Saturday in particular was a really heavy day I was deprived of all energies, and to be quite honest I don't feel at my best yet. Other than being sick, last week I worked a lot, and had to wake up even earlier than I usually do, so it was a bad combination of things. I am now starting to feel a bit better but I am not fully recharged of energies. The good things that happened in the weekend were the fact that I found the time to sit down and watch the new episodes of Our Flag Means Death, and I also started a reread of the Something Is Killing The Children graphic novel series. The sixth volume has just came out in Italy, and although I have not found a copy yet I feel like the spooky season is perfect for a reread. Today had a quite stressing start, because I decided to tackle my most anxiety-inducing task: officializing the classes I will take on my uni's website. Of course it went terribly, I had to do the procedure twice, and there are some new techinical problems that will hopefully be resolved quickly. After doing that and emailing a professor I gave up on everything else because I felt like I just had a fight to the death and I barely got out of it alive. Thankfully in the afternoon I had a bit more energies and I managed to finish my first read of the play I am currently studying for my English lit class, so the day was not a complete waste of time.

cozy hobbit autumn activities and productivity:

read first thing in the morning

fought with my uni's website and won (kind of, because I also had to send an email to fix some problems but I dif what I could so I count that as a win)

emailed a professor to get his opinion on whether I could take his class with my unsure prerequisites and not only he answered very quickly, but he was also quite polite and told me that thankfully I can take that class and if I'll need more materials to help me with what we'll be studying he'll recommend me an additional book so that I can take the exam

did a bit of planning on what classes I will be taking this year and what I'll wait to work on next year (it's a very general guideline to help me figure out what I'll be doing with my academic life in the next while)

did a very quick weekly set up in my bullet journal

(finally) updated my reading journal

finished my first read of The Merchant Of Venice

daily Irish practice on duolingo

listened to podcasts to shut my brain off

worked on a series of future posts

📖:The Book Of Lost Things by John Connolly, The Merchant Of Venice by William Shakespeare

#studyblr #studyinspo #uniblr #university #journal #studying #journaling #desk #study space #student life #historyblr #productivity #cozy hobbit autumn #knife gang #mine #the---hermit

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killersfool · 6 months

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You Might Get What You Want | ROBERT KEATING

PAIRING: robert keating x original f!character

GENRE: childhood frenemies to lovers

SUMMARY: lucia (luz), nieve ella’s keyboardist, has an estranged history with inhaler—especially with the band’s bassist, bobby. their fiery hatred for eachother rapidly blossoms into something sweet, especially when she learns that he wrote a song about her.

WORDS: 5.8k

WARNINGS: kissing, swearing, alcohol use, mild sexual content

Being Nieve Ella's keyboardist has completely altered the course of my life. Only eight months ago, I was doing my second year of uni, trying to get through a Music course and completely regretting all of my life choices. My favourite part of the day would be getting home and sitting at my piano, writing songs and posting them on Tiktok. Views racked up, followers kept coming in and I think I realised how well everything was going when Laufey commented on my cover of 'Like The Movies'. Then about two weeks later, an email shot through my phone—literally like a bullet to skin. I dropped the rectangular device to the ground mid-lecture, hand on my mouth, teeth in my lip.

Nieve Ella had asked me to join her on tour. With Inhaler.

At first I was laughing, then I was bawling with endless tears of happiness and now I'm on my final show still feeling woozy and adrenaline is banging through my brain. The whole band have become my best friends. And, quite shockingly, me and Inhaler have a weird shared history. I've known them since I was really young. I used to watch their first gigs at tiny venues where they'd run around in the crowd and hardly anyone knew the lyrics. I went to the same school as Bobby, Eli and Ryan who were a bunch of madmen. They'd let me hang out with them backstage or at practice and jam before they finally found a 'proper' keyboardist (Louis). To be honest, I'd always been slightly salty that I never got into the band. But I guess we were never close enough and I could be quite horrible to Bobby — but honestly, he deserved it. He was a whiny, teenage nightmare. Still is. Except he's not a teenager anymore.

Thankfully, Nieve Ella and the band take a train separate to Inhaler. I don't have to hear Bobby's jests 24/7. Today we're heading to Dublin. The final stop of the Cuts and Bruises tour. It's been a long ride but it's all been worth it. I've had the best time ever. I'm listening to the Strokes, a song Bobby recommended to me a few weeks ago. It's been on my mind ever since and I can't stop hearing the same chords and riffs over and over. Even when my headphones leave my ears. The song is 12:51 and funnily enough Bobby has a tattoo right on his bicep with those exact numbers. The lads gave us a rather enjoyable tattoo tour with reasons for each of their inked designs.

I lay back my head against the cushioned seat. I like this, I prefer it to what I was doing before. The constant stress, the exams, the structure. I like the freedom of doing shows and seeing new people and travelling to new places. Never sure what you're in for. Crowd after crowd with all different energies and enthusiasm. The adrenaline rush is the best part of the day but when you wake up the following morning, it's like the life has been sucked out of you. You feel like nothing. Human. A person with legs and arms. Flailing around with no thoughts in your head. A billion times worse than a hangover. Post concert depression. The lull after such a powerful high. It's nice to go through that hell with a group of friends who all feel the same way. Becomes a strange group therapy.

For the past hour, I've been begging Josh to tell me what is on the set list. I'm praying they'll add some different songs. Older ones. Seeing as it's the last show of the tour. Something to surprise the fans. Maybe 'Falling In' or 'There's No Other Place' or even my favourite 'You Might Get What You Want'. That was one that was written when Rob was the lead singer of the band. When I'd bang the keys in that garage. When we'd sing the lyrics together and sound like an awful church choir. I never got the chance to listen to it live, performed properly by the band. I'm still heartbroken they didn't leave it on the track list for the album. I have to resort to listening to illegal Spotify versions.

I feel like crying everytime I remember this is the last show I might ever do with Inhaler. The last time I might see the lot of them. They'll surely disappear off into the shadows once tour is over, making their next album, cutting off all contact to focus solely on their music. After spending so much time with a group of people, then completely losing them from your life, you just feel so very empty. Like a swimming pool with no water. Or a mug of tea left hollow after spilling it all by accident. Last night — I would never dare to admit this to anyone — I cried for two hours straight into the pillow of my hotel room. Tour is a glorious thing. Fun, exciting, terrifying all at the same time. But the thought of finality is what split me into pieces, broke me up and squeezed tear after tear from my eyes.

Fran keeps looking at me with raised eyebrows like she's about to ask a question. She's scribbling on her set list, making sure she knows exactly what's happening and when. Her earrings twinkle as she tilts her head, her eyeliner sharp and perfect. Her mouth parts the slightest bit to reveal white teeth, a small smile. "You alright there, Luz?"

God, anytime someone asks me that, it makes me want to cry ten times more. I look down the train compartment, stare at the bathroom and decide whether to make my move. Do I run and hide in there for the duration of the trip, two hours of crying into mouldy train toilet paper? Or do I try to brave it and tell her how I feel? Or just lie through gritted teeth? She's good at reading me. She'll know that I'm not telling the truth.

"Don't tell Nieve this but I feel like absolute shite." There it is. I said it. Fire sinks into my skin, blood rushes up to my head. I squeeze my cheek to make sure I am actually sitting here and that I'm not hallucinating. Lack of sleep had made me seem some weird shit. I need caffeine. Quick.

"We all do." Fran puts her hand on top of mine. "Look, one more show, then we can sleep for as long as we want."

"That's the thing. I don't want this to end."

Fran gets up from her seat and swivels around the table. She sits down beside me, arms opening up and embraces me until I think I see stars. No one has ever hugged me so tightly. My bones seem to audibly shift.

"Nieve's doing a few shows in February, remember? And I'm sure next time Inhaler tours, they'll be on their hands and knees begging for us to come back." She strokes my hair. "Although, Bobby might be telling us to bugger off instead. You two need to sort out this drama. It's driving us all mad."

"He started it." I sound like a three-year-old irritated at my brother.

Fran laughs to herself. "Fucking hell. I bet he did."

—

Arguing. It's happened again. Our last day together has gone to a great start.

First stop of the day—a random restaurant that Ryan dragged us to. Hugs were shared, kind words uttered, teeth glowing under dim lights. I sit down on a wooden chair, peel my jacket from my body and place it on the back. The cool wind is slamming against the windows. I'd forgotten how cold Dublin was. Especially in November. Some Christmas lights adorn the streets and pubs are lively with masses of people. We were stopped a only once on the way there by a group of fans—even our attempt at scuttling through empty alleyways didn't work when five friends with Inhaler-themed cowboy-hats impeded our trail. They were lovely. Photos taken and compliments exchanged. Sadly, Bobby was in a bad mood. When I say a bad mood, I mean a 'I want to kill everyone on this planet and throw myself on a train track' kind of bad mood. He hid away from the fans, behind me and Nieve. His height wasn't particularly helpful in that instant. The blonde, 'Amelie', had said in her thick French accent, "Is that Bobby? I was wondering where he was."

Caught. Found. He thought staying there for a while longer would make them think he wasn't there at all. Amelie was persistent, however, and said softly, "Please could I take a picture with you?"

Her friends all started whispering. Eli was tapping his friend on the shoulder to get him to move. He was frozen. Eli frowned and shook his head.

"Sorry but Rob's being a bit weird today," Josh explained. "I don't think he wants any photos."

Amelie nodded, but the sadness in her eyes was apparent. "That's okay."

I felt bad for the girl. I turned around, looked at Bobby. He was on his phone. Scrolling through Tiktok still crouched down. A quick look at his phone screen showed me that he was watching edits — edits of himself. I had to take a double take to actually believe what I'd just seen. He was staring at clips of himself, smiling, and wouldn't even stand for five seconds next to a girl who'd paid to see his band. He continued to swipe his thumb against the screen, blue eyes lit up by his bright phone.

Then his eyes caught mine and he closed the Tiktok tab. "You didn't see that, did you?" He worriedly spoke so unbelievably quickly, I had to scramble my brain to decipher the words. His smile flipped upside down. Shock written all over him. Blush rising right up to the tips of his ears.

"The hell is wrong with you?" I muttered. Nieve heard. She stepped away. She did not want to be involved in whatever the two of us were plotting.

"What's wrong with me?" He breathed. It's like he was asking himself the question but there was an unyielding harshness to his voice, raspy and agitated. I was sure that this argument was going to be just as bad as the Sid Vicious incident, or worse. Halloween Bobby was on a different wavelength — bordering on depravity.

"You're watching fucking Tiktok edits of yourself. Didn't think you could be that self-centered—"

"Can we not do this now? Please?" Bobby tried to get me to calm down. Amelie and her friends were still only metres away, asking Josh about the tour, about the next album. Fran was listening in. She was smiling to herself. Part of her definitely enjoyed the beef between us.

"Show me your Tiktok."

"No."

"Now."

He sighed. I grabbed his phone, opened Tiktok straight away. His whole 'For You' page was edits of himself. The account he was on was a fake user account. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"What the hell..." Was all I could manage to say.

"I can explain."

"Can you? Go on then."

He didn't say anything. Took his phone back and kicked the brick wall beside him. He shook his phone around like he was going to throw it as well. That wouldn't change anything. I'd seen the worst of it — at least I hoped I'd seen the worst of it.

"Take that photo with those girls and I'll shut up about this." I gave him an option. A way to let him get out of the hole he'd dug for himself.

He was so tall. Sometimes I forgot that. But there, back straight, no longer slouched and his neck craned to meet my eyes. I couldn't hold eye contact. His clenched jaw was making me nervous.

"Fine." He finally concluded the argument with a single word. His index finger then pointed towards me, just beneath my neck. "But you don't tell anyone about this."

I grinned. "I promise."

Stepping over towards Amelie, he smiled widely, put an arm over her shoulder and allowed Fran to take the picture of the group. Moments later he was complaining about his shoes. How they were too small. If Robert Keating had a chance to complain about anything, he'd take it and wouldn't shut up about it. I just knew at that point that we'd be hearing about his shoes for the rest of the day.

Tension is thick in the restaurant. I can almost taste it in my mouth. Rob sits beside me. I don't want to look at him, don't want to hear him talk, don't want to have anything to do with him. He's only the only person I won't miss once this tour is over.

Before anyone can get a word out, Eli taps his fork against his glass. All eyes fall to him. Grace is next to him, she's appeared out of nowhere.

"I just want to say thank you to Nieve, Fran, Lucia, Finn and Matt for being such great openers on our tour. We're so grateful for all of you. This wouldn't have been the same without you."

"Aw, Eli, I might cry a bit, please stop." Nieve shakes her head, holding her napkin to her eyes. "This has been such a dream. We should be thanking you for giving us this opportunity."

"We need to do this again sometime." Ryan pitches in. "Next time we tour, you're coming with us."

"Yeah. That would be grand," Josh exclaims, pulling up his pint of Guinness and crashing it against everyone else's.

Bobby, after all his hours of complaining, has gone back to silent, angry mode. Playing around with his fork, he stares blankly at the menu, fingers tracing the lettering. I watch him as the others melt into conversation. I just want to know what is going through his head. Why is he acting like this? Last week, he was fun to be around and we had a good time. Especially when he's drunk, he loosens up a bit and stops with the facade. He even kissed me once. As a joke. I think.

It was a mess of alcohol. A 'midnight tour bus party'. We were in London and instead of going to the hotel, we ended up spending the night in the lovely green tour bus. We all got so drunk we could hardly speak. I can't remember all that we got up to but when we were sobering up, Bobby dragged me outside of the bus. He gave me his jacket, placed it over my shoulders. We sat down on a random doorstep, hugging each other to keep warm. Two penguins. Two people who usually hated eachothers guts, finding comfort in the warmth that emanated from our bodies. I'd never thought his hair was nice until that moment. How it grazed over my neck. How the curls twisted perfectly and his overgrown mullet framed his face. Or how pretty his eyes were as they shone under streetlights. Dreamy, long eyelashes, sea-like waves. He'd kissed me. His long fingers over my cheeks. His pink lips slotting between mine. I pulled away, shocked. Electricity had sparked between us, my heart was pounding, my body was a torch. Then I ran away from him. I couldn't understand what If just felt. I had never seen him in that way. We never mentioned it again.

Maybe that's what has made him colder. I still haven't acknowledged what happened that night. I keep thinking that he was too drunk to even remember it, but maybe he does. I'm not going to bring it up. Especially now. Especially in this restaurant with everyone sat with us.

"I'm sorry, Lucia."

My heart drops. Bobby is looking at me. Downcast. Entire state is disjointed. His mouth just said that, his brain just formulated those words.

"What?" I must've heard him wrong. Imagining it. This time I must be hallucinating.

"I'm sorry about that night."

Mindreader. He knew what I was thinking about. What my mind has been lingering on. The weather reminds me, his scent reminds me, his hands remind me, his jacket reminds me. That night. London. The night after Troxy. The wind — cut-throat, sharp, steely — the rain, and my tear-stained bedsheets. The taste of his mouth and the dejction locked into his eyes as I left him. Like I'd made a terrible mistake. Like running into my hotel room, alone, was the worst possible option I could've chosen.

I'm wearing the same earrings as I did that night — these ribbon ones that a fan made for me. Bobby had pointed them out — which he shifted between his fingertips and said they suited me. He's eyeing them now, hands curving, resisting any urge to touch them again, to drag us back to that moment.

The waiter takes my order. Bobby's words properly forage the depths of my mind, the veins and the arteries circling around my body, the aching crevices of my heart. I ask for the first thing I see on the menu and a Fanta. I want to stay sober. I want to savour all that will happen beyond this second. Bobby also doesn't get alcohol. Shockingly. The Bobby I know would never turn down a pint of Guinness. But he gets a 7up instead and takes a long, hard gulp of it when the waiter comes back. I'm counting the cracks on the table, how squeaky the chair is, the coffee stain on the ceiling — trying to guess how they managed to get up there. Musicians like to occupy their brains. They don't like to think too much - just do.

"I'm sorry..." I whisper. Finally giving him a reponse after a long pause for thought.

He had been waiting for an answer. He catches it. Twists uneasily in his seat. Wood creaks. Rain patters.

"...It was wrong of me to leave you." The image of his despair still rings through my bones. I swear when my cells divide they keep trying to recreate that look on his face.

"I shouldn't have..." his voice lowers, heat pf his mouth glides by my ear "...kissed you."

I'm trying to drink my Fanta with no reaction. Sugary greatness. Cold, slightly wet fingers. Orangey flavouring. But his voice is so low, trickling, burning, goosebump-inducing. I can't look at him. He's too close to me. It's too hot in the restaurant. Soundcheck is in 20 minutes. I want to run away again. I always want to run away.

Down my Fanta, smooth my skirt, breathe in deeply.

"I liked it." I similarly glide my lips over his ear when he's least expecting it, returning the favour.

He coughs. Chokes a bit on his drink. Then he eats his Pesto pasta with the pinkest neck I've ever seen on a person. Jacket off to reveal long, tattoo-covered arms, and the muscles that have progressively been getting bigger over the months. I join Ryan and Matt's drummer conversation to stop staring. It's weird. Being attracted to him feels wrong. Teenage Lucia would be ashamed. She’d slap some sense into me.

Dinner ends quickly. We're thrusted back into Dublin air before we can even adjust to the complete switch in environment. Running to the venue, through alleyways, shooting splashes of water all over the place, we realise how late we are. I feel better than I did in the morning. That dreaded train ride. Bobbys giving me the silent treatment again. I hate it. I hate it more than when he's being downright horrible to me.

Our set was unbelievable. The best show I've ever done. The crowd was unreal, the size of the place was absurd. We had never sounded so great. Everything went according to plan. We're crying now that we're offstage. We need something to uplift us. Nieve's idea is to party in the back. Which is one of the best parts of the night.

We find a spot just before Inhaler goes on. Screams bleed through the room, adoration written in teenage faces, phones held up to capture the moment. The five lads on stage. One final time. I scream like I'm sixteen all over again, dancing as the first song 'These Are The Days' begins to play. Shouting along, throwing my hands in the air. I don't think I've ever been so happy and fulfilled before.

The setlist is the usual. I didn't expect them to change it. Eli gives a little 'thank you' speech, mentioning us at the end. Then suddenly encore starts and I'm met by a mildly unfamiliar song. The crowd seems just as confused as I am. Bobby is wearing that stupid black vest and I swear his bass has been lowered all the more. The next time they perform, it'll surely be grazing the floor.

Bobby doesn't normally speak to the crowd at shows. It's always Eli. But as they play the intro, he begins to speak, "Hi everyone. Hope you're all having a good time." Commotion, screams, chanting 'Bobby' as if it's a cult gathering, not a concert. His eyes are searching through the crowd. The party in the back turned into moshpits and luckily I got pushed near to the front. His eyes land on mine. I can tell he's looking at when he plays with his earring — like it's a code between us. He keeps playing the same few notes on the bass lazily as he grabs the mic stand. Everyone is silent and listening as he says, "This is 'You Might Get What You Want'.

I recognise it now. I'm sent back to high school. 6 years ago. Practice room at school. Instrument cases strewn all over tha place, broken drumsticks leant against the wall. I'm sat at the piano as Bobby announces, "This is a new song I wrote." He passes me the chords starts singing. My thoughts are quiet. The external world is too loud for me to think. I'm lost in the music. The song is beautiful — lyrics, chords, arrangement, Bobby's voice. That was the day when I wanted to ask to join the band. Then Bobby was horrible to me so I changed my mind. I even asked him what the song was about. He looked at the Jim Morrison poster on the door, hand against his buzzed head as he thought up a response. "A girl," was his final conclusion. I thanked him for his specificity. He told me, quite frustratedly, it was 'none of my business'. Then he was riled up and told me to leave because I was 'playing it all wrong'. One of the last times I ever played with the band. So when I hear the song again — I'm back, sitting at the piano with my school uniform, waiting for cues to play the next chord.

The crowd goes wild at the fact that Bobby is singing alone. This is unusual. The majority of the crowd don't know the song. Reminds me of their first gigs in tiny venues. I sing along, staring at Bobby as he stares back. I wonder which girl the song was actually about. At seventeen, he hung out with every girl in sight - parties, random town meetups, gigs. The way he is looking at me is shattering me down to my core — eyes painted with affection and how he keeps moving his earring. For some reason, I wish the song is about me. Then he sings, 'You Might Get What You Want' whilst pointing right at me. Has anyone else noticed his staring? Nieve and Fran seem clueless. It could all be in my head. His face appears on the screen. I stare. Not ashamed. Appreciating his beauty for as long as we have left. Only tonight. Then nothing. Only the possibility of seeing eachother once again. It won't be set in stone.

I'm a sweaty mess by the end of the show. Last goodbyes, last waves, last shocked stares at the extent of the crowd. I always forget how boiling it gets in the standing area. I'm almost at the point of suffocating. We leave with the crowd, taking a few selfies with fans along the way. I stand in the merch queue. I need something to remember this. Something I can keep and wear and just be brought back to this venue, to this atmosphere. I buy a black tour shirt with the bubbly lettering, slipping it over my tank top. I just know the change in temperature will murder me. The more layers I have on, the better.

We slip through the crowd. Thankfully, it's quieter after my long time in the merch queue. I'd never seen such a long amalgamation of people.

Back at the hotel, I crash straight down onto my bed. Don't even turn on the lights or take off my clothes. I just close my eyes and stretch out my body like a cat. It all happened too quickly. I left the band early to head back, although I heard the rest of them were going to the tour bus to get drunk. I've already had so much fun. I just need to relax. Alone time. Silence. Comfort.

A knock on the door.

I jump up. Still in my Inhaler shirt and lacy white skirt, I feel like taking a shower. But whoever just knocked has impeded any plans. I could just pretend I didn't hear them. I could fall asleep and they'll just walk away.

Another knock. I jolt up this time. It's louder.

This time I reach the door. Sliding the keyhole open, I see him. Of course it's him. Of course. Of all the people that could be here right now. His hair is wet, mussed up. He's holding his jacket under his arm as it's completely drenched. Looking from side to side, he seems to contemplate giving up and leaving me solitary.

I open the door. Let my guard down. I want to talk. Rant. Let out all the garble mixing up and stuffing my skull. He'd listen to me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. I don't say it rudely. Make sure to keep my tone quiet and curious. The rise of his head to meet my eyes is almost film-like, tracing along my skin, photographic.

"I need to talk to you."

"Come in then."

Close the door behind him. He drops his jacket onto the floor. Slides off those shoes with a groan. They really are too small on him. He can hardly untie the laces without sucking in a quick breath. He looks at himself in the dodgy mirror, trying to fix any flying pieces of hair. His beard is growing a little — little moustache fading in above his mouth.

He sits down on a chair by the table. His lengthy legs reach up to the end of the bed where I'm sat. He picks up a tea bag, sniffs it then puts it back. I'm worried about what he's about to say. He looks like he's gone through hell and back to get here. I've never seen him so dishevelled.

"You were amazing today." I hate the silence. I fill it up. "You all get better every time."

He's been so serious since he came in but the ghost of a smile haunts his lips. They twitch then fall. "So do you."

“Is this about your weird For You page because I’m pretty fucking worried.” I’m trying to forget I saw any of those edits.

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head. He's hugging his chest, arms shivering. My eyes narrow. Each hair on his arm is stood to attention.

"Do you want a blanket?" I'm about to look for something to warm him up when his hand clasps around my wrist. He's stood up. I'm sat down, looking up at him. His thumb traces the inside of my wrist, over a bracelet I have. One that he gave me when I was sixteen. A friendship bracelet he'd brought to one of the rehearsal sessions. I wore it just to get a reaction out of him. This is the first time he’s noticed it.

I want to ask him what he's doing. But then he's sat next to me with his arms around my body and I forget what I was going to say.

"Robert..." I don't normally say his full name. It's the only word that's coming to mind. His wet hair is dripping all over my skirt, his head is against my chest, he won't look up at me.

When I pick up his face, stretch my hands over his cheeks, I find his crystal eyes glossed over. Tears. He's crying. I don't know how to react. He buries his head back into the crook of my neck like he's embarrassed. Then he's breathing heavily. Heaving. Sniffling.

"What is it?" I whisper. I stroke every inch of his hair, the nape of his neck, the thin material of his vest. I trace the tattoos on his arm. Finally landing on the music notation inked into his wrist.

"I don't want you to leave." He holds onto my waist, under my shirt, cold skin. "Stay here. With me. Please."

I wipe the tears from his face. I must look like a beetroot. I'm boiling.

"Really?" I think I'm crying as well. I can't help it. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him so unguarded, so helpless.

"I only sang that song so you'd hear it." He looks up at the ceiling, cogs turning in his brain. "It's not just about a girl. It's about you."

"You're kidding." I have to laugh.

"I'm not. I wrote it during the summer holidays before high school. I had some weird thought that you were going to call me and ask me out. I was always a prick to you so I don't know where that idea was coming from exactly. It's just when you want something so badly—I guess your brain manifests it into reality. Like every time I turned around a corner, I thought you'd magically appear. I thought you'd say that you liked me. But then you went off to Uni, the band got big. And now this. You're in fucking Nieve Ella's band. I thought I was going to throw up when I saw you get out of the train. Everything just came back. I didn't put the song on the album because every time I hear it, I just remember what an idiot I am for not treating you well and for not telling you how I feel. Singing it brought me back to the practice room, to that shitty piano with pedals falling off the hinges. How you made such a disgusting piano sound divine. I don't want to make the same mistake. If I let you go now, I'll be regretting it for the rest of my life."

"So you were looking at me? When you were singing?" I tilt my head, thumb below his eye.

"I might have been." He's not crying anymore. His voice is less rough. He sounds like normal Bobby again.

"I'll stay with you. As long as you want."

"Forever?"

"Bit too long. I can only deal with you for about three hours at a time."

"Then we should make good use of the—" He looks down at his watch. "—Two hours and 43 minutes we have left."

"What do you have planned?" I'm getting closer to him. His nose bumps against mine.

"What do you want to do, Luz?" He's challenging me. Thumb swirling over my lips.

"This." I kiss him. Lips to lips. Two notes in perfect harmony. Everything we've been through culminating into one simple kiss. It's a peck. A tease. I pull away as I feel him yank me closer.

His hands find my ears and it's like that night again. His mouth tastes the same. Sweet. Lukewarm. He still grazes my bottom lip with his teeth when he feels me shift back.

"You're an angel," he says.

At that, I'm kissing him again. This time with more passion. Exploding fireworks. Jumping into the ocean, water floating around you. The ringing in your eyes after an explosion. An earthquake. A tidal wave. So many feelings at once. He's trying to take my shirt off. I let him. Pulled it over my head so quickly I thought he might get my neck off as well. He throws it onto the nearby chair, looking at me, with those glimmering eyes and perfect eyebrows. Beauty spots and smooth skin. I attempt to take off his shirt too, although it's pretty much stuck to his chest. He helps me out, laughing at my stress.

"It's not that hard." He smirks, tugging at the top as I manage to unstick the bottom.

"Fuck off." I roll my eyes.

He pushes me down onto the bedsheets, helping me up until my head is on the pillow. I look over his frame. Long torso, large biceps, chain around his neck. It's too much to deal with. Hooded eyes, smirk on his lips, happy trail leading down to his belt. He knows how he's making me dizzy. He leans down, curling over me, scent hanging, cool skin against mine. I throw my head back. I've never been touched like this. So precise. So gentle. Like I'm his favourite bass guitar. I'd never noticed how long his fingers were until they were splayed over my bra, until the other hand was sliding up my thigh.

He kisses my neck, my shoulders, my collarbones, the valley between my breasts, tongue flat, teeth sharp. I hold onto his hair, then onto his toned shoulders. This morning, I would never have expected that this would happen. That the boy I loathed was admiring me and tasting me with unrelenting adoration. Now, the thought of leaving him makes me sick to my stomach. I pull him a little closer, kiss him a little harder and remember just how red teenage Bobby's face was after he'd sang that song to me. How defensive he was when I asked him about it. Now it all makes sense.

I won't ever leave him again.

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theweasleytwinsownmyjuicyass · 11 months

Text

Shadows of doubt pt. 2

Pairing: Seokjin x f!reader

Genre: arranged marriage, angst, fluff, hurt to comfort.

Word count: 3.4K

A/n: Sorry for the long wait but the second part is finally here! It’s exam season at my uni right now so i didn’t have much time to write:// Please leave a comment if you enjoyed it (and even if you didn’t enjoy it! It helps me learn:))

Shadows of doubt pt. 1, Unmasked lies (set after events of Shadows of doubt pt. 2)

Sparkly sunlight danced across your office mingling on a fresh bouquet of tulips adorning your desk.

Life just couldn’t get any better. You currently felt on top of the world with your marriage finally mending itself day by day due to an emotional connection between your husband and you.

Not only was your marriage on the highest cloud but your company has taken off as well. New customers signing contracts and investing huge amounts of money into your delicate visions.

Today’s contract with the Min’s has set a milestone in your company’s record worth celebrating.

An idea of a big party to welcome your new clients as well as celebrate your hard work popped into your mind and the first person you wanted to share it with was your loving husband.

With a joyful smile on your face, you picked up your phone and dialled Seokjin's number.

As the phone rang, anticipation built up inside you. Each ring seemed to stretch on for an eternity until finally he answered, or so you thought…

“Seokjin you won’t believe what happened today!” your voice was filled with excitement.

“Oh, Y/n, Seokjin is busy right now, is there anything you’d like me too pass on to him” a velvet soprano of none other but Seokjin’s assistant Yuri made the corners of your lips fall.

“I see…… well could you let him know that my company is having a celebration this evening? It will be held at the grand palaces of Yang‘s” the previous excitement had fizzled out of your tone.

"I'll inform him, Y/n, but he is very busy today" Yuri's voice was distant as she replied, with an undertone of mockery, which made your stomach twist with a strange emotion.

How could you even begin to describe the woman named Yuri. She was one of the richest heiresses’ in Korea, but had chosen a job of an assistant secretary to Kim Seokjin before you had the chance to know him as your arranged husband.

She was undoubtedly gorgeous with a slim figure, long black hair that contrasted her porcelain like white skin and big beautiful eyes. All of the aunties praised her for her good looks, even if her manners didn’t shine as bright as her outside.

You had never cared for her until the marriage. You had known of Yuri’s and Seokjin’s alleged romance, there was a rumour saying that Yuri and Seokjin were sleeping together and even planned to marry which most believed to be true. Although such rumours were spread a few years before your marriage it didn’t stop everyone from mentioning it to you after the wedding.

For the first half of the marriage you had believed that Seokjin and Yuri were still in a secret relationship seeing as the two of you never engaged in a conversation, let alone anything physical. But now you were completely content with your marriage and trusted your husband more than anyone else.

You also wanted to trust Yuri, feeling as you could have misunderstood the woman you had never met, but you could not let yourself. There was something about her tone that you disliked as she spoke to you and most importantly she never called you in a polite manner always using your name, which at first surprised you until you remembered the kind of attitude she carried.

You sat back in your chair letting your face relax and get rid of the tension. You had a party to get ready for and you wanted to look perfect as a pink diamond for your husband.

As the evening arrived and the party commenced, your excitement began to wane. Seokjin was nowhere to be seen, and your worry only grew with each passing minute. You glanced at your phone, hoping for a missed call or a message from him, but it remained silent, only your unread messages and unanswered calls covering the screen.

You nervously pulled your lip between your teeth which made Namjoon pull on your arm slightly.

“Stop that before you bite it open” Namjoon was painfully aware of your anxious behaviour, low voice expressing care. “What’s on your mind?”

“Sorry it’s just… Seokjin is not here. And he’s not picking up my calls or answering my messages… I'm starting to get really worried. What if something happened to him?”

"Y/n, I'm sure he's only running late and there is nothing to worry about." Namjoon's eyes narrowed with concern as he observed your growing distress.

You nodded, trying to convince yourself that everything was fine, but deep down, anxiety continued to gnaw at you. You couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss.

As the hours passed, the celebration went on without Seokjin's presence. Your heart sank, and you excused yourself from the crowd, retreating into a quiet corner of the venue.

Feeling the weight of the situation, you pulled out your phone once again, desperately hoping for a response from Seokjin. But as you scrolled through her messages and call logs, disappointment and worry etched across your face.

“Either he is ignoring me on purpose or he is over working himself again” a sad sign left your lips.

You went back into the venue and quickly found Namjoon among the crowd.

“Joonie I’m going to go look for Seokjin will you manage to wrap up the party alone?”

“Of course boss, no problem. Oh and be careful I think it’s raining!” Namjoon set you off with one of his dazzling smiled and a cute wave which you returned quickly leaving the party.

You made your way to Seokjin’s offices without a hitch. When you spotted his car in the garage anger flowed through you and you were ready to scold him the second you saw him for working so hard.

At this point you didn’t even care that he missed your party and was ignoring you for the whole day, you cared about his health that was thinning every day more and more.

When you exited the lift at his floor you could barely make out the way to his door as the lights were out everywhere.

But there was a faint glow coming from Seokjin’s office.

Peering into Seokjin's office, you saw him sitting at a table in candle light, engrossed in conversation with his Yuri. They were having dinner together and his hand was covering hers on the table while the other rubbed her shoulder that was engulfed by the jacket you had designed for him not even a week ago.

The scene shattered your heart into a million pieces. The pain of betrayal overwhelmed you, leaving you breathless. All his sweet words and reassurances that you had believed erased themselves from your brain, leaving you with anything but distrust in the man.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you turned away, you could no longer look at the way his eyes looked into hers softly.

Wordlessly you straightened up and walked back to your car, feeling a mixture of heartbreak, anger, and betrayal.

With each step the gold band around your finger became heavier and solidified the determination within you.

You knew what you had to do.

Returning home, you quickly packed your belongings, each item a painful reminder of the shattered love you were growing for so long. Tears were streaming down your face as you made the decision to leave this home, to distance yourself from the pain that now consumed you whole.

In the midst of your heart-wrenching pain, you sought a safe place in the comforting presence of your dear friend Namjoon. Tears streamed down your face as you collapsed onto his shoulder, finding a safe haven in his embrace.

Namjoon, understanding the depth of your sorrow, held you tightly, his voice soothing and gentle.

"Y/n, it's going to be okay. I'm here for you, always. Let it all out."

Through your sobs, you managed to speak, your voice choked with anguish as Namjoon led you inside his apartment.

"Namjoon, I can't believe this is happening. How could he betray me like this?" you cried out, feeling your heart physically breaking you gnawed at your chest with your hands.

Namjoon's soothing voice washed over you as he gently held your hands from hurting yourself further.

"I know, Y/n, you don’t deserve this."

Your cries grew louder, the pain piercing through every fibre of your being. Namjoon's caring gaze met yours as he stood from the couch to retreat a bottle of calming pills from his room.

“Here take these, they’ll help you calm down” he handed you two pills and a glass of water but you were shaking so much you couldn’t hold the glass in your hands. Before it could slip out of your grip Namjoon caught it carefully in his hands and helped you drink from it like you were a toddler.

As the medication began to take effect, a sense of calm washed over you. Your cries subsided, and the weight on your chest lessened. Namjoon stayed by your side, ensuring you were comfortable and safe.

…

Seokjin stepped through the front door of his home, exhaustion etched on his face. The maid, startled by his sudden arrival, approached him with a concerned expression.

"Mr. Kim, where did Mrs. Kim go? She left a few hours ago with her bags" the maid informed him, her voice laced with worry.

Seokjin's brows furrowed in confusion.

"What are you talking about? Y/n left? Did she say anything?"

The maid shook her head.

"I'm afraid not, sir. She seemed distraught, and she didn't respond when I asked her where she was going. She just left without a word."

Panic coursed through Seokjin's veins as he quickly pulled out his phone, dialling your number and sending frantic text messages. But there was no response, only an eerie silence that hung in the air.

His voice trembled with a mix of confusion and desperation as he muttered to himself, "Why would she leave without saying anything? What happened? Y/n, please answer me…"

With each passing moment, Seokjin's worry grew, and a heavy weight settled in his chest. The thought of you leaving, consumed his mind. He could no longer fathom the idea of a life without you, and the mere possibility sent him into a state of despair.

He continued to call and text, pleading for a response, hoping against hope that you would answer and provide some explanation. But the silence persisted, leaving him feeling lost and helpless.

"I need to find her," Seokjin murmured to himself pulling at his hair out of frustration, his voice filled with determination. "I can't let her slip away like this without an explanation."

With a resolute expression, he grabbed his car keys and rushed out of the house, determined to track you down, to confront you for leaving without saying anything to him.

That’s how Seokjin found himself standing in front of Namjoon's apartment in the pouring rain, his body shivering from the cold and his heart heavy with pain.

He quickly knocked on the door praying to all the gods that you’re inside.

And his prayers are answered when you open the door. A small smile appears on his face but not for long as you reach for the door closing it again.

Seokjin reacts quickly reaching his hand out and stopping the door from closing.

"Y/n, please, let’s talk" he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation.

"Seokjin, I don't want to talk to you" you said, your voice laced with pain.

Confusion washed over him.

"What? Why? Why did you leave?" He struggled to catch his breath, his words tumbling out in a rush.

"Just go, Seokjin. We can talk tomorrow at the attorney's office" you replied, your voice trembling, eyes casted to the ground.

His heart sank at the mention of the attorney's office.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I'll end your misery and divorce you, so you and Yuri can be happy together" you said, your words filled with a mix of hurt and anger.

Seokjin's eyes widened in disbelief.

"What? No, no, no. What are you saying? What does Yuri have to do with this?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you spoke, your voice trembling with pain.

"Seokjin, I saw you. The both of you. Tonight. I was at your office."

"You were at my office?" he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

"Yes, I was looking for you like a fool because I got worried for my husband when you didn't come to my party, only to find you two basically on top of each other in an empty office, having dinner in the candle light" you explained, your voice breaking as your eyes once again welled with tears.

"Party? Y/n, what party? What are you talking about?" Seokjin asked, his voice filled with confusion.

"I called Yuri today, and she was supposed to tell you about it" you said, your voice filled with disappointment, still believing he purposefully missed your event.

"Oh..." Seokjin's voice trailed off as he began to understand the situation. Why Yuri was so adamant about finishing a new deal today, why she asked him for advice on her relationship and why she burrowed his phone earlier in the day.

"Seokjin, I don't care anymore, okay?" you said, your voice filled with resignation.

"Y/n, please! I had no idea about the party" Seokjin pleaded, desperation evident in his voice.

"Stop lying to me. I called Yuri, and she was-" you said, your voice quivering with emotion.

“Well she didn’t! She lied to me too!” Seokjin finally yelled out, unable to control his emotions.

Tears streamed down your face as you listened to his words, knowing that this situation was definitely ruined by Yuri and not Seokjin.

"But it still doesn't explain the two of you having dinner together."

A scene of the two popped into your mind again, still as fresh, still as painful.

Seokjin took a deep breath, his voice filled with sincerity.

"Yuri said that she got dumped by her fiancé, and she needed a shoulder to cry on… Y/n, I would never as much as look at another woman with such intentions. You are my wife, and you are the only one. There was never another option. It was always you. Ever since my father said your name, ever since I saw you, it was you and you only. If divorcing me will make you happier you can do it but just know that you are my first and only wife and I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy even if it means cutting my heart into pieces and letting you go I’ll do it, but not without putting up a fight. I’m not going to let you go easily without having shown you how much i can love, without being the husband i have dreamed of being for you since day one, without giving you all the things and all the love you deserve."

His words pierced through your pain, and for a moment, you saw the raw vulnerability in his eyes.

Your eyes cleared, and all you saw was a young boy in front of you who had been suffering just as much as you had, drenched in rain and shaking from the cold, his lips turning blue, eyes teary and earnest.

“Y/n I only love you. I love you.” His eyebrows knitted together, tears mixing with rain droplets on his cheeks as the silence coming from your side made his heart ache with every beat it took.

“Come in you must be freezing” your voice was gentle and warm, unlike before, which let Seokjin relax as your hand circled his arm.

Namjoon appeared in the doorway, his expression angry and protective, hands set in front of his chest. Even you had to agree he looked scary and turned your gaze at Seokjin who was looking down barely lifting his eyes at the larger man.

"I'm sorry to intrude" Seokjin murmured, feeling small in front of the tall and furious Namjoon.

“Joonie please give him some dry clothes while I make tea” you eyed Namjoon reaching out to touch his arm and bring his death glare away from your husband.

He finally looks at you and nods his head letting out a sign.

You went to make the tea, leaving the two men alone. Namjoon tossed Seokjin some dry clothes, his voice filled with a mix of sternness and concern.

"I know that you love her. But no matter how many flowers and gifts you send her or how many times you say it to her, it won't fix what you've broken today. She might not hate you anymore, but the damage is done. And this kind of damage you can’t fix with an expensive pair of earrings or a shiny car.”

Seokjin's eyes met Namjoon's, and he nodded solemnly.

"I understand.”

“Show up for her. Emotionally. Gift her flowers from my own hands, take her out, hold her hand. Be present with her if you really want to make a change."

Seokjin nodded, his gaze intense.

“I will. I can’t afford to lose the only person that matters to me.” His eyes looked down at the wedding band adorning his finger.

"Good. Fight for her, Seokjin. Show her the love and commitment she deserves and it’ll be smooth sailing from then on." Namjoon’s hand connected with Seokjin’s shoulder and he lost balance from the impact for a second but Namjoon only smirked at the older man.

As you returned with the tea, the room was filled with a comfortable silence that let you take a deep breath finally feeling content after the hectic day.

“Here have some” you handed Seokjin the cup and passed another to Namjoon, silently thanking him for being nice with Seokjin.

You sat beside Seokjin on the couch ad brushed your hand through his still damp hair.

You looked at each other eyes filled with love and care, today’s shadows dissipating from your hearts as you finally opened yourselves to one another.

Seokjin cuddled up to you and quickly succumbed to sleep. Before your mind could escape to the dream world you felt a blanket being placed on top of you two and opened your eyes to see the man without who you wouldn’t have been able to really know your husband.

“Thank you” you smiled softly at your friend and he returned your smile, happy to finally see you fulfilled, cheeks rosy and your husband nestled perfectly into your chest clutching you close like a small child would.

…

Seokjin's warm presence next to you filled you with a sense of comfort and contentment. The moonlight cast a soft glow over the room, adding a touch of magic to the dark atmosphere.

His eyes glistened with emotion, and you can't help but be captivated by his gaze.

“Everything okay?” your eyes meet his in the unlit room, only moonlight illuminating his delicate features.

“Everything’s perfect. I love you Y/n” he smiles staring deeply into your eyes.

Your palm finds his cheek and caresses it softly and without wasting another second you lean in and place a sweet kiss on his plump lips.

“I love you too Seokjin” you look into his eyes seeing tears of joy appearing in them reflecting the depth of his emotions. His smile widens, radiating happiness and love.

“But I love you more”

As he leans in to kiss you again, the air fills with a sense of playfulness. His sweet gesture makes you giggle, an expression of pure delight escaping your lips. In this moment, the world fades away, and all that matters is the love shared between the two of you.

You continue to embrace each other, cherishing the love that binds you together. In the quiet darkness of the room, your hearts beat as one, and the promise of beautiful days ahead fills the air.

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winryrockbellwannabe · 7 months

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hey, first off all just wanna say your blog is so cool i love seeing you on my dash!

i was just wondering if you had any tips for first year students and how to manage time? i think that’s the aspect i have been struggling with the most is time management and getting enough sleep rn.

omg tysm!!! 💜💜💜 so glad you like my posts!! and hope your enjoying your 1st year so far <3

So, how to manage your time:

tbh I haven't understood it that well myself. Personally im a little time blind, so i coordinate my schedule based on tasks i have to do, instead of time.

So instead of: study physics for an hour, it could be something like: understand The Schrödinger equation or study 40 pages.

My only time blocks are: morning, afternoon (before snack time, before dinner) and before going to bed. Which i particularly like since it's more flexible, and if i didn't manage to accomplish everything, i can just move it a bit, instead of ruining the whole thing.

My planner usually looks like this: (it's a bit light, since i had classes all day both monday and today, but you get the idea)

But if you like to study in time blocks, my tip is to give them space to be flexible. So if you delay smth it doesn't ruin your entire schedule, and you won't be so stressed about the time as well.

For example, you think you'll take 1h to do this assignment? Save 1h30 for it, if you end up actually needing this extra time, then you're still in time. If you only needed 1h, you can take a break and move to your next task earlier than planned.

Alarms are a student's best friend for time tracking. And a bonus advantage is that it also forces me not to be on my phone, since i set the alarm in there, and it's a visual reminder that i should be working.

Another important thing to do is to ✨ prioritize✨ your tasks!! Your final exam is way more important than a report that's only 10% your grade. Sure, if you can do both it's perfect, but don't waste too much time perfecting smth that's not that important.

Oh, and if you feel like the way your professor explains isn't doing it for you, just forget about that class! It's a waste of time to be 2 hours in a classroom, not even understanding what the professor is saying and stressing about it. Just find some good notes, and study them in the library during that time instead.

Also, for the not enough sleep problem. I feel you. That was me in the second semester of 1st year. I would lose track of time, sometimes just procrastinating, and forget to sleep. My solution for that is ✨alarms✨. I usually wake up at 7:30, so everyday i have an alarm set for 23:00 to remind myself to go to sleep, and another for 24:00, just in case i ignored the first one lol. Really improved my sleep schedules.

(And a little extra (tho i intend to do a bigger post about this soon)

1st year tips in general: Find ways to be interested in your classes, so it's easier to study. Watch documentaries about it, discuss stuff with ppl that love that subject. Even if you are learning how to solve integrals so you can help your crush - totally not talking from experience. If it get's you motivated, then that's all that matters. DONT BE AFRAID TO ASK QUESTIONS!!! I promise your professors aren't judging you, and if your classmates are, well, they won't be judging anymore when you ace that test. And force yourself to take breaks. I would put on my t.do list to watch an episode of a series daily, bc i would be so stressed i would forget to do that. And taking breaks it's super important.)

(sorry for the huge post, I really hope at least one tip in here will be useful for you. Thank you for the ask, and best of luck for this uni year!!! Feel free to ask anymore questions💜)

#asks #studyblr #study blog #studyspo #stemblr #stem student #study blr #time management #adhd things #adhd study tips #- since most of those are time management tips most of my adhd friends also use

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ethereallocs · 11 months

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We’re Just Friends-Modern Au! Rhaenyra x Dornish Male Reader

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Dornish Male Reader (House of Blackmont)

Content/Warning: !!🔞 PLUS ONLY!!, age-gap, sexual tension, lots of jealousy, toxic relationship, strap-on penetration, femme-dom, angst, swearing.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: You and Rhaenyra have been inseparable since you were kids. She accepted you when you could express who you really were to anyone else and overtime you’ve grown to love her in ways a bestfriend shouldn’t. Should you tell her or is it worth possibly losing a friendship?

Author’s Notes: The content/warning section is something I put on all my stories because it will come up eventually and I like to let everyone know it’s for adults and adults only. Also I’ve somewhat changed the ages of Rhaenyra and her brother Aegon so Jace and everyone else aren’t involved in the story.

Chapter One

You and Rhaenyra first met in secondary school for your first year. You had just moved from Dorne over the summer, being the hot topic of discussion when you arrived Y/N Blackmont. One of the most prestigious families of Westoros in King’s Landing. You were walking down the hall dressed in the normal outfit set out for yourself everyday a preppy button up, a skirt, and some platformed boots.

As everyone knew Dorne was a more accepting culture. Women were sexually liberated and men were allowed to take on the lovers that suited them men or women. But in King’s Landing it was foreign to them and of course ignorance came along with it. The bullying was relentless on your first day only stopping when Rhaenyra Targaryen spoke up for you. She was a few years ahead of you and seemed to be an all around tomboy.

Aegon and his group of dick wads had been the ones making thing difficult for you, following you around nonstop projecting no doubt. “Hey…are you a boy or a girl?” It was a good thing you had thick skin an even sharper tongue. “Why Aegon? Do you think I’m pretty?” He grimaced and cocked a fist back before his older sister grabbed onto his shoulder pulling him aside. “What the fuck are you doing?” She scolded him like a mother.

She was thin and a little taller than an average girl. Her skin pale like snow and eyes the color of lavender. Her silver locks were cut short and her style well let’s just say the both of you were very androgynous. “I’m sorry about my brother he can be a cunt…and you are?” You were a bit shocked that she even bothered to acknowledge you. “Oh yeah it’s okay…I prepared myself for someone to come fucking with me today. I’m Y/N…Y/N Blackmont.”

“Well, Y/N I think you and I are going to great friends…don’t you think?” She wrapped her arm into yours and dragged you away like you were her new prized pet and you two have been inseparable ever since. The years had passed and Rhaenyra had graduated from King’s Landing Prep and went to uni and two years later you soon followed. The two of you had become roommates and every professor and student knew if they saw one of you the other was not too far behind.

It seemed like it took forever for Friday to come, but finally it was here. You had exams to do and Rhaenyra had no classes today so she was at home waiting for you. You decided with how well you did it was time to celebrate so you went to the liquor store and bought a bottle of Dorne’s best tequila. Coming through the door your smile quickly turned into a frown seeing who was on your couch. What the fuck was she doing here?

Rhaenyra’s “girlfriend” Lydia Tyrell, now in the beginning you actually wanted to like her, but it was clear that Ms. Tyrell wanted to be the only important person in Rhaenyra’s life. She made it a point to always make the plan you two made fall through. She often threw snarky jabs at you that Rhaenyra was to cunt drunk to pick up on, but you endured for the happiness of your friend.

“Oh..Lydia…you’re here…” You tried to seem happy about her being there, but you failed horribly. “Y/N..” She responded coldly, soon you were interrupted and your smile returned seeing her come out of her room just as excited to see you. Running to you, Rhaenyra wrapped her arms around you picking you up in the air, were you really that light? You blush. “Rhae…put me down please..” you laughed like giddy child before she placed you back on the ground. “So how’d my baby do?” You pulled out the bottle of tequila and squealed. “I passed bitch!!!!” The two of you jumped up and down like highschool girls and Lydia cleared her throat causing the both of you to look her way.

“Umm..congratulations and everything, butttt we have a party to go to tonight. So sorry to cut your celebration so short, love.” A smug smile curled upon her lips. That condescending little cunt. You gritted your teeth into a cheerful grin. “Oh no it’s fine you made plans before this so it’s no biggy.” Rhaenyra pulled you in to whisper something to you. “We can get fucked up when I get back I promise.” She pulled away smiling at you with that smile that gave you butterflies sometimes. Lydia looked like she could’ve puked and you relished how annoyed you made her. “But while you wait Aegon said he was coming by he wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk to me about what?” She shrugged. “I think he likes you honestly.” You scoffed and gagged. “You’re not trying to hook me up with your brother. The same brother that bullied me, because of how I dress and identify? I think the fuck not..” She winced, remembering just how bad he treated you. “Yes you are right. You know he actually came out last year. And he’s been talking about you nonstop for some reason.”

“I’m not the least bit attracted to him so no.” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes and playfully popped the back of your thigh. “Well, you should find someone you like…you’ve never had a boyfriend or girlfriend since I’ve known you.” She was right you weren’t too good at dating. You were a bit awkward with affection and girls didn’t actually gravitate to you since you were on the feminine side yourself. “Rhae…you know I would like my own person…but people don’t stick around long enough to get past all of this.” You sighed

“But, I’ll be fine my toys are my lovers.” You chuckled and Rhae gave you this look that you couldn’t quite read, but it made you nervous. “Well, I’m going to take a shower and start getting drunk in my room. You two have fun at your party. Love ya.” You said sweetly before disappearing in the back of the apartment. “Love you too.” She yelled in your direction.

You sighed after your shower taking two shots of the harsh but smooth spirit. You blasted your music hearing your best friend and her bitch of a girlfriend going at it in the next room…gross. Soon you heard a knock on the door and you got up to answer. You were in some spandex shorts and a crop top. Your dark locks still wet from the shower were pinned up with a hair clip. Opening the door it was her brother. “Hey, Y/N. Can I come in? I brought party favors.” He held up two bottles of tequila and you smiled somewhat. “Oh yeah come in, let me go get my bottle from my room.” You noticed his wandering eyes and gave him a cheeky smile. “Yeah I know I look good.” you teased.

Once you were back you sat on the couch next to him and turned on the tv, the silence between the two of you was deafening. “So I heard you passed your exam.” This was how he was going to start the conversation? “Oh yeah. I kinda psyched myself out, but I got a perfect score.” He smiled giving you a friendly push, “That’s good. You’re pretty damn smart any way.” You smile, “Thanks.” He cleared his throat again you could sense him getting a tad nervous. “So…Y/N first and foremost I want to apologize for the way I treated you when we were kids. I’m was an idiot, trying to deal with my own shit and I don’t know if Nyra has told you, but I’m gay…” You listened intently knowing where this was probably headed. “When did you figure that out?”

He smiled and looked down to his shoes before his lavender gaze found your sweet pools of honey. “If I’m being honest around the time I saw you..” That was a shocker you basically despised one another or so you thought. “Oh so you were taking your insecurities out on me?” He looked away from you and sighed. “Look, I’ve been thinking about how I was going to say this all day, but I like you a lot..and I was hoping we could start over and I could take you out?”

You smiled a bit and thought about it honestly what could it hurt a date could only either go great or not like they plan but forgiving him wouldn’t hurt you either. “Okay, well I forgive you and sure you can take me out on a date.” He smiled and hugged you kissing your cheek. Your cheeks flushed and you opened your mouth to speak, but you were interrupted by Lydia barging out of Rhaenyra’s room. “I’m fucking sick of this! You always take him everywhere we go. On dates, movies, parties…when can I ever have you to myself.”

Rhaenyra was seething her face red with anger. “I’ve noticed you don’t like him and I want to know why? He’s done nothing, but be nice to you and you insist on being a cold bitch!” Lydia was in shock, you and Aegon were meer bystanders. “I wouldn’t be so bothered by Y/N if you weren’t so clearly in love with him.”Lydia stormed out and Rhaenyra turned to you. Aegon hopped up going into the kitchen to grab some shot glasses. “Time to get fucked up!” He yelled and you laughed nervously, grabbing Rhaenyra’s hand.

“Let me talk to her for a second..we will be back.” He nodded and you pulled her into your room. “What the fuck just happened?” You asked and Rhaenyra bursted into tears. “I mentioned that I wanted you to come with us I know how nervous you were about being alone with my brother and I said it would be a good idea for you to maybe meet someone there…and that’s when she stormed out…I know I’ve been oblivious to how she’s treated you the last two years, but she’s brought you up so much lately. Starting arguments about you specifically asking why do you have to live here as if I’d kick you out for her.”

You pulled her into your chest for a hug and sighed rocking her slowly. “It’s alright she was a bitch anyway I only tolerated her, because I wanted you to be happy.” She held onto your slender waist tightly and sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve broken it off with her as soon as you told me.” You sigh humming. “I just wanted you to be happy Rhae.” She could hear your heart beating..oh how it pounded with her laying on you this way. “Maybe we should go take some shots.” You picked her up and led her to the kitchen.

Later that night you all were drunk off your asses and you and Aegon were getting rather acquainted with each other dancing and laughing together. Rhaenyra watched them closely and sulked the green with jealousy. Then you favorite song came on and she stood up to take you away from her little brother and held you from behind swaying you. You melted into her, her brother long passed out once he hit the couch. She sang to you and you smiled shivers going down your spine as she place a sweet kiss against your shoulder.

“She was right…” you look out of the corner of your eye. “What?” Her voice a soft whisper, “Lydia…she was right..I love you.” You laughed nervously “Of course I love you too, you’re my bestfriend, Rhae.” She shook her head and pulled you away into her room locking the door behind you. She called you by the nick name she had given and seemed to be fighting with herself. “No…I want you, Y/N. You don’t understand how badly I want you.” You were still dizzy from the tequila, but she said it. “But, I thought you only liked girls…what about Lydia…what about Aegon?”

She chuckled, “Fuck her and he can always find someone else. And I do mostly…but I like you too.” Her hands soft cupped you delicately chiseled face and pulled you in for a kiss. The taste of the tequila on her tongue excited you. Her hands quickly finding their way on your body. Your slender yet toned frame was surprisingly soft like that of the women she’s had before.

“Rhaenyra…” You whimpered her name and she cooed inhaling your scent. You smelled sweet like vanilla and she groaned reaching into you shorts grabbing onto your tones buttocks your hands reaching up her tank top to cup her breasts. Catching your lips again she moaned into them and bit at the soft supple flesh of your bottom lip. Your cock twitching within your shorts.

She of course had the upper hand dominating you with just a kiss. She a hand to the front of your short cupping your cock squeezing slightly you gasped causing you to leak into her hand. “You’re pathetic you know that…” She looked at you and smiled leaning in to kiss you again when you both heard a loud crash and Aegon yelling something inaudible… “Fuck..” you both hiss. “Rhaenyra opened the door and walked out first. “What the fuck have you broken now?” She groaned “Aegon, my fucking coffee table?!?!”

You laughed soon following behind her. He tried getting up to piss, in his words and fell in the coffee table. She sighed holding two fingers to the bridge of her nose and you were seeing if he was okay. The two of you carried him to her bed and then went back to clean up the mess in the living room. “Would you like to come sleep with me tonight?” By the time you two were finished you were far to exhausted to continue with what had just so instead she wrapped her arms about you and laid on your chest while you fingers slid up and down her back. She fell asleep, but you stayed awake wondering what was to happen now..

To be continued…

#hotd fanfic #queen rhaenyra #princess rhaenyra #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra smut #rhaenyra x you #rhaenyra x y/n #house of the dragon series rhaenyra x male reader #read it #fic rec #highly recommend #10/10 reccomend

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la-galaxie-langblr · 4 months

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Inspired by @ben-learns-smth and his seemingly endless gratitude and zest for life: Good Things That Happened Lately (ie I need to notice good things that happen in life and a deeply sucky few days leading up to the start of exams seems like a good place to start) (edit: I had so many things I put them under a read more, a very good sign :D)

Playing stardew valley with a friend before they went back to uni

I saw my first ice hockey game with friends and we got hot chocolate and donuts afterwards

Becoming more aware of the need to take care of my body

Difficult but important and productive discussions with friends

Saw some gorgeous sunsets while out on walks

Trip planning!! The first 6 months of this year will be so packed but it's an investment in memories :)

Submitting an essay after loads of hard work that I'm pretty proud of!!

Eating mini eggs for the first time this year <333

Discord calls

I decorated my 2024 planner with loads of fun stickers and I love it :D

5 hour video call with my beloved squad

Reunion hugs with a uni friend and a spontaneous cinema trip to see The Boy and the Heron with said friend

^on that outing I also ate my first Gregg's sausage roll, they only had the vegan ones left but it was the nicest sausage roll I've ever had

Finding postcards in the post from friends that have been there since Christmas

Uni friend hangout: Glee, deep chats and wheezing over multilingual hangman at 4am edition

I realised that my uni show choir isn't actually audition only so I'm going to join it in the new semester :D

The hard but necessary habit of watching YouTube in French again, my comprehension on one video wasn't as bad as I thought and I found a few channels I like

Finally feeling inspired to cook fun meals again (I have yet to act on this cus I need groceries but Soon!!)

Seeing some more uni friends at an event

Said event had a guy talking about frogs and I had the time of my life

Ripe kiwis and buying the nice apples (Pink Lady supremacy)

Fizz' album The Secret To Life, wild to think I'm seeing them live in a couple weeks!!

Chocolate biscuits <333

I went on a lovely winter walk in the local park today, the lake was completely frozen and there were so many geese!!

And finally: I made an excellent salad for dinner, who knew that actually seasoning your food properly makes it taste good /j

I'm glad I did that, I'm feeling much more upbeat and positive about things!! If I can remember to do this regularly it'll be good for me :)

#ellis exclaims #friends #positivity

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squishmallow36 · 11 months

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It's all I wish to hear tonight, and you're all I wish to be, and this is how we all fall - Chapter one

Summary: It's the Garvar fic! Wdym you want a summary? It's a retelling of the first chapter of kotlc from Garwin's pov. That's--that's pretty much it. We do have them interact which is pretty nice. There will be more loosely connected chapters to come but I don't know how many or how they'll turn out. Word count: 2730

TW: swearing, drug mention, mentions of kidnappings and murder in relation to the Sophie/Fitz interaction

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @gaslight-gaetkeep-gayboss @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @remember-me-in-another-time @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death. Also @frogs-and-flowers-and-faeries @camelspit you two seemed interested

On AO3 (only to registered users because y'know, AI) or below the cut

If there’s one thing universally agreed upon by high schoolers, it’s this: field trips are fun. Or at least they should be, in theory.

Instead of being locked in a classroom for eight hours a day, you get to go outside, cause some havoc, you know, the usual.

Your other teachers end up being nice because you cried to them that between all your classes and this field trip, you need an extra week on that paper that you’ve had assigned for three months and you haven’t started and is due tomorrow for a reason.

And, most of the time, as an extra bonus, you learn absolute jack shit.

The only problem arises when the teacher that is taking you on the trip seems to forget that part and forces you to actually pay attention with the threat of a quiz, and knowing him, he’s going to make it absolutely horrendous.

Yes, dinosaurs are badass but having to listen to your teacher read the plaques out loud makes gouging your eyes out seem like a good course of action.

Are we completely sure the teachers here have a 100 percent literacy rate? Garwin wonders, rolling his eyes as Sweeney struggles through another scientific name. I mean, knowing this school system, it would not surprise me.

There’s a couple of nerds taking notes but honestly there’s no chance. If there is a quiz, it’ll be the type of thing that’s “What year, exactly, did the cretaceous era end?” And the multiple choice options will all be around that 66 million years ago mark ingrained in everyone’s soul but you have to remember that science was able to determine the meteor fell on a Thursday and from that you have to extrapolate what the date would have been.

Can a meteor fall on us this today Thursday? That’d be great. No more AP exams.

And yeah, AP classes are supposed to have a curve, but with that little photographic memory of Dophie’s only half paying attention and half listening to MCR so loud it can be heard from three miles away, she’s gonna get a perfect score.

Case in point: Sweeney finally hears Gerard screaming and catches onto the fact that Sophie is completely ignoring his existence, per usual.

“Miss Foster!” He yanks her earbuds out by the cords. “Have you decided that you’re too smart to pay attention to this information?”

Well, she can probably legit get a zero on the final and still carry a 93 in the class. So I’d probably say the answer is yes. I think we all know that little smartass corrects Sweeney on a daily basis.

Between the typos and the shit he gets plain wrong, it was entertaining to see him flounder at the beginning of the year, but at this point she doesn’t seem to grasp the idea that everyone’s given up on the lost cause of a man.

This entire class has all had to suffer through more school than she’s been alive. Other than the dumbass sophomores in the class. But it wouldn’t be surprising to find out they were smoking weed in the back of class for a “science experiment.”

Ah, the things you can get away with in AP Enviro Science and a teacher that doesn’t care. Except about the toddler in his class who listens to music but hey. Maybe he’s insecure because he’s stupid and he has to maintain control over some aspect of his life.

Sophie mumbles something, denying it as she attempts to retract into her shell like a turtle. Unfortunately, humans don’t usually come with a shell, so she isn’t very successful.

“Then perhaps you can explain why you were listening to your iPod instead of following along?” Sweeney dangles the headphones in front of her as she rips out an eyelash.

Now, Garwin may have only gotten a 2 on the AP Psych exam last year because he only paid attention half the time because those daily quizzes were ass, but that doesn’t seem like the healthiest of coping mechanisms.

Sophie simply stares at the ground to pretend like Sweeney isn’t harassing her.

“Since you’ve decided you’re above this lecture, why don’t you give it?” Sweeney asks, gesturing to the definitely-accurate reconstruction of an orange hadrosaur. “Explain to the class how the Lambeosaurus differs from the other dinosaurs we’ve studied.”

You see, one of these was the Pteranodon family’s neighbor on Dinosaur Train. Larry Lambeosaurus was an endless pit that never seemed to fill with food, much like the average teenager. Unlike the average teenager, however, this may have something to do with his diet of tree and its caloric density, or lack thereof.

Instead of listening to Sophie rattle off dinosaur facts learned from a lifetime of being a fucking nerd, Garwin chooses to look at literally anything else for some scrap of entertainment.

Like, for example, the Albertosaurus. And imagining it coming to life and eating everybody à la Jurassic Park. That would be fun.

Sweeney gets increasingly pissed off as she keeps going. He really should’ve learned long ago to not challenge her ‘cause it ain’t gonna go well for him. He mutters something under his breath, and turns to go to the next increasingly stupid dinosaur.

Actually, Garwin takes that back. The dinosaurs themselves aren’t stupid. It’s the whole idea of having to get dragged to a place to forcefully learn about them instead of actually studying for the AP exam in less than two weeks. Not that he actually cares about that though.

“Nice job, superfreak,” he says to Sophie as she stands helplessly in the middle of the walkway. He pushes past her in an effort to appear engaged enough to not get another detention. “Maybe they'll write another article about you. 'Child Prodigy Teaches Class About the Lame-o-saurus.’”

Garwin’s gaze lands on someone reading the newspaper with Sophie’s face plastered across it. Yeah, the guy’s kinda cute with dark hair and teal eyes flicking up at Sophie ever so often…but, like, he’s probably freshman-ish years old and that’s kinda weird in the middle of the school day, not gonna lie.

And he isn’t in this class, that’s for sure. So he’s probably ditching. Kind of a dumb move to ditch and then go to a museum but hey. That’s his life choice and it’s not Garwin’s fault it’s stupid.

Garwin rolls his eyes as he moves into the next room. The desire to cause large amounts of property damage by climbing up the statues is immense, but, alas, one cannot succumb to temptation.

Their resident curvebuster doesn’t follow, and, honestly, that is a choice. Maybe if she gets eaten by a dinosaur or kidnapped with the guy pulling a Ferris Bueller, this class might know peace once again.

A not-small part of him could not give less of a shit if she disappears suddenly, and another not-small part of him can’t help but see the advantages. Maybe then we won’t all fail the class. It’s not like San Diego City College is going to miss her. Chances are, she’ll be the same to her unfortunate classmates there.

As the group shuffles around a reconstruction of a Triceratops, Sweeney begins droning on and on and on and on about the different types of ceratopsians, and it’s a damn fucking shame the one with three horns became famous instead of, like, the Kosmoceratops.

That fucker’s got fifteen horns and it’s common knowledge that an animal’s coolness is exponentially correlated with number of things that it has that can kill you.

In order to quell the rising tide of complete and total apathy, Garwin once again begins the search for something--anything--interesting to occupy his time.

And don’t you know it? There’s a hot guy hiding in a corner trying desperately not to be seen.

Between him and the kid reading the newspaper in the other room, something weird is definitely going down. So the obvious course of action is to walk up to the guy and see what’s up. Maybe even flirt a little. As soon as he can escape from Sweeney’s torture chamber, that is.

In the meantime, Garwin can still stare at him. He has dark hair gelled to perfection and light blue eyes. His eyelashes are visible from this massive distance away, so they must be super long and therefore super hot. Garwin’s fingers ache to trace his sharp square jaw and his skin is a light tan with a dusting of freckles for good measure.

In short, he’s absolutely fucking gorgeous.

He’s way too far to be certain, but he kind of does look like newspaper boy…for reasons that are as of right now indescribable other than sheer vibes.

And he’s wearing a black batman sweatshirt--a foolish decision on a partially sunny day such as today--that hangs in such a way to suggest he’s got some muscles hiding beneath it.

The world would be improved in many ways if that sweatshirt was a little less on.

Then, suddenly, by some miracle, some grace of god, Sweeney lets them explore for themselves. An argument could be made that he realized that no one was paying attention, but the more likely case is that he got tired of teaching and is now allowing them the slightest sliver of freedom to maximize his own laziness.

Garwin floats over to the guy in the corner as nonchalantly as possible as his traitorous heart is doing backflips in his chest. He was tall from a distance, but he’s even taller up close.

“Hey,” he says. Hey? Hey? That’s the most creative thing you could come up with? A cheesy pickup line would be better at this point.

“Hey yourself.” Guy-in-the-corner says with the slightest hint of a smirk. “I’m Alvar, what’s your name?”

Garwin is almost too distracted by Alvar’s thick accent--almost British, but somehow crisper--to remember his own name. “I’m Garwin. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Do you really think they looked like that?” Alvar asks. “The dinosaurs, I mean. It’s a little absurd, isn’t it?”

“Would you rather have the nerd answer or do you want the smartass answer?” Garwin replies.

“Who says I don’t want both?”

“Ah. Well then. The nerd answer is that at least some of them should have feathers. They are the ancestors to birds, after all. The fact that none of them do is a little yikes. And as for my other answer, I’m not a paleontologist, but,” Garwin points to a fossilized sauropod…or at least a skeleton of one that may or may not be real, “that one might be a tad bit skinny.”

Alvar laughs, a glorious sound. His eyes wander away from studying Garwin, focusing out of the room, landing on Sophie fucking Foster.

Ah, yes. First she gets into Yale without even trying and now she’s gained the attention of multiple people which depending on the intentions could be really fucking creepy. She’s literally twelve. This is complete and utter bullshit.

“Is that the kid on the front of the newspaper today?”

“Yeah,” Garwin replies bitterly.

Alvar makes a thoughtful sound and looks back at Garwin, who has begun leaning against the wall. Yes, there’s a plastic fern between them but you do what you can.

“Come on, Fitz. Don’t be a total dumbass,” Alvar whispers as newspaper boy--Fitz--begins to step away from Sophie.

A swarm of kindergarteners barreled into the exhibit, nearly knocking both Sophie and Fitz off their feet. They hold their heads in their hands like their brains are physically getting stabbed and when they make eye contact again, Sophie watches Fitz in fear.

Why that is, Garwin can’t tell, but there’s something in Alvar’s expression that seems like he suspects something, and Garwin would give anything--except a full ride scholarship to Yale--to know what he does.

In the time Garwin spends studying Alvar’s features for clues and getting lost in his eyes, Sophie has magically disappeared. Fitz swears, probably loud enough to be heard all the way at the zoo across the street, as he runs after her.

Alvar rolls his eyes. “Life choices. Do I run after my dumbass of a brother or do I leave him be? Decisions, decisions,” he asks himself.

What the fuck?

Garwin looks back at Alvar to find him already watching him. “Would you like me to go tell Sweeney or just…let her skip class?” And probably get murdered just a little bit.

It takes a good few seconds for him to process this request. “Eh, I’m sure he’ll notice sooner or later.”

Oh my fucking god this guy is fucked up. I don’t like Sophie, but I’d rather she not get kidnapped.

…Is it bad that he's still hot?

“Why the fuck are you two harassing Sophie?” The question comes out more forcefully than Garwin intends, but not enough to walk it back.

“That is one very long story and I don’t think you’d believe half of it. But let’s see--how simplified can I get this?” He pauses, formulating. “We’ve basically got a switched at birth situation going on here except we don’t exactly know who her actual parents are and well that’s a whole thing that I’d rather not get into right now. Also we don’t know if she’s actually the kid we’re looking for. And by we I mean mostly our dad but he isn’t here right now because he figured it would be less creepy for us to stare at children than he would be. And then Fitzy over there doesn’t know I’m here for extensive and even more complicated reasons. And he wasn’t supposed to interact with her. Problems all around.”

Garwin considers this explanation for a moment. On the one hand, it leaves him with more questions than answers, and on the other hand, he doesn’t really care enough to ask for further elaboration.

“Just don’t murder Sophie. I don’t need to see her on the front cover of the newspapers that should already be obsolete two days in a row,” he decides.

Alvar smiles. His teeth are brilliantly white, and it’s ever so slightly crooked in such a perfect way that makes it seem practiced. His cobalt eyes fix Garwin to the spot as they turn toward each other.

“And, um, before I go, I do immensely apologize if I’m reading this wrong, but would you like to go out with me sometime?”

“Why the hell else do you think I wandered over here? Absolutely.”

Instead of giving Garwin his phone number like a normal person by writing it on a sticky note or the back of his hand with a sharpie that doesn’t come off for a week or just directly typing it into their phone, Alvar comes equipped with a stack of business cards.

And honestly, it’s not even that surprising. Like, yes, he’s only known the guy for a grand total of fifteen minutes, but that tracks with what he knows so far…which isn’t much. But it still counts. Bitch.

Garwin smiles. “I’ll call you and set up details when I can look at my calendar and I’m not already busy with club meetings and shit.”

“Sounds good.”

After a short pause, Alvar opens his mouth to say something else, but he’s interrupted by Sweeney’s nasal whining before he gets the chance.

Garwin rolls his eyes. “I guess I should get back to the fucked up reality that is the American school system. See you later.”

“Bye,” Alvar replies, smiling.

Garwin makes his way back to the class reforming around Sweeney like a slime mold, taking his sweet time to not seem too eager to be going back to the hellhole that is occasionally referred to as a school but not dicking around so much he gets left, as making his way back there himself would be mildly inconvenient.

And we can’t have that, now, can we?

Garwin looks back into the corner to sneak one more glance at the indescribably attractive boy who has for some reason asked him out only to find that he’s nowhere to be found.

Was he just a figment of my imagination?

Garwin checks his back pocket, hissing as the sharp edges of a business card leave him with a paper cut.

Guess that solves that mess.

Now if only all the world’s problems could be solved so easily, we’d be onto something.

#kotlc #kotlc fanfic #garvar #garwin chang #kotlc garwin #kotlc alvar #alvar vacker

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year

Text

Part 2 - Play it by ear

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 1 -- Part 3

Pairing: CollegeAU!Sherlock Holmes x OFC (Elena)

Summary: Sherlock helps his friend study for an exam, and she teaches him some new things in return...

Warnings: Rated M for making out, second base stuff, boobs. This is mostly fluff, marked awk for awkward and slight emotional crisis (it’s Sherlock. Every emotion is a crisis...). Mention of deadlines and assignments - for those of us who are in uni or relive the anxiety every damn day of their lives.

Word count: 6.1k

A/N: The writing here is like superduper different from the last chapter, but enjoy virgin!Sherlock, he’s bby. Also; I just realized that the timeline of this fic is a bit of a tripping hazard...

I promised I tried to proof and edit this. Typos may be registered with the Office for Typo Registration, open every February 29th from 10.00h - 10.01h.

Anywhoozles; not really a lot of smut under the cut today.

It was a little past three when the professor finally dismissed his students. Sighs of relief sounded throughout the lecture hall. Laptops were slammed shut and crammed into bags, books and papers were gathered in sloppy piles and hurriedly carried out: practically everyone was looking to get out of the room as soon as possible. Only two people behaved as if they hadn’t just been assigned a huge paper with an impossible deadline. For one of them, this behavior could be explained by the fact that he was the professor, and therefore indeed did not have to write said paper, the other was simply deeply opposed to hastiness. It was not for nothing that diligent and thorough were among the first words that came to many a mind when asked to describe Sherlock Holmes. Other descriptors included unsociable and strange. Lastly, and heard perhaps less often than one might expect, there were the terms young and genius. After all, Sherlock had a keen mind, which had allowed him to reach his third year of law school when he was yet to turn nineteen.

Unhurriedly, the young man began his commute home. Immersed in thought, he didn’t notice the small redheaded woman that appeared next to him. Only when he had finished outlining the freshly assigned paper in his mind did he become truly aware of his surroundings.

“Elena,” he spoke, the baritone of his voice dark and warm - cozy, almost. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “For how long did you allow me to ignore you this time?” His chuckle was as comforting as his voice.

“I didn’t want to disturb your thoughts,” Elena replied. She had before. It had vexed him at the time, as the pair had barely known one another. Now, however, they had gotten better acquainted - much better, one might say - and he found that she was one of very few people whom he allowed to disrupt his thinking.

“And your saying so,” he mused, “shows precisely why I would allow you to.”

“I’ll be sure to remember.” Elena fidgeted with an unraveling seam on her bag. “Sherlock, you took Criminal Law two years ago, right?” There was only one possible answer: he was in his third year, therefore he must have taken and passed that particular first year course - it was mandatory.

“Naturally,” he said, hesitantly. His head turned toward his companion, one eyebrow raised in confusion at the strange inquiry. Elena wasn’t usually one to ask rhetorical questions - it was something he quite liked about her.

“Would you help me prepare for my midterm? I’m struggling with the material a bit, and I missed some things when I was sick last week.” She averted her eyes when she asked him, the deliberation of her actions completely lost on Sherlock, who felt something that resembled anxiety at the gesture - though for the love of God he could not figure out why. He had come to terms with the fact that she was one of the few people he could not read very well - as if his sharp instincts and attention to detail left him the second she stepped into the room. Though he did always notice when her hair fell differently, when she wore a different perfume, or when her makeup had left tiny colored specs on her cheeks. Of course, that was something Sherlock considered without value when he could hardly keep track of what she was saying. He simply thought his talents to be of no use in her presence.

“I’d be more than happy to,” he said. His face held a familiar smile that was wider than was normal for him, but - as was so often the case with this particular smile - he couldn’t help himself. “I’m free this weekend?”

“Right now?” She smiled shyly. Sherlock replied with just a nod before suggesting they might use his room to study.

“I have some notes that may be helpful,” he quickly added, as he suddenly became afraid that his offer had come across as untoward. It was as if he had forgotten that for the past six weeks, they had spent every Saturday in that room, rehearsing their pieces for orchestra. Nothing had ever been strange about that. Not to him, at least, and his mother had raised neither a savage nor a fool; surely he would remember it if he had been improper. He remembered that first encounter vividly, often replaying the memory in his head.

“You are quite good,” he had said to the new addition to the orchestra. She had been sat next to him, in the usual place for the second violinist.

“Thank you,” she had replied, blood creeping up her neck, finding its way to her cheeks. She had heard about him. Sherlock Holmes, the famous - though among his peers all but notorious - first violinist of the university orchestra. In stories of him, which rather often were filled with complaints that he received special treatment, he was often portrayed as a pompous arse. She could see now, that these tales were nothing but the product of jealousy. He truly was remarkable. “You are very good.”

“Thank you, that’s awfully kind of you,” Sherlock had said, and for the first time he had felt this peculiar smile, that was so much wider than he was used to, creeping onto his face. “Sherlock,” he had introduced himself. He had never entertained the thought that it may not have been necessary, that she had already known who he was.

“Elena,” she had replied.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Elena,” he had said. And before he had good and well thought it through, he had added: “Perhaps we might rehearse together sometime? If you’re free, of course.” He had been unable to determine the source of the incredible anxiety had felt in the limbo between his asking and her answering - or that of the intense relief when she not only accepted his proposal, but did so rather enthusiastically.

Her laugh tore him away from his memory of the experience.

“Sounds fantastic,” she said, the smile on her face widening as she looked into his eyes. As he looked back into hers, he noticed the intensity of their color - green - and the little gold specs in them - but he missed the slightly provocative twinkle they held. His eyes wandered over her face, slowly, carefully, as if he thought he would otherwise disturb it. He noticed the thick, long lashes that framed her eyes. The freckles on her nose and cheeks, where - as always - her make-up had left tiny brown and golden specs. Sherlock’s heart was beating so hard that, despite being well aware that it was impossible, he feared it would break through his ribs and escape from his chest. Still, his eyes remained locked onto her face, wandering further down to her lovely smile. He noticed her teeth were a bit crooked, which he found strangely endearing. Her full lips looked soft and dewy - undoubtedly the work of that cherry-scented chapstick she was always applying. Its scent paired nicely with the sweetness of the perfume she wore almost every day. Today, Sherlock noted, was no exception; he inhaled the delicate aroma with every breath. His thoughts ran away with his sanity, his gaze clung to her alluring mouth, even as she moved it to speak and he only vaguely registered her voice. The movement of her lips, the fragrance that surrounded her, and his erratically beating heart gave way to new sensations. Blood humming in his ears. A lump in his throat that refused to be swallowed away, no matter his efforts. The familiar rush of blood… down, and the subsequent tightening of his trousers.

“Sherlock?” Her hand waved through his field of vision, breaking his trance-like state. “Let’s go?” Her eyes were mischievous, something Sherlock would have picked up on immediately, had it not been for his current affliction. In fact, the young man was not even aware of this condition. He had questioned his health and his mental faculties, surely, but was yet to arrive at the appropriate conclusion. Elena, however, recognized the symptoms of his ailment immediately. He was two years ahead of her in university, sure, but she was two years his senior and more than a bit wiser than him when it came to the less intellectual and more instinctive truths of the human condition.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head as if that would rid it of those thoughts. It did not; if anything, it made him look ridiculous. He extended a hand. “Allow me.”

Only in the first few weeks after making his acquaintance had Elena attempted to decline his offer, but resisting the charm of this man was something she had ultimately found exhausting and unpleasant. Now, she would normally opt for a coy smile and a thank you, but she was feeling playful today. “Always such a gentleman.” She practically purred the words as she handed him her bag, making sure to touch his hand in the process. She relished his reaction; the twitch of his hand as her skin came into contact with his, the sharp breath that escaped from between his slightly parted lips, the soft blush that slowly crept from beneath his collar, his averted gaze. She felt a little bad for toying with this sweet guy’s emotions, but since she shared his feelings, she saw no real harm in having a little fun.

The pair made their way to the house on Crescent Street that Sherlock shared with seven other students. Elena had only ever met two of them; August Walker - because he had been leaving the house one Saturday morning just as she arrived at the front door - and Walter Marshall - because he took the Criminal Law course with her and he had recognized her when she’d been trying to find some space for her jacket on the coat rack in the hallway. The fact that Sherlock kept to himself - and kept her to himself - didn’t upset her. In fact, she rather liked it: There was very little pressure to socialize, which she found rather relaxing.

“Ladies first,” were the familiar words with which Sherlock ushered her through the door, accompanied - as always - with a simple gesture. They climbed the stairs to his room in silence. For the first time, Sherlock dreaded the moment they would soon spend behind his bedroom door, in the cramped space that led to the attic stairs. The room itself was spacious, but that tiny hallway - calling it that was a stretch, even - barely held two people, and it was impossible not to touch each other. Elena, however, looked forward to that precise moment: It would be a good opportunity for some close physical contact. Once they arrived at the second floor of the house, Sherlock muttered something about the bathroom.

“I’ll be right up,” he spoke. You’ve been up for a while, Elena thought to herself, but she bit her tongue and swallowed the words, offering up a sweet smile instead.

“What is the matter with you, Sherlock?” He chastised himself while looking at himself in the mirror as he leaned over the sink. His knuckles were pale from the iron grip of his hands on the white porcelain. “Pull yourself together.” Stop thinking about her, he thought to himself, which - naturally - had an effect contrary to his desires. It finally dawned on him, as he felt himself harden at the thought of her beautiful lips, that perhaps the explanation for his reaction wasn’t rational at all - which explained perfectly why he didn’t care for it. Real panic set in when he considered the possibility that these were feelings she did not reciprocate, and he found, much to his dismay, only one short-term solution to this problem: to ignore it completely. An entirely unsatisfactory remedy, and likely ultimately unsuccessful at that.

“Yes! You’re absolutely correct!” He exclaimed proudly as she answered one of his more difficult questions with a very thorough rebuttal. Criminal law had been a fantastic distraction from the earlier troubles, and it had kept the two of them occupied for a few hours.

“Thank goodness, I don’t think I can take much more of this today!” Elena sank back into her chair and let her knees fall to the side slightly. “It’s only eight, after all.”

Sherlock buried his face in his hands. He often lost track of time, and he was usually careful not to drag others along with him. “I’m sorry,” he chuckled softly. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that this time, he had done it on purpose, for fear of her wanting to leave. Her hand reached for his thigh, and his muscles twitched at the touch.

“I can go get us some Chinese food, as a thank you?” Sherlock gratefully accepted her offer.

Shortly after Elena had left, Sherlock walked downstairs, and stood hesitantly in front of the door at the far end of the hall. He couldn't bring himself to knock, but could neither persuade his legs to walk away. After a minute or so, the person on the other side of the door yelled: "It's open, come in." Sherlock often forgot how good Geralt's hearing was. He entered the room, hesitation in his steps, his stance, his expression, and closed the door behind him. Geralt was laying on his bed, reading what looked like a book on Celtic mythology, not bothering to put it down just yet.

"Sherlock," he said, a simple acknowledgement of his presence, no question or judgment behind the remark. It was something that Sherlock admired about him, though it could be quite annoying at times - when one was in search of questions or judgments, for example. Tonight, he was in luck, because as much as Geralt aimed to steer clear of other people's business, he did consider Sherlock a good friend, and he could tell something was the matter.

He snapped the book shut and sat up. "Trouble?" Lengthy conversation would just make the both of them uncomfortable, that much was clear.

"Girl," Sherlock sighed as he leaned his back against the door.

"Even worse," Geralt laughed. "The violinist?" Sherlock couldn't answer, so he opted for a sigh, hoping it sounded enough like a confirmation. "Her name seems to have slipped my mind, I'm sorry," Geralt chuckled.

"Elena." Sherlock spoke so softly it was barely even a breath. He figured it would suffice for Geralt's impeccable hearing - and he was correct.

"Right," he chuckled, "and you have finally come to the conclusion that you’re attracted to her?" Another affirmative sigh escaped Sherlock's lips.

"Thank heavens," Geralt said bluntly, "your denial was becoming quite annoying." Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but Geralt raised his hand, beckoning him to be quiet. "Do I need to remind you that not much will happen when you're in your housemate's room making idle conversation, instead of in your room? With her."

"Firstly, Geralt," Sherlock snarled. He knew Geralt had said it with no intention of mocking him, but it aggravated him nonetheless. "She's not currently upstairs. And secondly," a sigh broke up his rambling, and Sherlock found himself unable to regain his stern tone. "Geralt, I… I can't do this. I cannot make sense of these feelings. I can't stand being… consumed by them." And unlike any of the others in the house, save perhaps Walker - but anyone who had ever had the pleasure of dealing with August understood immediately why one would opt out of having this particular conversation with him, Geralt understood the sentiment perfectly.

“For those of us who actually seem to enjoy being in control of our mental faculties, it can feel like surrender,” he said matter-of-factly.

“It feels like the beginning of a steady descent into madness,” Sherlock confessed. The remark made Geralt laugh. This, too, he understood, though he had learned by now that it wasn’t true. “Why is that funny?”

“It isn’t, I’m sorry,” Geralt shook his head, still laughing. “Look, I can tell you… If you really like her, it won’t go away by doing nothing. That’s your descent into madness, right there.” Sherlock groaned and vowed that this was the last time he’d ever looked up from a book for long enough to ever see another woman. “You can’t fight biology, my friend.” At least that made some sense to Sherlock - in fact, it made him consider that what he was feeling could be completely rational, after all. The science behind it was solid enough.

“And Charles doesn’t spend most of his nights in company because it’s a terrible way to pass the time.” Geralt grinned. Now it was Sherlock’s time to laugh.

Geralt’s head turned suddenly. “That’s her,” he said as he got up from the bed and walked over to where Sherlock was standing. In passing, he grabbed something off the nightstand. His efforts to keep himself far from these situations couldn’t change who Geralt was at heart: a reluctant father-figure to his friends - especially the younger ones. “Can’t believe I’m doing this. Here.” Sherlock didn’t have to look in order to know what he’d just been handed. “Fucking hell, they’re condoms, not scorpions. Just...”

“Thanks,” Sherlock muttered, more than a little embarrassed that Geralt had just assumed he would be this unprepared for a situation such as this one. Nevermind that his presupposition was correct; it was mortifying nonetheless. He was grateful, though, that his friend was looking out for him.

“Take them.” Geralt ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, and talk to her.”

Sherlock knew better than to overstay his welcome and opened the door, just as Mike came up the stairs, closely followed by Elena. He waved at Sherlock and Geralt. “Hi, guys!”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you have company?”

“Yeah, speaking of,” Mike turned to Sherlock. “Could you keep it down tomorrow morning?”

“Of course,” Sherlock said. He received the request quite often - sometimes incited by guests, but equally as often caused by the prospect of copious amounts of alcohol. And if it was Charles who was asking, it was almost certainly both.

“Thanks!” Mike beamed. “G‘night, guys! Nice to meet you, Elena!” And with that he adjourned to his room.

“He seems…” Elena got no chance to finish her statement on her first impression of Mikey.

“Annoying?” Geralt snickered, a crooked grin on his face, while shaking his head in disbelief.

“Spirited?” Sherlock offered, as he launched an elbow into Geralt’s ribs with more force than anyone would reasonably suspect from a bookish, violin-playing law student.

“I was going to say ‘nice’,” Elena mumbled, slightly taken aback by the banter.

“Oh, Mikey’s great,” Sherlock confirmed with a smile. “This is Geralt, by the way.”

She looked at the white-haired figure in the doorway, as he extended a hand towards her. “Elena,” she said as she shook Geralt’s hand. Her thoughts were scrambled for a moment when she met his gaze. His eyes were a striking amber color - beautiful but peculiar, in a way she couldn’t quite articulate.

“Pleased to finally meet you,” Geralt said, “Sherlock talks about you quite a lot.” Before Sherlock could even scowl at him, he stepped back into his room and shut the door.

“So, you talk about me a lot, huh?” Elena chuckled when they finally made it back to the attic. Sherlock chuckled nervously as he sat down on the leather couch and set the food on the small table in front of it. No matter how many times Elena saw this room, that couch still looked too big for it. On her first visit, she had wondered how it had ended up here in the first place, as it was obviously much too big for the stairwell. Sherlock’s answer had surprised her, as she’d been absolutely positive she never asked the question out loud - it had been moved in through the window by his predecessor, and no one would dream of ever moving it out again. If the stories of Geralt and Walker were to be believed - and they generally were - people had nearly died in the process. Despite being too big for the room, the couch only fit two people - a feature Elena made sure to exploit by joining Sherlock on it.

“Well?” She asked him, flashing a suggestive smile.

The world seemed to spin faster and grind to a halt at the same time, the room became both hot and cold, and Sherlock’s heart started yet another attempt at escaping his ribcage. Good grief, why did she have to be so close to him? Everything he had felt before, when they had been studying at his desk, returned to him; this time without the distraction of criminal law - it was just them now.

“I… ehm…” Sherlock stammered, unable to answer her question. Thoughts whirled through his head in an unfamiliar fashion: rapidly and erratically, and free of logic or order. Of course he talked about her often. He spent more time with her than with practically anyone else. His housemates had been teasing him relentlessly for weeks, saying he fancied her. And now he was beginning to think they were right, as he could barely keep his eyes off her when she was with him. And she continuously made her way back into his thoughts, sometimes even distracting him while he read, and Lord knows he was never distracted while reading. Now, here he was, deafened by the sound of his heart pounding in his chest, and bouncing his leg restlessly, unable to will himself to stop - figuring he should probably stop chastising Mikey for doing that all the time - and it was all because of her. Because she made him so incredibly nervous. Because maybe he had fallen for her. In other words: Geralt may have been an absolute knob for saying that to her, but he wasn’t wrong.

“Sherlock…” she giggled. When his eyes met hers, a wave of panic washed over him. Elena was looking up at him in a way that could not possibly mean anything other than that he had just said every last one of those things out loud. To her. He raised a hand, intent on using it to cover his mouth, but she grasped it and pulled it back down gently, while her other hand reached for his face. She traced his cheekbone with her thumb, her fingers resting lightly on his jaw, and he leaned into her touch. Elena softly caressed the side of his face before bringing her fingers to the nape of his neck, and attempting to pull him closer. Sherlock resisted her pursuit, clenching his jaw as his nerves took over his mind from his desires. He looked away for a moment, only to return his eyes to Elena’s and smile apologetically.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never kissed anyone, Sherlock!” Elena blurted out. She always knew that he was inexperienced, but such complete innocence was unexpected, bordering on unbelievable. Surely she couldn’t be the only one who was as charmed by him as she was?

“Not telling you won’t change the fact that I have, indeed, never kissed anyone,” he muttered under his breath. Her apparent incredulity did not help his nerves, and he was surprised to hear himself speak at all. Elena’s hands set his skin ablaze with a vast desire until every fiber of his being begged for it. It took everything he had to control himself, to prevent himself from doing something so legendarily foolish that his friends wouldn’t let him hear the end of it for years to come.

“Well, do you want to?” Elena asked, a playful tone to her sweet voice, mischief in her eyes. Sherlock swallowed hard, but found himself ultimately unable to make the lump in his throat disappear. Thus, he just nodded, and let himself be pulled closer to her.

She placed her forehead against his. For a moment, they just sat there: eyes closed, heads resting against each other. The sweet fragrance of Elena’s perfume, the sound of her breathing, and the feeling of her skin against his, engulfed Sherlock’s senses, filling him with eager anticipation. A soft sound, a combination between an exasperated sigh and a lustful moan, arose from between his slightly parted lips. He shivered and drew in a sharp breath as Elena’s soft fingers drew a line along his jaw. She rested them underneath his chin, her thumb tracing the dimple in it, and tilted his head. Then, Sherlock felt Elena’s soft lips brush against his so incredibly lightly that it took a moment before he realized he wasn’t imagining it. The last shard of self-restraint he had been clinging to so desperately shattered at the contact, and at long last Sherlock allowed himself to be enveloped by affection and desire. He reached out the hand she wasn’t holding and placed it against her cheek, holding her head in place as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers more firmly. She responded eagerly, though her answer was not as feverish as his request. With wicked determination, she paced the kiss; slowing down right when his mouth so hungrily sought more, and picking up speed each time he finally accepted a gentler rhythm. Without mercy and almost devilish was her approach, and by God did it have the desired effect. The hand on her cheek found its way into her hair, the other crept up to her waist, where his fingers dug into her with surprising force. He let out a moan; dark, frenzied and filled with pure, unadulterated passion. What had caused her to fall for him, had been his calm and collected nature. Not once since meeting him had she dared to dream of ever seeing him like this: consumed by carnal greed, frantically gripping at her in search of release. Moans occasionally made way to almost pitiful whimpers - questions, or rather, pleas; to indulge him, come closer, give him more, something, anything. Oh, how powerful she felt to have a man like Sherlock pour into her arms like this, to see him reduced to a mere shadow of himself in her delicate hands. Elena chuckled at the thought, causing him to withdraw from their embrace. Concern emerged from deep in his eyes, steadily catching up to and overtaking the yearning in them. Sherlock struggled to catch his breath, still firmly in the grasp of the ache that pulsed like fire through his veins. It was heightened further by the sight of the lips he now no longer needed to assume soft. He knew them to be, yet he longed for proof as much as - if not more than - before. Alas, her laughter had roused his insecurities, and they were picking at his brain like starved crows at a morsel of bread. He wondered what could have inspired it, what he had done wrong. Had she just been leading him on, and was she now relishing the sight of what she had reduced him to, only to break him completely, later?

Then, amidst his contemplations, he heard her voice once again, only this time it was no laughter that escaped from her pillowy lips. Caught in between ragged breaths, wrapped up in a moan, more intoxicating and provocative than he had ever dreamt possible, was his name. The sound of it so utterly rife with pleasure that it awakened once more the wanton desires within him, their scalding flames more excruciating than before, and even harder to quench. Her eyes, positively drunk with lust, together with that very moan revealed to Sherlock that she currently found herself in a predicament remarkably similar to his - only this time it was Elena who succumbed to the unrelenting pressures of her yearning. She moved towards him with resolve, pushing him into the couch by his shoulders, as she swung one of her legs over his. Sherlock was startled by her sudden advance, but did not protest. Elena sat down on his lap, one knee on either side of his hips, arms around his neck, hands running erratic patterns through his dark curls, down his neck and over his shoulders. Sherlock was surprisingly muscular, she discovered, which would have been in no way helpful to any attempt she might have undertaken to compose herself. Luckily, she had no intentions of embarking on such endeavors. Instead, she chose to give Sherlock as much of herself as he would take, and longed more than anything to receive what he was willing to relinquish to her, in return. As her fingers trailed along his neck and shoulders, she mapped the spots that caused the muscles in his thighs to twitch beneath her. His eyes fell shut at her touch, and his hands rested comfortably next to him, on her thighs. Soft groans emerged from his chest as her fingers explored his body, seeking out the sites that stirred his arousal. His hands brushed along her thighs, up towards her hips, where they caressed her sides as they traveled further to her waist. One hand rested on her back, while the other made its way to the nape of her neck. He pulled her towards himself, his touch tender yet demanding. Elena saw no reason to resist, and happily fell into his chest. Her lips found his again, her hands continued their expedition. Sherlock found himself overwhelmed by the many sensations he experienced, until Elena’s tongue trailed his lower lip and the feeling forced itself to the front of his mind. Hesitantly, he granted her access, allowing her tongue to slip into his mouth. It felt strange, but not unpleasant, he concluded as he imitated her movements. When Elena sucked gently on his bottom lip and softly sunk her teeth into it, he let out a loud moan. She tilted her head, still holding his lip between her teeth, softly tugging on it as he gasped quietly at the unexpected stimulation.

To his displeasure, the pressure disappeared from his lip, as Elena broke the kiss and pulled back. For a moment, it saddened Sherlock that her face was moving away from his, but when her head dipped and her lips brushed the stubble just below his jaw, his chagrin gave way to yet another surge of exhilaration. She meticulously sought out all the sensitive spots in his neck, causing him to squirm beneath her touch. Slowly, he became aware of the nimble fingers that pulled at the hem of his sweater.

“Take it off,” she sighed, her mouth barely leaving his neck. His hands took over for hers and he hastily complied with her request. Before the jumper was even off, Elena’s hands were already working to loosen his tie - and making remarkably quick work of removing and discarding the garment, too. The buttons of his shirt were next, and they, too, succumbed under the touch of those slender fingers, one by one. He had admired those fingers so often, as they moved through the most difficult passages of a piece with confidence and ease, but not once had he dared to dream that someday - this day - he would experience them from this perspective. Elena played him like she did the violin; with great enthusiasm and determination - though perhaps with even greater skill. Sherlock pushed against her shoulder to steer her away from his neck. Then, after cupping her face in his hand and guiding it back to his, he kissed her passionately while his hands traveled to her waist, where they gently slipped underneath her jumper. Her hands undid the last button of his shirt and it fell open, exposing his chest, which Elena took as an invitation to rake her fingers across his skin. The feeling of his remarkably solid chest and the coarse hair on it heightened her desires; it caused the ache between her legs to grow and her to lean into him even further, to press her lips to his more urgently, and to kiss him more frantically than she had ever kissed any man - or anyone, for that matter. Sherlock answered, spurred on by a surge of longing brought on by the clash between his skin and her hands, by slipping his hands under her blouse, exploring the naked skin of her back and sides. Elena did not hesitate; she pulled away from him to reach for the hem of her jumper. Her eyes never left his as she pulled it over her head. As soon as she let go of the fabric, her fingers returned to her blouse. Only the minimal required amount of buttons were undone before this garment followed the same trajectory as the one before.

“Wow.” Whether he spoke the word or simply mouthed it, neither of them knew or cared.

Sherlock’s hands fell still around her waist, his eyes widened. The sight of her was almost too much; her long, auburn hair framed her face in the most enticing way, her mischievous smile and the longing in her eyes drained him of coherent thought with every passing second, and when his gaze dropped to her now exposed torso, he was positively done for. His eyes seemed glued to her chest; it heaved as she tried to catch her breath, and the motion hypnotized him. The soft curves of her breasts were so tempting that his hands all but itched to reach out and touch them. He could swear his fingers moved of their own accord, palms creeping up ever so slowly, along her sides, until his thumbs lightly brushed the underside of her bust. Elena used every bit of strength she had to stay where she was. The look in Sherlock’s eyes had her beside herself with lust, but she reveled in his attention and admiration, and she wanted to prolong it for as long as she could possibly manage. Every minute movement of his hands fueled the fire that consumed her from the inside. The thin fabric of her bra was not enough to conceal the hardening peaks of her nipples - a fact that Sherlock seemed to pick up on as well, as his hands traveled up her sides further. She whimpered as he used his thumbs to lightly brush the buds through the thin material. Suddenly, he gripped the nape of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. It was frenzied, messy, and quick, as he immediately moved away from her lips and kissed a path along her jaw to her ear. Where this courage to push aside his nerves and continue his quest had come from, he did not know, but he decided that the opportunity should not be allowed to go to waste. His lips worked their way down her neck: kissing, gently sucking and biting the sensitive skin, teasing it with his tongue. Her moans filled the air, her fingernails dug into his shoulder, and she could no longer stop her hips from grinding into him. In that moment, Elena wanted only one thing; to get even closer to him, feel more of his skin against hers, to truly melt into him and chase that sweet release. Feral groans heralded similar desires on his part. Their frequency increased as his mouth inched closer to her collarbone with every touch of his lips, every nip of his teeth, every gentle flick of his tongue against her skin. Encouraged by the desperate pressure she used in an attempt to hurry him along, and the fingers that tugged at his hair as a different means to the same end, he continued. One of Sherlock’s hands tenderly cupped her breast, squeezing lightly - at first. His movements became more erratic as she whined and moaned louder and louder with every touch. His other hand copied the actions on the other side. The way she was writhing in his lap, rubbing herself against the bulge in his trousers with every move - it was maddening beyond belief. Sherlock rested his head on Elena’s breastbone, wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and took a deep breath in hopes it would save him from losing his mind completely. Both of her hands cupped the sides of his face and tilted his head so as to allow herself to look into his eyes. He smiled up at her, eyes filled with love, or lust, or perhaps both. When he spoke, it was so calmly, with such softness and affection in his warm, dark voice that the sound pierced straight into her soul.

“You are so beautiful.”

-> Part 3

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