#Driving almost an hour and a half just to be on campus for 1 hour three days a week

[murderreign]

//Man i'm so emotionally destroyed rn, I do not want to go back to school tomorrow--

[okayrudemuch]

𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛t 💋

Roomates (Quarterback) Abby x Fem!Reader (who is an early 2000's y2k baddie)

Chapter 1 - I really hate you

Chapter 2 - Whatever I do, it's always wrong

Chapter 3 - You can shove it

Chapter 4 - That girl just drives me insane

Chapter 5 - Better leave the beret here

Chapter 6 - She´s pretty

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Chapter 3 - You can shove it

contains: roommates; lot´s of apologizing; modern AU!; maybe some grammar mistakes, english is not my first language

word count: 2,3k

After the incident with Michael and your fight with Abby, you locked yourself in the basement bathroom for almost half an hour, sitting on the closed toilet lid with your knees pulled up, going over the whole situation in your head. You sent Dina a quick text saying you were okay, just needed some space. She replied telling you to let her know if there was anything she could do. Dina was too good for this world. She gets groped by some creepy guy at a party, and by the end of the night, she’s the one checking in on you.

When you finally couldn’t take being in that bathroom anymore, but also had no interest in returning to the party, you snuck out of the party-basement as quietly as you could. Which, given the massive amount of students crammed in there, wasn’t hard at all. Still, you wanted to be sure. Bumping into Dina or Ellie would’ve been fine, but every time you saw a tall girl with light-colored hair in the crowd, your fight-or-flight instinct kicked in like a punch to the gut. The last thing you wanted was to be confronted by Abby. You were way too ashamed of your own behavior to look her in the eyes again under those flashing party lights.

So you left the party, just to get some air. Minutes turned into two hours, and you ended up wandering the entire campus. You needed the time and space to think, to get your head straight. That situation with Michael really did a number on you.

Now you’re standing at the entrance to the basement again, but the lights are long off and the crowd has vanished. Only a few tipsy students linger on the couches, dozing off or giggling softly. No sign of Dina, Ellie, or Abby. The party’s over. You glance at your phone for the first time in hours, it’s almost 1:30 in the morning.

“Fuck,” you mumble, running a tired hand over your face.

You’re beyond exhausted and don’t even want to know what your makeup or hair looks like at this point. With no other real option, you start making your way back to the dorm. The stars sparkle above you in the cloudless night sky, but you can’t bring yourself to appreciate it. You’re way too busy chewing your lip and spiraling.

Abby was right. Of course she was right. You had absolutely zero control over that situation, and you don’t even want to imagine what that disgusting guy would’ve done next. You should’ve just thanked her. She didn’t just stand by and watch, like way too many people would’ve. She had the guts to actually step in for you and Dina. And that pisses you off.

Why does she always have to be the fucking hero? Always so composed and logical and brave, and so fucking annoying. She didn’t owe you anything, you’ve been a complete asshole to her since the start of the semester. And still, she helped you.

Maybe it’s her moral compass or something. But what pisses you off the most is how effortlessly she handled that guy. Like she fights off ten assholes a day trying to mess with women, while you stood there doing absolutely nothing to deescalate the situation. You’re angry at Abby for being right. But most of all, you’re angry at yourself, for reacting so ungratefully, for completely losing control.

You take a deep breath and lean against the dorm entrance. The halls are empty, cold, and dark. You hardly run into anyone except a few drunk students struggling to find their rooms. You, on the other hand, are stone cold sober again by now. Arms crossed tightly over your chest, you try to keep the night chill from seeping into your bones. You curse yourself for not bringing a jacket, but the original plan was to stay at the party until midnight and then head straight to your room.

But even now, yours and Abby’s shared room isn’t where you’re headed first. You’re walking toward Dina’s room, hoping she’s still awake. When you see the thin strip of light under her door, you swallow hard. You lift your fist and knock twice. It barely takes five seconds before the door opens and an already bare-faced Dina looks back at you.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Hey,” she says, giving you a small smile as she opens the door wider, letting you in.

As you step into the room, you spot Ellie sitting on Dina’s bed, in pajamas, her short hair tied up in a messy bun. She smiles at you too. Dina’s roommate Manny is nowhere to be seen. Dina closes the door and turns to face you.

“You okay?” she asks, scanning your face with concern. “That thing at the party really shook you up, huh?”

“I’m okay now,” you reassure her, forcing a smile. “I came here to apologize,” you continue, nervously wringing your hands. “I didn’t handle things well and I feel awful about it. I shouldn’t have just disappeared like that. And I definitely shouldn’t have picked a fight with Abby. That was totally uncalled for. She was just trying to help,” you admit.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dina sighs, taking your hands in hers to stop you from fidgeting them to death. “Jesus, you’re freezing,” she mutters before continuing, “It was an overwhelming situation and that guy said some really horrible shit to you. I thought it was really brave of you to step in for me like that. I’m seriously so thankful. You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“But to Abby,” you murmur.

That’s when Ellie speaks up for the first time since you came in. “You know,” she starts, “she’s tough as hell, no denying that. But you’ve cracked harder ones before, haven’t you?” She smirks at you, and you roll your eyes, though a small smile creeps onto your lips.

Still sitting on Dina’s bed, Ellie leans back against the wall and looks at you again. “Abby’s not a monster,” she says, more seriously this time. “I know you two can’t stand each other, but if your apology’s real? She’ll get that. And she’ll listen.”

You nod, taking it in, even though Ellie’s words don’t quite erase the pit in your stomach.

“Thanks, guys,” you say quietly, pulling Dina into a hug before wishing them both a good night and stepping back out into the long, empty hallway of the dorm.

With every step you now take toward your room, your heartbeat grows louder. You feel like a teenager who’s sneaked out of the house and is now coming home way too late. The only difference is that behind the door you’re about to reach, it’s not your parents waiting, it’s Abigail Anderson. And somehow, considering the situation, that’s worse.

Your fingers are trembling as you pull the key from your pocket and carefully unlock the door. You’re pretty sure Abby is already asleep, which is why you try to be quiet. You really have no desire for another argument in the middle of the night just because you accidentally woke her up.

What you absolutely didn’t expect is that Abby is sitting upright in her bed, staring absentmindedly out of the open window into the night. The little nightlight on her bedside table is the only light source in the room. She doesn’t even look at you as you enter.

You swallow and close the door behind you with a soft click, then take a few cautious steps into the room and place your purse on your bed. The whole time, you don’t take your eyes off Abby. You clear your throat.

“I thought you were already asleep,” you say quietly. Abby gives no reaction and just keeps staring out the window, so for a moment you think she didn’t even hear you.

“Well,” she snorts then, her voice low and tense. “Wrong.”

She’s mad.

You twist your fingers until they crack and keep glancing between the floor and your blonde roommate, who still doesn’t meet your gaze. Somehow, this silent version of Abby is way worse than the angry one. You’d take her yelling over this any day.

Not sure if this is the right moment to start a conversation, you step into the bathroom to grab a makeup wipe and give yourself a few moments to breathe. Then you sit down on the edge of your bed and start gently wiping your cheeks and eyes.

Finally, Abby’s gaze lands on you. For a few moments, she watches you as you wipe the night off your face. It feels like you’re taking off your armor in front of her. When you’ve finally wiped away all your makeup, you take a deep breath and look at her.

“I’m sorry.”

Your voice is steadier than you gave it credit for. You apologize with confidence, but still sincerely. Your eyes show regret.

“I acted like a total asshole. You were just trying to help, and I acted like a bitch.”

You knead the wipe in your hands and try to hold her gaze, but she relieves you of the burden by sighing and getting up from her bed to close the window. You thank her silently, because you’re freezing. Whether from the cold night, exhaustion, or the conversation ahead, you don’t know.

Abby turns around, leans against the windowsill, and crosses her arms. When she says nothing, you try again.

“You were right,” you admit, and it costs you a lot to swallow your pride and say that to her face. “I didn’t have the situation under control, and I’m thankful that you stepped in.”

You clench your jaw.

“I just hate feeling so helpless.”

Now it’s out.

“Guys like Michael make me so angry,” you continue.

“They think they can get away with anything, especially with girls like me. Girls who are really feminine and like wearing high heels, makeup, acrylic nails. We’re not taken seriously, our ‘no’ means nothing to guys like him. We’re just objects to them, made to fulfill their fantasies and nothing else. That pisses me off.”

You keep your eyes on the makeup wipe in your hands, which by now you’ve folded into every shape possible out of sheer rage.

“I got so angry because I felt like I was helpless, like I couldn’t defend myself, because I made the situation worse instead of calming it down.”

You’re so ashamed of your own behavior.

And finally, finally, Abby speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

You didn’t expect that. You lift your gaze from the wipe in your hands and look at your roommate, whose eyes are already on you. She studies your now bare face and then looks at the floor again.

“It wasn’t my intention to make you feel like you couldn’t defend yourself. I know you can.”

You almost think you can see a small smirk on her lips, but before you can be sure, she’s already speaking again.

“I just worried that it might actually get physical.”

“Abby.”

Her name feels strange on your tongue, and you say it before you even have time to think. Her eyes flick to you again, and you can read in them how weird it must be for her too, that you’re calling her by name.

But you don’t let it throw you off.

“Please don’t apologize for doing what way too many people don’t do. Which is stepping in.”

“It’s so ridiculous,” Abby suddenly snorts. “We’re sitting here apologizing to each other for a problem neither of us caused, but some random-ass man who’s not even here.”

She sits down on her bed.

“You know, I wasn’t born like this.”

“Like what?” you ask. “Annoying?”

She flips you off, but for once, neither of you really means it.

“With muscles,” she says.

“When I was a teenager, I was skinny and shy too. So I know how shitty it feels not to be respected. But even now, some men just can’t help themselves. Can you imagine how often they tell me to smile more?”

You roll your eyes and pretend to gag.

“Exactly,” Abby confirms. “It’s fucking gross. Or they ask me why I don’t try to look more feminine, that I almost look like a man. But if I did look more feminine, they’d still find something to criticize.”

She shakes her head.

“We can’t win. Not in a world where a man’s ‘no’ always carries more weight than a woman’s. But what we can do is have each other’s backs and just keep doing our thing.”

You’re almost a little speechless. You didn’t expect a speech like that from usually so quiet Abby, especially not when you came into the room thinking you’d just end up arguing again anyway.

“Thanks,” you whisper again.

Abby just nods, and then a silence settles over the room that, to your surprise, doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable. For a few minutes, you just sit there, both of you lost in thought, until you break the moment with a yawn.

“Well, if that’s settled, I’m gonna get some sleep,” you announce and disappear into the bathroom for a quick second to brush your teeth, wash your face, and put on your pajamas. When you come back out, Abby is already lying in bed, the little lamp turned off, and only the pale moonlight lights the room.

You quickly snuggle under your warm blanket and curl into your pillow. You’re relieved and almost a bit proud of yourself for not completely messing up at least one conversation tonight.

You listen to the quiet in the room and Abby’s breathing before speaking up one last time.

“That still doesn’t mean that I like you now or something.”

“You can shove it,” Abby replies dryly, and you can’t stop yourself from grinning.

Maybe, just maybe, something between you changed for the better tonight.

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a/n: I´m not 100% satisfied with this one but university and private life are kicking my butt so this is the best I can do right now, i hope you still like it!

taglist: @vangoes @modernvenuss @oatmatchalatte @starlockheart

[callgespenst]

I went to my first riichi mahjong tournament over the weekend and I did wildly better than I thought I would! Lot of firsts for me, just in general. I'm writing up as best a summary as I can while it's still fresh.

The tournament was in Cincinnati, Ohio (technically on a college campus in Northern Kentucky, but it's right on the border there). Just a few hours drive away. I met up with a friend on the north side of the city for sushi dinner and a quick trip to the hobby store on Friday afternoon before making my way to the AirBNB where I was staying with a dozen other mahjong players. I built a robot, played a single quick game of mahjong, and went to bed probably too late.

(There were bunk beds! I've always wanted to sleep on a bunk bed! Now that I have, I don't know if I'd recommend it, or at least the one I was on, if either party on the top or bottom bunk moves at all, the whole thing would shift.)

On Saturday, the tournament began early. Sixty! people were all there to play riichi mahjong, some locals, some all the way from the coast. I knew the five people who came from my club and no one else, so there was a lot of meeting new people. There were beginners who were so new they still didn't have most of the table etiquette down, and grizzled veterans with decades of play under their belts. There were to be six hanchan of matches, and the top eight who had accumulated the most points during that time would advance to the finals.

Hanchan 1: I uh, didn't do too great in this one. A guy who was very clearly new had a remarkable winning streak and left the rest of us in the dust. I don't feel bad about it though, partly because I'm sure it was a great experience for the guy, but also because the dude who ended up winning the whole tourney only got second in that game.

Hanchan 2: Going into this one, I was pretty intimidated. I had just gotten fourth and now I was going up against three very clearly experienced players. Towards the back half of the game, I had a riichi pinfu hand with a well-laid suji trap that ended up being a haneman ippatsu, which was enough to eke out first place.

(Break for lunch! Another first, we went to Skyline Chili, which I've never been to despite being a life-long Ohioian. I had the salad, which is probably heretical, but I think it was the right choice, because others who had the chili were drowsy the rest of the afternoon.)

Hanchan 3: Another game with experienced players where I did much, much better than I could have hoped. I dealt into a dealer mangan at the end and still won with 45000 points. I think that was my biggest misplay, I was trying too hard to end the game quickly despite the dealer having a whole bunch of value visible on the table.

Hanchan 4: The player across from me had an incredible streak going for a while, and I was in third for most of the game. We were down to the last hand, first being almost certainly out of reach, second looking possible with a mangan ron win. I was the south seat and started with a closed triplet of south winds, and very carefully built a hon itsu around it. Even when the first place player went into riichi, I managed to advance my hand to tenpai with a 2-man/3-man double pon wait while avoiding discarding in. On his last draw, that same guy discarded the 2-man, and I snagged a comfortable second, avoiding losing my hard-earned points from the previous round.

(End of day one! At this point, I was ninth! in the overall rankings. There was some free play, where I intentionally played as poorly as possible, just to get it out of my system. I would take one look at my starting hand, think "this looks like it could advance to (x)" and then try to achieve that yaku, discarding any and every other possibility. Despite that, I hit tenpai for sanshoku douko at one point, and got within 1-shanten of kokushi at another. We also went to Waffle House for dinner, always a good time. Went to bed probably too late again.)

Hanchan 5: Another game with tremendously strong players, where I was in second nearly the whole game just because I played defensively and didn't deal in, even if I didn't win anything big either. There was an upset mangan at the last moment where the player in third managed to hit the guy in first who had been controlling the whole game, putting me in third at 29400. Even with the uma bonus, I was only down 5.6, putting me down to 14th. I needed a decent second, preferably a strong first, if I had any chance of making top eight.

Hanchan 6: The game I remember most strongly. I started in the south seat, and East 1 had two repeats. Three times I was putting together a solid hand, someone else declared riichi, and I would somehow deal in each time, twice with an ippatsu. I started East 2, my dealership, already down to 12k points from 30k. Forgot top eight, at that point, I felt like I'd be lucky to not erase all my progress from the last five hanchan.

East 2 started, and I started with a fairly weak looking hand, but it seemed like I could get a win off it and have a repeat. I hit tenpai with a single wait on the 7-man, and decided not to riichi, hoping to improve my 8-9 man block into something more likely to be dealt into. Then, of course, I immediately drew the 7-man. A tsumo nomi hand for 500 points from everyone didn't do much for my score, but it did let me keep the dealer seat.

East 2-1 I started off with an odd looking hand that I immediately decided to turn into the chiitoitsu it so obviously wanted to be. I hit tenpai around turn 6, deciding to wait on the 9-pin that looked like it would come out of an opponent's hand without any trouble. And then it did, almost immediately! Another repeat.

I ended up getting up to 5-honba, with two dealer mangans in East 2. One was a super fast meitanpin tsumo dora. The other was a fairly simple riichi haku hand with a 1-4 sou wait. The player to my right dealt in pretty quickly, and I hit the chun off the ura-dora, tripling my hand's value. At the fifth repeat, another player hit riichi, and I finally relented and played it safe. He eventually tsumo'd and we finally got to East 3, where I won with another big hand.

The last hand was South 1, I had so many repeats that we hit the time limit in the middle of East 4. Once again, I hoped for a fast hand to keep my top spot and as many points as possible. It looked like a simple tanyao at first, but I just kept drawing into triplets. I ended up with a pair wait on the 3-pin, with a 4-5-6 sou and three closed triplets, while avoiding dealing into other players. I managed to draw the 3-pin myself and got one last mangan, taking my final score to 59000. The final rankings were posted and I had rocketed all the way up to second overall! My very first tournament and I managed to get to the semi-finals.

(Lunch break! We went to Big Boy)

Semi-finals were two hanchan, with eight players across two tables. No swapping between matches, played the same people twice and saw what the scores looked like across two games. Whatever mojo I had in hanchan 6 had evaporated. In game 1 I managed to snag first with a miraculous riichi ippatsu tsumo chin itsu, but the rest of the game was defensive play against other players with much faster hands. Game 2 I had maybe two very small wins, dealt in a few times, and ended in fourth. I did not make the cut to finals.

The loser's bracket for 5th through 8th place was pretty relaxed, partly because we had already lost, but mostly because 3/4 of us were from the same club. ("If I wanted to play you two, I would have just stayed home!", I said.) I didn't accomplish much here either, I got third for not dealing in. The other two from my club got first and second, and the one other guy got fourth. I placed seventh and got a cool little plaque, I'll get a good picture of it to post on here later.

I had a lot of fun and got in a lot of good experience! I don't know if I'd travel more than a state or two away for another tournament, but I definitely want to do this again. Not too soon though, I think I got overexposed over the weekend, the whole drive home I didn't even want to think about tiles.

[thunderoad]

1 to 5 if it's not too much in one go! seems like they cover the bases

ooh, you are right, this is comprehensive!

as a disclaimer, i did almost nothing this year but read, ride my bike, and do homework, and i feel like it shows! next year, i'm determined to spend slightly less time listening to same podcast over again!

song of the year

this is predictable of me. but i really am about to pick two songs from 00s rock bands - the killers's 'bright lights,' which always calls to mind that moment of driving through the desert and seeing the glow of las vegas growing on the horizon, and 'drive on' from phantom planet. i always love songs that feel like they're in dialogue with other tracks, like olivia rodrigo's 'stranger', and this one feels very much like it's talking back through time to 'california' in particular. also, honorable mention to both of inhaler's new songs from the upcoming album, i just didn't have enough time with them this year!

2. album of the year

i feel like cowboy carter was the only album of the year that made me go '!!!', and the power of 16 carriages alone...staggering! i really wanted to like hippo campus's latest one, but it's sort of started to sound like they're going backwards, artistically, do you know what i mean?

3. favorite musical artist/group you started listening to this year

if it isn't already dreadfully obvious, it just wasn't a great year for music for me...but i'm determined to listen to more new music in 2025! that said, i really enjoyed listening to vistas (esp. is this all we are?), sea girls, wild rivers...but if i'm honest, my biggest new-to-me jams this year were passion pit (the ferocious joy of until we can't [let's go]!!) and...i'm so serious...up all night. i've spent so much time in the car this year and music that keeps you awake is a GIFT

4. movie of the year

the only movies i can even think of that came out this year are challengers and monkey man! last year i came out of emily (2022) in january absolutely blown away, and i didn't have an experience like that this year...a real pain was good too, it just didn't leave me winded at the experience of being human, you know?

5. TV show of the year

every day during my lunch break i can usually manage about half an hour of TV, and this year i finished justified (why did i watch that? i didn't even particularly enjoy it), started buffy and then stopped because it made me too sad, and now i'm two episodes out from finishing psych, so i'm going to say...if we're honest...probably slow horses. i haven't seen the new season yet (i'm saving it for after this week when i'm on vacation) but that tumblr post that's like 'river cartwright tinnitus warrior' always makes me laugh. our wretched king. i also really enjoyed english teacher, although i wish it was a classic 22 episodes!

[vrtlzmbie]

Literally how do I tell my roommate that I can't stand her stupid multiple-hours long phone call she does every single night with her boyfriend. This girl literally sits on the floor in our closet (which is tiny as fuck), and literally sits on a FaceTime call with him to like, 12 or 1 in the fucking morning, then after they hang up, she just starts walking in and out of the room until almost 2 fucking am. She almost lives within the 60 mile range from campus, meaning she doesn't even have to live in the dorms. She also drives home every Friday afternoon and doesn't come back until Sunday night every single weekend, meaning she literally spends all that time with him, then comes back and immediately calls him and keeps me up for way longer than I need to.

THEN she literally has an alarm set to go off at goddamn 6 am every day, yet she doesn't get up until 8-9, so it goes off constantly in between then. All she does is hit snooze then roll back over, ignoring the fact that there is somebody else that lives in the room with her.

She also uses my fucking microwave constantly. I deadass unplugged it and wrapped the cord up because if you're making me only get just under 3 hours of sleep every day, you don't get to us my appliances.

she plugged it right back in without even asking.

Problem is, I don't want to sound like a mythic bitch, nor do I want to piss off someone that is friends with like, half the girls on our floor. So I literally have no idea how to tell her all this without coming off as rude, or her just immediately interpreting it as rude.

[whitepolaris]

A Ghost Who Cares

By Fiona Broome

In the sunlight, Colby-Sawyer College sparkles atop a hill in quaint New London, New Hampshire. Just two hours north of Boston, the small town looks perfectly normal to casual visitors.

The college is also one of New Hampshire's most haunted places. I know. I attended the school when it was Colby Junior College, a private college for young women.

Only a few single men lived in New London, and there were even fewer men on campus. We relied on dates from Dartmouth College in Hanover, the nearest town of any size. Meeting Dartmouth men wasn't easy unless we had a weekend mixer or this guy or that "just happened" to stop by, so we kept a close watch on ivy-laced Colgate Hall, the building where visitors to campus checked in.

In my dorm room, I placed my desk chair so that I had a clear view of Colgate Hall's door. I could dash from my Page Hall dormitory room to Colgate in less than two minutes, putting my shoes on as I ran. I'd practiced it many times.

In September 1969, Homecoming parties were fast approaching, and I was still dateless. Any single male on campus was fair game. That's why I sprang to action when I spotted an unfamiliar man at the door of Colgate Hall. It was about 1:00 in the afternoon, and just chilly enough that the visitor's flowing coat and wide-brimmed hat seemed unremarkable, if a little theatrical.

I assumed he was an actor. Because Colby staged well-respected theatrical productions, our college often had colorful visitors. Many were actors from professional theaters, recruited to fill male roles in an otherwise all-girl cast. Some where also short-term instructors in subjects such as mine.

I grabbed my shoes and a notebook, hoping not to appear too obvious as I walked briskly across the grassy quad. My plan was to slow my pace as I approached Colgate. I'd saunter past the stranger as if I "just happened" to be on my way to Colgate Hall, getting a closer look all the while.

The Slow Fade

When I reached the quad, the warmly dressed visitor was leaning over the railing by the door to Colgate. I still couldn't see his face; the brim of his hat covered his features as he kept looking down.

I paused to put on my shoes. When I looked back up, he was gone.

I wandered over to Colgate Hall anyway, hoping to find him inside the building. After twenty minutes of cruising the building's corridors, I gave up. I didn't think anything of it; he'd probably stepped into an office or even kept campus.

About a week and a half later, I saw him again. He wore the same hat, but I think he wore a suit instead of the flowing coat. This time, I approached him from the library-today the Campus Center-close to Colgate Hall. I could see him clearly in the fading afternoon light.

I glanced both ways before crossing the slim drive that separated the library from the quad, and then stepped onto the grass. When I returned my gaze to Colgate Hall, he was still there. Then the man literally faded from sight. It was as if I were watching him slowly evaporate.

His disintegration probably took no more than one or two seconds, but it was more than a little startling. I shook my head and actually rubbed my eyes. "I must need glasses," I told myself.

After that, he remained "the one that got away" in my memories. Until a few years ago, I never considered that he might be a ghost. Then, researching New Hampshire's ghosts, I found a book that described Colby-Sawyer's ghost of the man in the hat. I was tremendously surprised, and glad finally to learn why he had vanished.

An Inventory of Ghosts

While visiting Colby-Sawyer, I heard about many other spirits. Almost every dorm has a ghost story: Burpee Hall has a field hockey player. Gilbert Ross, an eighteen-century male witch, haunts McKean. Page and Shepard halls each have "something" in the basement, and Austin has a spirit on the third floor. Colby Hall has a phantom cat. Best Hall is alternately too quiet and then echoing with unexplained noises, and breezes enter the form at places where no windows are open.

Something much darker haunts the old Colby Academy building. According to local legend, professors avoided the historic site after a few unpleasant encounters with a ghost. In 1999, Colby-Sawyer donated the building to the town of New London for use as a town hall.

Some day that when the college's archives were moved from the old Academy to the Colby-Sawyer library, at least one ghost moved with them. This ghost may be the boy who is heard in the loft area, or it could be the history enthusiastrwho rearranges the books overnight.

None of these ghosts are malicious, and some of them are amusing. Even better, most of them are quirky enough to appear in full daylight. Perhaps they're as comfortable at Colby-Sawyer as its students, and have just as much right to linger there.

[jenoloqy]

forevermore | jeong jaehyun

REPOSTED FROM MY OLD BLOG!

synopsis. in this episode of “college is ruining my life”, three boys guide you in finally making a move on your crush (and best friend), jeong jaehyun: basketball captain, owner of half the gray hoodies in your closet and probably more dense than donghyuck… if you look carefully. here’s the story of your four failed attempts to confess, and the one time you did successfully.

pairing. jeong jaehyun x reader

word count. 9.4k

genres & warnings. fluff, comedy, best friends to lovers au, college au

playlist. nothing (bruno major), move! (NIKI), i like me better (lauv), easy (mac ayres), i like u (NIKI)

author’s note. i was scrolling through my google docs the other night and saw this piece and thought “omg this actually has potential”. so bam, i think my touch deprivation shows a little too much through this fic, but it’s okay i guess

1.

Jeong Jaehyun’s in-campus dormitory is your second home.

In fact, it feels more like home than your apartment fifteen minutes away from campus. 

These two sentences alone can say a lot about your perceptions on what the word ‘home’ means to you, and how you think of it more as a person and a feeling rather than a physical, materialistic object/place you go to when you sleep. So to keep things in its simplest form, Jeong Jaehyun and his in-campus dormitory is your second home. All while your first home is an eight hour drive up north where your parents are currently living. Not the empty, dark four walls fifteen minutes away from campus.

Now that’s not home. That? That is merely an overpriced storage where you keep your clothes, cook convenience store ramen, and sleep for at maximum five hours a day before you come running to your 7am lecture. 

“This is why you should move in with me,” Jaehyun shrugs, jerking his head to face you before stuffing his mouth with popcorn. He’s heard the numerous complaints you have over this matter for more than once, and he’s getting sick of it. “Maybe then— I won’t hear you complaining about it every five minutes.”

“You know I can’t just do that,” you warn him. Sending him a deathly glare before you get up to grab the hoodie thrown on his study desk, carefully placing it over your head as your best friend watches your actions across the room. 

You always do this. His hoodie almost resides on your body from the amount of times you wear it whenever you come over; the scent of it being a mix of your lavender lotion and his green mint. And it never misses on making the corners of his lips quirk up.

“And why not?” He raises an eyebrow at you, refraining the smile on his face to grow any wider because his clothes look… nice… and soft… on your figure, the XXL hoodie draped and down to your mid-thigh is barely doing him any justice and neither is the pout on your lips, “Tell me what’s stopping you.”

He asks, and the one thing that pops up in your mind is:

You.

You, Mr. Jeong Jaehyun, are the reason why you don’t want to move in with Jeong Jaehyun.

“The space. I don’t think this space is enough for both of us. And I need to fill in a lot of paperwork— and you know I’m too lazy to do that. I’d rather do Doyoung’s comp-sci homework than do paperwork.” You tense up, formulating an excuse quicker than Eminem’s rapping. If you're being quite honest, your words aren’t a complete lie; paperwork has always been the bane of your existence and comp-sci homework isn’t as bad as you suppose, but there’s much more risk moving in with Jaehyun than just paperwork.

He knows you’re half-lying. But he doesn’t know why you’re lying. And you’d like to keep it that way for the rest of your lifetime. Unless you want Jaehyun to know that your heart flutters thinking about living under the same roof as him; because he’ll definitely use that against you. So, no, you’re not moving in with him, and you’re not going to tell him your reasons why.

Just the idea of coming home and seeing his face, or waking up with the smell of his notable strawberry waffles seeping through the air in the morning makes you feel so hopeless and helpless in the ugliest and beautiful ways possible. You already see him three quarters of your day, the thought of it turning into one whole of your day keeps your chest absolutely terrified.

“You’re a loser,” Jaehyun scoffs. If you're paying attention closely, you’ll hear the faintest tone of disappointment enlaced in his voice. He turns back to the screen, resting his head against the headrest while the movie is nearing the end of Howl’s Moving Castle. He heaves a long breath, trying his best not to act sulky when you reject his offer for the umpteeth time, and it makes you giggle. 

“You’re a pain, you know that?” You shake your head in faux-dissapoinment, a stupid grin on your face as you walk back to the spot on the bed beside Jaehyun. He acts upset, yet he still considers making some space for you to sit, grabbing his bowl of popcorn to place on the nightstand while you sit inches apart from him.

Something ricochets in your stomach the moment he rests his head on your shoulder, you worry he’ll hear your heart beginning to race. You swear, it’s been how many times since he’s done this kind of act and you still can’t get a hold of yourself nor, control your desperate need to be calm in such a situation. 

And you try to fleet your mind of that feeling that’s cutting deep into your skin, but you're a second too late when you hear Jaehyun chuckle; sensing the low vibrations of his voice transfer through your body at the close proximity, “You’re so tense… relax. It’s just me.”

Yeah, it’s just Jaehyun. Just your best friend who’s been slowly occupying your reveries and making you distracted over watching your favourite movie because he's simply putting his head on your shoulder. No biggie. 

When you don’t reply back, Jaehyun starts to get antsy from the overbearing silence, immediately changing the subject into something that will deem a little better to console the weird emotions floating around the air. But his definition of ‘a little bit better’ mayhaps differ from your own.

“By the way—” He lifts his head up, and you hate to admit it — since you’ve been complaining about how it’s making you heart feel ways you shouldn’t feel — but the missing weight on your shoulders doesn’t feel right, “—one of the boys from the team told me that he thinks you’re cute. And if you’re down to go on a date with him.”

Uh.

This sounds like the worst idea you’ve ever heard. Worse than moving in with Jaehyun. 

It would’ve been okay if you actually know the person who’s asking you out on a date, but the fact that he asked through a friend (and to note that the friend is also someone you have your hindsights on), and, does not have the balls to ask you face front already turns you off. 

On the other hand, Jaehyun doesn’t even know exactly why he brought up this topic. Heck, he doesn’t know why he doesn’t want you to say yes to it. He looks at you anticipatingly, while you start to frown. This time you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I think I’m good.” You turn your head back to the television, unknowingly snuggling closer to the crook of his neck while Jaehyun easily slides his arm around you, just to make your positions a little more comfortable, “You and your basketball friends are kinda gross.”

“No, we're not.” Baffled at your bluntness, Jaehyun jerks his head to look down at you, noticing that you have little to no essence that you’re saying that for joking measures. Your focus is still on Howl and Sophie, with the straightest face you can muster.

“Yeah. You guys are.” You say with disregard, reaching for a handful of popcorn from the nightstand and your best friend scoffs at you in disbelief.

“And yet, you’re hugging me.” He pokes your cheek, his lips twitching up when you sit up and roll your eyes. 

“Because you’re my exception—” 

You stop talking. You’re facing away from him but you can already tell that there’s a smirk on his face right now, and you curse underneath your breath for slipping up. You weren’t supposed to say that.

“Wait. I didn’t say that out loud, right?” You slowly turn around, and you see your best friend’s face full of mirth.

“You did.” He scoots closer to you, a teasing gaze lingering in his eyes when he cups your cheeks, rubbing slow circles against your skin, “You’re my exception, too. I guess.”

“Shut up.” You slap his hand away from your face, bringing your knees closer to your chest and hugging it with your dear life.

“You love me,” he looks down at the comforter, smiling to himself, “You wouldn’t slip that out unless you love me.”

Honestly, he’s right about that. You love him. And even when you don’t want to tell him that he is an exception for the sole purpose of not getting his ego boost too high up, you still love him. Whether it be platonically or not. But you really don’t know how to explain that to a person when your relationship isn’t based on sappy actions. You guys just know.

“You’re lucky I do. Or else I would’ve punched you in the stomach right about now.” You grumble, getting irked that you're missing the best part of the movie because you are having this conversation with Jaehyun.

“Oh really?” He tests you, propping his hands on the bed, leaning forward, in a way, trying to threaten you as he waits for your reaction. You don’t know what he’s trying to do to you, but whatever it is, it’s working well. 

“Really.” You place up a strong facade, acting tough but make a mistake of gulping down your words. 

The thing is, you get flustered easily, which is probably why Jaehyun loves to tease you in the first place. Because he knows he can get a reaction out of you everytime. And it sucks on your behalf because even when you do make an effort to not heat up, your body begs to differ. 

Which is why you can’t last a good five second eye contact before turning away. Jaehyun sighs, scratching the back of his head. He thinks it’s nice when you're around. It makes his life more lively. “Man, I wouldn’t know what I would’ve done if you’re not with me.” 

“I know,” you know because you feel the same way. 

“Shut up,” he turns your words back to you, grabbing your hand so he can pull you into a friendly cuddle. This time, you will both try to watch this movie without getting distracted. “Are you going to watch the game on Friday?”

He’s referring to the semi-final game that’s been worrying his mind for the past few days. Of course you’re going to watch him. He doesn’t even need to ask.

“Well… only if I get to keep this hoodie.” You're wrapped around his arms, focusing on the Scarecrow in the movie returning back into a prince, while you tap on the hem of Jaehyun’s hoodie.

“You already own seven other pairs, Y/N.” He wants you to look at him, but you refuse to, and it makes him feel like he has nothing to do but to say, “Fine. Keep it.”

“Thanks, Jaehyun.” You smile, biting your lips to hold back the giggle tempting to elicit out your mouth. “But I still would’ve come even if you didn’t give this to me.”

“You motherfucker—”

He grabs your arms but you snuggle closer to him. At that, he rests his shoulders, momentarily studying your figure as you grab a handful of the fabric of his shirt, squinting and getting ready to defend yourself before he forcefully takes the sweater away from you. He thinks you look like an idiot. It’s cute.

“Okay, I’ll stop. Go watch the movie before you complain to me that you missed the best part.” He taps your arm for you to look up, and when you realize you're off the hook, you adjust your position in Jaehyun’s arms so it will make the watching experience more comfortable. 

If there's one thing you're notoriously horrible at, it would be dealing with your feelings, particularly for your best friend. And there are so many times he’s never failed to make your heart move rapidly. But when he’s holding you like this, it doesn’t make your heart beat quick, instead it makes you feel warm. It makes you feel like your home.

Howl wakes up, realizing his heart is back in his body as he looks at Sophie like she’s his entire world. And there you wonder, when someone will look at you like how Howl looks at Sophie. 

But for now, you like things as is.

Jeong Jaehyun’s in-campus dormitory is your second home.

He’s your exception.

2.

Ten, nine, eight...

The art of falling for your best friend is simple, yet complicated in many more ways than one. 

It’s simple because it’s almost expected. After all, there’s a saying that goes, ‘the best relationships start off as friends’. So yeah, maybe it is a little expected.

But it’s complicated because you were not expecting it to happen to you. It’s of knowing that it was bound to bite you in the back in some form, but not realizing it’s already there until it finally hits you. Jaehyun’s friendship with you has never meant to turn this way, but it did. And the complicated aspect comes in the form of deciding whether or not to do something about these feelings.

Seven, six, five...

There’s something about Jaehyun that makes it not hard to love him. He keeps things at bay. He makes love feel easy. He makes loving him easy, he’s the person that you want to love, the person you want to give your heart to. And it doesn’t necessarily have to be along the lines of being in a romantic love.

From the first day you met him, which was during a game of icebreakers in college orientation night, to today, the semi-finals game, you realize that Jaehyun makes loving him easy. Through all the rough patches he faces up-front, with the intimidating resting face or his presence alone, he makes loving easy because you want to know what’s inside all those barriers. 

Four...

Which is probably why you let him enter your life. Because of the urge to give a whole galaxy to someone who looks like they are still finding theirs. And seeing how circumstances lead up to now; you, sitting by the bleachers and watching your best friend running and dribbling the ball across the court, you’re glad that your life is like this. Even when loving your best friend like this is one big mistake, you’ve come to a conclusion that this could be the best mistake you’ve made in your entire lifetime.

“You are in love,” Mark states out of the blue, looking at you in amusement.

“Huh?” You turn your head away from the game and look at Mark confused. He does this weird thing where he talks out of context, and you don’t know if he’s talking to you or is conversing with someone else, and you just assumed it was you. But he’s looking at you. He’s talking to you.

“You love him.” He says the words slowly, smiling to himself before he points at Jaehyun. The said boy positions himself to get ready to shoot, and the crowd roars when he gets the shot in. You smile, and Mark feels like his point has been proven. “I’m surprised he hasn’t found out yet.”

Three…

“Maybe it’s because I don’t make it obvious.” Your eyes are attentively on the game, trying to understand what the hell is going on because you’ve never really taken it to yourself to actually learn how basketball works, you’re only here because of Jaehyun. But you can feel Mark’s piercing gaze on you, because he knows that your words are a flat out lie. 

“But you do…” Scoffing, he shakes his head. “Even Donghyuck is aware of this, and he’s the most dense out of all of us!” He tries to answer honestly, but he should know better than to be so straightforward all the time, especially with you. Especially when he knows you’re never ready to face problems head on.

“What are you trying to imply?” You decide on playing dumb, since doing that is always the best, and safest, way out to every situation without taking out much of your soul. And Mark’s pretty aware that you like his high-school best friend, so you don’t feel so keen talking about it to him when he knows the basis of your harbouring crush. 

“Nothing.” He shrugs, “But I think it’s cool if you tell him eventually. I know he has a lot of girls asking him from left to right, but it will mean a lot if it’s you who tells him.” You’re not surprised that there are people who want to ask him out for Valentine's day, like, look at him. He’s the basketball team captain. You would be surprised if there’s nobody screaming his name whenever he makes a shot. 

“You’re just saying that because you want him to find a girlfriend.” You roll your eyes. The game is almost over and everyone is hanging onto their seats to see if your school will still take the lead, or the visiting school will make a sudden comeback.

Two…

And the fact that Mark still has the audacity to be talking to you when there are important things your eyes should dwell on. Example: Jaehyun’s final shot.

“Yes and no.” He comments, “I do want to see him with someone, but I have a specific bias that it will be you, who ends up with him.”

“No.” You shake your head, unable to phantom that Mark actually supports this. You don’t even know what’s in you and what makes him so convinced that you would be an okay person for Jaehyun. For all you know, you’re just… you. And you don’t really know if that’s something you should boast about because there hasn’t been an aspect of you that makes you feel special about yourself.

“C’mon. You should try asking him out for Valentine’s Day. He still doesn’t have a date. Even if it’s a friendly date, you should try asking him once.” Once Mark is set on something, he ends up being stubborn with it, but this makes you turn your head to him.

“Really?” You purse your lips. Admittedly, you don’t know what to do with this information. “I’m surprised.”

“Right?” He sings, nodding in thought. “I swear, I’ve seen multiple people asking him out already. But he says he still hasn’t got one.”

The final shot. And Mark turns his head back to the court. This time, you’re the one who’s distracted. 

One.

The bell rings, the crowd is roaring with screams, the cheerleaders are running towards the court with their little pompoms, everyone in the team is huddling and throwing themselves on the captain, and Mark getting up from his seat out of glee. You don’t realize how anxious your body has become until you let out a breath of relief, a smile forming across your face when his teammates scurry off around the gymnasium and engulfing other people in hugs.

Jaehyun’s eyes flutter around the room. Although everyone in his team is blocking his periphery, he goes in a flurry to search around the room, immediately stopping when his eyes land on you. He gives you a small thumbs up, sharing a gaze with you as time completely stops, and your heart sets out just like a rocket. He purposely ignores his teammates' push and shoves, he’s happy. And you're happy.

This doesn’t go unnoticed, and Mark shifts his eyes back and forth, chuckling to himself. 

“Okay, get ready to ask him.” He pats your back, “I’ll get going now. I have to meet someone by the coffee shop in twenty minutes.”

He waves at Jaehyun and leaves the gymnasium before you can even stop him or tell him you won’t ask Jaehyun on that friendly date. But his back is already facing you, he’s already making his way to the door, and you sigh, “Goodbye to you too.”

Now, your strongest form of reassurance is gone.

As the people around the room continue to rave, you put aside the eeriness blossoming in your gut and make an effort to stand up from your seat and walk up to your best friend to congratulate him. It’s not that you’re scared of him. But, there’s an indescribable entity that forbids you to do so. Maybe it’s because there are too many people in the room, or you need to have this specific amount of excitement to feel like you fit in; you don’t know.

Nevertheless, you still walk to him, without Mark to hype you up, there’s still a smile on your face, and he waits for you by the bottom of the bleachers. He waits for you as he wipes the sweat trickling down his face, and when you're nearing the last few steps, you recognize the girl in your Accounting class walking up to Jaehyun with a box of chocolates.

Oh.

So that’s what Mark meant when Jaehyun gets asked out by a lot of people. He even got the top student in your class to go whipped over him. Your smile falters a little bit, and you watch as Jaehyun turns to face her, giving her his attention and starting a conversation with her. The girl’s name is Sana, and yeah, she’s really pretty. You don’t walk into their chat, and after standing awkwardly for a good minute, Jaehyun grabs the box of chocolates from Sana.

Your heart shouldn’t drop seeing this. He’s happy. But you don’t like the way that one conversation is having an effect on your body. It’s like you're jealous, and you don’t like being jealous.

“Hey,” you walk slowly towards him. Jaehyun places the box of chocolates by the water bottle and towel located on top of the metal seatings, “So how’d I do?” He then smirks, stepping forward and hugging you, purposely doing it so the sweat on his body can be rubbed onto you.

“Don’t touch me. Your sweat is rubbing on my shirt.” You frown disgustingly when he doesn't pry away, and instead bends down to rub his hair sweat on the crook of your neck before stepping back. “You did okay, I think. I still don’t know how the rules work, but you looked cool with the ball.”

“Huh.” He purses his lip, nodding. Jaehyun notices that you aren’t really radiating your usual energy, and though he wants to question it, he can feel that something is shifting. Even though he can feel it, at the end he chooses to say nothing, after all, the game just finished, and he doesn’t want to ruin the moment by talking about the hypothetical problem.

Which is why you don’t hold a decent conversation with him until he finishes changing back to his casual wear, when his basketball uniform is already in his sports bag, walking out of the locker room as you wait for him outside, already walking towards the ramen place two blocks from campus and your hands fiddling because damn, you have no right to be so awkward when he just won an important game.

You know what. You’re overreacting now. It’s not even that serious. So what if Jaehyun says yes to Sana? Who are you to say you don’t agree with it?

“So you know Sana?” And then you speak up. Judging by the way Jaehyun momentarily freezes at your sudden question, you think your sudden inquiry surprises him as much as it surprises you.

“Who?” His hold on his sports bag turns stiff, blinking at you dumbly. If you’re feelings aren’t so willy-wonky right now, you would’ve joked about how much of an idiot he looks with the expression on, and Jaehyun looks even more confused when you hold back the smile on your face.

“The girl who gave you a box of chocolates just now. You know her?” You explain a little vaguely, but enough for him to unlock the memory. And his mouth turns into an ‘o’. You want to admit that you’re being a little bitchy when you ask him in such an illed-manner, but you’re too stubborn to admit so.

“Well, not really. We met at a party months ago, but that’s about all.” He shrugs, the walk to the ramen place seeming like it’s longer than what you suppose.

“And she’s now your Valentine’s date.” As you mutter under your breath, you can’t believe that  even with the low tone of your voice, he's still able to hear you. Little do you know, the familiar sound of bells ring in Jaehyun's ears, slowly picking up the puzzle pieces from your sudden weird demeanor and piecing them together.

“Huh.” Jaehyun smiles to himself, immediately halting at his tracks, pausing, thinking about it, and laughing to himself. You look at him like there's a demon that just possessed him, and he asks you one simple question through crimson and dimpled cheeks. “Where’d you get that from?”

“You took the box of chocolates from her???” You look at him dumbfounded, it almost reminds you of that time you had to explain to a three year old why they shouldn't be pushing other kids in the playground. You're stupefying your sentences for Jaehyun, but he just continues to look at you, holding back his giggles.

This time, the rolls switch, and you're the one absolutely confused. As far as you're concerned, this should not be a laughing matter.

“I rejected her because we barely know each other, but she told me to keep it, as a token of our new friendship.” Wait, what? “Why? Are you jealous?”

It's the fact that he can see right through you that makes your face falter more than the time Sana actually gave Jaehyun the chocolates. You're worried of what he's going to do if you admit you were a tad bit jealous, and you're one hundred percent sure he's going to add it to the list of 'things to blackmail my best friend one day' created on his phone. You can see the malicious glint in his eye, and you know that's not a good sign for you to be honest with him.

“No…” You know he doesn't buy it. You know that he knows. He's literally scoffing at your lie. So maybe Mark is right, maybe you should try being straightforward for once. “Though, I was planning to ask you myself, since a little birdie told me you still don’t have a date.”

He composes himself, turning to face you, “Oh?”

“Yeah. Well, a friendly date. But yeah.” Are you doing this bluntness thing properly? That, you don't know. Maybe Mark can teach you how to become more straightforward to other people the next time you see him, because you really don't know if you're doing it properly.

“I’m down.” You freeze.

“Really? Are you sure you don’t want to go with Sana? She’s a nice person to be with once you get to know her.” You really need to shut up, especially when you don't even mean the words you say. You're just saving face at this point.

“But she’s not you.”

Jaehyun says without anything attached to it. He gives you a faint smile before stepping forward, patting your head in reassurance. That’s when it hits you; you might not be the prettiest girl on campus, or a generally likeable person, or someone who can properly talk to Jaehyun about his basketball antics without getting confused on what’s a three pointer or what travelling is; but you’re you. 

You’re the one who comes to his basketball games even though you don’t know a single thing about basketball. You’re his best friend that over analyzes everything and makes his ego boost in the weirdest ways possible. 

“I’d be worse than Mark if I picked you over someone else.” He makes the smile on your face brighter. 

“I’m telling that to him.” And you do, because forty minutes later, Jaehyun gets a nasty text from Mark telling him to quit the slander.

3.

“It’s raining.” Donghyuck points out the window, speaking a tone loud enough to earn glares from the other students in the library. You lift your head up from your assignments.

“Well, shit.” You sigh when you notice how hard the raindrops are pouring — because the one time you forget to place an umbrella inside your tote bag, this happens. Great. “Do you have an umbrella?”

“You think I’ll bring an umbrella?” He props his elbow on the table, resting his cheeks on his hands that are formed in fists, “It’s basically a free shower. My water bill will be one day cheaper, you know?”

“God, you’re so gross.” You frown at the thought. You know he’s joking, but for some reason, imagining Donghyuck using the rain as a form to take a shower leaves a shiver down your back. Not in a good way. “Anyways, I’ll head home now, before the rain gets harder.”

“Say ‘hi’ to Jaehyun for me.” He says mirthfully, and you stop packing your pencil case and highlighters to see Hanamaki’s face with that skeptical grin. 

What? What’s that supposed to mean?

“Sure?” You tell him hesitantly, not knowing why he’s asking you to do so when he has his phone right beside him, he can just say ‘hi’ through text. “M’kay, I’m going now.”

The moment you walk outside and get greeted by the rain that’s pouring harder than what it was like two minutes ago, you contemplate whether to make a run for it or to wait a couple minutes before it subsides. But the drops come down faster, but your home is also fifteen minutes away from campus, but you don’t have an umbrella, but it’s too dark outside—!

[1 message to Platonic Soulmate]: expect me there in about five minutes </3 

You try to wait for a reply back from him to say whether you’re allowed to or not, but he leaves you on seen, which you automatically know is another way of him saying: you do you, idiot.

And in the next five minutes, you make a run for it.

So by the time you’re at the front door of his place, your clothes are damp, your hair is damp, hopefully the assignments and the laptop in your bag are not damp. And you slowly pull out the key in your pocket, fumbling the door open as your fingers tremble. You slowly walk inside the apartment, bringing your body parts as close to each other as you walk to keep the body heat in check, and your best friend turns around to greet you. His eyes widen.

“Oh god you’re soaking.” Jaehyun looks down at your body in horror, trying to take in the sight of you refraining yourself to shiver. He thinks your so stupid for running here when you could've called him to pick you up in the library instead. He thinks you're a fool. And when you drop your bag to the floor and hug your arms, he stands up from the couch, walking to you. “Take off that jacket before you get sick.”

He does it for you instead, worry washing all over his eyes and placing the back of his hand on your forehead just to make sure if you're heating up. Your shivers are not even that bad, you don't want to think it's bad and you hope it will subside in the next few seconds, but you're quite enjoying this. Jaehyun sometimes cares for you a bit too much, he sometimes does this, but you know what? He makes you feel warm through that cold weather. "I can't believe you didn't just call me to pick you up."

“You sound like a mom, I’ll be fine.” You attempt to hearten him, but he rolls his eyes, mouthing words like 'no, you're not,' or 'I could've picked you up,' angrily while he places your jacket to hang and dry by the corner of his home. The amount of times you mumble an apology to him while he tries to make you feel comfortable still doesn't make up for you worrying him terribly. "Look, I'm sorry," he only gives you a threatening gaze before forcing you to sit on the couch, "I'll be fine, I promise—"

You sneeze.

Jaehyun mutters a curse in front of your face, but not intended for you per se. Deep inside his mind, he wonders how he even puts up with you. But he knows it isn't a bad thing to do so. He just wishes you could take care of yourself more. Because he hates seeing you like this.

Well, circumstances could've been worse he supposes, at least you decided to go to his place instead of going all the way to your home, or else he wouldn’t be there to make sure you’re alright and you’ll probably be home shivering seeing that you wouldn’t even bother to change your clothes right away and keep those crazily freezing clothes on. At least he’s here. At least you know you can depend on him for anything. 

“Oh my,” you can’t do anything but to allow Jaehyun to tend to you for once, grabbing the hair tie wrapped around your wrist and using it to tie your hair up. He tells you to shut up before scurrying to get a small, clean towel by the kitchen to dry your hair. You really can’t believe him. And you scoff when he grumbles to himself from behind you, he acts like he’s so mad but this boy is treating you like a fucking baby. “Jaehyun...”

“What?” He wails dramatically, dropping his arms to his side, and you see his jaw clench from the reflection off the television. You giggle at his actions, turning around to look at him sincerely. 

You try to stop him from stressing out. “Dude. I’m okay.”

You sneeze again.

He glares at you.

“No, seriously. You’re freaking out over nothing.” You’re hoping the sneezing will stop, or else Jaehyun will just get fed up with your antics again, that is, if he isn’t already tired of them. You look at his reflection, before turning your head to face him, patting the spot beside you to make him sit. Jaehyun doesn’t listen to your request until the second time.

For the corner of your eye, you notice the sigh that escapes from his lips, hesitantly making his way to sit beside you before giving you the towel so you can dry your hair without his help. It’s funny because Jaehyun looks as if he drained out all his energy from the mild panic, “Well, I’m sorry for freaking out.”

Wait. You take back what you said. This time, you’re guessing that it’s a whole different matter that’s making Jaehyun uneasy, there’s a query, almost upset, glimmer flickering across his eyes, and you know that barging into his house soaked isn’t the cause of this.

“There’s something wrong.” He looks at you questioningly, the epitome of the deer caught in the headlights picture when you call out his state. “Should I have not come earlier?” What proves your point that there’s something negative harbouring your best friend’s mind is when he tenses up. So, there is something wrong.

“No, no! I think it’s nice that you’re here.” He slips on his words, and it takes him a good two deep breaths before he composes his body and looks you in the eye, properly. “I guess it distracts my mind off some things.”

“Like—?” You want to know what’s bothering him.

There is a light that makes Jaehyun’s face glow from below, and you look down, seeing his phone notifications go off. Curse you for being nosy, and having the ability to read around 375 words per minute, because you know you shouldn’t have, but you read the text message.

[1 message from Coach Kim]: Hello, Jaehyun. Apologies for the late response. I have just received the stats and who the team will be going against for the finals game. It will be Bighit University. The game will be one month from today, but I still expect no less with the practices and commitment. I’m trusting you and the rest of the team, Good luck.

Huh.

If there’s one thing you're sure of with the last few years of going to all of your best friend’s basketball games, it would be that Bighit University was the team that your school’s team lost to their team last year during semi-finals. And you remember how bad Jaehyun was beating himself up for it.

“Oh.” You don’t know what to say. 

“Yeah.” Him neither.

And you don’t know if you should talk to him about it, you don’t know how to tell him that he's going to be alright, after all the practices he drained himself from the past season, it’s bound that he has a chance to beat them this year. The problem is, as much of a stubborn person you are, Jaehyun is too, and he wouldn’t believe you if you tell him and his skills are beautiful as is. And he shouldn’t worry about a thing. 

If he’s like this because he’s doubting himself, you hope he’ll realize one day that him and his knack for the sport will get him to places. And you're not just saying that because you're his best friend, or because you think he looks cool on court even without knowing he messed up or not, but you genuinely believe that Jaehyun can go to far places. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make you feel better.” You wish you could tell this to him out loud, you wish you could reassure him, but you know that by saying that, it will just pressure him to do better. And the last thing you want is for your best friend to overwork himself. Like, did you see how much panic has caused him when you came home around the time he was texting his coach? Oh god you don’t want that to happen again.

“Don’t worry about it.” He tries to change the topic, and you don’t blame him. You feel your heart drop when he looks at you, solemn, tired and helpless. You want to give him the world, but you don’t know how to do it without overstepping, or without being too obvious. “Here, lemme get a new change of clothes for you. You must be freezing.”

The only reason why this is hitting you hard in the core is because of how hard he’s trying to bottle it in. And you know it won’t take him long until everything comes crashing down upon him. He’s only human.

You grab his hand before he heads to the room, taken aback when he feels the softness of your fingers wrapped around his wrists. He looks down, eyes softening before turning to look at you, meeting an expression on your face that shows nothing but support and love for your best friend. Jaehyun will be okay. And you’re going to assure that he will be okay. 

His eyes hold a galaxy in them, and you’re sure to help him find the reason to keep it shining brightly and beautifully. 

“Everything will be fine.” You give him a small smile. “If you need anything, I’m here.”

You will always be here, for better or for worse. 

For the last time this evening, you sneeze. And this time, it makes Jaehyun’s lips turn into a smile.

4.

“You look pretty.”

Jaehyun comments out of the blue. Well, not really out of the blue; not when he’s looking at you with that teasing snicker for a good minute prior to saying those three words. 

“I look like an absolute idiot.” You give him a dirty look, grumbling to yourself as you disgustingly look down at yourself and what you’re wearing, saltily taking the burger in your hand and taking a bite of it. You’re wearing a royal blue long dress, in a playground, in the middle of the night, with Jaehyun and the other three boys. Your best friend looks at you, chuckling as you chew your food agonizingly.

“A pretty idiot.” He corrects himself, and you nudge him on the shoulder. He too is wearing formal wear, a tuxedo and a little black bow tie, it makes your cheeks heat up looking at how well he cleaned up himself, if only the setting wasn’t so… unusual… this would’ve been perfect. But nevertheless, your stomach goes to butterfly mode.

Also partially because this motherfucker called you a pretty idiot.

“Shut up.” He notices you getting flustered.

The thing is, both of you remain oblivious to the knowing looks Mark, Doyoung and Donghyuck are giving. They are also wearing formal wear because you five are stupid enough to skip the party, buy food in McDonalds, and eat to the nearest playground like college kids who are drunk, but none of you are drunk. Just questionable. 

“Anyways—” Donghyuck coughs, making you and Jaehyun turn to look at the others, seeing the three mustering the worst teasing faces they could give. “Shoutout to Doyoung for this idea, for the first time in years, you have used your brain for it’s proper purpose.” He lifts his burger in hurrah, waiting for everyone else to agree with him. Mark turns to him strangely.

“Not even, this is probably one of the dumbest things we’ve done.” He argues, but ironically continues to bite onto his burger like he hasn't eaten for the past few nights. If all of you need to confess, you don’t even know what brought all of you to skip the party. Everything was so lively, everybody was so happy, and it was also to celebrate the basketball team’s win, but all had the audacity to walk out. Now, everyone is regretting it… well except for Donghyuck apparently. 

“On god,” Even Doyoung, the one who catalyzes this idea, is starting to regret it, kicking his foot on the sand while he eats his food by the swings. “We could’ve been having some rich people food by now, but look at us. Eating Mcdonalds with our formal clothes. We look so stupid.”

“What do you mean? We always look so stupid.” Jaehyun notes, chuckling lowly, looking down at the sand before he turns to you. What was that supposed to mean? The boy’s chuckles ring through your head, and the three boys continue to make a separate conversation, leaving you and Jaehyun to talk to yourselves. 

For some reason, you feel bad for bringing Jaehyun with you to the shenanigans you and the boys go through. He could’ve been celebrating with his teammates, after all, this was a game he’s been stressing for, he deserves to at least celebrate with the people he worked with to win finals. You turn to him, but it looks as if he along with Donghyuck doesn’t regret going out. You’re surprised he looks more satisfied than in dismay.

“Congratulations, by the way.” When you speak up, there’s something trembling under your skin. You want to blame it on the wind hitting the back of your neck, but you know that the feelings crawling onto you are not because of it, you don’t want to admit that it is because of the boy you’re talking to, “You looked great yesterday, I guess.”

“You guess?” He picks on you, fumbling with the end of his hamburger wrapper and looking at the ground. You can’t even look him in the eye; you’re looking at the empty slides across the playground.

“What do you want me to say? Huh?” You test him, giggling. His eyes bore into your figure.

“Just say I looked hot when I got the winning shot. I won’t judge you.” Your eyes widen, and you finally look at him in awe, a smirk making its way on his face when he can see the way your reaction isn’t the same one you give him, the one that plays along jokingly or instantly avoids it. You can feel the whole situation affecting you in some way, because yes, he did look hot when he got the winning shot. And it’s so nerve-wracking to admit that to yourself.

But you’ll never know what would happen unless you try to do them. And with all the stupid things you have done for the night, maybe genuinely admitting this to him wouldn’t be any less stupid than all the others. 

“Okay then, you looked really cool out there. And I mean it.” You say slowly, nibbling at your bottom lips anxiously after the words slip out your tongue. Maybe it’s because you have never directly given him a decent compliment before, to you, doing that feels too vulnerable, it’s so  out in the open.

And Jaehyun knows that you never say those things unless you mean it, so he takes it to heart. His eyes light up when it hits him that he’s on the receiving end of this. 

“You mean it?” He asks you again, seriously, but also playfully.

“I can’t believe you're asking for validation from me.” 

“So you mean it?”

You say your next words with too much coming from your heart, it scares you. 

“Yes, I do.”

But it makes Jaehyun feel as if he did something right for once.

For the first time you’ve been friends with Jeong Jaehyun, you notice a glimmer in his eye. A sparkle so intense that your heart starts to beat rapidly because he’s never looked at you that way. It almost reminds you of— it almost reminds you of Howl. That look. The look that someone is willing to give you the whole world. You know that your best friend is willing to give you the world, but this one’s different. 

It’s so unreadable but you somehow can resonate with it. You may be stupid, but you’re not blind. You hope you’re not just imagining things and that you’re thinking of the same thing as him, and you realize that there is no better feeling than having the hope that the person you love so much, can feel the same way as you. Jaehyun looks really pretty under the moonlight. But then again, he too looks pretty under the sunlight, or the bright lights of the basketball court, or the yellow toned light of his dormitory.

Jaehyun has always loved you. 

But this love, you hope it’s different. 

Because this look? It’s different.

“Holy fuck Donghyuck, my pants are ruined now.” Mark squeals in anger, standing up from where he’s sitting and wiping his hand irritatingly. Ketchup drips near the crotch area of his pants, and when you and Jaehyun abruptly turn to see the commotion, Mark is looking at Doyoung like he’s ready to murder him. 

“Can you please shut up next time?” Doyoung glares at Mark, quietly snickering and pointing towards you and Jaehyun. They’re acting like neither of you notice what they are trying to imply.

But, Mark is mad. Really mad. “No. I want you to pay for the dry cleaners.”

5.

It takes 109 quarters, and counting, for Jaehyun to try and win the Pikachu stuffed toy inside the claw machine. You’re aware of the fact that this game is harder than it looks, but you couldn’t phantom how your best friend has taken the past forty minutes trying to win a stuffed toy that’s probably cheaper than the amount of coins he used to play the game.

What makes matters worse, is that you aren’t playing this in an arcade. No, you’re far from the arcade. You’re instead by the Asian Grocery Stores, playing on one of the claw machines near the entrance as the bag of takeout and drinks on your hands are turning into room temperature. And it seems like Jaehyun doesn’t have the slightest consideration to stop the game, he looks pretty persistent in winning.

“Give me one more quarter, I have a feeling this is the lucky draw.” He places one hand out in a grabby gesture, not even bothering to look at you as he focuses on how to finally get the plushie. The security guard by the door is already giving you both an unimpressed look for how long you’ve been on that claw machine.

“Jaehyun, this is my last quarter. I swear if you don’t win.” You pass him the last coin in your wallet, it is now turning into a desert and it still hasn’t struck you that you used up all your coins on this game when you’re already broke and have no time to be using up money over games. Jaehyun better win this. He looks back at you and sees you gulp, and the corners of his lips curve up.

“Trust me on this.” He says overly-confidently, as if he hasn’t lost the previous 109 times.

“I want to. But you’ve been saying that since the twentieth attempt.” For two broke college kids, you really can’t believe you haven’t stopped him from playing the game even after the fifth attempt, because every coin counts (cue hysterical laughing from the joke), and you could’ve used all the other 105 quarters to buy a good meal. But then again the stuffed toy looks really, really, really cute. 

“Watch me closely,” he places the last coin in the slot hole, placing a grip on the control stick and carefully observing all the different angles of the claw machine to make sure he gets this one right. He better get this one right. Or else all the money will go to waste. He immediately presses the red button and the claw comes down quickly, he hasn’t even checked all the sides of the window to make sure he’s going to win this and yet he still did it, and you’re about to scream at him for not thinking this one through until—!

“Oh.” The Pikachu stuffed toy happily clings onto the claw, and Jaehyun has a proud grin enlaced on his lips when he sees your jaw drop.

“See?” He grabs the stuffed toy inside the slot and gives it to you to hold. “I told you I would win.”

“Well, good for you then. Can we bring this to your place first because the rice is getting cold?” You lift up the plastic bag full of takeout, and Jaehyun checks his watch before nodding, the both of you exiting the grocery store and the security guard releases out a breath of relief that you’re both finally gone.

You walk through the parking lot alongside Jaehyun, you're glad that he was able to snag the parking space closest to the building so you wouldn’t have to walk as much — you have already been standing up for too long to move your leg one more step. He grabs the chinese takeout off your hands and places it at the backseat before entering the driver’s seat. 

“Do you want to keep this?” You put your seatbelt on and hug the stuffed toy close to you, turning to Jaehyun at his question as he points down at it.

“I want to. But can we just keep it at your place? So I can see it more often.” You’re back at it again with the ‘I hate my apartment and will refuse to step inside it unless it’s an emergency’ agenda, and you know what that means. 

“You know my offer to be your roommate is still up.” He says it again, and you’ll reply to him with the same answer as last time, and the time before, and the time before that, until he finally gets sick of asking you. Little do you know, Jaehyun won’t stop asking you, and he will ask again, and again, and after that, until you finally say yes. You won’t even be a bad roommate to him, so he doesn’t even know why you still refuse.

“You know I can’t.” You whine, hugging the stuffed toy tighter that Jaehyun has to take it away from you to remove your security blanket and to actually talk to him about it. 

“You keep on saying that. But you never tell me why.” He makes you turn to face him, and although he doesn’t directly motion for you to finally give him an explanation, you know that the look on his face means he wants you to explain yourself. 

Deep inside, Jaehyun wants to know what’s stopping you. He wants to know why you keep on rejecting his offer because he really wants to have those moments with you that won’t be interrupted because you need to go to sleep in your apartment. Being around you makes him feel something he doesn’t usually feel from others, and he would like it if he gets to experience it more than he already does. 

“It’s nothing.” You shake your head, looking at everything but your best friend’s face. If only he knows how much you want to say yes to him for the longest time. If only he knew that what’s stopping you is because you want to experience the same thing that he wants to experience, but terrified that it might actually happen and your feelings for him will go out of control. 

You don’t want him to know that it’s because there’s something you feel for him, something more than what a friend should feel for a friend. And living with him in close quarters, it’s bound that he will know. And you don’t know what will happen if he knows.

“It’s something.” He notices the way you're holding yourself back. 

“It’s nothing!”

“No, tell me—”

“Jaehyun, I love you.” You take a sharp inhale when you accidentally let out those words. But it’s too late for you to take it back, and there’s nothing else you can do other than to own it up. Perhaps love makes you stupid, it makes you do impulsive, irrational decisions, but sometimes, love can bring out the best and most questionable mistakes. “I can’t move in with you because I love you, more than friends can ever love each other.”

Jaehyun registers what you say, pursing his lips as he feels his heart bloom out of his chest. But through your perspective, you don’t know what that look means, because you’ve never seen it on him before. No, wait. You remember. It’s the same look as the one he gave you the night in the playground. 

“You do?” He situates himself to look at you, tapping his fingers on the compartment separating the driver's seat and the shotgun agitatedly. 

“Well, yeah.” You scratch the back of your head, feeling the weight of your actions ready to bite you, “You don’t have to feel obliged to say anything, I shouldn’t have said it, I’m sorry.”

“If you think I don’t feel anything for you, then you’re dumber than I thought.”

“What?”

You look at him with confusion clouding your eyes, seeing as Jaehyun hesitates and trips on his words, before sitting up straight, more determined than the previous second as his hands perfectly fit into yours, squeezing it gently. You stare down at your interlocked hands, swallowing harshly but meeting his eyes once more to see his expression soften.

“I love you too, idiot.” He cracks up a grin, “You’re so stupid.”

The last word makes you frown. Asshole.

Much to your dismay, it isn’t those really cute confessions where Jaehyun nor you do something extravagant and or for fireworks to set up in the skies, but it’s heartfelt. It’s in the middle of the parking lot, the scent of your food lingering in the air, the stuffed toy you’ve won thrown somewhere in the car, all the quarters in your wallet gone, but it’s heartfelt. 

Jaehyun lifts his weight, inching forward and placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“You know what—!” He sits back down, and you sigh, more out of satisfaction, “I’ll take it.”

He smiles at you, and everything around you feels so wonderful. It’s the same as every other time you spent with him, the same feelings that rise through your skin and keep you up at night, the same feelings that make you feel so at ease yet, up your toes at the same time, but in a way, it’s different.

It’s different because you know he loves you more than that.

And he knows you feel the same way.

“So you're going to move in with me?” He brings up the question one last time, this time, with assurance. 

“Is the offer still up?” And this time, you reply back with a different answer. 

“Anything for you.”

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Ch. 7)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: mention of vomit, intense physical training, blood blisters 

Word Count: 6,829

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

Fifteen minutes later, Jimin pulled to a stop at the edge of the curb.

Stepping from the sidewalk, you hastened to the passenger side and opened the door. Your wait had mostly been uneventful, but you hated standing alone in the dark for any longer than necessary. Sliding into the passenger seat, you pulled the door shut and turned sideways to face him.

“Thanks,” you exhaled, seeing him for the first time tonight.

Jimin looked sleepy, as though your call had woken him up – which it probably had, since it was near 1:30 AM. Yesterday when you spoke, Jimin had said he planned on going to bed early. He was dressed in what Noelle would’ve called a groutfit – grey sweats, grey hoodie and silver-framed glasses. You blinked at these, not having realized Jimin wore contacts.

“No problem.” Jimin stifled a yawn. “Seat belt.”

“Huh?”

“Put on your seat belt.” He nodded at the strap by your side.

“Oh – right.” Hastily, you pulled this across your chest. “Thanks.”

Silence fell as you did, the awkwardness increasing with each passing second. Usually, you were better about things like car safety, but everything about this moment felt surreal. Jimin had given you his number barely twenty-four hours prior – you highly doubted this was what he had in mind when he said he’d call.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, unsure what to do.

Jimin’s lips twitched. “It’s fine, Y/N.”

Glancing his way, you found Jimin’s profile dimly lit by the streetlights. He sat spread-legged in the driver’s seat; one hand placed casually on the shift. When he caught you looking, Jimin arched a brow and shifted the car into drive.

Pulling from the curb, he merged into traffic headed away from the club. As the bright lights of Excelsior disappeared into the rearview mirror, the cars on the road became few and far between. You drove in silence, city lights striping Jimin’s profile in black and white.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Is everything okay?” Jimin asked, too casual to be normal.

It took you a moment to answer.

Usually, you would’ve responded yes even if it weren’t the case, since no one truly wanted to hear about your problems. Asking someone how are you? in the city was the same as a nod hello. It wasn’t genuine interest in another person’s well-being.

Tonight though, your usual responses caught in your throat. Tonight, you felt tired, frayed and dangerously thin at the seams.

Everything was not okay, and you weren’t sure how to say otherwise. Your usual walls had been torn, leaving you with this sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your fight with Finn had been a big one, even worse than the argument a few weeks ago.

Still, Jimin was a newer friend to you – if you could even call him that. It wasn’t fair to unload all your problems on him. Especially at such a late hour and especially not when he was the one doing you a favor.

“Yeah,” you said at last. “Everything’s fine.”

Jimin paused, as though he knew this to be bullshit.

“Let me rephrase,” he said, shifting in his seat. “Anyone’s ass I should kick?”

You laughed a little, surprised by his threat. “No, no,” you said, shaking your head. “Nothing like that.”

“Good.” Jimin’s smile faded. “So, what happened then? How’d you get stranded?”

He didn’t ask why you called him, but the implication was clear in his voice. Honestly, it was a question you had no good answer to. All you knew was when you were standing on the curb, staring at your phone and wondering who to call, Jimin was one of the first people to pop into your mind.

“I was out with my boyfriend,” you sighed. “I said I’d go to the club with him and his friends, but it got late and we have class tomorrow, so I told Finn I wanted to leave. He… didn’t.” Pausing, you swallowed. “I ended up leaving, but I didn’t realize the trains had stopped running. Uber surcharge was ridiculous, too.”

“Oh.” Jimin’s grip on the wheel tightened.

“Anyways.” You slouched lower in his seat. “You’re the only person I know with a car, so…”

“Ah. Right.”

Curious, you glanced sideways. Although Jimin was responding in one-word answers, they seemed somehow loaded, as though they contained hidden meaning. Even his profile seemed cautious, full of a tension you couldn’t quite place.

Jimin frowned. “Your boyfriend just… let you leave like that?”

“He didn’t let me,” you said as you straightened. “I can make my own decisions, Park.”

“I know, I just…”

“You just what, Park? Spit it out.”

“I don’t know.” Jimin shrugged. “It just seems kind of cold. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well.” Truth be told, it seemed cold to you, too. “I’m not exactly… thrilled with the situation, either. He turned off his phone,” you muttered, turning to face the window.

In the reflection, you saw Jimin grimace.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

“What for?”

“That just sucks, that’s all.”

“Yeah. It does suck.”

Jimin made an indiscernible noise of agreement before lapsing into silence.

It was strange to be in a car with him at this late an hour; oddly intimate for a multitude of reasons you pushed aside.

The last time you’d seen Jimin dressed so casually had been when you walked in on him with Sabrina. It had been nearly a month since then, but you hadn’t heard any gossip of them being together on campus. 

Maybe this was something you could’ve asked Jimin, but it wasn’t like you had that type of relationship. Sure, you were ballet partners and sure, you’d been getting along lately, but you didn’t usually interact outside of class. Yet another line you’d crossed by calling Jimin tonight.

Thus far, you’d mostly managed to keep Finn and Russet separate. Noelle had met Finn a couple of times – you’d gone to dinner once and gotten coffee together another time, but otherwise, nothing. Finn wouldn’t have wanted to come to one of your Grace Hall rom-com marathons or take a pilates class on Sunday morning.

Mixing personal life and dance felt strange to you, as though two separate halves of yourself were colliding. It was odd to see Jimin outside of Russet’s walls. He seemed more at ease in his car, like the lines of him had blurred more from dancer to person.

Something about the nighttime made things seem fuzzier. Tired from the day and just beginning to thaw from the cold, you found your lips and mind looser than usual.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Jimin said, interrupting the silence. “But I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend.”

With a humorless sort of laugh, you turned to face him. “Yeah, well. I do.”

“Huh.”

Hearing his skepticism, you insisted, “I do!”

“I believe you!” Jimin chuckled. He paused. “Is it new, then? I don’t remember anyone coming to watch your dance competitions in high school.”

Warmth spread through your body, realizing Jimin must’ve kept tabs. He’d watched you at dance competitions. He knew your usual crowd of supporters.

“Finn isn’t new,” you said slowly. “He just didn’t come to a lot of competitions. They got repetitive, you know? Lots of waiting around for three minutes of watching me dance.”

“I guess.” Jimin shrugged. “I used to go to my ex’s tennis tournaments all the time, though. That was the same thing, except no AC.”

“Right,” you laughed. “You’re right, at least our competitions had air conditioning.”

Jimin turned on his blinker to switch lanes. Pulling onto a side street, he glanced in the rearview mirror. Another moment passed, and then –

“We broke up before college.”

Surprised, you glanced in his direction. “Oh. Okay.”

You stared at his profile, wondering if you were supposed to say something more. You could think of many questions to ask, but they didn’t seem appropriate coming from you. You hadn’t realized Jimin was dating someone in high school – although, come to think of it, you did seem to remember a blonde girl cheering for him in the audience at Applause Dance Competition.

“It seemed like time,” Jimin continued quietly. “She went to a school across the country and we just never assumed we’d stay together. That sounds bad,” he said with a half-laugh. “I kind of figured though, if we were meant to be, we’d figure it out. The fact that we didn’t try spoke volumes.”

“That makes sense. Honestly,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if me and Finn had been long distance.”

As soon as the words left your lips, you blinked. The statement hung before you in mid-air, forcing you to consider it for the first time.

This wasn’t something you’d allowed yourself to imagine before; what would’ve happened if you’d gone to a different school. Going to college so close to Finn had just seemed like a sign. You didn’t have the college break-up talk because you’d simply assumed you didn’t need to.

“Yeah.” Jimin sighed. “It’s hard, right? Everything is changing so quickly. You want things to stay the same, but isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Change. Grow. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Everyone keeps telling me change isn’t a bad thing.”

“Sure seems like it, sometimes,” you said softly.

Jimin nodded. After a moment, he reached out for the stereo. A familiar song filled his car and something uncertain unfurled in your stomach. You weren’t sure what you were even talking about anymore – change was a dangerous topic without Finn around.

When the chorus of the song kicked in, you smiled.

“I love this song,” you said, turning to Jimin. “I almost choreographed my solo to it senior year.”

“Really?” Jimin glanced at you in surprise. “Same.”

“No way!” you laughed. “Wow – that would’ve been awkward. Imagine if we’d both had the same solo.”

“It would’ve made us even more competitive.”

“Not possible.”

“You’re probably right.” Jimin smiled. “We were really at each other’s throats for a while, weren’t we?”

“Yeah, we were.”

Settling back in your seat, you couldn’t help but frown.

Something about this statement bothered you, although you couldn’t put a finger on what. Maybe it was what Jimin had said yesterday about your mutual competition pushing each other forward. Maybe it had something to do with that night in Danley Hall, when Jimin stopped by and said he loved watching you dance.

If you really stopped and thought about it, Jimin was the sole constant in your dancing career. Every year, at every dance competition, you’d make sure you were available to watch Jimin’s solo. You told yourself this was because he was your competition but really, you just loved watching him dance.

You could remember the cool air of the theatre as you snuck in, sinking into a plush, velvet chair and hoping you wouldn’t be seen. You’d loved watching Jimin near the front, close enough to see his facial expressions but not close enough to be seen from the stage.

If your solos were close to one another in timing, you tended to watch Jimin from the wings. This had been a different kind of intimacy, hidden behind the first leg while you watched him dance. Lights dim, you recalled Jimin’s silhouette while he would walk to center. The opening notes of his music would sound, and you’d stifle a shiver while you watched him, entranced.

As it turned out, Jimin had been watching your solos as well, but you hadn’t known this for some time. Not until he’d told you the other night.

Suddenly, you turned in your seat. “You know I think you’re talented, right?” you blurted. “There was a reason I was always trying to beat you.”

Jimin’s brows shot up so high, they nearly met his hairline.

“I – uh, no,” he said. “You’ve never said that to me before. In fact, you kind of said the opposite. You told me the only reason I won was because I’m a guy.”

Hearing your words thrown back in your face, heat began to creep up your neck. 

“Listen, about that –”

“I’m kidding.” Jimin shot you a smile. “It’s fine, Y/N.”

“I – okay.”

“Look, I know men have an advantage in the dance world.” Returning his gaze to the road, Jimin’s smile disappeared. “I’m not dumb. I know we have higher centers of gravity, and all that. It’s just… you’re also talented, Y/N. People love to watch you dance, myself included. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Staring at him over the console, you felt oddly moved by this speech.

It was strange; many people in your life had called you talented. Your parents, your teachers and Finn, of course. Each of those compliments had meant something to you, but this one felt different. It felt different coming from Jimin – more important, somehow.

Maybe it was because you admired him most of all. The realization didn’t shock you as much as it probably should’ve.

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Jimin nodded, continuing to scan the road. His car was clean, you realized as you glanced around. There were no water bottles on the floor, no napkins hastily stuffed into the glove compartment. The only sign of being lived-in was a keychain dangling over the dashboard; a small, plastic photo frame with two people inside.

“My parents,” Jimin explained, noticing where you looked.

“Oh,” you said, bending a bit closer. “They look nice.”

He laughed, unable to help it. “I’ve always thought so. My dad is the one who encouraged me to be a dancer, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Fondly, Jimin smiled. “He’s always loved music. When I was a baby, he loved to hold me and jump around the living room to songs on the radio. My mom has tons of videos of it.”

You smiled at the image. “That sounds adorable.”

“And embarrassing. My dad’s not that great a dancer.”

Without meaning to, you snorted.

Hearing this, Jimin’s smile widened. “When I started memorizing all the dances I saw on TV, my dad convinced my mom to put me in classes. Things kind of spiraled from there.”

“That’s nice,” you said, settling down in his seat. “My parents have always been my biggest supporters, too.”

Jimin nodded, about to respond but then a blast of AC hit you and you shivered. You’d nearly forgotten what you were wearing – or more accurately, what you weren’t wearing. The thin tank top you had on did little to hide the bare skin underneath.

Jimin’s gaze darted sideways. “Are you cold?” he asked, reaching out for the heat. “You can have my hoodie in the backseat, if you want.”

“Oh. No, that’s okay.” Hastily, you untied your cardigan from around your waist. “I have this,” you said, sliding both arms into the sleeves. “Completely forgot about it.”

Silently, Jimin nodded – and then his lips twitched.

“What?” you demanded.

“Nothing!” He shook his head, fighting to keep his face even. “It’s just… you wore a cardigan out to the club?”

Glancing down, you felt your cheeks begin to heat again. “Yes,” you said, somewhat defensive as you looked up. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. It’s just, you know.” He paused. “My grandma has that sweater.”

“Well, your grandma sounds like a cool lady.”

“Without a doubt,” Jimin assured. “Not much of a clubber, though.”

Leaning your head to the window, you smiled. “That makes two of us then.”

You knew the city well enough by now to recognize you were only a few blocks from Grace Hall. Somehow, you found yourself not wanting the car ride to end. Talking to Jimin outside of dance practice was nice – even fun, you realized with some surprise.

It was a shame it’d taken you so long to recognize this.

“Seriously, though.” Jimin laughed. “Clubs can be a good time! There’s dancing, there’s music… rumor has it you like dancing.”

“Not that kind of dancing,” you sighed. “That kind of dancing is just a dry version of a lap dance for people who don’t know what to do with their hips.”

Jimin hid behind a smile. “Ouch, on behalf of your boyfriend.”

“Oh!” Straightening, you glanced at him in alarm. “That’s not – I didn’t mean…”

Stricken, you realized the obviousness of what you had said. Forget about your face heating, your entire body felt like an inferno. You had just told Jimin, in so many words, that Finn didn’t know what to do with his hips.

Jimin waved this admission aside. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I’ll forget what I heard the instant I get home. Up until tonight, I didn’t know the guy existed, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, settling back in your seat.

Rather than reassure you, this only gave you further pause.

It didn’t seem possible Jimin hadn’t known about Finn. Racking your brains, you tried to think of a time they would’ve crossed paths – only to come up short. Finn hadn’t ever stopped by the studio to pick you up, he hadn’t ever come to mutual hangouts with your Russet friends. Admittedly, Jimin had only recently started attending the same ones as you, but it still seemed unthinkable.

You and Finn had been dating for over two years. Finn’s name should have come up at some point and yet, it hadn’t.

Before you could respond, Jimin pulled to a stop outside your dorm. Glancing over the console, he smiled and again, you were struck by the image.

With his grey sweats, mussed hair and those glasses – you swallowed. It was a side of Jimin you hadn’t seen and something about the visual made your stomach lurch. Before you could launch into full-blown panic, Jimin raised a brow.

“Here you are,” he said with a grandiose wave. “Home sweet home.”

Glancing past him, you took in the steps of Grace Hall.

“Thanks,” you said, pushing open the door. Before exiting the car, you paused and looking over your shoulder. “Seriously, Jimin, thank you. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten home without you.”

In the darkness, you saw his expression soften.

“Anytime,” Jimin said.

You could tell he meant it. There was something to his gaze which made you nod. Jimin wasn’t the type to mince words or say things he didn’t mean. Just like when he said he loved your dancing, you knew Jimin was telling the truth. When he said anytime, he meant it.

Nodding, you resumed exiting the car. Waving goodbye, you stood on the curb until he was out of sight.

Once Jimin disappeared, you sighed and turned towards the building. Grace Hall was silent this late at night – it was nearly 2:00 AM and again, you were thankful Jimin had answered his phone. As you let yourself in and climbed the steps to your room, your thoughts began to race with all the what-ifs.

What-if Jimin hadn’t answered, what-if you’d had to walk home alone, or walk to find a cab. Pressing your eyes shut, you shooed these thoughts away. None of that had actually happened, so it wasn’t worth worrying about.

As soon as you got upstairs, you stepped in the shower – the stickiness of that girl’s drink continued to linger on your skin. After changing into fresh pajamas and brushing your teeth, you wearily climbed into bed. The last thing you did before falling asleep was call Finn again in case he’d returned home.

His phone went straight to voicemail though and, with a sinking stomach, you rolled over in bed and turned off the light.

After sleeping until the last possible moment, you managed to roll yourself out of bed around seven the next morning. This only left fifteen minutes before you needed to leave and even then, you felt like a zombie as you rushed out the door.

Grabbing coffee at the place down the street, you and Noelle entered class with barely ten minutes to spare. Jimin was already present but he was talking to Louis, so you stuck to your side and didn’t interrupt. You wanted to thank him again for his help, but all this flew out the window when a familiar woman followed Mr. Vlad into the classroom.

“Class.” Mr. Vlad set his things down by the window. “You remember Anna Hodelle, I presume – principal dancer at the New York City Ballet. She’s in town for a different master class and has graciously agreed to lead ballet this morning.”

The news was simultaneously exciting and nerve-wracking. Anna had taught a master class several weeks prior which left you sore for days following. Her classes were exciting though, and she was Anna Hodelle, one of the youngest principal dancers for the New York City Ballet in at least forty years – so there was that.

Her introduction didn’t require any response. Scrambling into place at the barre, the class waited while Anna shed her warm-ups and Mr. Vlad left the room. As soon as the music began, you found yourself grateful you hadn’t drunk the night prior.

Similar to her last master class, you found Miss Anna relentless in her pursuit of perfection. Her expectations were high and as a result, everyone gave their best effort – and then some. By the time you broke for water, no less than three students had already run for the bathroom.

It wasn’t pretty, but vomiting was something which happened with dance. Class could be such a grueling workout that occasionally, younger students pushed themselves past their limits. If you ate a big meal before practice, it was increasingly likely you might throw it up after.

You could count on two hands the number of times this had happened to you in high school. There had been some days you practiced so hard, sweat ran down your forehead and blinded your vision. On other days, the floor was so slippery, your bare feet couldn’t grasp the floorboards. Dance, despite being hailed for grace and glamour, tended to be exactly the opposite.

One of your teachers used to say you weren’t using your muscles if they weren’t shaking by the end. Ballerinas were seen as delicate, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Ballet only looked effortless – this was a carefully cultivated image for the audience. At all times, all muscles in a ballerina’s body were engaged, yet even when sweat dripped down her brow, she had to smile.

You’d seen dancers finish their combination, give a sweeping bow, walk gracefully offstage and vomit into the nearest trash can. Everything was for show, everything was for the audience – one of your favorite parts about dance was knowing the brutal behind-the-scenes effort everything took. It made you appreciate the final product all the more.

By the end of class you were exhausted but happy, wiping sweat from your brow while you applauded the teacher. After Anna’s dismissal, you immediately exhaled and trudged towards your bag. Noelle chattered on about a TV show you were watching, reminding you to catch up before Monday.

As you picked up your bag, you felt its front pocket vibrate. Fishing inside for your phone, you pulled this out and felt your eyes widen.

Five missed calls and eight missed texts. Once you opened your phone, you saw they were all from Finn.

Finn: hey [8:18 AM]

Finn: Y/N, I’m so sorry [8:19 AM]

Finn: I don’t know if you’re ignoring me because you’re angry, or if you’re in class right now [8:25 AM]

Finn: you’re probably in class [8:30 AM]

Finn: if you’re not though, please call me back [8:31 AM]

Finn: fuck [9:01 AM]

Finn: I was such an ass last night, Y/N. I’m sorry [9:03 AM]

Finn: … please call me [9:35 AM]

With each text you read, you felt your heart sink. Up until this point, you’d gotten through class by pretending last night hadn’t happened. Now though, you were forced to remember every detail of the night prior.

Finn had left you at the club.

He’d stormed away from your fight, turned off his phone and left you alone. Each time you remembered the night, your fury only grew. This morning when you woke, you’d still been pissed off – even more so, when you turned on your phone and saw zero texts from Finn.

Had your roles been reversed, you never would’ve done the same to him. Sure, it had been a bad fight but who did that? Just took off in the middle of a conversation and shut everything down. The worst part was him turning off his phone. As soon as things didn’t go as planned, Finn simply washed his hands of you.

That was what hurt most of all, the shame burrowing deep into the crevices of your heart.

Beneath everything was a strange twinge of guilt at having called Jimin to pick you up. This was easily brushed aside, though – Finn had left you stranded. If anyone had a right to be mad here, it was you.

“Y/N? You okay?”

Noelle’s voice pulled you from your reverie. Blinking, you lowered your phone and realized you were alone. The rest of the room had cleared out after class – this probably wasn’t the first time Noelle had said your name.

“Shit, sorry!” Hastily, you shoved your phone in your bag. “Yeah… yeah, everything’s fine.”

Noelle gave you a look. “Really?”

After a moment, you sighed. “No,” you said, turning to walk towards the door. “Why pretend? It’s Finn.”

Following you from the classroom, Noelle fell into step alongside you.

“He’s not hurt, is he?” she said carefully.

“Unfortunately, not.”

Noelle snorted. “Okay, so he’s in the doghouse.”

“Yep.”

“Want to talk about it?”

At the top of the stairs, you paused. “Finn and I got in a fight last night,” you admitted. “He wanted to stay at the club, and I wanted to go home – so he told me to leave. I did, but then I realized I had no way to get there.”

Noelle’s mouth dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me? He just… left you there? Wow. The next time I see your ‘boyfriend,’ I’m going to – wait,” she said, pulling up short. “How did you get home, then?”

“I – uh, well… Jimin picked me up.”

Noelle stared at you a moment longer. “Huh. Didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I,” you said, beginning to walk down the stairs. “Finn turned his cell phone off, so I couldn’t get ahold of him and by then, the trains stopped running. Uber was surging and Jimin is the only person I know with a car, so…”

“Ah, gotcha. That makes sense.” Noelle nodded. “Nice of him to come get you.”

“Yeah, it was nice. Anyways, Finn’s been texting me all morning.”

“Oh!” Noelle groaned. “That was your phone! I kept hearing something vibrating while I was waiting to go across the floor.”

“Yep, that was him,” you said glumly. “Apparently he’s sorry.”

“Of course, he is.”

“He said he was an ass last night.”

“Of course, he did.”

“… I’m still pissed at him.”

“Of course, you are!” Noelle cried, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Listen, tell him you got home alright – not that he deserves that much, mind you – but you need some time to cool off. He can wait until you’re ready to talk, right?”

Nodding, you saw sense in what she was saying. “You’re right.”

Despite Noelle making sense though, part of you didn’t want to wait.

Part of you wanted to call Finn back right now and give him a piece of your mind, but you knew if you did that, things wouldn’t end well. He deserved to be cussed out, but you were completely exhausted. The idea of fighting with your boyfriend left you feeling drained.

Noelle was right – Finn could wait until you were ready to talk, whenever that was.

Pulling out your phone a second time, you texted Finn you were safe and that you’d talk when you were ready. Once he responded okay, you shoved your phone in your pocket.

Noelle looked sympathetically on. “Why don’t we have a girl’s night?” she said, arm back around your shoulder. “We can invite Irene and Ari and just watch dumb movies and eat brownie batter in fancy lingerie. You know, like every guy’s sleepover porn fantasy.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. “Sounds like a plan,” you said with a grin. “God, what would I do without you?”

“Be super bored, probably.”

You snorted, but the thought stuck in your mind as you left the building. It really would be awful without Noelle by your side. Without meaning to, your thoughts strayed to Sabrina. Aside from Katie and Allison, you had no idea who she hung out with.

It had to be lonely for someone like her. Russet was intense enough without a support system. You quickly pushed these feelings aside – even if Sabrina was lonely, she had no one to blame but herself. You’d offered the olive branch enough times by now to know when to stop.

“I guess only one question remains,” you said slowly.

Noelle glanced your way. “Oh, yeah? What?”

“How dumb are the dumb movies we’re watching? Like, From Justin to Kelly dumb – where it’s a guilty pleasure? Or, more like The Kissing Booth dumb – where things are just bad dumb.”

“Why choose?” Noelle shrugged. “Let’s do both!”

“Deal!”

As you climbed the steps to Grace Hall, you continued to ignore Finn’s texts in your bag. He could wait until tomorrow, at least. After what he put you through, a single night of not knowing what you were thinking seemed appropriate.

When you finally gave in and called Finn the next day, you weren’t sure what you were hoping for. Finn had already texted his apology, so at least he knew he’d been in the wrong. As to what degree he was aware, you didn’t know, but you got a fairly good idea once he picked up the phone.

Short answer: very wrong.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Finn blurted, as though afraid you might cut him off. “I was such an ass to you Friday night. I – I don’t even know what to say. I don’t even know where to start. I fucked up so bad, Y/N and I’m sorry.”

Silence followed this outburst as you frowned, leaning back on the bed.

Noelle had graciously left the room to study at the coffee shop on the corner. Secretly, you knew this was mostly to flirt with the barista, Namjoon, but you couldn’t begrudge her for that. Namjoon did have the most adorable dimples you’d ever seen.

Focusing your thoughts on Finn, you played with a stray thread of your sheets. “I mean… that’s a good start, I guess,” you muttered. “But what are you really sorry for, Finn?”

His sigh was soft. “Everything.”

“Specifics would be good.”

“I was drunk,” he exhaled. “That’s not an excuse, but… I honestly don’t remember everything that I said to you. I remember the gist of it though, and I know it was terrible. I know you didn’t deserve it.”

You remained silent, even though you agreed with him.

“I wanted to stay out,” he continued. “That doesn’t really matter, though. I was a dick. I was stubborn and angry, and I took that out on you. You’re the last person I would ever want to hurt, and I just… I left you. Something could’ve happened to you. God, if something had happened, Y/N…”

Finn trailed off and you heard his voice crack but forced yourself to stay silent. Hearing him break was hard, but you reminded yourself what you’d felt Friday night – all the anger and terror when he completely disappeared.

This memory hardened you enough not to melt at his apology.

“Yeah, well,” you said tightly. “You’re right – something could’ve happened. The trains weren’t running and Uber was crazy expensive. I couldn’t get back in the club. I ended up waiting outside for nearly twenty minutes before someone came to pick me up.”

“Fuck.” Finn sounded strangled. “Fuck… Y/N, I’m sorry…”

In your mind, you envisioned him shoving a hand through his hair. Finn did that when he was stressed or upset and right now, he sounded a little of both.

“Yeah.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Who picked you up?”

Immediately, you stiffened. “Do you seriously think you deserve an answer to that?”

“No, no, I – you’re right, it doesn’t matter. Thank them for me, okay?”

You remained silent and again, Finn sighed.

“Are you… are we going to be okay?”

It was a loaded question. Closing your eyes, you leaned your head to the wall. In all honesty, you didn’t know the answer to that.

On the one hand, you loved Finn. That hadn’t changed. On the other hand, it was becoming more and more apparent your problems weren’t going away. It would be foolish to pretend otherwise – but all couples had problems, didn’t they?

In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but think a break-up should be more obvious than this. A break-up should be something big, something irreversible. You were beginning to wonder though, at what point were problems considered insurmountable. Everything about this seemed grey and right now, you really needed black and white answers.

Both your lives were changing, as Jimin had said. Freshman year was a cacophony of change; in order to succeed, you and Finn needed to learn to grow with each other. Hiccups were to be expected, bumps in the road were to be expected, but if you wanted to stay together, you needed to learn how to fight for this relationship.

“I think so,” you said, opening your eyes. “I think we’ll be okay. I just… Finn, you really hurt me that night.”

“I know.”

“It can’t happen again.”

“It won’t.”

“You know… I want to spend time with you, right?”

“I… do.”

He paused for longer than you would’ve liked, but you brushed past it. “I know you like going to clubs and all that,” you said. “But that’s not really me. Maybe next time we can do something different. Something a little more low-key.”

“Yeah.” Finn chuckled. “That sounds nice, honestly.”

“Good.”

“At least my friends really liked you.”

Taken aback, you snorted. “Oh, come on, Finn. I was barely there.”

“I’m being serious! Ben told me he thinks you’re funny.”

“Ben,” you groaned. “Has all the humor of a wet sock.”

Finn laughed and this time, it sounded like him. His laugh had been watery before, a restrained version but now, his true mirth broke free. As soon as the sound hit your ears, you began to relax. Truthfully, you hadn’t been sure things would be okay until then. Hearing him laugh, you knew Finn meant it. He wanted this, too.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “Ben sucks, but at least he has the taste to know that you don’t. Next time, we’ll do something more fun.”

“Next time,” you agreed.

“Next time.”

Despite your conversation having gone as well as it possibly could’ve, uncertainty continued to linger in the back of your mind.

You spent Sunday evening watching TV, but still slept restlessly before your class the next morning. Mr. Vlad’s ballet was definitely not one you wanted to arrive at ill-rested, but Monday you showed up with bags under your eyes.

You tried to push all negative thoughts from mind while warming up at the barre. By the time class broke for water, you were feeling marginally better. Ballet was soothing that way. The repetitiveness of barre helped to put things in perspective. Your ankle had almost completely healed by this point and now, two weeks after the fall, your technique had finally begun to improve.

No longer were you the last one to catch onto combinations and Mr. Vlad only yelled once about your turnout at barre. This was a marked improvement from the start of the year and although you still were far from the top, you felt relatively good about your standing. You had a feeling once you and Jimin began to practice, the moves would come even easier.

The first combination at center was a slow adagio. It wasn’t particularly difficult aside from a lift in the middle, but despite the familiarity of the moves, Jimin was being oddly hesitant.

Mr. Vlad showed the combination with his dance assistant, Mina. After they demonstrated a particularly difficult lift, they gave everyone time to practice – which, in your and Jimin’s case, turned out to be necessary.

“Ladies, pique to arabesque!” Mr. Vlad called from the front. “Lift your leg higher and – the man lifts! He walks you in a promenade. Then you’re lowered, exhale – and bourrée!”

Brian immediately raised his hand for help, so Mr. Vlad left to assist in his corner. The lift was proving itself to be tricky – it required most of your weight balanced against Jimin’s side while he gripped your thigh, lifting you up.

You and Jimin began to practice, but no matter what you did, nothing seemed to be working. After the fourth failed attempt where Jimin nearly dropped you on your ass, you shakily landed and whirled around.

“Alright,” you said, both hands on your hips. “What’s going on?”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how’re you supposed to lift me if you’re barely touching me? Look at Sabrina and Paulo!” you said, gesturing in their direction. “He’s got his whole fucking hand under her leg!”

Jimin’s cheeks turned red. “I – uh, right. Yeah. Let’s try it again.”

Staring at him another moment, you nodded and returned to your spot. Jimin settled into fifth position, jaw clenched and looking as though he were in pain. You stared at him in the mirror, considering calling him out before thinking better of it.

Taking a deep breath, you piqued into arabesque. Leaning your weight to Jimin, he reached again for your thigh – only to falter, leaving you hanging.

“Jimin!” you half-laughed as you slipped down his leg.

“I’m sorry!” Jimin blurted, stepping away. Looking thoroughly distraught, he shoved both hands through his hair. “It’s just… well, I…”

“It’s just what?”

“You have a boyfriend,” he said, a bit pained.

In response to this, both your eyebrows shot up. That had not been the answer you’d expected.

“I… okay?” you said, failing to grasp the point. “So what?”

“So.” Jimin glanced furtively around. “I don’t know, it’s just weird! I don’t want to… overstep my boundaries, or anything.”

“But…” You stared. “I had a boyfriend last week and it wasn’t a problem.”

“Okay, but last week I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

Again, you looked at him as though he was crazy.

“This is stupid,” you said, stepping closer. “Ballet is our job, Jimin. It’s the least sexy occupation on the planet. Right now, I’m bleeding from three different blisters inside my pointe shoes. I’m sure my deodorant has long worn off by now. Would you just fucking get over yourself and grab my thigh?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “Well. When you put it like that.”

“I am putting it like that,” you said with a grin. “Now, let’s go again.”

Nodding, Jimin followed when you walked backwards. Taking another deep breath, you piqued to arabesque and this time, Jimin didn’t flinch when your weight transitioned to his. Hand sliding beneath your thigh, he lifted you easily into a promenade.

As soon as you turned your head, you caught Jimin’s gaze and felt – something.

Something other than the white noise of the room. Something other than the thud-thud of your heart, other than the music on the stereo and Mr. Vlad yelling counts from the corner.

Despite what you had just finished saying, something unknown seemed to bloom in your chest. In the middle of the lift – blood blisters and all – you felt an errant spark where Jimin’s front pressed to yours.

You barely had time to recognize this before the moment was gone. Slowing his walk, Jimin set you back down – and you wobbled. 

This time it had nothing to do with his technique.

“Ah, shit.” Jimin frowned. “That’s my bad – I can do better! Let’s try it again.”

Nodding, you felt a bit wooden as you followed in his footsteps. When Mr. Vlad started the music, you fought the surging tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm. It had been nothing, you told yourself. Nothing of importance, anyways.

Shoving whatever you’d felt in a box, you pushed this to a corner of your mind and firmly shut the door. Forcing a smile to your lips, you lifted your chin as you began the combination.

It was lucky everyone else found you a talented performer, since beneath all your smiling, all you could think about was what was hidden in the box.

Something unknown, something tentative – and something which could be dangerous, if it ever came to light.

Author’s Note: I was so close to re-writing this chapter with Mr. Vlad picking her up LOL just kidding, but thank you for reading! 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre are posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission. 

[wavyhairedbabyy]

Idiots - Part 1

Karl Jacobs x gn!reader

tldr: They’ve both got a crush. Sucks, since they’re the only ones oblivious to it. (Slow Burn!)

CW: some swearing(not at each other), fluffy as a teddy bear.

a/n: I got a random influx of followers ;-; Tysm for enjoying my works and sharing them. I haven’t written in 6 years, in case it wasn’t obvious lmao, so even one is super meaningful to me :) this ended up being way longer than I intended it to be so I’m splitting it into 2 parts. 

edited yet: yes - let me know if I missed anything!

Part 1 - Part 2

Y/n and Karl met when Karl was still going to college in New York before dropping things to move to North Carolina. They met the fall of their sophomore year at the campus café when Karl was trying to shoot a piece of paper into a trash can. The problem was he couldn’t aim and it landed right in y/n’s mug of coffee, quickly dissolving into a paper coffee soup. For anyone else it would’ve been okay but being that coffee was y/n’s life line, especially during finals, it most definitely was not.

“You’re buying me another, right?” they asked, “I would highly recommend it or you might see a side of me you don’t want to see.”

Being the good guy he was, and the slight fear of their bad side, he did with no questions.

“So, since there’s a side of you I don’t want to see, and I bought you a new coffee, do I get to see the side of you that I do want to see?”

“Find me next semester and you might.”

And he did.

***

“Karl, if you don’t give me that sword, I’m going to hurt you!” Y/n screamed as they lunged toward him. It was y/n, Karl, and Chris hanging out at Karl’s place until it was time to leave for a Mr. Beast project. They sat in his living room, Karl with a foam sword that y/n was desperate to take from him.

“That’s the problem! If I give it to you, you will hurt me with it!” He yelled back, jumping out of their reach.

“Okay children, why don’t I just take the sword so we can end all of this?” Chris intervened in an attempt to stop the ruckus.

Both of them paused, looking at him in disbelief. They shook their head and in unison scoffed, “No!”

The two continued their play fighting, one holding on to the sword for a short period of time before the other pulled it from their grasp. This went on until it was time to leave the house.

While this was all going down, Chris watched Karl’s behavior. He noticed how he let y/n hold on to the sword a little longer, even when he could’ve easily reached out to grab it from their hands. He noticed how he was much more careful with his movements, almost scared to be too rough with them.

With anyone else, Chris knew Karl’s pride would have taken over in this situation. He thought back to any other time he had any of his SMP friends over. With Nick or Alex, he would have hogged the sword and brutally whacked either of them with it as much as he could. He would happily tacked them and pinned them to the ground. With y/n though... there was a gentleness with them, and Chris did not fail on picking that up.

“Okay lame-os, let’s get on over to the warehouse. Y/n, you coming?” Chris asked.

Y/n shook their head, “Nah. I’m gonna unpack my stuff and relax from the flight. Plus, word on the street says that tomorrow is when the cool stuff is happening so I’ll come then.” they replied.

“Well the street is right, but they’re still a dummy,” Chris looked at Karl for reference.

“Hey...” Karl faked a sad look before staring at y/n for defense.

Y/n giggle and just shrugged, waving goodbye to the both of them, “If you don’t bring me back Burger King fries, don’t bother coming back at all!”

***

Chris and Karl sat in the car, Chris driving and Karl in the passenger seat. With some music on in the background, the two were discussing the plan of action for what was going to be filmed for the day.

“Do you know how long it’s going to take?” Karl asked, “I feel bad leaving y/n by themselves so I want to try to get out as early as humanly possible.”

“I’m not really sure. I’m sure Jimmy wouldn’t mind you scootin’ out a little early,” Chris replied. He took the opportunity and leaned over to his friend, “Speakin’ of y/n, anything going on there? Y’know, anything special?”

“Uhh- whaddya mean special?” Karl haphazardly, “We’re best friends. I think that’s pretty special.”

“No, idiot. I mean is there anything there besides just being best friends,” Chris paused for a second, “I dunno. I just noticed you’re different with them, man. You know you would never treat Nick or Alex the way you treated them.”

Karl paused, trying to think of a response but failing. He sighed, “Yeah, there’s definitely something there on my end. I mean, I’ve been attracted to them since we first met. I just don’t think they reciprocate it.”

“You never know if you don’t try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“I’d rather not think about it,” Karl sunk into his seat, thinking of all the bad endings that could happen if he told y/n his feelings.

***

Meanwhile this was happening, y/n was making themselves comfortable in Karl’s guest room. They planned on staying for a week and a half which meant packing a month’s worth of clothes. Before starting to unpack their things into the dresser, they FaceTimed their other best friend that was back in New York to keep them company.

“You’re calling me now? Your flight landed 4 hours ago! I was sure you crashed in the middle of the ocean - gone like that Malaysia flight,” y/bff answered.

“Hi to you too,” y/n responded as they started to place their clothes in the closet, “ You are so dramatic. My flight didn’t even go over the ocean. And don’t act like you weren’t tracking my flight. You knew damn well I was fine.”

“All this worrying and caring, and this is how I’m being treated?” Y/bff shook their head as the wiped their fake tears away “The disrespect.”

“Pft, the only disrespect I’m seeing here is the lack of questions about my day,” y/n said, “I had a great flight. I got those yummy blue chips and had a nice drive from the airport in a Tesla.”

Y/bff gasped, “What kind of Uber driver is driving around a Tesla? We need more of those people up here.”

“Dude, it was Karl,” y/n replied, “I was shocked. Last time I saw this kid he was driving a hunk of junk. One year down here and he’s driving around like he’s Elon Musk.”

“Well, I’ll tell you this now. If you don’t cuff him, I will!” Their laugh echoed through the phone

Y/n rolled their eyes, “Oh please, if he doesn’t like me like that then you’re in no good luck.”

“So you told him then?”

“No, not yet,” y/n paused, “I dunno. We’ve been friends for 3, almost 4, years now. If he liked me, he would’ve said something by now. Plus we live so far away from each other now. I just don’t wanna ruin a good thing, y’know?”

“Well, I still say do it. You can tell him and spend your life in peace knowing his answer, or keep it to you yourself and spend the rest of your life wondering ‘what if?’ And I’ll tell you now, the latter always ends with regret. With the first answer, you’ll at least have a chance of a happy ending.”

Y/n shrugged, putting away the last piece of clothing from their luggage, “I know, I know. I’ll think about it. Thanks for the chat, but I’m gonna go relax now before he gets back. I love and miss you already.”

They exchanged their goodbyes and hung up. Y/n flattened their luggage and slid it under the bed. Moving back to the dresser, they found some comfortable clothes to change into after a shower.

Y/n knew y/bff was right. They just couldn’t bring themselves to share their feelings. What if Karl didn’t feel the same way? Would it ruin their friendship? Would this be the last time they ever saw each other? No, y/n knew it wouldn’t end their friendship, but it would make it awkward for a little while. They moved to the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help them compose their thoughts.

***

“I’m back!” Karl shouted as he kicked the door shut behind him. The project took a few hours so the sun had set and nighttime was settling itself in North Carolina. There was no response. Karl continued, “And I have Burger King fries!”

“You should’ve started out with that! Coming!” Y/n yelled from down the hall. Karl rolled his eyes and walked over to the living room table. He started making room for the food when he heard fast footsteps coming toward him.

“Incoming!” Y/n yelled, tackling him to the floor with a hug. They were giggling as if they just pulled the best prank in the world.

“Hi to you too,” he groaned from his body hitting the floor. Y/n continued to chuckle as they got up, grabbing Karl’s hand to help him up too. They sat on the couch, looking at the food in front of them.

“A whole whopper meal? What did I do to get the honors, Mr. Jacobs?” Y/n remarked in a posh accent, popping a fry into their mouth.

“You existed,” Karl giggled out. Y/n smiled, but the butterflies in their stomach couldn’t feign their excitement. It was small shit like that that made y/n fall for Karl. He continued, “Plus I didn’t know if you ate or not so I thought better safer than sorry.”

“Aw, you’re the sweetest,” they gave him a tight hug before returning to the spot they were in on the couch, “So, what’s the plan, Stan?”

“I’m kind of tired from filming, I hope you don’t mind-”

“Actually, I completely mind” y/n replied sarcastically. Karl shook his head at them.

“So, I was thinking we could just watch a movie or watch a show,”

“Ah yes, head empty activities. I’m down. Can we watch a movie though? Not in the mood for a show right now,” y/n replied.

“Sure let’s scroll through and find something,” Karl switched on the TV and the two munched on their food while they decided what they were going to watch. After 20 minutes of scrolling, which really was 20 minutes of fighting over who had better taste in movies, they finally agreed on Wall-E.

Before the movie started, y/n looked over to Karl. Their hands were in the shape of finger guns, pointed to each other and the tips of their index fingers touching. They had a pout on their face when they asked, “Can we cuddle while we watch?”

“No,” Karl shook his head quickly, keeping a stoic, straight face. Y/n’s pout got bigger. He continued, “I absolutely hate physical touch.”

They both immediately broke out into giggles, y/n grabbing the nearest pillow and smacking him with it, “You are so lame.”

Karl continued with his fit of giggle, “The day I say that and mean it is the day hell freezes over.”

As the intro to the movie played, the two came closer, y/n’s legs tangling up with Karl’s. When they finished up their food, they moved closer with Karl’s arm around y/n’s shoulders and their head laying on his chest.

Y/n gave a playful scoff, reminiscing on their past memories together, “This reminds me of the time we had a Disney movie marathon before spring break.”

Karl laughed, “Yeah, and you made my old roommate cry beforehand because he wasn’t doing his dishes all semester.”

“In my defense, I gave him warnings. He didn’t wanna listen and there’s no way I was letting you live in a house with a sink full of fruit flies.”

“I’m not sure if you did that for me or because you practically lived with us.”

“Don’t get it mixed up, pretty boy. That was for you.” Karl smiled at those words, looking down at the person laying on their chest. He wanted to believe there was more than friendship behind those words. The warm feeling he would always get with them filled his chest as he turned his focus back to the movie.

“I really missed you.” He whispered.

“I really missed you too.”

***

Part 2

[ninyard]

more stefan/andrew au? the last one was fucking amazing

(following on from pt 2 kinda following canon a lil bit but imagining their relationship panning out earlier than it did in the series? Fab)

Part 1 / part 2

-

“Andrew?” Neil was woken up by Seth’s pissed-off, tired moan. “Get the fuck out of here, you fuckin’ freak.” Neil heard the rustling of covers and Andrew’s footsteps coming into the room. “Yo, hey, are you deaf?!” It’d been a couple days since the incident in Columbia, and Andrew and Neil hadn’t really spoken since then. Coach had tried to get them to make up when Neil came back to his apartment, but his attempts futile. They’d only had a short conversation before Andrew got bored and left. All Neil got from Andrew’s lot since then was hostility and cold shoulders. Now, in the middle of the night, Andrew was breaking into the room of the three people he actively seemed to hate the most. Neil pretended to sleep, until he felt weight on the rungs of the ladder on his bed, and hands on the back of his T-shirt. Andrew practically pulled him off the bed, immediately waking him up from any bit of sleep he had left in him.

“Car. Ten minutes.” Andrew didn’t lower his voice for Neil’s half-asleep roommates. “I don’t like waiting.”

“I don’t care.” Neil retorted back in a hushed voice. “Leave me alone and let me sleep.” Andrew got real close to Neil’s face. The dim light of the moon outside the window showed Andrew unsmiling face. He was presumably sober, and Andrew sober was a much scarier sight than him being medicated and violent.

“Ten minutes.” He repeated again, matching Neil’s volume, hazel eyes burning a hole through Neil’s natural blue. Andrew put a finger to his lips and switched to German. “This is the only chance you’ll get.”

Neil had almost forgotten he’d spoken to Andrew in German in Coach’s apartment. He was startled at the sudden language change, and obliged when Andrew finally left the room. He got dressed underneath his covers as best he could, and decided against putting in his contacts, before jumping down off the top bunk.

“Bring that monster around here one more time and you’re moving out.” Seth groaned, but fully meant what he said. He turned around to face the wall and through the muffle of a pillow, Neil heard him say, “Now fuck off.” Matt, sleeping like a rock, was snoring on the other side of the room, totally unphased and undisturbed by Andrew’s swift entrance and exit.

Andrew was alone at his car when Neil pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands in a desperate attempt to stay warm, the door of the dorm building shutting behind him. It was freezing outside, and Neil hadn’t realised it was literally the middle of the night until he saw a clock in the hallway reading an early 3:54am. The wind blew leaves across the parking lot with a whistle and a rustle, the dry fall leaves swirling around like tiny twisters on the tarmac. The campus was silent, on the night of a weekday, so Neil didn’t expect anyone to be out. Yet here Andrew was, leaning on the bonnet of his car with a cigarette between his lips, smoke quickly disappearing in the biting wind.

“You never answered my question on our little night out.” He spoke through the smoke, as Neil approached closer. “We’re going for a drive.”

“Do you ever sleep?” Neil’s voice was groggy from his own interrupted sleep. Andrew didn’t answer, instead flicking away his cigarette and sitting into the drivers seat. Neil walked around to the passenger side and sat in. When he tried to warm his hands on the hot air Andrew had blowing through the air-con, Andrew turned the heat off. Neil was sure if Andrew was medicated he would’ve laughed, but he instead opted for watching the road as they drove in silence. Neil sat back and tried his best not to fall asleep. His head bumped about on the headrest as they drove, and every time his eyes started to close, his sleep cycle begging him to come back to rest, Andrew would snap his fingers in his face or lay a punch down on his thigh. After a short drive, they pulled up into the empty lot of some National Park Neil didn’t know the name of. He was too tired to pay attention to the signs, but figured Andrew wouldn’t bring him to a park to kill him or let him go. Andrew was a man of truth when he wanted to be; He wanted to know why he was on the run and Neil didn’t have the energy to argue.

“Why are we here?” Neil asked at the same time Andrew said “What brought a runaway to Oakland?”They both paused for a moment, but Neil knew Andrew wasn’t going to answer his question until Neil answered his.

“It was the first place she wanted to stop.” Neil spoke through a yawn. “The others before there made her too paranoid. It was the first time she felt like she could close her eyes and actually sleep without feeling like she was…” He thought about his words for a moment. The last conversation they’d had, he told him he was on the run, but Andrew already knew that. Neil thought he’d got through to him by giving him half-honesty, telling him his parents were dead. He never brought up Riko, or his family, instead choosing the option of trying to appeal to Andrew’s inner child, who remembered Stefan. It was a stupid choice, and Neil knew that the second he chose it. “She could sleep without feeling like she had a target on her back.”

“Did you kill her?” Andrew said it so casually it felt like murder was something so normal, like eating lunch or going for a walk. Like asking if he killed his mother was just like asking if he liked the taste of garlic, or if he was having a good day.

“No,” Neil answered. He’d been thinking about what he would tell Andrew about his life since he seen him in Arizona. Who was he before Oakland? Where did they go? Who was he running from? “Riko’s family did.”

And suddenly Andrew was interested. His face was a mixture of disbelief and boredom. Neil told him his manufactured version of the story; that his parents were killed by the Moriyama family, and that they’d been on the run since the execution of his Father. He kept out the part about the Butcher of Baltimore, or the fact that he was actually still alive, but Andrew’s mind was at work as Neil told the story. If he didn’t look awake before, he did now. Neil spoke for an hour, maybe less, maybe more, flowing from story to anecdote to answering questions that Andrew slipped in whenever he wanted. Neil answered it all with mostly-truths, redacting the stuff Andrew simply didn’t need to know. Neil was a runaway, his family were in some bad business, but Neil was the only one left.

“I really didn’t think you could get any more stupid, yet I am constantly surprised.” Andrew tutted as he shook a cigarette out of the packet, into his hand. He rolled down the window on his side and smoked out of it, seemingly unbothered by the wind that just blew the smoke back into his face. “You knew who I was, but you knew Kevin too? How forgetful do you think people are?”

“I don’t know,” Neil told him honestly. “I just- We were so young. I met Kevin years before I met you. I just didn’t think I was important to anyone.” Andrew laughed a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh at all. It was the sound of dismissal, as though he didn’t believe a word that spilled from Neil’s tired lips. “I didn’t think I’d ever be particularly memorable or mean anything to anyone. That was the most important thing to my mom.”

“What, being unimportant?” Andrew didn’t look at Neil as he spoke.

“Being forgettable.” Neil sighed, thinking about his mother’s words that had been drilled into his head. If you’re too interesting, you’re asking to be killed. Be boring. Be normal. Be forgettable. “You fucked that up for me.”

“See, you keep blaming me,” Andrew shook his head as he took a drag from the cigarette that had been half-smoked by the wind. “I didn’t fuck up your life, Abagnale, you did.” Neil didn’t get the reference, but he didn’t ask either.

“I don’t mean it’s your fault. You didn’t do anything,” Neil tried correcting himself. “I couldn’t help it when I was around you. And all I could do every second of my days after Oakland was blame you because I couldn’t deal with the fact that I let you in. Everything I learned, everything I’d done, you came along and turned the place upside down because I just had to know you. I had to.”

“Why?” Andrew looked at him with that same uninterested look he usually had, when a medically-induced smile wasn’t spread across his cheeks. “What made me any different to the hundreds of other kids I’m sure you met on your travels, hmm?”

“You were real.” Andrew scoffed. Neil frowned at that and shrugged his shoulders. “We’ve been through this. Don’t waste my time getting to know me if you just want me to run. You want me to get lost in the park, is it? Is that why you brought me here?”

“Nothing better than some honesty with a view.” Andrew tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “How do you expect me to trust you when you’ve spent your whole life a liar? Be mad if you want, but I’m much less gullible now, you see. Once a liar, always a liar.” Neil sent Andrew a look as he hovered his hand over Andrew’s. When he just stared at it, Neil brought Andrew’s hand up to his collarbone where was a small, raised, pink scar sitting just above it.

“The motels phone.” Neil spoke quietly, as if Mary would hear, as if she was waiting to jump out from behind the car to take him and beat him again for letting his guard down, for being unforgettable. “It was the first thing she could grab when we got into our room. I never told her your name, and she beat me harder for it. I never wanted to let her anger ruin your name.” Andrew dropped his hand from Neil’s grip.

“Pretty unintelligent to take hits for someone you thought you’d never see again.”

Then Neil said, “I knew I’d never forget you.” Andrew tensed up at the almost-promise, and the memories came flooding back for Neil like a tsunami sweeping over every other thought he had. “I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.” Neil almost reached out to touch Andrew before he remembered the boundary Andrew had set that night in Columbia. Neil didn’t have a right to touch him anymore, and he knew Andrew noticed as Neil’s hand lifted and then hesitantly fell. “Tell me something I don’t know about this Andrew. I’ve told you my life, tell me yours.” He gestured to Andrew, sat across from him with an almost-frown on his face and a thinking mind hard at work.

“This Andrew doesn’t give a shit about what answers you think you deserve.” He looked Neil up and down. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“Why doesn’t Nicky know you’re gay?” Neil asked, instead of waiting for him to come up with something himself, it was much easier to get honesty from Andrew by prompting him. Neil watched as his jaw tensed for a second, thinking about the answer.

“Nicky is too involved in being the gay cousin to un-assume.” Andrew barely lifted his shoulders in the form of a shrug. “He hasn’t asked.”

“Why don’t you tell him?”

“I don’t ‘come out’,” He brushed off the thought with the flick of his wrist and a roll of his eyes. “I don’t fuck women in my spare time. Who cares?”

“Yeah, sure, but-” Neil had started to speak when Andrew cut across.

“At least I’m out to myself,” He nodded towards him. “You, on the other hand? Was it just Stefan who was into it or is the unnamed you just in denial?”

“I’m not, like…” Neil hated the sexuality question. It was confusing and messy and Andrew and Andrew and Andrew. “There was no one after you. It’s only been you.”

“By choice or by mothers hands?”

“Neither. Both?” He wasn’t sure how to answer. “The foxes are the first people I’ve let get somewhat close since then. That’s the truth. I haven’t wanted to. I’m just not interested in anyone.” The except for you part was silent, but he knew Andrew had somewhat heard it when he sat back, one hand on the steering wheel, the other arm resting on the door, as he took a deep breath that he tried to hide. Neil wasn’t even sure he was still into Andrew like that, because they were so young, after all. Andrew was still experimenting, and they never spoke about those kinds of feelings. They were friends who kissed each other because they wanted to know what it felt like. They kissed each other because maybe they thought they liked it. Maybe they’d have to do it again just to be sure. But that was so long ago, and so much had changed. Neil had had a crush on that Andrew, but this one? He wasn’t so sure. This one was harsh and mean, angry and unmoving. This one had been hard-boiled by life and wasn’t going to crack any time soon. He didn’t know if he felt things anymore. He didn’t know if Andrew was capable of a crush, or a kiss, or a simple, electric touch of fingers to skin.

Without a word, Andrew had switched on the ignition and idled the engine for a moment before pulling out and starting on the drive back to campus. Neil didn’t say anything else, he only rested his head on the window and watched as the morning sun slowly lit up the night sky, the dark navy blue taking over the black sky so slowly it was hardly noticeable.

He had pulled into his usual parking spot not long later, still not looking at Neil or speaking at all. He stayed still in the drivers seat after switching the engine off. Neil took that as his cue to leave. Matching Andrew’s silent treatment, he got up and shut the door without a word. Andrew had rolled down his window again, another cigarette already stuck between his lips. He watched as Neil walked around the car before he tapped the outside of his door twice to catch his attention. Neil spoke before he could.

“Give me a chance.” The wind blew his hair off his face, reminding him how cold it was, and why he should’ve worn a jacket. “Let me stay. I don’t have anything else.”

“Don’t be fooled into thinking I trust you.” He hung his hand out the window finally looking Neil in the eyes again. “It’s a matter of time before your egg timer runs out. Make use of it while you can.”

“I’ll bury Stefan forever, if you ask.” Neil offered in payment for the sudden change of heart in letting him stay, in cleaning his hands of the idea that Neil was after Kevin, or that he was a threat. “Say the word and we start fresh from today.”

“I don’t care,” Andrew took a long drag, one that felt like it was centuries long, like the sun would be up by the time he finished. He blew it out and raised his hands. “Kill what wasn’t real. Prove to me what was.”

Neil wasn’t sure what that invitation meant, but he didn’t ask Andrew to keep speaking. When they broke eye contact, he knew then Andrew wanted him to leave. Neil didn’t look back, heart racing, practically ready to burst out of his chest by the time he reached his dorm room. He opened the door as quietly as he could, careful not to disturb his peacefully sleeping roommates, and he crawled back into bed to try get some sleep before the practice scheduled for the morning. Instead of counting sheep, battling restlessness like a fight for his life, he thought of Stefan. He thought of the heart of Nathaniel that had gotten wrapped up in his blond hair and tiny frame. Neil fell asleep thinking about who he used to be, and what parts of that were real. What parts could he keep? His mind spent its last morsels of energy on dissecting Neil Josten, to make him feel a little more real.

The next time they saw each other outside of practice was when Kevin started coming to find him late at night to go to the court and practice together. Neil realised quickly he was going to become a night owl as a Fox, but it still took him a while to adjust to the late nights and early starts. But him and Andrew kept their distance; they didn’t speak if they didn’t have to, and their conversations were kept to a line or two each. They played their first match of the season, and Andrew had sent out shots for Neil like they were capable of working together. Then there was Kathy Ferdinand’s show, at which Andrew had hands all over him, holding him back from killing Riko on live TV. He had made a deal to protect Kevin, and then he was being psychically held back from doing so. Neil did what he couldn’t, and stood up to Riko, a conscious effort to gain his trust, to prove he was on the side of the foxes. Then there was that touch, that simple, light, barely-there touch, and Neil knew he’d won. He’d earned Andrew’s trust, at least for a moment, but that was all that mattered.

When Andrew ever-so-kindly reminded Neil later that Riko would find out about him, the original “Neil”, as easily as he’d strolled onto that stage to sit across from Kevin, there was no choice but to run. He couldn’t imagine any other option. His entire body went into fight or flight, and he struggled to sit still as Andrew held his collar and told him to stay.

“Why?” Neil asked, throat dry, hands shaking, after Andrew offered him protection for the year if he promised to stay. It was funny to imagine, as if there was anything he could do against the actual, guns-blazing, internationally dominating mafia. “Why would you help me?” Andrew laughed, and just about caressed Neil’s jaw in the most non-affectionate way possible. Neil felt his touch leave blood on his skin, but he didn’t flinch. Andrew was manic, and didn’t care. He looked as if he didn’t even feel the pain of a glass-shattering punch, and was actively enjoying the chaos that the morning had brought with it.

Andrew didn’t give him any sort of an answer until later that night, when he stepped into Neil’s space and told him to remember the feeling; Neil couldn’t run anymore. He had given his word to Andrew that he would stay, and as much as he had started to hate the Present-Day-Andrew-Minyard, he trusted him as a man of his word. Neil had killed the parts of Stefan that were untrue; all that was left was the real emotion he felt when he looked at Andrew. He was an asshole, but he was Andrew, and Neil trusted this five foot blond boy with his life. Perhaps it was crazy, perhaps he was officially, undeniable, finally signing his name on his death wish, ticking down the hours until his past caught up. Whereas running was his old line of defence, his current one was Andrew. Andrew was an unlit fire suddenly gaining embers, and Neil knew it was dangerous to let that fire grow. Especially when Andrew leaned over in Eden’s, crackers on his tongue, a drink in his hands, and whispered in German;

“Mommy’s not here to hurt you anymore.” Neil snapped his gaze towards Andrew, who was coming up on his high, speaking to Neil but watching the crowd on the dancefloor. His breath at Neil’s ear sent shivers up his spine, goosebumps on his arms. “My hands are open to have your back. Give it to me this time.”

[zillennial97]

Enemies to Lovers | Larry Fanfic Recs

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy | 149k | Explicit

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes.- A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry | 136k | Explicit

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

we're not friends, we could be anything by nooelgallagher, yoursongonmyheart | 115k | Explicit

Louis narrows his eyes at Harry. “What that supposed to be a fucking joke?”

Harry narrows his eyes right back. “It was a good joke.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Jokes require laughter, Curls.” Louis glances down at Harry’s thighs again, Christ. “Your pants must be so tight they’re restricting airflow to your brain.”

Harry wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. “Pretty sure yoga is supposed to increase airflow, blood flow, and all that,” he responds dryly, finally jumpstarting himself and walking away from Louis towards his own bedroom.

Louis can’t help but stare at his broad back, still sheen with drying sweat, and his perky bum in the tight yoga pants.

Louis swallows. Christ.

...Or, the one where Harry and Louis are unlikely uni flatmates who definitely don't like each other and definitely won't fall in love (even if Liam and Niall think otherwise).

Our Lives, Non-Fiction by indiaalphawhiskey | 113k | Explicit

Heralded as the next Neil Gaiman, Louis Tomlinson does not appreciate being told that his very serious novel is in dire need of a PR boost. Even worse, that it comes in the form of a joint book tour with the UK’s #1 online romance-writing sensation Marcel Styles. Already turbulent at best, their partnership takes a drastic turn when, overly stressed about his looming deadline, Marcel accidentally blurts out a secret: though he’s famed for his scorching hot literary love scenes, he is, actually, a virgin.

Convinced that the only way to rid himself of writer’s block is to gain some experience, Marcel asks Louis, author-to-author, to sleep with him – for Science. And of course Louis agrees because, well, what on Earth could possibly go wrong?

Or, a lesson in romance that proves that sometimes the best love stories aren’t always by the book.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can't Lose by dolce_piccante | 112k | Mature

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

Dance to the Distortion by Lis (domesticharry) | 96k | Explicit

Louis accidentally breaks Harry's camera lens and in order to get it fixed, they decide to participate in a romantic couples study. The only issue is that they are not actually couple. Well that and the fact they cannot stand each other.

You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by lucythegoosey | 95k | Explicit

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

The Sidelines by RedRidingStiles | 47k | Explicit

"Alright, I know you guys are the best of friends but I'd like you to do this for the rest of the team,” Cowell says, making the rest of the team snicker. "So I want both of you to compliment each other." "I hate your trainers. I mean that in the nicest way possible. They're very...yellow," Louis says, arms crossed as he offers a fake close-lipped grin. "It's really nice of you to blow anyone you find slightly attractive," Harry replies, a sickening sweet smile on his lips. "Thank you, children, let me remind you this is a college hockey team. Try again," Coach says, completely unamused.

Or Harry and Louis play hockey for Penn state and can't stand one another, since they can't keep their hatred off the ice their coach and team do what they can to keep their hard earned spot in the playoffs and their two star players from killing each other

Wonderwall by AFangirlFantasy | 43k | General Audiences

Taking the sheet cluttered with times available for the next few weeks, Louis notices a pattern in the list. The name of the person Perrie had just mentioned: Harry Styles. It’s written at least seven times, and three of which are during timeframes Louis wants.

“Who the fuck is Harry Styles?”

“You’re about to find out,” she answers, pointing over Louis’ shoulder.

Or a Love/Hate College AU where Louis Tomlinson is the lead singer of The Rogue - the most popular band on campus - and Harry Styles is the talented Freshman unknowingly challenging all that.

All the Right Moves by cherrystreet | 32k | Explicit

This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back.

There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything.

It’s seriously obnoxious.

Nicotine by KrisStylinson | 32k | Explicit

"We're two different types of people, Liam. He likes sex and drugs, I like theater and tea. Trust me, we'd never date." Except they would, they do, and neither of them plans on letting go anytime soon.

"Just because you can get me hard doesn't mean I like you," Louis whispered. The fact was, he didn't like Harry right now, not at all. Not even a bit.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry murmured, his breath fanning over Louis' cock as he spoke. "You done telling me how much you hate me so I can suck you off?"

Like Candy In My Veins by littlelouishiccups | 31k | Explicit

“Um…” Harry said slowly after a moment. “Okay. That’s… this is… Let me get this straight.” He lifted up a hand and swallowed. “You told your family that you have a boyfriend… and my name was the first one you thought of?” “Harry Potter was on TV, alright? It wasn’t that much of a stretch.” Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe he was explaining himself to Harry fucking Styles. He couldn’t believe he was stooping this low. “Forget it. I’m sorry I even thought about bringing you into this.”

Harry snorted. “What? Did you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend or something?”

(Basically the A/B/O, enemies to lovers, fake relationship, Christmas AU that nobody asked for.)

We're Like Bumper Cars by sincehewaseighteen | 31k | Explicit

“I have won, I won the final cross country. I win, Harry--”

“Whoever gets to fucking nationals wins it, pretty boy,” Harry teases. “You haven’t won. Interhouse is nothing compared to nationals, or interstate. You haven’t even won interschool. You can dream all you fucking want that you’ve won.”

Louis becomes so ignorant he decides to no longer eye the boy taunting him. “Trophies prove it all, Styles.”

“Where’s your trophy for biggest asshole?”

“Where’s yours for winning cross country?”

Harry growls before hooking his fingers in Louis’ belt loops and bringing them together for a flat kiss.

Or the AU where Louis and Harry are rivals of the century and Cross Country competitors before things get complicated and they play pretend.

After Hours by Velvetoscar for shipsdrifting | 26k | Not Rated

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are the bane of each other's existences. Unfortunately, they're already in love--even if they aren't completely aware of this minor detail.

[A "You've Got Mail" AU]

When It's Late At Night by Rearviewdreamer | 25k | Mature

Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that's exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.

Or

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

Love Me Please by angelichl | 23k | Explicit

Louis hates Harry, which is fine because he would really rather prefer to avoid him at all costs.

The only problem?

They're soulmates.

runnin' like you did by orphan_account | 20k | Explicit

“Should we tell him?”

When Lauren is met with everyone either nodding their heads or shrugging, she takes a deep breath. “I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious by now.” She stalls, sounding ominous and Louis doesn’t like it one bit.

“What is obvious by now?” Louis asks. He’s starting getting anxious. “I swear to God, spit it out. Stop being so damn cryptic.”

“I—We think it’s pretty obvious that you’re in love with Harry,” she states simply and shrugs as if she isn’t telling him he’s in love with the second—Nick being the first—most annoying person on the planet.

or, a college au where Louis knows how to hold a grudge and is definitely not in love with Harry Styles

Three French Hems by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews | 20k | Mature

In which Louis is a designer at Burberry and Harry spends December wearing Lanvin… and Lanvin… and Lanvin.

once bitten and twice shy by pinkcords | 19k | Mature

This time as his stomach rolls, there’s no doubt about it. He’s going to vomit. And if he does, it’ll be on Louis’ shoes, a nice little parting gift to go with the embarrassment he’s caused the both of them. “I’m gonna throw up,” he says just as Louis turns to look at him, blue eyes swimming with shock and confusion, and asks, “Is that true?”

Or, in a rush of bravery only senior year can bring, Harry confesses his feelings in a letter to his neighbor and best friend, Louis, only for the entire school to hear it and laugh him out of their small town in Wisconsin. Ten years later, Harry's a successful lawyer at Columbia Records, coming home for Christmas for the first time since he departed for college. He plans to work his way through the trip, eat his mom's cooking, and avoid everyone from his past for as long as possible. The only problem is best laid plans hardly ever go as intended.

That's How I Know by allwaswell16 | 19k | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson has just landed his dream job, coaching soccer at Augustus University. When he moves into a new house near campus, he meets his very fit new neighbor, English professor Harry Styles. Although their first meeting leads to an instant mutual dislike, the more Harry gets to know Louis, the more he likes what he sees.

Or the one where Harry’s African grey parrot spills his dirty secrets to his very hot neighbor.

Get Off of My Cloud by Marora_Daris | 9k | Explicit

Harry is the most annoying neighbour that sexually frustrated Louis could have. Niall decides it's a good idea to handcuff them together.

Featuring guinea pigs, animal print leggings and inappropriate boners.

Erase My History, (Expo)se Me by BayouSexual, pacificrimjob for Edandcurly | 6k | Teen And Up Audiences

“My hair does not smell like strawberries.”

Louis blinks up at Mr. Styles. “I never said your hair smells like strawberries. How would I even know that?” Harry’s hair does smell like strawberries, Harry himself smells like strawberries, everyone who’s been within three feet of him knows this. ~~~~~~~~ Or the one where Harry and Louis both teacher history, their students think they should date, and one pink dry-erase marker is trying to ruin their lives (with a little help of course).

[batarella]

21 days (Tim Drake x Reader)

You were normal. You were nothing he wouldn’t have seen every day at the nearby coffee shop. You were just that. Someone from the coffee shop.

A/N: my first Tim one shot!!! I’m so so so in love with this boy rn you guys have no idea ahhhhh. And another coffee shop AU! I might as well go with the theme and make another coffee shop piece for the next one shot before I announce my next series. Hope you guys like this! this is sorta inspired by one of the lines from 3 birds.

WORDS: 3592 WARNINGS: NONE

MASTERLIST

—–

Day 1

Grounds Coffeehouse had been open for weeks, and only now were the flowers and ribbons from the opening ceremony taken down and did the people stop flocking over it like it wasn’t just another café a few blocks away from WE, which it was. There was nothing overly remarkable about the place, and it was smaller than the last one that opened at the other side. But it was quaint, and just today, it was quiet, which was what he needed. A half hour away from his desk should be sure to wake him.

Tim pushed the glass door and it hit the chimes hung up on the frame. Immediately he calmed at the familiar aroma that greeted him. It wasn’t too different from all the other places he’d frequent, but already he could tell the place boasted peppermint more than any other flavor. Perhaps to match with its dark green walls, which were blank save for one side. It had a mural of a coffee cup painted over it.

He didn’t feel too adventurous with his choices that day. Black coffee, with enough brew in it to hopefully keep him sane enough not to either ballistically run into the street or just pass out in the elevator. The packets they had over at the office were laughably disgusting and the cups he brought from home just wouldn’t cut it.

And when he found a good enough seat and slumped down, he almost fell over his chair. The bags under his eyes were heavier than his own fingers, the sting in them was much like driving knifes down his sockets. Despite it burning his tongue, Tim took his first sip, rubbed his eyelids with his knuckles and distracted himself with how bright the place was to at least keep himself awake.

But Jesus, was that hard to do. The cup was horribly diluted, didn’t pry his eyes open at the first snort like other mixes had done to him. Staying awake until seven am that morning. Had to rush to the office right after patrol. This was hell he was trying to survive in.

Focus on the light. At least until he finished the cup, as horrible as it was. Suddenly it wasn’t so much a mystery how quickly it lost its crowd at just a few weeks open.

A group of four just took the seats near the window, blocking his needed sun. His eyes will punish him eventually at the unhealthy rubbing he was doing to his irises. He squinted at all the other windows.

Maybe he could move to one of those seats, but the table next to it was taken by a couple, the one across it had a guy with glasses too invested on his phone to look around. At the farther end, at the third window, there was a seat empty.

Tim stood up from his chair, brought his cup with him, then started for that seat.

Then someone walked over from the counter and took it just before he was close enough to reach for the chair.

You didn’t see him, as it seems, and before he could even step back, you’d already pulled out your two big notebooks and a laptop.

Tim turned around to his seat, and the mutters that came out of him were too vulgar to be at all audible when he saw that had just been taken as well, just a few seconds after he stood up.

He didn’t bother with another. Tim drank the whole cup like a whole pint of black coffee was as strong as chamomile tea and threw it on his way out the door.

-----

Day 2

It turns out he did go back to that place, just when he told himself he wouldn’t. The line at Split Bean was too much for him to bother and he needed the caffeine surge even when he’d slept that night. Perhaps an espresso shot would do it, never mind how it’d actually taste. He was quick to order from the counter and that empathetic consciousness wanted to beat himself up when he saw there were hardly four people around. The place was that bad.

At least it was quiet. Tim took a seat he thought would be decent, one that wasn’t against the window but was facing it so at least he wouldn’t be ignored by the light. He opened his planner, took a sip.

Not bad.

Someone was sitting by the window, the one right across him. And if he hadn’t noticed the many notebooks, highlighters, and the laptop filling the otherwise silent ambiance with the slight tapping of keys, he wouldn’t have recognized you. You stole his seat the other day.

He’d be bothered if it weren’t for the three empty cups you had on your table that you’d set aside, and they didn’t look like they were left behind. You took a sip out of your fourth cup, stuck it to your lips and teeth as you read your textbook from the screen. You looked tired, to say the least. And those four cups might have been the only things holding you up.

Tim pulled out his phone and got a text from Bruce. Not too long after he was at the other side of town fighting off a burglary at Gotham National.

-----

Day 5

He started to greatly appreciate the lack of crowd, how you couldn’t hear a mutter out of anyone in the room, how the air conditioning wasn’t powered on too cold, a strategy he’d come to learn from baristas when they want people out their seats.

Tim came back, ordered his newly discovered usual, then took the same seat across the window. He opened his planner and looked through his schedule that day, which wasn’t much. So he just laid back and took his time with his drink.

It was you again. Same seat. Same drink. Same black laptop so horribly overworked. You didn’t look up at anyone that passed by, and it seemed you wouldn’t even if a giraffe with six legs were to walk into that room.

Gotham U wasn’t too far from here. You didn’t have a lanyard on you to tell him that. What he did know from his time on campus was at this time of year, exams would come in and coffee shops thrived with overnighters and crammers. And it would explain, yet again, the two empty cups you had at the side.

You had your hair up that day. Five days of seeing you work your ass off in that same table, pulling at your scalp to internally groan and only then did you think of tying your hair up to lessen the bother.

It suited you. You looked pretty.

-----

Day 8

It’d been well over a week. Still you were there looking no better than that late, tiring afternoon just before you hurriedly rushed out of the place for class.

Though if he had anything to do, the same would be said for himself. But this was his time to relax. This time, at four in the afternoon. Sometimes three. And you’d have been there hours before.

Today, however, it seemed you’ve been there for many more than just a few hours. The whole day, if he was right, judging from the number of cups you had emptied. Not the economical choice he’d recommend, and this was coming from a coffee addict. You had your backpack on your side, a laptop and an iPad open on your desk, and three pens laid out in different colors. Exams seem to be tomorrow.

Was it weird that he knew all this?

It would, if he were anyone else.

But he was the World’s Greatest Detective and he could deduct half a life story at a single inspection of a man’s handwriting. He could get so much from a single glance.

Like that man beside you. With his roughed-up shoes and hair all over the place. Probably came back from the triathlon a few blocks away, changed into nicer clothes and was now looking at his phone for photos of his run. No. Not probably. He was sure of it. The number stamped onto his wrist said so.

So it shouldn’t be weird at all that he knew of you, of your exam schedules and classes and free period and how you liked your coffee mixes.

He looked at many other things to convince him that.

“Hey.”

He looked up.

“Can I borrow some sugar?”

He almost choked until he saw you pointing at the sugar container he had near his cup.

Your voice was more pleasant than he thought.

“Sure.”

You took the sugar from his table. “Thanks.”

Then you left.

-----

Day 10

“Watch it!”

If he wasn’t so tired, he’d have suited up and caught that reckless maniac before he kills someone. But it was comforting to see he turned to the corner leading to GCPD. Hopefully they’ll take of it. He can have this.

Five pounds of paperwork waiting for him at his desk. He had six minutes. Tops. Any more and he’ll have to spend the night at the office. Again.

He stuffed his hands into his suit jacket and walked into the shop. A nice expresso shot. That’d be good for him.

The door chimed him in.

And it was completely in his subconscious, how he just turned his head over to the left, right where he knew you’d be sitting.

And you were sitting there, looking the same with a long sleeved shirt covering most of your arms, coral like the mug you had waiting on your desk.

Tim looked away before that glance lasted more than a second. He got his order, sat down, and pulled out his phone. He had three minutes.

The door chimed in again, and someone else came into the shop. It caught your attention.

That was the first time something made you look up from your seemingly endless pit of work. You glanced at the woman that came in.

Then your eyes found their way to him.

He should have looked away, having just been caught staring, which he didn’t even realize he was doing until right then.

But then, you shot him a smile.

Tim smiled back, didn’t look away until you did.

He ended up staying in his seat until you went out, which was a good hour afterwards. And all the while, not a string of thought reeled him away from his seat and his view.

-----

Day 13

Today, you weren’t around.

To be fair, he came in pretty early. It was one in the afternoon. Perhaps you didn’t stay as long in the shop as he thought.

Tim ordered the lightest he’s ever gotten from the shop, latte with no extra sugar, which he allowed himself with not much ahead of him that day. Tim took his regular seat, pulled out his phone, and waited.

He didn’t know he was waiting.

At two pm, he still hadn’t left.

At three, he told himself he could just do the work at home, reward himself with the ambiance at least for today.

At four, five pm, there was nothing keeping him there at all.

But it wasn’t until six, alone with it already dark outside the snowy streets, that he realized how blank and bleak the place actually was when there wasn’t another soul, just him and his five cups of latte with his phone drained of power.

He stepped out the door and looked around. Still, you weren’t there.

-----

Day 15

Perhaps his deductive powers wouldn’t be thought of as polite when he was out in public like this, when supposedly he was this normal, functioning young adult even with him running a billion-dollar enterprise. Nothing should excuse him from being this creepy. And that he was, when immediately he knew what went on when he saw you at your seat for the first time in two days.

Those two days must have been your exams, and today was the aftermath. You were crouched over your arms, burying your chin into your elbows with just your laptop open in front of you. You were watching a movie, which he couldn’t see from his angle. He just knew that whatever it was, it was just about as interesting as a four hour documentary, yet it wasn’t boring enough to make you turn it off. So you were tired.  You didn’t care. Your hair was up in all places and you were dressed in sweats.

Exams didn’t go too well.

And thus, Tim realized his innate ability to deduce anything wasn’t one he should be proud of, especially when it meddles with the lives of complete strangers. He didn’t even know your name.

You sat up, opened your phone. What you were looking at wasn’t pretty, because you were rubbing at your forehead like the worst migraine just surged between your nose.

There weren’t many people around, but it was more crowded than it had been the past days.

Tim ordered your favorite mix of macchiato from the barista, paid for it, then asked them to take it to your table.

When they gave you the cup, you couldn’t even speak to turn it down. The waiter told you it was from an admirer.

And your eyes grew even wider when you took a sip, realized it was the exact mix you’d been ordering the past two weeks.

You looked around, face already more radiant and brighter than you probably thought it ever would be that day, if you even noticed at all. And it seemed you didn’t, with you looking too much at everyone else.

But Tim had walked out the door before you could even catch him looking.

He might have just made your day. And that thought made his.

-----

Day 18

Everything turned out alright.

You were at one of the couches, a seat he’s never seen you take. But that day, you weren’t alone. Five friends sat around you at the couch. And you were at the very center.

You pushed off your friend’s hands from toying with your hair, and even from so far he could hear you laugh, a laugh he’s never heard from anyone else.

You had a smile he’s never seen on anyone else.

And you were happy, carefree. You were talking and smiling and doing all these things he’s never seen you do. With you so often stuck with your nose to your laptop, head crouched down and away from the light even with you against the window. With how you cover your face with your palms to mask over your eyes when the tiredness was too much to overcome.

That day, your hair was styled decently and no longer was it up in a careless attempt to pry them away from your face. Your cheeks were flushed and bright, eyes more eminent for him to look into, even with such distance.

And your voice. One he’s only heard once.

There could have been a hundred people in that room right then, and he wouldn’t need his filter to pick out yours. From so far, he could hear you. He could only hear you. Out of the many voices and many people, everything had morphed into this mess of a blur and you were the only thing as clear as day.  

You were normal. You were nothing he wouldn’t have seen every day at the nearby coffee shop. You were just that. Someone from the coffee shop.

But you do everything anyone should, be as normal as you could be, and still he couldn’t look away. Still, he got lost. Still, he grew attached. Like it was anything else but. Like he only would have seen this at all when he paid more attention to the unusuals and not at all in plain sight.

Someone made you laugh so hard you had to fall over to the back of the couch. Eyes shut closed, teeth bright despite the crowd that shielded the light.  

He wished he could make you laugh like that. Be the cause for such a smile.

It was three in the afternoon. Tim had been there since one.

For a second, your eyes darted over to him.

He looked away, but it might have been too late.

A few minutes later, you caught his eye again. You didn’t smile, but you didn’t let your eyes linger either.

He’ll have to leave soon, before you’d inevitably file a restraining order on his ass.

But, not long after the last time, you stared at him long enough to draw him in. And you didn’t look away.

He didn’t either.

You smiled. That same smile he got lost in the whole day.

All the way over the other side of the shop, Tim smiled back.

So badly did he want to just reach over and brush the strands of your hair that fell to your cheek when you bashfully turned to the ground, like it brought any distraction from this reality. And for a minute, you withdrew yourself from your company. You were silent.

Tim walked out of the shop, before he’d find himself staying any longer.

-----

Day 21

His planner for the year was just about used up. Just two pages left. And it was still well into December. He’ll get another one for the year, probably one of the thicker ones he finds at the bookstores that often never gets past the first month.

Tim put down his pen, sat back on his chair, then sipped at his cup. Booked for the day. A meeting in an hour. An interview in two. Patrol in four. A few hours rest right after before he leaves the next day for a trip out of town.

He closed his notebook and picked up his pen, stuffed them into his suit jacket and emptied the cup so fast a drop spilled onto his shirt.

“Hey.”

He choked out the caffeine. A bit might have left his nose. He looked up and it was you standing close to the chair across him.

Tim wiped at his nose with a napkin. “Hey.”

You had a book in front of you, arms stuck to your sides, and your voice was lighter than when he’d heard it the other day.

He’d never seen you up close before.

“Hi.”

“Is it, uh…” He heard you gulp. “Is it okay if I sit here?”

He slumped to his seat like he was glued into it and nodded. “Of course.”

“Thank you.”

The tables weren’t full, with one empty over at the corner and another near the door.

Maybe you just needed the light. Maybe you didn’t like to hang out at the dark corners.

“I’ve seen you around,” you said.

“Yeah, I-“ It was hard to even speak. “I work close by.”

“Do you like the place?”

He should be more nervous than he was. Otherwise, he’d blurt out the worst atrocities and dig his own grave for the next fifty years.

But all those nerves had bundled up too much that it eventually morphed into this one big glob buzzing too silently for him to keep tabs on.

“The drinks are alright. I like how it’s quiet.”

“Me, too,” you said. “It’s why I come here so often. Easier to study when there’s less people, you know?”

“Yeah.”

He watched you sip from your cup, then you sucked on both your lips to rid of the foam. A bit still stuck to your upper lip. Like a mustache. He laughed.

“Thank you for that drink you got me the other day.”

The grin that came over him, with his head bowed down like this sorry attempt to conceal his flushed skin, was not at all to the effect that he wanted. If anything, it made him look even more like the dork he was.

“Mark told you, didn’t he?”

“He did.”

Mark the barista. Tim looked over your shoulder and the guy gave him two big thumbs up from over at the counter.

He didn’t have the time to even roll his eyes, not when you were in front of him.

Already were you so tantalizing to watch from afar, even when it wasn’t so immediate. Even when, as long as it took him, it was by the end of it when he knew of no escape.

“My name’s Y/N.”

“Tim.”

Y/N.

Y/N.

Every word out of you, like he was caught in this rod he’d stuck to his lip himself, and he just let it reel him closer to land until no longer could he breathe, could he rock his way out of this end. And this end wasn’t one he’d thought to be so enthralling and wonderful, but it was.

It stuck to him, and even when he only knew so much about the surface, it was enough. All this. You.

He just never seemed to forget you.

And your name cemented all that, took note of what was, unearthed all else he hadn’t known went on in the labyrinth in his head, which he had too much to take care of he doesn’t even notice of what came about.

But he was sure of it now. He’d already fallen for you. From some time he couldn’t point out. And frankly couldn’t be bothered to.

Before your name made it all real, it already was.

-----

MASTERLIST

—–

TAGLIST:

@littleredwing89​ @royharpersimp​ @angel-lover-alice​ @trixie-bb​ @insanebatty​ @offendedfishnoises​ @callmehoneyy​ @she-sees-fire @multitudinous-writes​ @omgtheywereroommates98​ @batgalsblog​ @mandalorianspace​ @jasontoddsimp @fantasticwizardnerd @satan-s-ass​ @orangejuicebunny​ @foenixphire​ @butwhyduh​ @tacticaldivine​ @thedeadlythoughts​ @illzarr​ @willieoo @nyja-ls​ @elsenthal​ @pricetagofficial​​ @spookyfrances​​ @chemicalpapercuts​​ @knightfall05x​​ @https-101iamtheredhood101 @pparkeramorr​​ @acookiesnmilkuniverse​​ @vicomtess​​ @tedii-bear00​​ @batgalsblog​​ @idkmanicantenglish​​ @wunderstell​​ @birdy-bat-writes​​ @icequeen208​​ @l-inkage​​ @hyp-oh-critical​​ @1-800-starmora​​ @shadowsndaisies​​

If your url is in slashes, I can’t seem to tag you :<

[steviemae]

100 ways to say i love you. masterlist.

1. pull over. let me drive for a while. calum hood x reader | fluff

--

You elbow rested on the door, palm against your temple to keep your head up. The window was cold from the outside, chilling the skin of your elbow through your sweatshirt. Your other hand gently ran over the back of Calum’s hand that rested on your thigh. The two of you sat in silence, your driving playlist playing softly as he drove down the almost empty high way, making your way to Calum’s house. 

You had a break from school for a couple weeks and decided to spend that time off with Calum. You were originally going to just fly, but Calum insisted on driving to campus and picking you up arguing that it was only a few hours away. You had a half day, so Calum drove to you while you were in class. Then you stopped for lunch and he wanted to see your favorite spots around your little college town. This left the two of you driving during the night, not making it back to Calum’s until well after midnight. You looked at the screen attached to the dashboard, seeing there was still over and hour left until you arrived. Calum had mentioned at the start of the drive that it seemed like a much shorter trip when he was on his way to you. Now it seemed as if it was never ending. 

You squeezed Calum’s hand, looking over at him. You noticed how tired he looked. His eyes closing slowly and opening back up just as slow. You chuckled to yourself, a joke about how late he stays up during tour without a problem and here he was now, about to fall asleep at the wheel. You let go of his hand, reaching up to push the curls away from his forehead gently. A soft hum emitting from his throat.

“Why don’t you pull over and let me drive for a while.” your voice was just above a whisper. There wasn’t any need to speak louder. 

He reached up, taking your hand from his hair. He brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles before intertwining your fingers and dropping them to his lap. A silent response to your suggestion.

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep, Cal. I’m not taking no for an answer.”  

He let out a sigh, looking at the clock and then at the time remaining of your trip. 

“We’ll stop at the next gas station. You can run in and grab all of your favorite snacks while i fill the tank.” he mumbled.

You smiled at the mention of snacks. The lunch your two had wasn’t near enough food to last all night, but neither of you wanted to stop for dinner and push the time even later. 

“You left out the part where i’ll be driving the rest of the way home from there.” you teased.

“Fine, you can drive the rest of the way home. But i’m not going to sleep. I want to soak up every second i have with you for the next two weeks before i have to take you back.”  He brought your hand back up to his lips, kissing it a few times before letting it go as he pulled into the gas station. 

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 29: Prinxiety/Loceit (pt 4)

Aaaand, part 4, the finale! 

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 29:  You have a telepathic link with your soulmate until the two of you meet.

Content warnings: discussion of conversion therapy/after effects, PTSD, food mentions, anxiety/panic attacks, internalized homophobia, mentions of the foster system/abuse (mental, emotional, neglect, past eating disorder), minor self harm/blood, mentions of dissociating.

Word count: 5.1k

Despite Roman’s claims that being around other people would only distract him, and he didn’t want to have to walk to the library every time he had homework, Patton’s constant pleading eventually broke him down. Now, much to his roommate’s delight, they spent every night in the middle of the study floor in the library, and Roman found that he actually looked forward to it. Sometimes someone he knew would walk by, and give him a valid reason to take a short break, and having other people around somehow motivated him to work harder. He was starting to understand the appeal of the place. 

Now, Patton and him were spending their afternoon there between classes, both working on their own projects and sharing a bag of popcorn twists. It was the only oil soaked snack that didn’t leave much residue on their fingers. Roman was deep in thought, struggling to remember an especially flowery Shakespeare monologue for a mock audition next week, when Patton kicked his leg under the table.

“What, Pat?” He took another moment to finish the sentence before he tore his eyes away from the book, surprised at his roommate’s barely contained excitement. 

“You’ve been humming for half an hour!” 

He hadn’t even noticed. He tended to do it a lot without realizing; humming along to his soulmate’s music. Ever since he’d come back almost a year ago, an occurrence he’d never had explained but held onto with fondness, Roman’s heart jumped every time his music played. It was just like old times, their old system immediately reinstated, and more than once he’d found himself singing along to the melodies in his head. Patton knew this, and could probably tell by the genre whether Roman was listening to his soulmate’s songs, or just had his own earworm.

“No, no, no, I like your humming! That’s not the point!”

“Then what’s the-”

“The guy behind you has his earbuds loud enough to hear!”

Roman strained his ears, and yes, he could barely hear the music coming from behind him. He definitely hadn’t noticed before, too deep in thought to notice something so trivial. But Patton was always on high alert, never able to keep his mind on one thing at a time. 

“Okay, but what does that ha-”

“You’ve been humming the same songs as he’s been listening to for half an hour, Ro! I think he’s your soulmate!”

Roman’s eyes widened and he spun around, effectively dropping his book onto the ground. Yeah, if he concentrated, he could tell that the song in his head was the same as the one just audible through the other’s earbuds.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive!” 

That’s all the convincing Roman needed. He jumped to his feet and rounded the other table so he was face to face with the stranger and knocked on the table a couple times. When he made eye contact, he thought he saw fear in the other’s face, but that couldn’t be right. Roman was not intimidating. The man at the table reached up to pop out one of his earbuds. 

“Hello lovely, I have a question for you,” Roman purred, dropping onto his elbows on the table. 

“I- I don’t-”

Apparently that counted as a meeting, because in that moment, the music in Roman’s head faded into nothingness. And he could tell it wasn’t just the music being paused. He was left with a neutral emptiness he hadn’t felt in a long time, a silence that was rare, and an innate knowledge that it had happened: their link was no longer necessary and had dissipated. Roman grinned wide, barely concealing a squeal. 

“You’re my soulmate!”

He didn’t know what reaction he was expecting, but he sure as hell hadn’t expected the man at the table to get up and sprint out of the building at full speed. 

“Stay here, Ro,” Patton was suddenly at his side, laying a hand on his bicep, “I’ll go after him. I don’t know what just happened but I don’t want it to happen again.”

Patton scooped up the other man’s things from the table and jogged out the library door.

-----

Virgil didn’t know where he was going; he hadn’t planned on running out of the library. Dammit, he hadn’t planned to run into his soulmate. And he knew that was his soulmate, and not just some weird coincidence. Because the moment they’d locked eyes, it was as if something in his mind had snapped, like a rubber band that had always been there but the pressure was so constant he didn’t notice it there until it was gone. Their bond had snapped; it was no longer necessary, because he’d met his soulmate. 

He recognized the guy, just barely. They were in the same first year math class, a course often taken by upperclassmen (probably like his soulmate) because they’d put off getting a math credit until their final years. Logan had warned Virgil of that when he was choosing his first year courses, and so he was safely getting it out of the way so he could focus on his major in the coming years. 

His breathing was choppy and strained as he tried to calm down his panic attack, dropping onto the ground under a large tree. He couldn’t keep running lest he collapse and draw more attention to himself, and that was far worse than anything he could imagine. Fighting the urge to scratch at his skin, he buried his head in his hoodie clad arms, fumbling with one hand to free his phone from his pocket. 

It’s actually a guy, it’s a guy, he’s gay, wrong wrong wrong-

No, not wrong. It’s not wrong.   

Yes it is, it’s going to hurt, you’re going to hurt, wrong wrONG WRONG!

His hands were shaking far too hard to text but he tried anyways, begging Janus to come pick him up early. Logan wouldn’t be done work for another couple hours, and usually Virgil would be fine just doing homework until his dad was ready to drive them home, but he didn’t think he’d be able to handle being on campus much longer. 

“Hey, kiddo?”

Virgil’s head jerked up just as he clicked send, fighting every urge in his body to bolt again. It wasn’t the guy… his soulmate… but someone else he hadn’t met before, panting. 

“Heya, my name’s Patton! You ran out without your stuff, so I brought it!”

Oh, he was holding his backpack, and his folder under one arm. Virgil was just trying to encourage his legs to move, to stand so he could take his things, when the stranger dropped into the grass in front of him. He flinched. 

“Here ya go,” He pushed it towards him like a child trying to coax out a scared cat, “I’m so sorry me and Ro scared you. He just gets over excited sometimes. I promise he’s actually very gentle.”

Virgil stared, pulling in a halting breath. 

“The guy who ran up to you, that’s Roman. I’m his roommate, by the way. I’m Patton. Did I introduce myself? Doesn’t matter. I’m a third year psychology major. Roman’s in third year too, music and theatre major.”

He should probably introduce himself too, but his hands were frozen, clamped around his phone, and he found his voice wasn’t cooperating. That didn’t deter the other dude, though.

“Here, I wrote out both of our numbers. Roman feels super bad for scaring you, so you can take your time, if you want.” He delicately placed a ripped piece of notebook paper on the backpack between them, “His is the first one. But I put mine in there too, so you can text me if you want to talk. The more friends, the better.”

Virgil’s phone buzzed, alerting him of Janus’ response.

“I’ll let you be, okay? Remember to text!” With an exuberant wave, he dashed back to the library. Virgil read Janus’ panicked message, asking what had happened, in a bit of a daze. His dad agreed to come get him, so he stuffed the paper into his pocket and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

-----

Janus had asked him not to go into his room when he was so worked up, instead giving him free reign of the living room while the older restarted the dinner he’d abandoned in favor of picking his son up. He’d turned on the TV for Virgil, changing the channel to a nature documentary, given Virgil his favorite weighted blanket, and left him with strict orders to call him if he started spiraling or needed a hug. 

The distraction had worked for a while, the soothing voice of the narrator almost lulling him to sleep, until his racing brain had come to the conclusion that this was the worst thing to ever happen in the history of ever and that he was going to die alone. He’d been a little hopeful that his soulmate would be a girl, to somewhat appease his trauma, but life was never that easy. A part of him had also been a little miffed about that hope, because as much as he liked to pretend, he had a preference for boys. A big preference. And his soulmate was cute. 

“Everything okay, Virgil?” Janus called through the pass through window into the kitchen, taking his eyes off his food preparation to watch his son’s pacing. 

“Yup!” He lied, picking and scratching at the skin of his hands out of his dad’s view. The pain settled him a little, giving him something he could control, but he knew he’d get a figurative slap on the wrist for it later. A concerned slap, not an angry one. Maybe more of ‘a cuddle on the couch and wrap the little patches of broken skin and an update with his counsellor’. So not really a slap. At all. As it usually went. 

Everything was wrong. What kind of shit first impression had he given his soulmate? Getting up and running away like an actual child? And that was only part of it. He was damaged goods, a broken person, who needed more help and reassurance than any other person. How could he explain to his soulmate that he was the cause of his problems without making him feel guilty? That wasn’t the life the man had signed up for, wasn’t the soulmate burden he’d wanted. He would want someone easy, someone who wouldn’t have panic attacks when they got shocked by a door knob, who didn’t stop eating when they were scared, who pressed pause on life when he woke up in a dissociating headspace. He couldn’t say that to him. He’d lost everything, that vague musical connection to an invisible soulmate, that had given him a subtle hope. It had been a quiet illusion, a promise that he’d be fine if it were never fulfilled. Knowing there was someone out there, providing him music, had been enough. But now…

“Virgil, hold these for me.”

When had Logan gotten home? He put his hands out obediently, clenching the fingers over the ice cubes placed in each palm. The sensation startled him and sent a shiver up his spine.

“Four, seven, eight. Ready?”

He followed the breathing pattern eagerly, feeling the curls of anxiety in his stomach slowly settle into butterflies. When he was breathing normally, an overwhelming sense of dizziness almost knocked him over. Logan took his arm and led him to the couch.

The next moment, Janus was kneeling in front of him, rubbing disinfectant into his few bloody scratches, the melting water dripping through his fingers and onto the carpet. 

“I should have noticed,” he murmured as he stuck a couple bandaids onto each hand, refusing to meet Virgil’s eyes.

“Don’t blame yourself, Janus. I don’t think it was happening for too long,” Logan assured, running a hand down Virgil’s spine. “Did this have to do with the reason you left school early today?”

Virgil nodded.

“Are you nonverbal?”

“No,” he choked, clearing his throat, “Just dry throat.”

“I got it,” Janus leapt to his feet and hurried to the kitchen.

With a heavy sigh, Virgil leaned into Logan’s side, the hand on his back traveling to wrap around his shoulder comfortingly. The last drops of the ice cube hit the carpet, and he dried his hands off on his jeans. “I met my soulmate today.”

“I see,” Logan said. For the umpteenth time, Virgil was beyond grateful that Logan was an expert at masking reactions. It made difficult conversations easier.

“It’s a guy.”

“How did that go?”

“I ran out of the library and had a panic attack. His roommate brought me my stuff and gave me their numbers. I made an idiot out of myself.”

Logan was quiet, giving Virgil a little squeeze. A water glass was pressed into his hands and Virgil downed the whole thing, passing it back to Janus, who placed it on the coffee table. 

“I think… I think I’m magnifying. Maybe.” He described his thoughts that led to his spiral as quickly as possible, feeling slightly pleased when Logan agreed with his hypothesis. 

“You are definitely magnifying. Good job for recognizing that, Virgil. You don’t even know him, much less what he thought of your interaction.”

“What’s our next step?” Janus spoke up, resting a hand on Virgil’s knee and rubbing it with his thumb.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Can you sleep on it, and message him tomorrow?”

Virgil thought about for a second before shaking his head even harder, “No. I have class with him tomorrow, and we’re getting a study guide for a test. I can not miss it. But what if he comes up to me, or wants to talk, and I embarrass myself again, and-”

His dads both hushed him at the same time and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes against Logan’s side. “What do I do?”

“You could message him tonight,” Janus drawled.

“Are you crazy?” He shrieked, “No! What would I even say? ‘Hey, you freaked me out today, sorry for running like a lunatic’?!”

“Why not explain the cause for your hasty escape?” Logan piped in.

“That’s way too much to load onto him as a first conversation.”

“Not all the gory details, just a vague explanation. That’s how I started talking to Logan,” Janus stated, adjusting his position on the floor. “If he’s your soulmate, Virge, he’ll be okay to deal with this. It’ll come out eventually, and if something else happens, it will be nice for him to have some context.”

Virgil groaned. “I hate when you make sense.”

“We can help you construct an adequate message.” Logan squeezed him again, meeting Janus’ eyes with a small smile.

“Fine.” Virgil snarled, pulling out his phone and the two numbers, typing the first one into his ‘new contact’ list. “Okay, what do I say?”

-----

V: Hey, I’m Virgil. We met earlier today. In a manner of speaking.

R: OMG, hi! I’m Roman. I am SO sorry for startling you!

V: It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. 

R: I still feel bad DX

“He feels bad, what do I do?!”

“I would suggest explaining the reason you ran off to ease his concerns.”

“Me too. But ask first, and don’t give more details than you’re comfortable with.”

V: Can I be brutally honest for just a second?

R: Should I be nervous? Haha go ahead!

V: I was forced into conversion therapy about a year back, and I still carry a lot of the trauma with me. That’s why I ran. It was just gut instinct.

“He’s not responding, oh god, he’s going to block me, why isn’t he responding?!”

“I assume this news would take a moment to process. Focus on your breathing, Virgil. Don’t magnify.”

“You also sent it, like, ten seconds ago.”

R: Holy shit, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry. 

“...That’s not what I expected.”

“This is a regular reaction from a human being with even a lick of common sense, Virgil.”

“Seconded.”

V: It’s okay, I have a really great support system now. 

R: That’s good. I’ve never experienced anything like that, so I can only imagine how hard that was. 

R: I don’t expect you to answer if you don’t want to or don’t know, so please don’t feel pressured, but do you know what kind of soulbond we have? Is it platonic?

“Shit, fuck, who do I answer that?”

“With the truth, I’d imagine. Do you have an answer to his question?”

“Remember what I told you, kid. Your own pace.”

“Logan, if I explain it, can you put it into words? Please?”

V: I’m not averse to a possible romantic relationship in the future, but at the moment I am still learning to become comfortable with myself, as I have negative connections to that part of my identity that can become problematic if not properly worked through at my own pace.

R: Give me a couple seconds to decode that

V: My dad wrote it, he’s a prof. I have both of them helping me not freak out right now. 

R: You might want to date one day, but you need to take it slow because of your trauma. 

V: Uhm… yeah. I could have said it like that. 

R: Is talking to me upsetting you? We can always talk another time.

V: No, I’m okay. 

R: Okay, then as far as I’m concerned, we move at your pace. That’s not an issue for me at all. 

“I… oh. He’s… wow.”

“I agree with your sentiment.”

“I like this boy already.”

“DAD!”

R: Your dad’s a prof? 

V: One of them is. He teaches at our school, Prof Sanders. 4th year chemistry?

R: Oh shit. I’m in his class.

V: Lol he thinks he knows you

R: You have two dads?

V: Yep

R: That’s so cool. I’d really love to meet them.

V: Wow, we met today and you’re already wanting to meet my parents?

R: Heeey, I want to meet them as a FRIEND. 

V: My dad says after the semester’s over, you’re free to come by

One at a time, Virgil’s dads left him on the couch with an ear to ear grin, Janus to reheat dinner and Logan following him just so he could cling to his husband's waist as he moved around the kitchen. Neither of them wanted to disturb the little bubble their son was in. 

-----

In the weeks following, they’d started to sit together in the one class they shared. Virgil had begun to join him and Patton on their nightly library study sessions, and after some more gentle convincing, had given in to sitting with their whole friend group during meals at the cafeteria. He was growing more comfortable with Roman, no doubt about that.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t fighting off an anxiety attack as he waited by the door to get picked up for their first outing alone.

He kept checking his phone and glancing out the peephole as Janus ran calming fingers through his hair. Virgil leaned into the touch instinctively, consciously slowing his breathing as Janus hummed. Logan was watching him from the entrance to the hall, leaning on the kitchen door frame. There wasn’t much he could do, but dammit if he wasn’t going to watch his son go off on the most anxiety inducing situation of all of their lives.

“You’ll be okay, kid,” Janus muttered, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “You’ve been friends with him for a while now, and he said there were no expectations. You’re in total control here.”

“What if I have a flashback, or a panic attack, or go nonverbal or something? He’s going to freak the fuck out and then all the work will be for noth-”

Logan spoke up. “You’re worried about things that may not even happen. And besides, haven’t you spoken to Roman about these things already?”

“A bit. Not in detail,” he whispered.

“I would suggest you do so, today if possible. It will make any possible situations that arise easier and less jarring to deal with.”

Virgil looked up at Janus, a pleading look in his eyes.

“He’s right, kid. The sooner you get it out of the way, the better.”

There was a knock at the door and Virgil nearly jumped out of his skin. To his disdain, Janus backed away until he was next to Logan, gesturing at the door with a small smile. Virgil growled out a curse and opened the door, the scowl on his face melting into a sickeningly authentic smile.

“How’s my favorite emo? Hi Mr. Sanders, hey Prof.”

“Hello.”

“Salutations.”

“Your favorite emo?” Virgil snarked, pulling on his jacket. It wasn’t cold, not in the slightest, but he’d rather have the extra layer.

“You’re the only emo I know, so the choice is easy.”

“By process of elimination, doesn’t that also imply I’m your least favorite emo too?”

“Don’t start this again, Mr. Son-of-a-professor.”

“I’ll start it if I want to!”

The door closed behind them with one final wave to his parents, and the house was quiet. Janus leaned into Logan’s waiting arms, resting his head on the other’s collar bone. 

“He’s all grown up.”

“That he is, my love.”

-----

Virgil smirked as Roman set out a large cliche picnic blanket, gesturing for him to sit. He did, crossing his legs and leaning on his knees as the other began to unload the basket. 

“Okay, so for sandwiches, I have turkey, peanut butter and jelly, and ham. Patton made me bring apple slices because he’s a dad, but I’m sure we can convince the ducks to eat them.”

To prove his point, a group of ducks paddled out from under a weeping willow half submerged in the creek.

“I like apples,” Virgil defended, grabbing a slice from the open container and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. “How many people were you intending to feed with that much food?”

Roman pouted from behind a container of potato salad. “I had to show off my food skills, duh.”

“You made that?” Virgil asked with raised eyebrows as Roman set out a tin of mini quiches and a smaller one stacked with brownies and cookies. 

“The cookies were Patton’s, but he insisted I take some. And I would have bought more, but…” He tipped the basket towards Virgil, revealing the bottom absolutely filled with different canned drinks and water bottles. “I didn’t know what you wanted to drink.”

Virgil actually did laugh as he stretched forward to snag a Doctor Pepper, taking another apple slice as he sat back. 

“Do you have a sandwich preference?” Roman asked, choosing a Sprite for himself. 

“Turkey looks good.” Virgil said before his choice paralysis could come into play, breathing a sigh of relief as Roman handed one of the sandwiches to him. The less stress he added to his own life, the better. 

Roman had been right to bring an assortment of food, because dammit, he was a really good chef. Virgil was nervous to try a quiche, since he’d never had them before and the texture was odd to him, but Roman assured that if he didn’t like it, he’d eat it instead. Apparently he wasn’t eeked out by germs. After a nibble though, Virgil ate almost half the tin. Who knew cold eggs could be good? Roman took the ham sandwich, and they split the PB&J. The ducks were more than pleased to be given Roman’s half of the apple slices but Virgil refused to share, since fresh fruits were still a treat after a life of preserves. The younger wasn’t a huge fan of the potato salad, so Roman eagerly finished it, seemingly more excited to move onto the desserts but not wanting to leave any leftovers. 

They were just finishing up the frankly absurd amount of cookies and brownies when Roman broke their casual bickering, chasing a chocolate chip bite with a long swig of Sprite and tossing another apple to their swarm of awaiting ducks.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself, Virge.”

“What do you want to know?” Virgil replied, leaning back on his hands. 

“Anything, really. Childhood, siblings, favorite color, darkest fear.”

“Quite a spectrum, there.” There was a lot he could talk about, but he felt it might be better to get the bigger things out of the way. Janus was sort of the leading expert on this kind of thing, so his advice had probably been sound. He brushed his hands together to get the crumbs off them as he spoke, “Okay, so I grew up in the foster system.”

Roman tried to hide his wince. “Ouch. I’ve heard a lot of bad things.”

“It’s fucked,” Virgil drawled, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn, “I spent most of my time in a group home, though, because I was called ‘difficult’. No one wanted to deal with my ass.”

“Why?”

“Mmm, ran away, didn’t listen, talked back, antagonized any biological kids.”

“So like, a normal teenager?” The last apple slice was sacrificed to the feathered hoard. 

Virgil snorted, “Yeah, but I came with a receipt. And I kind of liked the group home more.”

“How many kids were in the home?”

“Never more than fifteen. It was a big home. But they circulated, and I was like a housecat. Never gone for more than a month.”

“Jeez,” Roman sighed, taking a sip of his soda. 

“My foster homes weren’t better.”

“Oh?” It was a subtle encouragement to keep talking, but now it was getting into territory that Virgil liked to avoid. 

“One of my foster houses was really neglectful, forgot to give us food, didn’t let us do laundry, that kind of stuff. Gave me a wicked ED. I was twelve.”

Roman grimaced.

“My next one was more emotionally and mentally manipulative. I was kind of made into a babysitter for their younger bio kids. I had to get them ready for school, make them dinner, just basically be a parent. After I ran away from them, they started having trouble placing me. I was older, had a shitty record, kind of a left over. I mean, I deserved it. I was a dick.”

“You were a kid, Virgil.”

“A kid who chose to make his own life harder.” He shrugged, “That’s why I was placed into… that home. They were a last resort place for other ‘trouble kids’.”

Virgil took a deep breath and, with Janus’ words in his mind, began to explain his attempted conversion; the slip of tongue that led to the placement, the verbal abuse, food deprivation, electroshock therapy, the snuck antipsychotics, forced isolation, ending with the day the wife had called the police behind her husband’s back out of guilt and he was rescued. 

Roman was quiet for a long minute after he finished talking, staring entranced at the can in his hands. The ducks had dispersed during Virgil’s story, upset at the lack of food. 

“I…”

Virgil waited for him to get up and leave, to say with false apologies that he didn’t think they would work out, that the connection was wrong. Because who would want to deal with him, his stupid trauma? But the man next to him didn’t move except to breathe, and Virgil took that as an invitation to continue, his tone quieter.

“I was super out of it for a while. Honestly, I don’t remember the rescue, or like a solid month after that, except for snippets here and there. The drugs were fucky. And then my social worker, god bless her heart, found Janus and Logan. Janus was in CT too for a while when he was younger, so they took me in. Took a long time, but I opened up to them, but by then I was eighteen. They still insisted on adopting me, though, and there’s absolutely no convincing Logan once he’s made his mind up, so… they did.” He waved his hands around a little. 

“Three months,” Roman blurted out of nowhere, making Virgil flinch.

“What?”

“Were you in ther-... CT for three months?”

“Two and a bit, why?” The moment it was out of his mouth, he realized the implications, and his heart froze.

“You were gone for three months. I thought you died, or… I don’t even know.” Roman looked like he was about to cry, watching Virgil imploringly. Him going MIA must have affected his soulmate more than he’d thought. 

“Two months of CT, and then another one before I got a new phone. I’m…” All the guilt he’d felt at the time came rushing back, the reminder of his soulmate’s music dwindling to almost nothing and him being helpless, “I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry. That must have been…” 

“No, Virgil, you don’t get to apologize. That was not your fault.” He reached out a hand as if to grab Virgil’s and immediately pulled back, wringing his fingers instead. “Sorry, my choice of comforting is physical. But I won’t.”

“Thank you,” Virgil choked out, running his hands through his hair.

“Can you look at me?”

He did, taking a shuddering breath. He was moments away from a panic attack and he was not looking forward to that disaster. 

“You were being- quite literally- tortured for months. You were abused in ways that shouldn’t be legal, and you came out the other side stronger. Frankly, I’m amazed at your perseverance. You’re amazing.”

Simultaneously, Virgil felt a hot blush rise to his ears, and a sharp jolt run through his arms into his chest. He jerked violently, tipping over his own soda onto the grass. 

“Shit, did I say something wrong?” Roman gasped, reaching over to pluck up the can before it could spill more. It was already half empty, thank goodness. 

“No, I just… do that. Sometimes. From… CT. Kind of like ghost shocks, I guess.” Why couldn’t the ground just open up and swallow him whole, he wondered. He hadn’t done that jerk thing in front of anyone in so long. The last time had been in front of his now-parents, and they’d quickly grown used to it. He’d grown used to their own contact very soon and his twitches had stopped after he was accustomed to it, but it had never been directed towards him, and he had a feeling he’d need time to stop his impulse reactions. 

“And me calling you amazing…”

“Triggered them. It’s an exposure thing though, so I’ll just need to get used to it. Don’t blame yourself.” He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes until bright white flashes of light burst into his vision. Suddenly, he was exhausted. 

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Roman asked, already packing up their picnic basket. Virgil nodded, his social meter drained, and all ability to be a civil person was quickly deteriorating. His therapist said that would also begin to heal after a while. 

Roman was an absolute angel though, letting the silence linger so Virgil could cradle his slowly growing headache, even opening the door of his car like a perfect gentleman. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Virgil rested his head against the seat and let a tiny smile tug at his lips. It would be a long process to retrain his brain (in theory, he was okay with being in a relationship with a man, but actually doing it? Infinitely harder), but for once, he was actually looking forward to the process. 

Would you guys like a collection of one shots surrounding Virgil’s gradual warming up to his new family, a decent mix of angst and fluff? I have some ideas. 

Thanks for reading! Now, a taglist. 

@sapphic-satan

@anxious-logic

@wigsnatchedhoteltrivago

@extraintrovertedalien

@punk-academian-witch

@ray-does-stuff

@chimneychimney

@i-cant-find-a-good-username

@falsemood

@wtf-casper

@cpmansion

@killjoyjay

@fandomfan315

@anxious-darkwolf

@eternalmoonlight19

@winterwynd

@espepspes

@ironwoman359

@willowaudreykeyes

@mycatshuman

@weweregoddesses

@im-an-anxious-wreck

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[cthulhuliet]

Scotty Doesn't Know

6.8k words | AO3 Link | warnings: explicit content, internalized homophobia, cheating

Light Yagami is the epitome of perfection: honor student, a popular kid, and an attentive boyfriend. But if L had learned one thing it is that pretty boys always lie, and he was about to be caught in a web of Light's biggest ones.

During his time at To-Oh university, L has learned 3 things. 1) never eat the spring onions in the dining hall. 2) people will like you if you carry gum and pencils in your bag. 3) pretty boys always lie.

That last one was a recent development though, something he added to his social checklist as his dark eyes stared back into Light Yagami pretty brown ones, specks of red flickering in the low light.

It was the first party L had ever been to. He didn’t stick out, but he was not exactly blending in. His bare feet dug into the plush carpeting at Misa Amane’s apartment. She was the one who invited him.

He would exactly call Misa and himself friends , just someone whom he was friendly towards. L did not do friends. Keeping people at arm's length-- staying alone-- that is how he stayed alive. It is a system he is not intending to change simply because a pretty girl treated him kindly and kissed him on the cheek when he agreed to come to her Friday night get-together. Though, L would be lying if the thought didn’t cross his mind.

L was not focused on Misa at the moment. L was staring back at the pretty boy who Misa was hanging off of, who had girls laughing even though he said nothing funny. Who commanded the attention of the whole room when he spoke, even though he really wasn’t saying anything at all, his words holding no real substance.

L first noticed Light in his forensics lectures. The boy always seemed to have a crowd around him, always seemed to impress his professors, and always seemed to have all the answers. It seemed as though no one could even bring themselves to hate him for it either, like most do with popular kids their age-- how could they when he was just so charming and pretty and so damn bright ?

He took it upon himself to observe Light (purely for curiosity's sake), watching the way he walks across campus, always studying under the same bench with just enough shade to be comfortable, how he politely listens as his girlfriend talks about photoshoot and modelling drama-- and L believed him to be just that. Just a hard working college student, a popular guy and an attentive boyfriend.

Though, staring back at Light, looking into his eyes, he sees the optical illusion that is Light Yagami. Taking him in at face value is easy-- it paints an attractive picture of the popular honors-student who seems to have his life all figured out. However, the thing about optical illusions is that one step back, one ripple or one tear in the picture ruins it and you see the image for what it is: a disconnected, imperceptible fantasy. That is what L saw in Light Yagami when he finally caught that pretty boy in a lie.

“I have no interest in doing anything with Ryuzaki,” Light shrugged; pretty, pretty brown eyes twinkling under the string lights around Misa’s apartment, “ ‘7 minutes in heaven’ would be more like ‘7 boring minutes spent in a closet’,” The group around him chuckled at his attempt at a joke. L is sure Light could be funny if he tried.

“Of course,” L hooked a finger into his mouth, “Besides, Light is not interested in men anyway, so what is the harm.”

Light’s eyes flashed with someone unknown, something scared, before nodding and standing up, “Exactly,” He kissed Misa on the cheek, and looked back at L before walking to the other side of the apartment. Misa gave L a once-over as he stood up, before softly sighing, pushing him toward the large broom closet, promptly shoving them in and closing the door.

The silence that followed in the closet was not exactly awkward or uncomfortable, but there was a lot unspoken that needed to be said. That optical illusion was wavering-- the edges becoming frayed as Light slowly breathed. Although L couldn’t really see it, he could feel Light’s eyes staring back at his silhouette.

“Misa and I have been dating for almost 2 years now,” Light opened with. It was only then that L realised this was their first one on one interaction.

“Congratulations.”

“You transferred here pretty recently, so you probably didn’t know that.”

“I did not.”

The two stood next to one another in silence for a while.

“I am not gay, you know.”

L blinked, “I didn’t think you were. You do have a girlfriend after all.”

“Yeah, I do.” More silence, followed by, “Are you gay?” This was a hushed whisper, rushed and nervous, like even talking about those homosexuals your mother warned you about was forbidden.

“What?”

“I know you heard me.”

L sighed, “I wouldn’t say that. Personally I have no preference. Men, women, whatever, it is all the same to me.”

“I see.”

More silence. L didn’t really know what to say, but luckily he didn’t have to think of anything, as Light stepped forward, cupping L’s cheeks and kissing him.

L was not sure how to react at first. His mind raced, wondering what the morality of messing around with a man who is clearly confused about his own identity is, and also breaking the trust of one of his colleagues, not to mention the ethics of cheating in of itself. But also Light’s lips tasted like the apple cinnamon chapstick he always carries with him, and he is pressing his chest against L’s and running his hands underneath his shirt, and it feels too damn good to stop.

L wrapped his arms around Light’s broad shoulders, pulling him closer and nipping his bottom lip, allowing his tongue to slip forward into Light’s mouth. Light gasped at the action, whimpering and digging his nails into L’s hips. He knew that Light’s perfectly manicured nails would leave half-moon indents that were deep enough to last until the morning. This made L smile.

He kissed Light’s cheek and then kissed all the way down his jaw. L peppered kisses along Light’s neck, the other man gasping and biting his knuckle. L moved his hands under Light’s shirt, and ran his fingernails down his back, Light harshly biting his hand to stifle a guttural moan.

L pulled away, and he could see Light’s eyes at this distance. He expected him to look confused, or ashamed, or angry, but he mostly just looked horny.

“The others are going to come get us soon.” L explained in a low voice. Light nodded, and began fixing his hair, breathing steadily to remove the flushness on his face.

“Ryuzaki?”

“Yes?”

“Can this be… Just… Don’t tell anyone about this, ok?” Light’s voice was a bit cold a stiled, and L held back a chuckle.

“Of course, Light.”

≠

Lately, L has spent most of his free time kissing Light in private. Sometimes at night when everyone had already left the library, sometimes on the roof of the science building,  sometimes in the backseat of L’s car. Light seemed to really like kissing in the backseat of L’s car. Maybe it was the way the plush velvet seats folded down, or the way the windows were tinted so dark it felt almost illegal to drive, or maybe he liked how L always has shitty 80’s pop playing at a low volume. L wasn’t sure, but it was almost like clockwork to kiss for hours on end in the secluded forested part of the college town.

L was sitting on Light’s lap, the younger man writhing and gasping underneath him, gripping harshly at the back of L’s shirt. A thin sheen of sweat coated Light’s forehead, and L ran his nails up and down Light’s sides as he nipped at his earlobe, making him gasp. L found that Light got easily worked up from even the most subtle of action. He was very sensitive.

L worked at the buttons on the front of Light’s shirt, slowly unclasping them, “Light, have you come to enjoy kissing me?”

“Y-yeah, you’re really good at this, of course I do Ryuzaki.”

L hummed, fully unbuttoning Light’s shirt, but not wanting to take it off him yet. Light looked really good in black. He instead pulled a lever to push the seats down, pressing on Light’s chest to guide him onto his back. L kissed up Light’s chest, restraining himself from biting into the pretty tan skin. L licked a small stripe over Light’s chest, grazing his nipple with his tongue to see his reaction.

Light back arched and he gasped out L’s name, and ran a hand through his hair. L kissed his right nipple and slowly licked the nub, grazing his teeth softly over it, hoping to draw out more gasps and whines from Light.

“What about this, Light?” L asked in a low voice, still teasing him with his thumb and forefinger, smirking up at him.

Light nodded, panting, “Yes, yeah… That feels great.”

“Has Misa ever touched you here?” L asked. He felt Light stiffen, even just for a moment. There was an unspoken agreement that they never brought up Light’s girlfriend, or maybe Light just never expected L to. Light did not respond, so L attached himself to Light’s other nipple, sucking on it while still teasing the other one. Light moaned loudly, now stifling his noises by hooking his fingers in his mouth. L pulled off of Light, a string of saliva dripped from L’s mouth, “Light? Answer me?”

“No, no she hasn’t.”

“Hmm,” L hummed, running his blunt fingernails up and down his sides like he knows he enjoys, “Has any girlfriend ever given you this treatment?” Light bit his lip and shook his head. L nodded, and his fingertips teased the edges of Light’s pants, “Does Light want me to touch him in more places today?”

The two had not done more than kissing and biting with wandering hands. L didn’t mind. He would never describe himself as a patient man but rushing anything like this would surely be heading for disaster. Light looked down at him with wide brown eyes, and the innocence of his gaze almost put the optical illusion back in place for him, but then he remembered where he was: touching and teasing perfect Light Yagami, who is obviously not the person everyone sees. That illusion quickly broke as Light gasped out a “please”, moving his own hands to unzip his jeans.

L slapped his hand away, shaking his head at him. “I am doing this part, do I need to make you keep your hands to yourself?”

There was a dangerous glint in his eye, one that L had not seen before from him. Light hummed, “Hmm, you might. I don’t know.” And this was Light playing rough, not stupid. L did not think Light could be dumb, even if he tried. Internalized shame and heavy amounts of guilt prevented Light from being as much of a tease as he could be, though L knows he is more than capable. Two can play at that.

L moved up Light’s body, capturing his lips with his. He bit down on Light’s bottom lip, causing the younger man to gasp and allowed for L to tangle his tongue with Light’s. Simultaneously, he grabbed Light’s tie and pinned his hands together, doing a simple knot around his wrists above his head.

L pulled away, smirking. Light’s eyes were wide and watery, certainly not expecting L to call his bluff. If Light did have any experience with bondage of any sort, he cannot imagine it was the man himself who was getting tied down and taken care of. The clean-cut honors student types always want to be taken care of, didn’t they? Being in control and in charge of everything in their life, just needing someone else to take the reins for once.

Finally, L was able to undo Light’s pants, pulling them off and throwing them to the front seat. He palmed Light through his boxers, his cock was already fully hard and straining against the fabric. The car was nothing but quiet with Light’s gasps and moans, and L almost let it keep going on, because he is sure that Light’s begging would be simply heavenly.

He pulled Light boxers off, giving them the same treatment as his slacks. Light bit his lip as the cool air hit his cock. L pressed his thumb to his lips and slowly traced a finger up and down his shaft, fingertips barely ghosting over him. Light made an undignified whine and L smirked slightly. Maybe he did want to hear him beg.

"Ryuzaki…” Light said, possibly in an attempt to sound commanding, but his voice was so fucked out it came across as a needy moan.

“Being tied up like this, defiled by another boy… It shouldn’t make you this happy, should it, Light?”

“ Ryuzaki… ”

L teased the head of his cock with his thumb, “What would people think if they saw you like this? With me?” He hummed, Light gasped as L slowly stroked him, “What would your classmates say? Your friends? Misa?” He stressed.

“Oh God…”

L picked up his movements, “Do you think they would be shocked? Horrified? Perfect Light Yagami tangled up in the sheets with Ryuzaki?” He chuckled to himself, Light holding back his moans, “I personally am not surprised. Right now, all I see is a contented slut getting what he deserves.”

“Ryuz- Ryuzaki please , please give me what I deserve... I need it, please …”

And Light’s begging was all it took. L took all of Light in his mouth, deep-throating him and letting the head of his cock hit the back of his throat. It only took a few more seconds before Light was crying out his name and coming down Ryuzaki’s throat.

L pulled off of Light and looked up at him, the other man’s cheeks were flushed and his face completely blissed out. L leaned forward and gave him a brief kiss on the lips, Light returned it happily.

“Hey…” Light started, quietly, “I know you were just saying it… But… You won’t actually…”

L shook his head, “This all stays between us, remember?”

Pretty boys always lie…

≠

L and Light had graduated from messy blowjobs in the back of L’s towncar to L practically folding Light in half and fucking him on the plush sheets in his apartment. L does not exactly know what Light tells Misa if she asks why he is spending almost 5 days a week at L’s apartment, he doesn’t bother, it is not his relationship.

It is not everyday that L pins Light against the mattress right when they get back, now preferring to let things build up slowly. In fact, for the past 6 months they have been doing this, they do their work in silence across L’s dining room table, or sit on the couch and just talk. Talk about their classes, their ideas, their goals. L didn’t think he would ever get tired of listening to Light talk. Just like he did not think he would ever get tired of pressing into Light, hearing the other man moan under him.

L currently had Light’s hands bound to the headboard; his long, athletic legs were hooked over L’s shoulder’s as L slowly pushed deep into Light.

“M-more Ryuzaki… Fuck … more…”

L tsked and shook his head, “My my, Light, where are you manners,” He punctuated his statement with one quick thrust into Light, perfectly hitting his prostate, causing him to cry out and moan, “Ask politely.”

Light writhes under him, thrashing at the headboard which had his hands tied, “Go to hell, Ryuzaki…” He whined.

In response, L yanked his hair, and licked a stripe up Light’s neck. He nibbled on Light’s ear lobe, knowing how much he liked it. He ran his hands up his thighs, and gave him a swift but stinging smack, Light groaning at the harsh contact. L often closed his eyes and imagined how pretty Light would look covered in bruises and love bites-- being able to mark him up and claim Light Yagami as his . It was an attractive picture, one he did his best to keep at a distance. “Don’t make this difficult Light, just ask politely…” Which they both knew was another way of saying ‘beg for it’.

“Go faster Ryuzaki… Please…” Light gasped out, and L snickered, speeding up his thrusts.

“See, now was that so ha-” He was cut off by Light’s phone ringing. L reached into his discarded pants and pulled out his phone, gripping the top of it with his thumb and forefinger, “It is Misa.” He says.

Light groans, shaking his head, “Just let it ring, I will call her back after this.”

A wicked smile spreads across L’s face, looking at the caller id and Light’s hands still tied to the bed. Light cocks an eyebrow.

“I hope you have learned to control your noises, Light.” L tells him. Before he can ask any questions, L flips open the phone and presses talk, holding the phone against Light’s ear.

“Hi sweetie!” Misa’s voice came through over the phone, L close enough to be able to hear her, littering kisses across Light’s collarbone and moving his hips painfully slowly, in and out of Light.

“H-hi baby, how are you doing?” Light panted out, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I am doing good! I am glad you picked up, it has been so long since I heard your voice,” There was a considerable amount of background noise on Misa’s end, a busy shopping mall or possibly a photoshoot set. L took that into consideration, now very pointedly moving, angling his cock to merely brush against Light’s prostate. The younger man was squirming underneath him-- this kind of edging would be punishing enough typically; with his girlfriend on the phone it made it simply torturous.

“Ah- Yeah, sorry I have been so preoccupied lately, I promise I will make time just for us soon.” Light’s voice was obviously stilted and strained, but L was counting on the noises from wherever Misa was to distract from that fact (he is sure Light is counting on that too). L pressed kisses along Light’s neck up to his ear, nibbling on the lobe that wasn’t currently occupied with the phone conversation.

“What exactly has kept you so preoccupied, Light?” L whispered in his ear, knowing how much Light liked the soothing sound of his low voice, “Or more accurately who has been getting your attention?” L could hear Misa talking, but he wasn’t exactly trying to make out what she was saying, “Go on and tell her. Tell her what we have been up to. Tell Misa what a good slut you have been for me, I know how much you like to hear it.”

Light eyes were welling up at praise and degradation dripped over him like honey. The dual sensations of L fucking him and using his one free hand to tease his nipples is enough to have anyone panting. But he had to keep his breathing even, doing his best to not moan as his girlfriend tells him about the modelling shoot she is currently on a short break at. He was relatively stable, that was until L moved his hand lower, teasing the head of his cock, clearly not satisfied with how well the other man was showing restraint. L couldn’t help but smile when Light gasped once he touched him. He could faintly hear Misa pause, asking him what was wrong.

“Oh dear, Light,” L teased, Light was now biting his lip so hard he was fearing he would break the skin, “Are you ready for your girlfriend to finally find out what a filthy fucking whore you are?”

Light shook his head, answering Misa and doing his best to ignore L. “Ah, sorry baby, I just looked at my phone battery, I am going to die soon. J-just text me when you wrap up, ok?”

“Oh, ok! Talk to you later, then, love you sweetie!”

“Y-yeah, you too.” L snapped the phone closed with a ‘clack’ and threw it across the room. Light let out a guttural moan, frustrated tears ran down his cheeks.

“Light? Are you o-”

“Fuck me Ryuzaki, please please, dear Lord I need this.” Light’s voice was broken and needy-- a man who was kept on the edge for far too long.

“I hope I didn’t go too far.” L stood on his knees, lifting Light’s hips up. Previously restraint was gone, L’s hips snapped roughly into Light, he didn’t think that he could hold himself back if he tried.

Light was extremely receptive to the violent pace, gasping and whining, already so far gone.

“ There! Keeping going, fuck … I am so close, please.” Light begged, his eyes screwed shut and he pulled at the restraints, moaning. “What you did was fucking insane, Ryuzaki, but fuck I had never been so turned on in my fucking life.” He gave a weak chuckle, “Maybe I am a filthy slut like you say.”

L nodded, gripping tightly on Light’s hips, only half-worried about his fingertips leaving bruises for later, “It is about time you listened to me, Light.”

“Did I do good?” Light asked. His voice was broken and wrecked, and God, it was so good to listen to. “Was I a good slut, Ryuzaki?”

L nodded, feeling himself getting close as well, “You were a good boy, yes Light, a perfect whore. A perfect fucking slut for me.”

“ Ahh! Yes, fuck yes… A good slut for you, your good slut-- all yours .” Light came with L’s name on his lips, the other man following shortly after. A few chaste kisses followed as they both came down, and L ignored the twisting feeling in his gut.

≠

L hated parties. He hated birthday parties even more. Something about the idea of an adult expecting gifts and attention simply for existing is something that seems childish and trival. Especially when that adult is Misa Amane, who rented out a banquet all for her party. L doesn’t hate Misa, he doesn’t. Though, he couldn’t help the self satisfied smirk that creeped onto his face, coupled with an immoral sense of superiority when Light dragged him away to a secluded pantry on the other side of the venue.

“Mmm, someone is needy,” L muttered, pulling the lapels on Light’s blazer closer to him for a needy kiss, “Glad you are giving the birthday boy special treatment.”

“Shut up.” Light muttered, kissing L like he means it, greedy and desperate.

The two grind against one another, the closed space and limited time not offering as  many options as typical-- it brought back a similar feeling of way back in the early days of their correspondence where they would kiss in the dark stacks of the library; L still trying to figure out what makes Light squirm, and Light still barely comfortable enough to put his hands on L’s waist.

Oh how fast the night changes he thinks idly to himself as Light pulls on his messy waves, exposing the alabaster expanse of his neck and latched himself onto it as he has seen L do many times, though he actually gets to feel Light’s teeth sink into him and admire the purple against white the next day.

L quickly undoes Light’s belt and slacks, pulling them off with his boxers, knowing they only had a limited amount of time before the hostess of the party figures out her “guest of honor” has been missing for several minutes. Following the pants, L drops to his knees, taking Light’s cock in his mouth all at once. Light tangles his hands in L’s hair, slowly but steadily fucking his mouth.

“We have a limited amount of time, you realize?” L pulled away, and Light groaned at the loss of contact.

Light shook his head, “I don’t think anyone is going to come looking for me.”

L slowly stroked him, thumb rubbing over the slit of his head, causing Light to bite his lip through a moan, his back hitting the wall behind him. L looked up at him, eyes impossibly wide, “I think you misjudge how strongly Ms. Amane’s infatuation with you is.”

Light didn’t respond to that, so L took the head of Light’s cock in his mouth, the man biting down on two knuckles to stifle his noises. L knew he was getting close, after almost a year of this affair, L knew exactly what to do to get Light to tremble and squirm and just how far to push until he is over the edge.

His orgasm rips through him, Light gripping tightly onto L’s hair, making him moan around Light’s cock. He wipes his mouth with one of the cocktail napkins placed neatly on the shelves. He gingerly took Light’s hand as he helped him off the floor, pulling L in for another messy kiss.

Light drew his nails down L’s back, now panting into his mouth, but the two quickly jumped apart when they heard the click of heels making their way down the adjacent hall.

“Light? Are you down here?”

The two froze and looked at one another. “Misa,” Light mouthed, and L rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t warn Light of this exact situation previously.

“Come on.” L quickly pulled Light out of the pantry, walking him towards the bathrooms  directly on the other end of the hall before she rounded the corner spotting them, “Tell her you were seeing me off and I had to leave early, and you stopped by the restrooms before you came back. Also…”  He pulled a small wrapped object out of the back of his pocket. It was long but thin, containing a rose gold gemmed bracelet. “It is a bracelet. It will distract her from any questions that she has.”

“Ryuzaki I-”

L shook his head, running a hand under the water of one of the bathroom sinks and fixed Light’s mussed and imperfect hair, “Don’t. I’ll be fine.” This only works if you keep lying. C’mon Light, where is the illusion? “Go. Do what needs to be done.”

L shoved Light out of the bathroom, just in time too, for he ran into his girlfriend. He listened to their idle voices from the bathroom and felt a wave of bittersweet joy from Misa’s elation at the gift. He stayed until their voices disappeared and snuck out the exit near the back. He always did hate birthday parties.

≠

It was around 2am when L heard the knocking on his door. Confused and apprehensive, he opened the door to see a disheveled and tired Light on the other side. His eyes were rimmed red with dark circles underneath them. L wasn’t sure if he had ever seen him in such a state.

“Light? What are you doing here? Are you ok-” L’s concerns were cut off by Light cupping his cheeks and kissing him. Not the passionate and needy type that he is used to, but raw and emotional. He wrapped his arms around L’s neck and held onto him like his lifeline.

L did not disconnect from his lips, instead leading them both to his bed. It was still neatly made (it being essentially unused since the last time Light was over) but he pulled back the duvet and crawled under it, Light following close behind.

L held Light for a long time, running his fingers through his perfect brown hair and offering light kisses. A few rare moments of silence passed, and Light’s breathing became a lot more steady and the touches less needy.

“It is much past the time you are typically asleep. What on Earth are you doing here? This isn’t like you.” L muttered lowly in Light’s ear.

Light huffed, “I apologise for not fitting your perfect honor student archetype.”

“That is not what I mean. I am not talking about perfect, clean-cut college senior Light.”

“Wha- but that is me.”

L shifted slightly, pressing a thumb to his lips, “On the surface, sure. You are the definition of sublimity and much sharper than those around you. Not to say you are not that, but there is much more to it. Despite being one of the top students in Japan, you do not care as much as people think you do, and you obviously have secrets of your own. Do not try to play coy with me, Light, I greatly dislike being belittled.”

Light was silent for a while, tracing nondescript patterns along L’s chest, “I thought that I was the number one student in Japan.”

L stifled a laugh, “One of us here is.”

“I have never even seen your name on the national rankings.”

“You have never seen Ryuzaki on the national rankings. Though I am sure you were around when Hideki Ryuga made an appearance.”

Light was silent for a moment before shaking his head, “I thought for a while now that Ryuzaki was an alias.” L hummed in response squeezing Light softly and pressing a kiss atop his head, “So, what is your true name?”

“I cannot tell you that, Light.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

Light pulled away from L’s arms and sat up, “That isn’t fair. I have been nothing but honest about myself with you, and you can’t share one stupid thing with me?”

“You still don’t get it…” L muttered to himself, sitting up and pulling his legs close to his chest.

“Get what?” Light spat out.

L sighed, “I cannot be fully honest with you until you are honest with yourself.”

Light opened his mouth and closed it again-- a brief moment of confusion before the anger took its place, “What does that mean?”

“What is it you truly desire of me, Light? How long are you going to conform to the expectations you created for yourself.” L’s voice was not angry or frustrated or even disappointed. He just sounded sad, “You are graduating college and Ms. Amane’s career is in full swing now. With how many years you have together she is going to be expecting marriage and a family soon. And then what? How much longer must you keep lying to her, to your family, to-- you know, forget all them. How much longer can you lie to yourself about what you really want? When will your self imposed expectations that you curated supersede who you really are?” Light stayed silent, his body was stiff and his eyes glassy. L sighed, “You may stay here tonight, of course. I will hold you and kiss you and love you tonight. But after that, I need to take your time to think about what exactly you are doing, and talk to me when you figure it out. You’re not the only one who is affected by your actions.”

He left the rest unspoken. Not saying he wanted to hold onto Light forever, finally call him his, and not put an ultimatum on their love. But it was too painful to say the rest out loud.

L held Light and stroked his hair as he fell asleep. L tried to fight off his own exhaustion, but his eyes eventually closed and he drifted off as well. He woke up the next morning cold and in an empty bed.

≠

It has been about three months since L and Light had seen one another. That’s fine. L doesn’t need anyone. Staying alone is how he stays alive. He goes through his school work faster than ever, senior finals quickly approaching for him, though he has no doubt that he could manage without trying. That doesn’t stop him from doing so for whatever reason. He just needs to keep busy.

L was editing an essay when his phone rang, Misa Amane’s contact name appearing. L stared at the phone for several seconds, weighing his options. He eventually snatched the phone and flipped it open, “Yes?” He dumped all the sugar cubes from his bowl onto the table, idly stacking them.

“Hi, Ryuzaki, sorry to call you this late-” L glanced at the clock, just past midnight, “But I was just wondering if Light was with you.”

L paused, and bit his lip, “No, actually. I have not seen Light for about 3 months now.”

There was silence on the other end of the call, L could only hear static on the other end. He made his tower about 6 cubes high before Misa spoke, “3 months? You haven’t heard from him for 3 months? He said he was going to talk to you ages ago. I am worried about him, Ryuzaki.”

“What seems to be your cause for concern?”

Misa sighed, “I broke up with Light about 2 weeks ago,” L knocked over his cube tower, sending sugar crystals careening over his laptop. He couldn’t tell if he was breathing at this point or not, his heart was beating so slowly… Or fast? L couldn’t for the life of him tell, “He said that he was going to talk to you shortly after I ended things, but I hadn’t heard from him or seen from him, and now you have no idea what's going on, and oh God, what if he is dead or killed himself I don-”

“Misa?”

“Yes?”

“Please calm down for me, ok?” L hooked a finger in his mouth, trying to keep his voice level for Misa’s sake, “I am concerned for Light as you are. I just need you to answer me some questions and I should be able to figure out where he may be.”

“You don’t think he is dead?” Misa choked out.

“I say there is only 2.5% Light is dead, and that would be due to forces outside of the situation. Light is strong, he would never try to kill himself.”

“I- I know this Ryuzaki, I am sorry.”

“Never apologise for your feelings, Misa.” L dragged his finger across his desk and licked the sugar off of his finger. “What was the last thing you two talked about?”

Misa’s voice was quiet, but self assured, “We haven’t talked since I ended things. After that, he hasn’t been in class or on campus.”

“You did break up with him, surely he doesn’t want a lot of interaction with others right now.”

Misa huffed, “No, that can’t be it. I broke up with Light for his own good.”

L nervously bit at the skin around his nails, “If I may pry, what is the reasoning for the termination of your relationship.”

“I was afraid you would ask that…” Misa sighed, clearly debating what she wanted to say. L moved the mouse on his computers and idly scrolled through the essay he was editing, needing something to distract him, even if he was not processing any of the words being read on screen, “This is what Light was supposed to talk to you about but... I ended things because he… Ryuzaki, he is in love with you.” L bit down on his thumb. Hard. The metallic taste of blood was the only thing that was keeping him from passing out. “When we started our relationship 3 years ago, I knew he didn’t love me like I loved him, but I figured he would be able to learn to, right? But, something changed once he met you… He was smiling more and happier, but also distant and confused and pensive. I think he has been wrestling with this for a while, and it is unfair to myself, Light, or you to continue a relationship that no one is happy with.”

“Misa, I-”

“I am sure you are also a bit shocked about this turn of events as well… Or maybe not, I don’t know how much you suspected, but Ryuzaki I-” She sighed, sniffling slightly. L popped a sugar cube in his mouth. If Misa was about to start crying he needed all the glucose support he could get, “I was really mad at you at first. I hated you. But now I realise I should thank you. I was settling for someone who never really gave me their all, or really wanted me for me. I settled, and so did Light. We both deserve better. He wants you, and if you want him, let him know.”

“Did you tell Light all this as well?”

“Yea, it was the last thing we talked about.”

L chewed on his lip, “I think I know where he is.”

≠

“Well, this is certainly unexpected.”

Light turned around, L smirking softly behind him, the chilly wind musing his hair and chilling his bare feet. Light sighed, standing up from the collection of boulders he was on, facing L. He tugged his jacket closer around himself, “How did you find me here?”

“Cameras everywhere.” L idly pointed around, and Light simply raised an eyebrow, “Misa called me, told me what happened. I was able to figure out the rest”

Light nodded, sitting back down, but facing L still, “I see.” He looked at Light a little more. His state and appearance were worse than when he saw L 3 months ago, though it was clear he was trying to hide it. His pretty tan skin was sickly and shallow and his eyes were hollow.  The illusion of perfect Light Yagami wasn’t just gone, it was ripped to pieces and set on fire.

“Can I sit?” L asked, and Light made a small gesture with his hand. L crouched next to him, placing his hands atop his knees but remaining a good distance away from Light. He looked around at the forest. The very same place he and Light kissed his car, nearly everyday after classes for many months. They both had become very familiar with the area, though the tension in the air is palpable and unlike what L was used to. It reminded him of the closet incident a year ago. Nerves alight in both men, having no idea what action to take next.

“You look good.” Light said. L held back a chuckle, he looks like he always does and he knows it.

“You look tired, Light.”

“I am tired.” He responds simply. They stay silent for a few moments. L has so much he wants to ask, but this was Light’s conversation to lead, “I have been so stupid.” Light starts. He places his head in his hands, and runs his fingers through his hair, “I told myself the loneliness would go away with time. It didn’t, but I kept ignoring it. I just couldn’t stop thinking about what you said and…” Light sighed, “No one has ever been that honest with me. They tell me I am perfect and good, so I thought this hollowness that I have felt ever since I was a child was normal. And then.... Then you came along telling me things could be better, and it could go away and I… I was scared.”

“Why?”

“Even if it is a bad feeling, it is terrifying to think of life without it.”

L nodded, pressing his thumb to his lips, “You would have ignored it forever if Misa hadn’t broken up with you.”

Light chuckled weakly, shaking his head, “Yeah, I probably would have.”

“Did you tell her, Light?”

He shook his head, “Misa doesn’t know. Maybe one day, I will tell her. Right now… She is being incredibly selfless, and I have been incredibly selfish, I didn’t want to add to that.”

“You realize that withholding the truth from her is, in of itself, a selfish action right?” Light gave him a pointed look and L just sighed, “So, why here then?”

Light looked pensively up at the stars, leaning back on his palms. Even with exhaustion and stress seeping through his body, he was still so beautiful, “The simplest way to put it is… Is I missed you. And I didn’t know what to do. I felt like running and hiding and lying was the easiest way to deal with my feelings, but it is too painful to do that, and acting like such a coward is killing me. And now you are here, and I don’t know what to do.”

L pondered this for a moment, “Well, you could come over here and kiss me.”

Light looked at him, eyes wide, “Is that ok?”

Chuckling, L shook his head, “You were not this hesitant and asking for permission the first time.”

He moved closer to L, caressing his cheek. Light ran a hand through L’s hair and softly pressed his lips against L’s. It wasn’t a symphony or a matching puzzle piece or the final brushstroke of a beautiful painting. It just felt so right after so long, and L could finally exhale.

“I am lucky to have you back, Light Yagami.” He kissed Light’s forehead.

Light smiled. Despite the fatigue still present, that familiar glow that Light always gleamed was returning, “Do I finally get a name for you now?”

“As long as I can call you mine,” He softly kissed Light’s cheek, “You can call me L.”

[sakiyo]

━ # HAIKYUU BOYS AS YOUR COLLEGE ROOMATES PT. 1

+ pairings: atsumu miya/reader

+ tags: atsumu bring a messy dude </3, platonic-ish relationship, uni!au

+ warnings: very brief mentions of sex, weed and alcohol, partying

+ word count: a lot probably idk they’re headcanons

+ note: this is gonna be a series but atsumu’s was wayyy too long!! the rest will probably be much shorter [i was too attached to these hcs to shorten them so enjoy]. thank you @kiyoomae for helping me with these mwah ily beaut <3

© all content from this blog belongs to ushigushi 2020. do not repost, modify, or plagiarize.

ATSUMU MIYA

girl...RUN

he’s a great person sure

but he’s not the BEST roommate

not even osamu wants to room with him, but honestly he just wants cheap rent [like every other student alive]

so when he sees a ‘roommate wanted’ poster on campus, he basically believes that this a sign from god that he should go to your interview

one thing about atsumu:

HES A CATFISH!

he knows that first impressions are one of the most important things in life [mostly because of volleyball and what not]

so naturally he’s going to act the way you want him to !! toxic trait: subtle manipulation i’m telling you

and so when he shows up at your place, hes pretty much perfect. he looks put together and his fit is immaculate okay?

usually, you aren’t one to judge a book by its cover, but when it comes down to roommates….better safe than sorry babe

and the second atsumu mentions his gravitation towards volleyball and sports, you feel like you’ve won the lottery.

a clean and well put roommate who ALSO spends most of their time away from the apartment? what more could you ask for?

and as a quick bonus: HES HOT!! [so you can definitely brag to your friends about the attractive roommate you scored]

you’re quick to say yes, and as soon as you know it he’s added to the contract with your landlord!

atsumu keeps up his facade for another two weeks or so; washing dishes, keeping clean, never being too noisy and giving you your personal space

but when he finally shows his true colours?

you’re not sure if you want to strangle him or rip out your hair strand by strand

whew....he is messy.

atsumu [osamu too] is a momma’s boy, he’s never really had to do dishes or anything like that unless he has to

he never does his dishes. you ALWAYS end up washing them because you prefer a tidy kitchen

dont get me started on the cups

he uses YOUR cups and leaves them littered around the apartment like they’re easter eggs for you to hunt. one time, you found your favourite mug under a couch???

his room is no different either

you prefer to stay away from it, but you had caught a glimpse of it through his partially open bedroom door

....it’s a lot to process.

there are plates on his desk, disposable cups and crushed soda cans on his nightstand, clean laundry in different corners of the room and you swear you see a half full bottle of vodka that had gone missing from your own alcohol cabinet

but for some reason his room still manages to smell like lavender. and you hate that fact.

he NEVER has his house keys on him

he pretty much has you on speed dial because the amount of times this man has forgotten his keys inside the house is WILD

him: hey roomie...it’s me again...

you: atsumu it’s 11 pm and i’m out with friends, i’m not driving back just to open the door for you

him: then what am i going to do??

you: sit there and starve.

so he sits against your apartment door, playing games on his phone and texting his friends

he’s also getting clowned in the gc by suna and osamu PLS ATSUMU GO HOME [oh wait-]

when one of your neighbours pass by or see him sitting there he just gives that rlly awkward white person smile that’s like 😐

HIS PHONE DIES TOO FROM USING IT SO MUCH TOO RKDKGKJ

so basically he’s sitting there, hungry and bored.

when you come back, he’s almost asleep, a little bit of drool hanging on at the side of his mouth

“wake up, i brought you food.”

atsumu might be an annoying roomie, but you’re not heartless.

he 100% gets hair dye all over the bathroom, and he NEVER washes it out

so you’re not too happy when you have to replace your rug because there was a massive bleach stain on it

he uses your shampoo and conditioner, GENEROUSLY TOO

like atsumu...sir 🤣🤚 that shits like 20 dollars! stop using globs of it at once

istg you could buy a new bottle of shampoo/body wash and it’s already halfway through after a week or so

he promises that he’ll stop, but it just gets worse

NEVER let this man go grocery shopping for you by himself, you’ll get everything BUT what you asked for

okay, he does get you what you asked for, but not really

you ask for wheat bread and he gets white bread. you ask for vanilla ice cream and he gets you chocolate

why??

“i think it’s better than what you originally put down.”

you want a new roommate.

but as time passes by, you deduce that he has some redeeming qualities: like how fun he is when drunk, or how he can keep you entertained for hours about his surprisingly interesting days

you’ve met his friends too! they all love you

but they’re also quite sorry for you for having to put up with atsumu

sometimes, you’ll even join them with them when they’re all hanging in your living room

you never miss the small blush that creeps onto tsumus face whenever his old teammates tell you about the stories he deliberately left out to make himself look cooler [pls give this man love he needs it]

suna: wait i have a video of him getting pummeled in the face with a volleyball-

atsumu: ALRIGHT ITS TIME FOR YOU GUYS TO GO!!

atsumu: y/n has a test tomorrow!!

you: tomorrow’s saturday-

if you two have roommate rules, he definitely breaks some of them

no parties without you knowing??? like hell he’s following that

atsumu likes to party! he doesn’t mind hosting one or two every now and then

so he picks a day that he knows you’ll be out for the night, most likely studying because you won’t be back home until around 1 am

so the apartment is a mess and it’s partially trashed, there’s a lingering scent of weed and alcohol, someone probably vomited in your sink, and it’s loud.

so loud that you can hear it from the elevator.

you had decided to come home early and surprise atsumu with his favourite takeout, but you’re already met with tipsy and wasted bodies littered along the corridors, and it doesn’t take very long for you to put two and two together and realize it’s atsumu’s doing

long story short, you and atsumu have to go around the apartment to deliver personal apologies to your neighbours [this definitely isn’t your first or last warning]

in terms of hookups?

atsumu doesn’t care too much for sexual relationships, since his priority lies in volleyball and actually graduating, but he’ll have someone over every now and then

usually, it’s meant to be a time when you’re not around, because the walls are thin as fuck

but atsumu doesn’t really care in the heat of the moment

so yeah, you definitely want to neuter him when you hear incoherent moans and a headboard creaking

the morning after, you immediately chase his one night stand out of the apartment and go off on him for a second

after a few months, atsumu doesn’t get on your nerves as much

you could go as far as to call him a friend

during exam and midterm weeks, you both study together and even order takeout— which leads to the two of you passing out in your living room due to pure exhaustion

YOU HELP HIM DYE HIS HAIR

atsumu sometimes doesn’t get all of his spots because he can only do so much by himself

so after you hear his frustrated groans, you’re willing to help him dye his hair.

and from there it basically becomes a routine

you were also the one who introduced  him to TONER!!

he swears that you changed his life

he also walks around in nothing but his boxers because it’s comfortable but gets flustered and ‘mad’ when you wear nothing but an old t-shirt

forces you to come to him games to cheer loudly for him

this man- he asks you to cheer for him when he does his serve routine and when you do his head gets so big

but he denies it when his teammates tease him about you

half of his clothes have made its way into your closet! but honestly, he does not mind

his cute roommate is wearing his sweats and a hoodie with his name at the back of it, why would he be mad?

you’ve hooked up with him at least twice.