#anyway I only had one cup of coffee today so it’s not caffeine anxiety this time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

sun in the shadows (03)

word count; 12,706

summary; trying to make some headway on the study leads to an interesting revelation, and progress in your friendship with noah.

notes; if this part is a little sucky, I apologise. it was a last minute addition that I created because I realised I wanted to include some extras.

warnings; brief mentions of panic attacks/anxiety, but it’s very mild.

The weather was improving, the drizzle of the winter and the grey skies overhead were getting lighter, the showers of rain were getting less frequent and the winter was moving on. Spring was making itself known, bulbs of daffodils were finally taking root in the soil, and green was sprouting from the earth that had been frozen over and dead only a couple of weeks ago. The watery floors were drying up, limited ice was fading away, and graduation was sitting right on the horizon for you all.

Your fingers flexed around the strap of your bag, rooting through the contents to find a place to slip your file inside, all your notes for the class you’d be having were inside, and there was a blank page for your next session waiting to be filled out. Once it had its place, albeit getting a little bit crumbled against the other content, you removed your wallet, a few coins jingling in the bottom, and you hoped it was enough for two coffees.

There was a coffee stand not too far away, and you were hoping an extra shot of coffee before you went in might get your brain working a little faster. Only a couple of feet ahead of you was a face you recognised, a dark jumper to match dark denim jeans, a pair of boots for motorbike riding that were beginning to scuff along the edges and the toes. He was hanging over his money, a brown bag holding a pretzel and a tall cup, the tell-tale tag of a teabag hanging over the edge, and he walked away.

Joining the back of the line, you watched him go, sitting not far across the quarter with his headphones on, settling on one of the recently repainted memorial benches. He pulled the tab on eh coffee back, opening it up and a cloud of steam left the drink, curling up into the air that still held a slight chill, drifting away to disappear as he blew against the surface of the drink. In his other hand was his phone, scrolling aimlessly on it as a way to keep himself disconnected from everyone else around him and prompt nobody else to join him. His bag was out on the bench too, pushed a short distance from his body in an attempt to take up the rest of the space to deter company.

Ordering a simple set of black coffees, and finding you had just enough change for a muffin too, you waited patiently for your order, an assortment of condiments and the double-chocolate treat you’d paid for being handed to you first. There was a grinding, the slight screech of the machine as it crushed the beans to create two black coffees for you, plastic lids sealed on and two cardboard jackets fastened around them.

Balancing the load between them all, you headed over to him, using your knee to nudge the bag up the bench until it bumped his leg, and he jerked slightly, looking up to see you. Offering him a beam, his narrowed eyes lightened a little, and he sighed. Putting down his phone and moving his bag to the floor, he lifted the headphones away from his ears, and let them hang around his neck. Sitting yourself down, he slumped back into the wood, and you scooted up to sit closer to him, placing the spare coffee you’d bought for Stiles on the floor away from your feet.

“Hey, Noah!” He gave a short nod, still a little uncomfortable, and he turned to face you more. “So, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“How did you know I was here?”

You shrugged, opening up the bag of extras and searching through for a couple of sweetener packets, and a wooden stirrer. “I didn’t. I was just gonna’ grab a coffee before class and head to my hall early, because, y’know, studying at home is distracting.” Your hand waved off the statement, finding the packets you wanted, and clutching your cup between your knees for stability. “So, anyway I was going to text you when I got there, but then I saw you, so I figured I’d come and say ‘hey’!”

“Right.”

“So, hey!” You waved a little before taking the top from your coffee, and leaving it on the bench beside yourself. “I ask once again, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“Well, since I am the most popular guy at this college, I’m pretty busy.” He smiled a little at his own joke, particularly when you gave him a laugh, and your brow raised.

“Oh, he’s got jokes today, huh? I like it, I can roll with that.” Tipping the sugar into the cup, you added a couple of packets, before stirring it slowly. “I take it you’re free, then. I was hoping we could squeeze in some study stuff this afternoon. I have a class in a couple of minutes, but I wanted to see if you were free?”

“Well, I’m free all day. I had a six AM class.” His face screwed up at the idea, and you could feel his pain, having spent the entirety of your sophomore year with a teacher who held lectures at six AM so she could avoid her morning sickness before class, and rush home for it afterwards. Professor Anderson going off on her maternity leave was the best thing that had happened to your education that year.

“Great, I’ll sort it with Stiles, and we’ll text you the details.”

“Sounds like a thrill. I can hardly wait.” He smiles, the sarcasm just like his brothers as it came through, and you repaid him for the joke with a chuckle. While the two of you had made progress, you could tell he was still a little unsure around you. You were polar opposites and he didn’t take well to that, the atmosphere that you brought with you could be a little too much for him to handle sometimes, you couldn’t stop the guilt that was eating at you a little. “What’s wrong? You’ve got a look on your face like you want to talk about things. Just warning you, I’m not good at that heart-to-heart stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve witnessed that.”

“Shut it.” He teased, sticking his tongue out at you childishly, and you grinned cheesily in reply to him. “You can tell me, though. Can’t promise I’ll help, but..”

“It’s nothing weighing me down. I just wanted to apologise. I clearly interrupted your free time. You got yourself a little pretzel to eat in silence, and everything.” He offers you a blank look at your slight dig, and you only winked, waving the muffin in a bag that you’d bought, and taking a sip of your coffee once the lid was sealed back on. “People usually like it when I stop by to see them, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay, really.” His words were strained, the response bringing you no relief as he forced them out, and your frown remained. “I’m serious, okay? It’s alright.”

You were trying your best but learning the lines with Noah was different to you. Upon starting college you’d been thrown in at the deep end of socialisation and a whole world you’d never quite had access to before. Coming from a smaller town that had always limited your expectations was tough, and you’d taken it differently from the way Noah had. You’d had so many experiences, becoming legal to drink and venturing beyond your comfort zone, truly leaving home and facing the idea of having your life laid out before you, the first time truly having your heartbroken, and being too far to simply collapse into the arms of your mom or dad for support when things got messed up.

“When does your class start?” You jumped, lost in your thoughts as you slumped back into the bench, and you sat up straight again, turning to find that Noah was already looking at you, eyes scanning over you slowly. It was a good reminder, time had been slipping away from you and in the ease of his peaceful and quiet company, you could have sat there for hours.

Checking your watch, you sighed, lifting your bag strap back up onto your shoulder more securely, and packing everything you had with you inside, leaving you to hold a coffee cup in each hand. “In about ten minutes.”

“How about I walk you?” He picked up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder, and you nodded, a warmer feeling at his offer blooming where cold guilt had been. Standing up and making sure not to spill any of the scalding coffee onto your hand. Peering around the busy campus quarters that was more filled now than it had been for months, the lighter weather tempting groups to come out of their dormitories and the cafés to gather outside instead.

He fell into step beside you, toes scuffing occasionally on the slightly uneven stonework of the quad, before it fell away into smooth concrete pathways on the way to your lecture. The grass alongside each path was growing greener, dull colour fading away into something brighter. Paper crinkled beside you, the cup of tea in his hands being finished and the cardboard cup was crushed between string fingers, knuckles even paler than usual as he crumpled it up, and as you approach the closest bin, it was disposed of.

Your fingers flexed around your coffee cup, almost having forgotten that it was there as the heat from the two began to fade away a little. Taking a sip, the refreshing burst of sweetened caffeine was like a spark to your system, and you revelled in it. “How do you take your coffee?”

You lower the cup from your lips, swallowing your mouthful, and you couldn't stop the rise of your brows once you turned to look at him. “Creamer, usually. I like a caramel flavoured one. But, since I’m not big on creamer in packets or from street vendors, this one just has sweeteners.”

“Cool.” He nodded, and your lips pressed together tightly to try and contain the smile you wanted to let free, silence forming between you both for a moment, a further gathering of steps as the two of you went on, your building coming into sight again. “Did you watch the news last night?”

“Is this small talk?”

“It’s an attempt at small talk.” He winced, and you chuckled, a small smile on his features as the fear of judgement or humiliation washed away, and he gave a sigh.

“Okay, let's try this.” Your mind spun, searching for a track of something to talk about, and a thought clicked into space. “If you could watch one genre of movies for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Comedy. Like, comedy-action. You know, ones like ‘Jumanji’ or something?” He was quick with it, certain about his answer, and you nodded.

“Yeah? That was quick. How come you’re so sure?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, one hand coming up to hold his bag strap, swinging it to the side to be able to get inside, and fish out the paper bag with a pretzel inside. “I guess I just think they’re good for you. Good for the soul. They have action and it keeps you a little on the edge of your seat, but it’s funny. It's easy-going, when you’ve got anxiety, or you’re having a bad day, or you just want background noise, they’re perfect.”

“Alright. Fair enough. Okay, tricky one.” his eyes narrowed a little, but an amused look passed over his features while he waited. “If you had to choose specifically between comedy and action, which is it?”

“It’s got to be action. Because comedy usually means Adam Sandler or Seth Rogen, and some of their comedies are good, but some are jus-” He paused, jaw dropping a little, and his hand came out, pausing in front of your to bring you to a halt too. A smile curled on your lips, and he looked shocked. “Holy shit, you’re good!”

“Ask a basic question that people are passionate about, it always leads to more options, and everyone always wants to talk about something fun.” His head shook slowly, as though he was in disbelief, and you took a dramatic bow, trying not to spill the coffees in your hands as you giggled. “Give it a go, I bet you can do it.”

The paper in his hands crinkled, your footsteps taking up again, and the two of you were making your way towards the building once again. Taking a bite from his pretzel, a piece torn away with his teeth, he thought it over. “Does your family have any secret or ‘famous’ recipes?”

“Oh, that’s a good one. Kudos to you, Noah.”

“Thank you. I thought about it for, like, eight whole seconds.” He grinned, the joke moving away from you both as you left it behind, and you thought about his question.

“Maybe it’s not my family recipe, just a personal one, but I’m great at making lasagne.” He scoffed, and you nudged him with your elbow. “I’m serious! I make a great lasagne!”

“You don’t seem like a cook to me, is all! You seem like the sort of person who’d manage to burn a pit of water.”

“You can’t burn water, an.. oh, I just got it. You jerk.” It was a joke, your nose screwing up as you stuck your tongue out at him, thanking him a second later as he held the door open for him. The bright lights of the outside changed to artificial lights in the halls, not as much coming through the windows as trees outside managed to cast shade into the building. “Well, I can cook. I love to cook, and I’m good at it. Especially lasagne. My family are generally the only ones who have ever had it, and thanks to that insult, you’ll never have it.”

“Oh, woah, no! You have to let me try it now. Prove me wrong, or I’ll be forced to believe you’re bluffing.”

“You’re sneaky.” You scoffed, students filling the hall and filtering in from different sides of the building, lectures in different halls all waiting to take place, and you stepped to the side of the corridor once your doorway was within reach. “If you’re lucky.”

“I’m betting on that.”

Glancing back, Stiles was already inside, as expected. Stiles Stilinski had never once been on time, he was either twenty minutes early or twenty minutes late, and since he’d spent the night with Derek, who was an early bird, you’d figured which one today would be. His head was slumped on his hm half-asleep and on the verge of drooling as he sat there, and you chuckled, turning to Noah. “Thanks for walking me. Also, thanks for small-talking with me.”

“Thanks for the advice on small talk.”

“I’m gonna’ head inside, but, I’ll see you later, okay?” He nodded, confirming the times with you, and lingering a moment longer. It was quiet, but not so tense, and he rolled on the balls of his fete, the half-eaten pretzel in his hands was seemingly abandoned as one hand tucked into his jeans pockets, the other hanging limply while holding the delicacy by his side.

“Thanks for sitting with me. This wasn’t so bad. It was almost fun.”

“You know, one day, you’re gonna’ tell me you had fun with me. I look forward to that day.” He smirked, your head tipping to the side at the expression.

“If you’re lucky.” He was repeating your own words back to you, and you beamed at the chance. Backing away from him slightly, you fixed him with the cheekiest glance you could as you walked through the doorway.

“I’m betting on it.”

You could hear his laugh once you were gone, into the classroom and beginning to take the steps up to a seat beside Stiles that he’d reserved for you, his bag sitting on it. He’d already gotten his equipment out, notepads and pencil laid out in a somewhat organised mess on top of the desk.

Placing the two coffees down, you moved Stiles bag to the floor, tucking it behind his chair and a soft snore made itself known from him, the boy not doing well with early mornings but he never had, not once in your years of knowing him had he handled it very well, so it was no surprise.

“Opening up your bag, you dropped your notebook down onto the surface with a loud ‘slapping’ sound, and he jerked upwards, flailing as he did, and almost knocking the coffees over. Blinking quickly and shaking sleep away, he looked around, eyes wide as he finally focused on you.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that.” He chastised you, leaning back in his seat and holding a hand over his heart. “I was dreaming about high school, I thought you were my lacrosse Coach waking me up for falling asleep in class again.”

“Maybe I am.” You winked, slamming a hand down on the counter. “Drop and give me twenty, Stilinski! Right now!”

“Don’t do that, it’s eerily accurate.” He cringed, shuddering a little, before a wide smile replaced the horrified expression that had morphed, and you pushed a coffee over to him. “You brought me a coffee?”

“Yes, I did. It’s bribery.”

“Oh? What am I being bribed for?” He was curious, rooting through the bag of condiments for it and taking the plastic lid from the cup, steam curling out into the air. Taking an ungodly and certainly unhealthy amount of sweetener and sugar packets to load into his coffee.

“Your free time this afternoon. I’m thinking about getting some of my study done, I can get all the work for the next couple of sessions sorted now, but how do you feel about being asked some later?” He tipped them in, a drop of coffee flying up over the edge and landing on the desk as he stirred his drink with vigour, that same hyper excitement that he always had.

“Can’t I just fill them out now?”

“It’d be better if I could get your responses with Noah.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and making a scene of it, but there was a smile that told you he already agreed.

“You should have brought me two coffees, but fine.”

You let out a victorious ‘aha!’, and shook the little brown paper bag that was still sitting on your half of the desk at him. “I also brought you half of a muffin!”

“Only half of a muffin?”

“Well, it was none, but since I didn’t eat it yet and I’d feel bad eating it in front of you, I decided to share it.” You tore it in half, pushing half across the scratched and vandalised wooden surface to him. Crumbs were left along the surface, and Stiles pressed the pad of his finger along them to gather them all up.

“Oh, right. Well, in that case, what I meant was; wow, a full half of a muffin!” He cheered, much more enthusiasm, and you nodded.

“Much better.” At the front of the classroom, your tutor entered, door slamming behind him as he kicked the wedge out from underneath, and his case was placed down on the desk. The room began a hushed quiet, save for the loud slurping of Stiles with his coffee beside you.

“You know,” Your best friend didn’t understand the concept of a whisper, everything he did was more like a dramatic stage whisper on a Broadway show, and a few dirty looks were sent his way. The professor was used to this, a year of experience and advice from previous tutors guiding him to ignore Stiles’ fidgeting and chatter. “You’re going to have to convince Noah to do this.”

Slumping down in your seat a little more, you turned your head to him, nibbling on your half of the muffin. “I already did.”

“What?” This time he was hushed, the man standing at the front near his desk, trying his best to give extra advice to everyone and answer any common questions that he’d been emailed. You’d have to catch the after-class notes in your emails. “When d’you do that?”

“This morning before class. I saw him while getting coffee for you and we walked over.”

Stiles huffed, his brows being pulled together slightly. “Okay. Damn, he was my last free shot at getting the afternoon off.” You grinned, pinching at your friend’s cheek, and he smacked your hand away. “Quit it, I’ve told you not to do that before.”

“In case I pinch your moles off?”

“That's where my power is. My funny is in my moles.” He hissed, only making you laugh more, and you covered your mouth with your hand over his silly superstitions.

“Whatever, freak.”

“Hoe.” He snarked back, and you grinned, punching at his shoulder as best you could from this angle, and he reached up a hand to rub at it. “So, if we’re doing this, I at least want to do it at my place. I’m going out this evening, I gotta’ be ready. Derek’s sisters are coming up to visit.”

“It won’t take long, don’t worry.” He hummed, pulling out his phone and keeping it ducked from view. He was texting his brother, letting him know to be ready, and at what time your class would be ending, giving him a little time to prepare. Opening your book up and flicking to the page you had marked, it was a journal written about the study of the ways that twins raised in different households could grow up similarly, and you were hoping to adopt some of the content for your study.

“So, what’ve you got done so far?”

Stile sighed, flicking open his notebook, and you were shocked by the fact that he was already at the end of it. There were pieces of paper stuck in, a list of book references on one of the tabs down the side of a page, and only a few blank pages left at the back.

“Oh, wow, okay.” You stared at your notebook, barely reaching a quarter of the way through with the notes you’d been making, and it looked like Stiles was ready to start making progress towards a conclusion for his hypothesis. “So, you’ve got a whole lot done, then.”

“Yeah, well, I want to spend as little time in a prison as I possibly can.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead, the pages crammed full of information as he flicked through to find a blank one. “Plus, I didn’t want to go and interview inmates on my own, so I wait until Derek has free time to go with me, and I get as much done in those sessions as I can.”

“You’re gonna’ be done weeks before I am.” You pouted, your pen twirling at the top corner of a page, drawing a collation of pretty flowers to form a border, and he chuckled.

“I have easier test subjects than you do. They’re already guilty and behind bars, they’re more than happy to open up. You’ve gotta’ deal with Noah.”

“That’s true.” You grinned, thinking back on the conversation you’d had with the other twin that morning. When he was alone, it wasn’t so bad, he talked more and he wasn’t so worried about judgements, but as soon as there was someone else who might hear, he completely closed down.

“Hey, seriously, we have ages left. You’re gonna’ be just fine.”

“I’m just freaking out a little bit, because this is the last hurdle, y’know?” He nodded, and you could see whatever it was he was thinking practically swirling in his eyes, because Stiles’ emotions were open to read like a book.

“It’s terrifying. It’s, like, what the hell are we supposed to do when we finish?”

“I don’t know.” Your head dropped to your hands, fingers soothingly rubbing at your temples. A large hand landed on your back, rubbing in comforting circles. “What I do know, though, is that if I don’t get on with coming up with some more content, I’m never gonna’ finish this study in time.”

“Well, put your headphones on and come up with some questions.”

You did as told, plugging your earbuds in and choosing some classical music that would make it easier to concentrate. Opening one of your survey works back up to the page you’d left off at, your eyes began to flicker over the pages, picking out the useful information. Once you had a list built, you had a foundation to work from, questions to create and organise into groups, different sessions being able to come together.

Beside you, Stiles’ hand never seemed to stop rising, a constant dialogue with your tutor as he checked his work and ironed out any kinks in his study. He was also full of chatter and laughter, getting along with everyone around him and asking about their works, making you turn your music up several times just to be able to concentrate. But, by the end of the session, when Stiles was tugging your earbud out and telling you your class was over, you had a solid three pages worth of questions that had been split up into sessions, and ready to be worked through.

“Pack up and get ready to go. I have plans to get ready for.”

Stiles already had his bag in his arms, notebook tucked inside and pens and pencils put away, two empty coffee cups and a muffin wrapper sitting out, which he quickly gathered up, once his bag was on his shoulder. He was gone, walking past you and down to the waste bin at the front of the hall to dispose of them, his fingers tapping idly on his thigh once he was done.

You gathered your belongings, packing them away and curling the wire of your headphones back up neatly, making sure everything had its correct place in your bag, before following him down and out of the steps.

The halls were filled once again, the two of you navigating through crowds to the outside of the building, and you followed him in his diversion across the pathway, all the way to his car. Some students had already left, spaces beginning to empty out as a bottleneck effect took place at the only entrance and exit to this carpark.

“Where’s your car?” The dirty blue jeep was one of the only ones left in the parking lot, Stiles looking around for your vehicle, and you sighed.

“Don’t get me started on that hunk of junk.” You growled, stomping a foot on the floor as Stiles laughed. Opening the driver’s side door, he hopped up inside of it, legs dangling from the chair. “I’m trying not to use it as much. It splutters when it starts up and I have to try it a whole bunch of times, so the less I use it, the closer to graduation we can get before it eventually taps out.”

“You ever think about just getting it fixed?”

“Oh, big words from the man whose engine is held together with duct tape.” Your hand rubbed over the hood of the car, a slightly dusty layer that made you cringe, and you wiped your hand off on your jacket to stop it.

“Touché.” Stiles only smirked. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride to my place. I’ll be waiting for hours if you walk.”

He slammed his car door once his legs were inside, leaning over the centre console to pop open the passenger side door as you rounded the car, and he was sparking up the car before you were even fully inside. Slamming it shut, he was reversing from his spot as you clipped in your safety belt, swinging his car around, and you gripped onto the edge of the door. “Easy there, fast and furious.”

“Oh, relax. Nobody is around.”

“Except for me, and I’d like to live until graduation.” His eyes rolled, hitting the brakes and flicking on the indicators as he was leaving the parking lot, moving out onto the main roads. There weren’t so many other cars, the mid-afternoon meaning the other students were mostly in class, in bed, or eating their lunch. College was a weird time, and while you’d loved it, you couldn't wait to regain some kind of normality. “Can we swing by my place? I need to swap out my books. I don’t want to carry all these around.”

“Okay, but be quick! I have to be ready by six and out the door by six-thirty. Derek will kill me if I’m late for this.” His fingers were tapping on the steering wheel as he changed direction to head to your place instead of his own. The space between you both was filled with the radio, the simple tunes of classic 70s anthems, the songs Stiles had grown up with, his dad’s favourite records and he played them constantly. He knew all the words, mouthing along and banging his head, pausing occasionally to check the mirrors and the roads between dancing in his seat.

Rolling the window down as he slowed in his approach to the building, afresh air swept into the carbon of the car, the slightly musty smell of the older car was something you’d miss when it was gone. The shade of the concrete cover overhead was chillier than the sunny roads, and he swung himself haphazardly into a parking space.

“I’ll turn the car around and wait here, cool?”

“I won’t take long, promise!” Hopping from the car and closing the door, you leant on the open door frame, and Stiles slouched in his seat, as he usually did. “Lydia and Ally should both be out, so there’s nobody for me to even talk to.”

“Good, because you’re chatty.” He teased, and you flipped him off, a quick walk as you headed away from him to the stairs. Once you were there, you were taking a quick jog up the sets of stairs, headed for your floor, and balancing your books in your arms carefully. Rooting through your bag to find your keys, they were at the bottom, jingling tantalisingly for you to find.

Leaving your books on the countertop of the kitchen, you shifted through them, taking the notebook you needed and leaving the rest, piling them back up and taking them to your bedroom Abandoned on the desk, you rushed to change, throwing on a bigger and warmer jumper to get through the rest of the day, phone in your pocket and a bag on your arm. Passing back through the kitchen, you were ready to grab the notebook and bag you’d left there, keys hanging in the back of the door, and you eyed the freezer.

You’d made a bet, a point to prove, and you were certain that buried somewhere deep in the bottom, you had a frozen lasagne from the last time you’d made it for Allison and Lydia. You had a few spare moments, and so you moved over to the freezer, opening the door and crouching to scan over all the shelves.

Running your fingers over frozen plastic, you searched for the right one. Tinfoil crinkling in the back, behind a bag of dinosaur chicken nuggets and a tray of alcoholic ice cubes, was a tray of lasagne. Pulling it out, the cold chilled your arm, even through the layers of your hoodie, and you used your foot to close the freezer while wrapping the tray in the nearest tea towel for an extra layer.

Placing your notebook over it and holding it in both arms for security, you clicked the latch onto the door, keys in your pocket and bag on your shoulder to let it swing closed behind you.

Stiles saw you coming, his head snapping over to the metal door between the stairwell and the parking lot when it fell open, backing through it and his brows raised. Opening up the passenger side door, he took the lasagne from you when you handed it over, climbing back into the vehicle.

“This is cold. What is it?”

“Lasagne.” You settled it onto your lap once your safety belt was on, folding the towel underneath to keep your lap from getting chilled and painful, and he nodded. The engine was still running, and taking off the brakes, he was pulling out of the space again.

“So, not that I don’t love a home-cooked meal, but I’m going out for dinner. Why the traybake?”

“I have a point to prove to Noah.” You were looking out of the window, but you could feel his gaze on you, making you a little uncomfortable, and you turned to face him. His eyes were flicking between you and the road, brows furrowed, a stare like he was trying to figure you out, before he let it go. “He told me I looked like I couldn't cook, and it’s a battle I’m going to win.”

“Well, alright then. Save me leftovers?”

“We’ll see.” You winked, and he grinned, eyes flicking to the tray in your lap, before back to the road.

It was only a short journey, the distance between your place and Stiles’ building was short for a walk and even shorter in a car, on the edges of campus and conveniently placed, and it had been one of the building blocks of your friendship with him An easily accessible study partner, somewhere to hang out with, someone to walk home with you after a night out, someone to share a cab with, or simply knowing there was a friend so close to you.

“It’s going to be weird not living around the corner from you in just a few months.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He sighed, pulling into his one building sparking area and it didn’t have the luxury of being covered or underground, it was exposed each flat having allocated parking spaces, and Noah’s bike was parked underneath the shelter, you could see it from here, with a clamp around the wheel and covered from the impending and risky weather of the early months. “I have a feeling that you’ll end up living next door to me someday.”

“You do?”

He parked the car, arm behind your head as he reversed into it, ready to make a quick getaway on the next morning, or this evening, when he would invariably be late. In true Stiles Stilinski style. “Yeah. Especially after I rock whatever gown you want me to wear for being your maid of honour, someday.”

“Lydia is going to fight you for that role.”

“I will fistfight her for it.” He challenged, and you grinned, clambering down from the car as Stiles had parked a little too close to someone else on your side. With your bag on your shoulder and lasagne in one hand, you tried to squeeze around the door without scratching someone else’s paintwork.

Stiles’ arm was slung over your shoulder as you set off toward the building, the elevator being fully functional, and it was a refreshing change not need to take the stairs up to your place, or risk your life in a rickety elevator.

Throwing his keys down on the kitchen counter, they slid all the way across and to the other side, hitting the floor, and he grimaced when you turned to stare at him. “I’ll pick those up later.”

“Uh-huh.” The sounds of video games and music were coming from behind Noah’s door, though it wasn’t fully closed, only pushed halfway, and you hoped that was a sign that he was still in a good mood. Leaving your bag on the edge of the couch that was facing away from you, your hands rubbed together, glancing around at the environment you were still getting used to. “You should put this lasagne in now, so that it’s ready for after the study. Medium heat, leave the full-on tight.”

“Where are you going?”

“To say ‘hey’ to your brother.” Stiles’ face scrunched up, a mumble of ‘good luck’ as he picked up the tray, lifting it over his head to look in at it from underneath. Wandering toward the sounds coming from the hall, you knocked on the edge of the door, pushing it open a second later when you heard the game pause, and the music following it. Leaning on the doorframe, Noah turned to face you, brows raising slightly, and he shifted in his chair. “Hey.”

“Hi. It’s, uh, time for the study stuff, then?”

“Yeah. You okay?” He shrugged, turning back to his game and closing it off, leaning forwards from where he was sat on his bed enough to turn the console off.

“I didn’t realise we’d be doing it here. It feels more personal, somehow.” He had a large hoodie on, comfortable in his own clothes as he wore a baggy and warm outfit, the same way you often had when everything started to feel overwhelming.

“Well, this study is going to get pretty personal.”

“I know that. It’s just that right now, it feels a bit like I’m naked, y’know?” You chuckled, a momentary smile on his face flashing past, and you were glad to see it. “I just feel exposed.”

“This study is gonna’ do that, but I promise that I’ll try and make it as easy as I can. I’ll break it up, I’ll make it comfortable for you, and we’ll stop whenever you’re getting overwhelmed.”

“That’d be great, actually.” His hands rubbed together, sleeves hanging slightly down over his palms, and he looked a whole lot less terrifying right now than he did with the armour of a bike and a leather jacket. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Good, because I need you in high spirits. I brought a lasagne and I have a point to prove.”

You backed out of the room as he advanced toward you, the door closing and leaving you both standing in the hall, and he smirked down at you a little, a disbelieving expression. “You really brought that?”

“You bet I did. It’ll be ready by the time we finish.”

“Then I guess we’d better get started, huh?” He hopped over the back of the couch, settling in beside his brother, who scowled at him as his drink spilt down his shirt from the impact. Taking a seat on the other side of them both, your legs folded underneath yourself in the armchair, finding a glass of water laid out for yourself on the table, courtesy of Stiles.

They looked so different and yet so similar in this moment. You could understand how people may have confused the two of them before their styles became so radically different. In the beginning, before Noah turned to leather and a sleeve tattoo, when they both wore hoodies and band tees and had clean pale skin. With the sleeve of tattoos covered, and the pair both wearing hoodies, one with an etching across the front and the other with a faded logo from being washed one too many times,

Laying out your books, it was more of a note you’d keep to yourself, and following from that was your recorder, coated in the front pocket of your bag so as not to get crushed. Switching it on at the side, the red light flashed on to green blinking once to let you know it was active. “Can you guys do your confirmations for me while I get set up?”

“Surely can.” Stiles sat forwards, leaning down a little with his forearms braced across his knees, as opposed to Noah, who slumped back into the cushion. “Stiles Stilinski, happy to be recorded.”

“Noah Stilinski, aware of being recorded.” Stiles rolled his eyes at his brother’s dead tone, clearly not having as much fun as Stiles was, but you didn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, why don’t you guys tell me what it’s like to live together at college.” There was a beat of silence, and then a set of matching laughs from both of them, the two starting at one another. There was a look between them, one you didn’t quite understand, and it seemed like some kind of twin-telepathy communication.

“It’s, like, exactly the same as when we were in high school.”

“Uh, what?” Stiles interjected, and Noah turned to look at him. “It’s nothing like high school!”

“Yes, it is!” Noah insisted, and you smirked, picking up your water and taking a sip as the two stared in shock at one another. “We lived together in high school, we played video games, I did all the cooking and you did all the cleaning while dad was at work. The only thing that is different is that we can’t cheat from one another’s homework anymore.”

“We don’t drive to school together anymore, we’re on opposite sides of campus!”

“That so doesn’t count.” Noah scoffed, and Stiles twisted on the couch, his hand gestures much more emphasised than that of his brother’s and you watched the debate go down. “You can’t name any more than that.”

“I take that as a challenge.” Stiles’ head rolled side to side. “Our schedules don’t match up anymore, and we haven’t had our usual movie nights in almost six months now. I can’t bring Derek over because your room is right across from mine-”

“My room was across the hall from you at home. You just didn’t date in high school or have anyone to bring home.”

“Low-blow. Unlike some people, I didn’t want to traumatise my brother in high school by bringing someone home, for that.” Stiles reached out mid-sentence, swatting at his brother’s shoulder, before continuing; “Uh, let's see. Oh! We don’t talk anymore, you didn’t ride your motorbike so much at home, you used to ride in the jeep with me. It’s like a totally different world now.”

“I didn’t know you felt like that.” There was a palpable kind of feeling in the air, something between them that was sizzling with electricity, before Stiles sighed.

“It’s no big deal. The difference is just that we’re both so busy now.”

“That was really good, actually. Thanks.” The two seemed to have forgotten you were there, both flinching and turning to face you again, matching sets of honey-coloured eyes in varying shades were fixing on you again. “Speaking of what you said, though, does it ever make it hard for you guys when your class times are so different?”

“Hard to do what?” Stiles squinted at you, face set in a frown that his twin normally wore.

“Hard to hang out, talk, have that whole brotherly bond going on.” Your clarification did little for Stiles, his brows still pulled tight and frown never moving, but Noah’s face smoothed out.

“Oh.. well, I g-”

“Totally.” Noah pressed, and once again, Stiles’ head whipped around to look at his brother. “Don’t look at me like that. You basically said it, anyway. We don’t talk so much anymore. We barely know each other. You don’t even tell me about your podcast, anymore.”

“You never listened!”

“You used to tell me your problems, not broadcast them to the world with jokes and humour! I missed two episodes, and you just stopped keeping me updated on it.” The moodier twin crossed his arms over his chest, and you swallowed thickly at the environment you had unwittingly created. “I don’t know. Just feels like we used to talk a lot more.”

They both went silent, and Noah shot you a pleading look, but there was something darker behind it. It almost felt venomous, angry or defensive, as though to say ‘I told you so’ about it being more personal now that they were home. Stiles was occupying himself with pulling a loose thread on their couch cushion out and making it that much worse, distracting himself from it all. “Well, how about something a little bit lighter. Just some questions about hobbies. Stiles, what inspired you to first start a podcast?”

“Well, as you know, I never stop talking.” He smirked, Noah laughing beside him, and just like that, the awkward air between them both was completely evaporated. “I had a lot to say, I had a lot to get off of my mind. At first, it was just to get my thoughts out there. It was kind of like a recorded journey for myself, and to share with my friends from back home. But, then other people started listening. I thought it was going to be the end of my college social life, a social life that I was developing for the first time ever, and they liked it. I was just talking into a mic and getting things off of my chest, making no sense while telling stories and bitching about my homework and suddenly I had friends. It got a whole lot of followers and I made new friends,”

He paused, offering you a wink for the comment, and you beamed.

“-and I was going to parties, I met my boyfriend at a pep rally, and everything just kinda.. blossomed. The more I got out of it, the more inspired I was to keep going. I ended up making multiple videos a week, all differently themed. Sometimes movie reviews, sometimes songs, sometimes just talking. That’s how ‘Mischief Mic’ was born.”

“Alright. That was awesome.” Stiles bowed as best he could from sitting on the couch, and reached over to take a sip of his drink. “Okay, Noah, have you got any hobbies that you didn’t have in high school that you found when you came to college.”

“Not really.”

“Not even one?” You pushed, and the arms folded over his chest tightened, his gaze going to the floor, socked toes pushing into the twist cable rug. He took his glass, swigging all of it, the water draining from the glass in nervousness, and you could hear the crickets inside your mind chirping to fill the silence that had formed.

“No. Not really. I’m going to get more water, feel free to continue.”

“Uh, okay.” You pressed your pen down into your paper, drawing a line through the question on your paper as you realised you’d have no answer to that question when you listened back on the tape at a later time. “Stiles, back to you, then.”

Your next question came, and went, and Stiles was more than happy to answer them. Occasionally, Noah would answer a question, you’d be able to pin him down long enough to get a straight answer out of him, but there seemed to always be something that he needed to mess with, or fix. Almost half of your questions for him had a line drawn through, and you would have to ask them another time, and get a whole extra session in without Stiles, dragging the study out.

It was going to take you twice as long to get through it all if every time you had to ask them separately, and had to spend your time trying to force him to sit and answer. You were missing half of the information that you needed to be able to compare to Stiles’ answers, you couldn’t answer without them.

The clock ticked by, leaving you with all of your questions for Stiles answered. On a blank page, while Noah had once again been tinkering with something in the kitchen, you’d rewritten up all over the crossed out questions that would still need answers. You had doodled on the corner again, waiting for him to come and sit back down, a collection of hearts and flowers, the occasional bee or ladybug, even a couple of misshaped stars, forming a banner across the top of the page.

When he finally came to sit back down, he huffed, eyes moving to the clock as though he was waiting for this to end just as much as Stiles was, and you gave up.

“Okay, how about we just finish this up?” You had reached the end of your tether, not even bothering with the rest of the questions that were written down for him. “We got almost two hours in, that’s perfect.”

Noah sighed, something like an apology in his look as your eyes met his and he shrugged lightly. Stiles only nodded, eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall, and he was grinning when he came back. Tearing a page out of your notebook for each of them, you passed it over, blank paper sitting before them, and you searched for a pen or pencil in the bottom of your bag for each of them. Placing your pen down before Stiles and a pencil in front of Noah, they both leaned forwards, picking them up. Switching off your recorder and packing it away, you were left with the two staring at you expectantly.

“Okay, Stiles, come fill yours out in the kitchen. You can’t discuss these ones.”

“Oh, some mystery. I like that.” He picked up his paper and pencil, heading over to the kitchen counter, folding the sheet in half as he did, and you nodded. Standing from your place behind the coffee table, your bag slumped a little more from where it had been propped against your leg.

“Okay, I want you both to try self-diagnosing yourself.” Stiles gasped, a little excitement lacing it, and his pencil was already moving over the paper. Noah, however, looked a little lost, looking to you for guidance. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to use professional terms, just, describe what you think, I’ll be able to figure it out, and if I can’t, I’ll ask you about it at some point.”

He nodded, pausing, not quite as eager to get into the activity as Stiles was, before the pencil finally met the paper, and the slow scratching of graphite over paper filled the silence.

Moving away to the kitchen, you searched for plates, and a dish, laying them out on the counter before moving to the oven. A wave of hot air into your face once you pulled the door open, and when it cleared, you search for the kitchen towel you’d brought with you. Wrapping it carefully around the edges of the tray inside, you pulled it out, resting it atop the oven and closing the door back up.

Flicking off the handles, the light inside went dead, and Stiles loomed up behind you. “Smells good!” He presented a piece of paper to you, your eyes flicking over what he’d written once you’d taken it from him, and everything that he’d written about himself seemed completely accurate. It wasn’t a surprising self-evaluation, Stiles had spent almost four years studying this, just like you had, and so it was bound to be accurate and professional. Even if his handwriting looked a little bit like chicken-scratch.

Noah was still working on his, and Stiles was picking at the edges of the tinfoil, trying not to touch the glass of the casserole dish and burn himself, and as soon as he had some foil pinched between his fingers, he was pulling it back. “Wait, Stiles, watch out for the-”

“Fucking steam! Oh, my God, that’s so fucking hot!”

His hand snapped back, half unpeeled as all the steam from inside clouded in the air, and his hand was clutched to his chest. He was glaring at the pot, before moving away and running his hands underneath the cold tap at the sink, his thumb rubbing over wet skin to soothe it.

A second later, Noah was appearing, placing his paper face down on top of Stiles, which now lay on the kitchen counter. “Well, now that I’ve been scalded by pasta, I’m going to go shower and get ready.”

“M’kay.” He backed away, and Noah leaned on the counter beside you.

“Looks good, but does it taste any good, is the question.” The twin you were left with was teasing you, your eyes finding him, and you raised a brow.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get me something to serve it up with, alright?”

He smirked, pulling open the drawer behind him and searching for a serving spoon. Slicing it into pieces, you dished it up for him, a large slab on a plate, still steaming with cheese that had only just stopped bubbling. He grabbed a fork, and one for you too, waiting patiently as you served yourself, and put whatever was left into a dish for Stiles, covering it back up and leaving it to cool.

“Okay, prepare for the best lasagne of your life.”

Picking up the papers and your plate, the two of you moved back to the couch, sitting opposite one another, and you waited with excitement. Taking a piece off of his plate with the edge of his fork, he raised it, blowing cold air over it for a few moments, before taking the bite. There was a tense few moments, while he chewed, face unreadable, before he was swallowing the mouthful.

“Well?”

You couldn’t take the anticipation any longer, a smile on his face at the desperation you showed for his answer, and he gave in. “Alright, alright. This may actually be the best lasagne I have ever had.”

“Yes!” Your hands went up in the air, cheering excitedly and he laughed at your reaction, holding his hand up when you forced him to, palms slamming together in a high-five. He was tucking in again, and you reached for your plate, excited for the meal you had made, Taking a large piece on the tip of your fork, you tucked in.

The sound of Stiles’ shower was running in the background, and he was singing loudly, a song that you were certain was a TV show intro but you’d never seen the show, and there was a chance it was something from Disney Channel. Picking up the pieces of paper again, you turned Noah’s around to face you.

You’d had an expectation, you knew what you thought he was going to write down, and yet you were somehow surprised and entirely not surprised at the same time. It was what you expected but with a twist. He had confidence in what he’d written about himself he was sure of it, and while there were definitely elements that you’d disagree with, there was a lot of truth to it, and you frowned, reading it again.

Noah was watching you do so, the scrape of forks over plates as the lull in chatter came back, and you place the two pieces of paper into the front of your notebook, making sure that it was all sealed tightly away. “Is it alright?”

“It’s just not what I expected from you. But, it’s perfect.”

“That feels like a backhanded compliment.” He smiled softly, but he looked nervous, and you shook your head.

“Not at all, it just means that you have a better grasp on this whole thing than I thought you did.” It was the truth, and while you didn’t want to reveal so much to him about it all without compromising your work, but it made sense. “It just feels like with the way today went, like you weren’t really so interested in it, so I didn’t expect such an accurate self-diagnosis from you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighed, pushing what was left of his food around the plate, and you copied him, appetite dwindling. “It’s just that when you’re here, in my apartment, and you’re asking questions about what changed and making me confront everything, it feels like real therapy. You said it was going to be casual, and this didn’t feel casual.”

“I get it. I really do, and it’s okay. I can just email you the questions you didn’t answer, and you can get around to them whenever you feel up to it, alright?” He nodded, shaking off the evening’s stress. He continued to eat, polishing off the meal that was laid out before him and settling his hands over his stomach once he was finished. There was a satisfied smile on his face, and your empty plate was soon stacking on top of his own. Leaning forwards a little, you caught Noah’s eye, and one of his brows arched up. “I can try to make it more informal, in the future.”

“That would be great, actually.”

You smiled, the consolidation made between the two of you, and your ears picked up on another sound. “Hold on, is Stiles blow-drying his hair?”

“Oh, yeah.” He laughed, head turning to the closed bathroom door where his brother resided. “He thinks it makes his hair fluffy.”

“He gels his hair, though! Why does it matter if it’s fluffy?”

“He’s insane. Don’t you know this, yet?” Noah scoffed, and your giggles carried you back into the rest of the chair as you settled back into it. The evening was still waiting to come in fully. Comfortable quiet fell between you both again, and Noah moved away to take the plates to the kitchen. He left them in the sink, water running to wash them up, before storing Stiles’ lasagne in the fridge.

The aforementioned boy moved from the bathroom to his bedroom, skidding on the floors a little and clutching the towel to his waist as he hurried, making himself late with the extra-long shower and the blowdrying of his hair. Noah was washing up the plates, leaving them to dry on the draining rack, and you took that as your cue. The night was over, that much was clear, and you’d be willing to bet that he was more than eager to get back to his alone time.

Taking your bag and double-checking that you had everything, you swung it up onto your shoulder, and made your way toward the door. Hearing the shuffling of your feet, Noah turned, drying his hands on the towel beside him. “Are you going?”

“Feels like I should. Stiles will be going soon, anyway. I’m sure you have things to do, too.”

“I don’t have anything to do, if I’m being honest.” He cringed at his own words, pulling down the rolled-up sleeves of his hoodie and making his way over to you. Undoing the catch on the door, he pulled it open, leaning against it and you linseed in the doorway.

“Since you’re not doing anything, do you wanna’ get a coffee with me?”

His eyes narrowed, just for a second, and his fingers tapped anxiously on the wood of the door. “As a study subject, or..?”

“As friends.” You confirmed, his lips a thin line for only a second, before pulling up at the sides in a smile.

“Then, yeah. I’d like that.” He looked down, sweatpants and mismatching socks on his lower half, and there was a tint on his cheeks when he looked up. “Just give me two seconds to go change, alright?”

He darted away before you had a chance to reply leaving you there with the words frozen in your throat. Stiles was clattering around behind his own door, and Noah’s door slammed shut, leaving you alone in the doorway. Your hands tapped against your thighs as you waited, bag swinging on your shoulder, and only a second later, one of the doors was opening.

To your surprise, it was Stiles, flapping the flannel on his body to shake out any creases, and he stood before you. Doing a little twirl from where he stood, he began to button it up down his front, looking somewhat smart. It was a nice black and white one, no rips or tears or stains like most of his other ones, and the black stood out prominently against the white, thick patterns with flecks of grey within it.

“How do I look, then?”

“You look great, Sti. I’ve never seen you wear anything so plain before. There’s no colour.”

“Yeah, well, this is a new flannel. It’s my best one, and the skinny jeans are Noah’s. All my skinny jeans are blue or red, it was this or khakis.” He was nervous, resisting the urge to mess with his freshly-styled hair. “The place we’re going to is kinda fancy, but I don’t feel fancy enough for it. I’m gonna’ do something stupid like drop my glass and smash it or make a joke about something dumb.”

“Haven’t you met his family before?” You teased, and he huffed, searching for his keys, and finding them under the counter where he’d never bothered to pick them up from.

“No, not really. I’ve met his mom because she comes to visit a lot, and of course, his little sister, because she’s a sophomore here. But, he has a lot of family. His extended family are coming to graduation, but this is his older sister and his dad, and his uncle, and I’ve never met them before.” His keys were tucked into his back pocket, and his phone followed, your gaze moving over him.

“You got a blazer, Stiles?”

“Uh, yeah. One that my dad made me promise to bring, I wore it to my senior prom.” He shrugged, hands smoothing over his front. “You think I should wear it?”

“Go get it, show me.” He nodded, moving back to his bedroom, and you were waiting for something with orange and blue stripes to come back out, which wouldn’t surprise you. In fact, you’d always imagined Stiles going to his senior prom in a Beetlejuice suit. Noah emerged from the other side of the hall, hangers scraping over their post in a wardrobe as Stiles searched for them. “Did Stiles go to prom in a Beetlejuice suit?”

Noah paused, rolling the edges of his hoodie up, charcoal grey skinny jeans that were only a few shades lighter than the ones Stiles had stolen from him on his legs, and a pair of his usual scuffled boots. “What?”

He was laughing, loudly, shaking his head to hide his grin. “It’s a legitimate question! I have this mental image of it!”

“Unfortunately, he did not. My dad made us both go in three-piece formal suits. He saved up to have them custom made. Said that every man should have a smart suit.” He shrugged, crouching to start tying the laces on his shoes and Stiles reappeared. Over his shoulders was a dark black suit, crisp collar and pressed edges, and it was a beautiful piece of tailoring.

“You look good, Sti. Very smart, but casual. Like a polished version of your usual self.”

“Yeah? Good enough to meet Derek’s family?” His voice shook, and you wished you could ease him more.

“Totally. You look great.” He thanked you both, and Noah grabbed his wallet from the side, and his house keys, letting them both hang in the front pocket of an oversized hoodie.

“You ready to go?” He offered, hand on the top of the door, and Stiles’ head snapped up again from where he’d been checking his phone, presumably looking for texts from Derek.

“Where are you two going?”

“We’re getting coffee!” You beamed, and Noah nodded, stepping a little further out of the door with you.

“Oh, well, have fun. I’ll text you updates about how it goes. I might need bathroom-break pep-talk during the night.” You waved to him as you went, wishing him ‘good luck’, before the two of you were wandering down the halls. Thumbing the button for the elevator, the doors popped open, and you were stepping inside along with Noah.

“So, you wanna’ show off those new small talk skills to me, then?”

“Okay, okay. Let me think of something.” He hummed under his breath, glancing up to the top of the elevator and looking around at the posters on the walls for inspiration, and he seemed to find one. Turning his attention quickly back to you, you prepared for what he’d found. “Have you listened to any of the student bands? There’s been a lot of them growing, lately.”

“I’ve noticed that, actually.” There were several posters up around the inside of the elevator, different coloured flyers, some on shiny paper and some on smooth matte, varying fonts and designs, it was dizzying. “I haven’t, I’ve never been to see a student band. I should do that before I graduate, though. Have you?”

“I’ve been to a couple.” The door clicked open, the two of you stepping through it. Out into the setting chill of the evening that was threatening to break its way in. He chose the direction you’d be going in, heading toward the coffee shop on the side of campus that had been the first the two of you had met at when beginning the study. “Some of them are good, some of them are kinda’ average. They usually play at the bars on the edges of campus or in the places in the city, the less well-known, kinda’ alternative places. They can be fun.”

“You going out optionally to a night on the town? I’m shocked.”

“Uh, no!” He protested, grinning at you. “I’ve never been for a ‘night on the town’, and I never will. However, going to one of the few small bars around here that aren’t practically a nightclub, to listen to covers of good songs and get a pint without worrying about anyone bothering me or mistaking me for my brother, that’s nice.”

“Okay, well, maybe I’ll go to one sometime.”

“You should, I think you’d have fun.” The two of you weaved between other students, the small talk keeping up between you both as he did his best, and while it was sometimes a little stuttered and stalled, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you had expected. It wasn’t until the two of you had entered the coffee shop that he fell into tight silence again. The crowds, the rush of chatter from other groups gathered around the tables, and the friendly greetings of baristas whose chit-chat diverted to him due to his allegiance with you.

“What are you drinking? My treat.”

“Uh, just a black coffee.” He choked out, eyes flicking over all the boards, so many options up there, and you chuckled.

“Really, just a black coffee?”

“I’ve never really experimented. I just ordered whatever was the quickest and the easiest.” He confessed, already glancing back over his shoulder at the queue that was forming behind you both. “What would you recommend?”

“Hm, well, do you have a sweet tooth?” He only nodded, scratching around his cuticles on one hand and staring down at the flesh growing red, and you took his hand. Lowering it back down to his side, the hand formed a fist, flexed nervously, and you let it go, squeezing comfortingly first. Turning to the barista, she was still waiting patiently, and your eyes moved over the boards overhead. “Two mint and dark chocolate hot cocoas.”

“That sounds really good, actually.” He leaned down, mumbling the words into your ear to make sure you heard the quiet tone over the talk in the small coffee house.

“And, two croissants, too.” She rang it up on the machine, and you leaned in a little closer to her. “Do you have any of the warm and fresh ones straight from the oven?”

“We made a fresh batch about twenty minutes ago, they’re cooling. I’ll get them from the back for you.” She finished it with a wink, passing the card machine over to you once you’d produced your card from your wallet. Swiping it across the reader, you moved to the end of the line, and she moved away to begin preparing your order as someone else took over at the counter.

She was working, creating two beautifully constructed hot chocolates for you both. Placing them down on the counter before you, once they were garnished with chocolate sauce and whipped cream, she disappeared into the back room. Taking one of the ceramic plates with her, you were happy to see her bypass the glass cabinet with the older ones in, and only a moment later, she was coming back. Two fresh croissants on a plate, still warm and soft to the touch, and she handed those over as well.

Noah had been scouting for a place to sit, choosing which was the best one, and he carried both of the drinks while you carried the pastries, guiding you to the seat he’d chosen. It was tucked away in the back, a small loveseat sofa with a low sitting coffee table in front of it, and as soon as the paper cups were down on the surface of the table, he was dropping down into the seat.

“It feels like rush hour on the highway, but with coffee.” He mumbled, and you settled onto the couch beside him passing him his drink over, and he stared at it curiously. “What about the whipped cream. Do I eat that first? Scrape it off? Mix it in?”

“Any of the above.” You grinned, taking a wooden stirrer from the condiments tray in the middle and beginning to stir the cream into your hot chocolate. He placed it down, copying your actions, stirring slowly and trying not to spill any over the edges, but it was an impossible feat to achieve. Sticky droplets left over the edges of your cups and his, creating rings on the table that you had to mop up with tissues. “Okay, try it. This is one of my favourite orders here. It’s bitter because of the dark chocolate, but also sweet. Reminds me of you.”

“Now, that one is a backhanded compliment.” He muttered, taking a sip of the drink, and your lips rubbed together.

“Not everything is a backhanded statement, you know. I didn’t intend for it to be mean, it’s just the truth. You’re all dark and moody, but I can already tell you’re sweet on the inside.” You sipped your drink to finish your statement, and he filled the time where he didn’t know what else to say by pulling a chunk off of his croissant. Chewing on it idly, he settled back into the cushions, and you lifted your legs up to fold underneath yourself as you turned to face him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve already asked me a lot of questions today.”

“You didn’t answer many, though. You kinda’ have to give me this one.” He scowled falsely, but nodded, licking a flake of pastry from his lower lip. “Not that I think you need it, because personally, I think you’re just fine, but why are you so scared about therapy? The idea of it, anything to do with it, it makes you so closed off. Even more than usual.”

His eyes moved over the room, nervously, before scanning both you and the table, and you put your drink down, holding open palms up to him.

“No recorder, no study. I’m just curious.”

“Okay.” He sighed shakily, and slumped back. “Well, after my mom died, my dad made me and Stiles have therapy when we started acting out. We had a therapist who came to the house, and she was great, don’t get me wrong, but I hated it. I didn’t want her to tell me how to grieve or mourn, and I didn’t want her to tell me how to move on. Stiles needed all the advice he could get, but I didn’t want it. I wanted to do it my own way. Now, the idea of therapy, brings back all those feelings of sadness and pressure and stress.”

“I’m sorry, Noah.” You reached out, rubbing a hand over his shoulder, and his gaze fell to the contact. “Genuine sympathy and sorrow, not just that thing girls do that you hate.”

“Stop hanging things I’ve said over me, I don’t remember half of them. I blackout in social situations.” He grinned, moving past the moment, and you withdrew your touch.

“You know, if it makes you feel any better, I understand the nervousness of being in a study.”

“Yeah?” He picked up the rest of his croissant, a large chunk of it being eaten, as he waited for you.

“Yeah. When I moved here, I was so nervous. I was beginning to take my course and I didn’t really have any friends, and there was a senior who needed freshmen for her study.” Noah grinned, settling in for the story and sipping his drink. “She was doing a study about the difference between kids who travelled far from home for college alone as opposed to those who were still close to home, and whether it impacted social clubs, grades, all that. To be fair, it was an awesome study.”

“It sounds like it.”

You smiled, swirling the cup in your hands to gather any loose powder that may have begun to separate and gather at the bottom. “Well, I got drawn into it. She was a senior, and she was nice. I had no friends yet, I was in a flat-share with Allison and Lydia and three other girls who were all too busy getting adjusted to college themselves. So, this senior, she invited me to a party, and then another one, and suddenly people started wanting to be my friend because I was the freshman who hung out with seniors. I figured it would all drop away when her study ended and she didn’t need me anymore, but by then the whole social hierarchy had done its thing, and there I was.”

You shrugged, and Noah was hiding a shit-eating grin behind his mug. “So, you were just a little freshman lab rat, then?”

You scoffed, your laughter mixing with his, and the two of you were left in subtle amusement. His laughter was cut short, though, brought a rapid halt when a set of legs bumped against your table on the other side, followed by two more behind them.

“Hey, girl!” One of the girls on the cheer team, a lacrosse player behind her and a girl who you recognised from your psychology class texting on her phone. “Saw you over here, wanted to know what your plans for the evening were. We’re going to do some karaoke and get some food, you wanna’ come?”

Your eyes moved to Noah, whose attention was fixed on the floor again, as though the splintering wood was of utmost interest. “Maybe another time. I think we’re good here for now.”

“Oh, you sure? I think it could be super fun, you should both come.” The invitation was now extended to you both, and you shook your head at her despite it.

“Seriously, you should go, if you want to,” Noah whispered, and when you turned back to him now, he’d dared to look up, chewing on a lower lip that would go raw, but he met your gaze.

“No, I’m sure. I’m having fun here.” You held his gaze for a second longer, before turning to her, and confirming your denial, and she smiled, promising to make plans with you soon, before she was walking away. Noah was fidgeting beside you, shuffling in his seat, and you could practically feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves. “I’m serious, Noah. I’m having fun, and I’m perfectly happy here with you, right now.”

He was trying not to grin, a smile that was being bitten back on the inside of his cheek. “Well, for the record, I’m having fun too.”

“What was that?” You cupped your ear, challenging him to repeat it, even though you had heard it perfectly, and by the look on his face, he knew the game you were playing.

“I said I’m having fun. I won’t deny it.”

“Two victories in one day, for this gal. I’m breaking down all your walls, Noah Stilinski.” You poked at his cheek, and he swatted your hand away, taking a bite from your croissant as punishment, and you tried to snatch it back from him.

“Two victories, one loss. You’re not getting this croissant back, now.”

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mismess · 4 years ago

Text

Jeremy went to pick up coffee.

Now Jeremy didn’t always drink coffee in the morning but this day he was asked to get some, so while he’s there he might as well indulge. He could use a boost of energy anyway.

So on his usual drive to work he took a small detour to a local coffee shop, he got two coffees, one medium roast with extra milk and sugar, one dark roast with milk and one sugar. He didn’t think to get more, he wasn’t told to get more so why would he?

This dark roast with milk and one sugar had to do with a call, a call he got early in the morning, around 6:30 am, which is too early and it probably woke up half the house, it was Scotty calling from work, Jeremy didn’t think Scott really registered what time it was, he sounded out of it, but still profusely apologized about his request for him to pick up coffee.

This leads back to a scene from earlier in the week, the coffee pot in the break room had been broken leaving the Fazbear employee’s caffeineless, which isn’t a problem for him but Scott seemed rather upset about it, he did recall him often having a cup in hand, might explain some of his jumpiness, perhaps Scott should cut back on the caffeine actually.

Just another unhealthy habit Jeremy thought to himself

But the thing is Scott almost NEVER asks anything of anyone, even if he probably should, so of course Jeremy agreed. He can’t turn down the one time he’s asked for something, even if it fueled that habit, it was the least problematic of them anyway.

So Jeremy picked up the coffee.

As he arrived at the pizzeria and walked inside, the main entrance opened up to a large open room, to the left were tables that costumers sat to eat pizza and watch the animatronic band perform, the flooring was black and white tile while the walls had star patterned wallpaper with colorful images of the band along on some of the walls, other walls had a few drawings from past costumers put up on display. To the right of the entrance he saw Fritz in their usual spot, in the prize corner near the games, while all their jobs were rather loose in nature and you simply go where you’re needed, that was their ‘main’ job, they take tickets and exchange them for prizes, Fritz was often leaving that post however to help a kid cheat at ski ball or something.

The place had been open for just around an hour, there was a couple of older kids lingering around on the arcade games but it was far from busy. Fritz didn’t take notice that Jeremy had arrived as they were messing with the little prizes behind the counter, such as the finger traps and those rubber poppers. He liked those poppers if he was being honest, and sometimes took one for his own enjoyment.

Jeremy walked past the prize corner and towards the break room, it always felt rude to talk to someone unless they were close enough to him, -what that distance was exactly he didn’t really know himself, depended on the mood and person-, or if said person directly talked to him first, and it felt silly to walk all the way up to someone just to say hello and turn away. So he stayed quiet. This sometimes labeled him as rude either way if someone expected a greeting and he didn’t supply.

He opened the break room door to find Scotty sitting at a table, slumped forward propping his head up with his hands while rubbing his temples with his thumbs, but when he heard the door he looked up, almost in a startled fashion, but that friendly crooked smile he always has on quickly replaced his nervous face.

Jeremy liked that crooked smile, it always leaned towards the right of his face, showing off his dimple on that side.

Underneath his smile however he looked tired, and it seemed like he just got more worn down with every day that went by. Scotty’s always been an overachiever when it came to work, he took long hours and probably did the equivalent of three people's jobs at the same time, but lately it seemed like it’s taken a toll on him. Jeremy’s tried to discourage this behavior in the past but that would usually just end with Scott finding a way to weasel his way out of those conversations.

There wasn’t much to the break room, it had a couple of plain tables strewn about with mismatched chairs surrounding them, a counter against the wall to the left of the entrance with a microwave sitting on it, the coffee pot formerly sat next to it as well, with a couple of cupboards above it that didn’t house much of anything besides a few cups, and at the end of the counter a fridge.

“I’m here.” Jeremy announced, giving him a quick smile

“Oh thank God! I have such a headache-” Scotty said as he shot out of his chair and walked over to Jeremy

Jeremy held out the dark roast with milk and one sugar to Scott

Scott took it and realized he wasn’t being very polite, “OH- Sorry, uh- Hello! How ya doing?” he asked, but quickly followed it up with another question “ Oh, how much was it?”

“Um. I’m fine. And you don’t have to worry about payment.” Jeremy reassured him

“Nonsense!” Scott said, reaching into his pocket “You are NOT paying for my addictions... Ah-!”

“- That’ll do!” Scott said while handing him a crumpled-up wad of spare change, just looking at it Jeremy could tell it was way too much for one dark roast with milk and one sugar.

Before Jeremy could say anything the break room door swung open again as Fritz walked in

“Ooooh, coffee!” Fritz said as they walked by Jeremy “Didn’t get me one~?” Fritz said in a tone that seemed playful, but Jeremy couldn’t quite tell if it was. He’s never been good at picking up tones very well.

“I didn’t know you wanted one, I’m sorry.” Jeremy said. He should have got more coffee, for everyone.

“Nah it’s ok, Jere, I’m joking, I’m sure Scotty called before I was even here.” Fritz said leaning on Scott’s shoulder while he sipped on his dark roast with milk and one sugar

“Wait a minute-” Jeremy started as he realized what time Scott really did call at “You did call from here right? Just how early did you get here?”

But before Scott was able to answer Fritz piped in instead "Dude, he’s BEEN here since 12 last night!” they gave Scott a friendly nudge, but as Scott pulled the coffee away from his mouth he gave out this nervous chuckle

“Wait- wait- Scott, you’re working the night shift?” Jeremy asked, he suddenly felt a sense of dread at the mention of it

“Um. Uh- Yeah, heh...” Scott said awkwardly

Jeremy hadn’t realized Scott had taken over the night shift, no wonder this man seemed more exhausted than usual.

“But you’re here during the day all the time!” Jeremy stated “Ok- Just how many double shifts do you take?”

“Uh- W-Whatever I’m a- asked..?” Scott said with a nervous grin, his shoulders raised up as if to brace himself, he put his coffee down on the table

“Scott-- God the night shift-- Do you LEAVE?”

“O- Of course! I can’t live here!”

“You say that like you would if you could!” Jeremy was obviously showing frustration in his voice, he didn’t mean to but the amount of work this man did stressed Jeremy out, and the night shift stressed him out even more

“Well- I mean- I’m not doing anything else anyway-” Scott started

“Well you should! Scotty you’re already working so many hours, do you sleep?! You have to realize this isn’t healthy-!” Jeremy was cut off by the break room door opening again

William stood in the doorway, his usual calm demeanor did not seem to be about him today, his brow furrowed and shoulders hunched in a manner unlike him “... What is going on in here?” he asked

“- Brought up Scott’s poor work-life balance, now the boys are fighting.” Fritz told him

William pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed “... Ok. I don’t care- There’s currently no employees out on the floor and a birthday party in an hour, can we stop the chit-chat and get things moving.” he snapped

“Yes, you’re right, William!” Scott quickly moved past William out the door on to the floor, obviously glad to find a reason to stop the conversation. William followed.

Jeremy took a deep breath as he watched him walk away “... You think Scotty works too much too, right?” he turned to Fritz, hoping he had an ally, fearing he might be coming off a little too overprotective.

“Oh definitely,” Fritz replied “He’s stubborn when it comes to work tho, you can’t get that guy to sit down. Seeing as you didn’t know he’s on the night shift I guess you haven’t seen his schedule, you should take a look, that thing is a MESS.”

Fritz walked out the door as well, leaving Jeremy alone with his medium roast with extra milk and extra sugar. He didn’t like the mood that was left hanging in this room, he felt bad for getting upset with Scotty, his problems wouldn’t improve just cause Jeremy got fussy with him. But Scotty always pushed these things aside, insisting they could “bring it up later” or “it’s not that bad” or simply just changing the subject, he didn’t know how to talk about it with him without getting fussy at this point.

It seemed like most of their recent conversations ended in frustration. Scotty grew a lot more distant after The Bite, and didn’t tell him about anything anymore, and if asked he would brush him off, he stopped having lunch with him or Fritz and usually spent most his time working or talking with William so any time for socializing was spent elsewhere. He missed his friend.

He didn’t want to just drop it but he didn’t know what more he could do, if Scotty didn’t want his help he can’t force him to talk to him or make him take less hours.

... The night shift...

Jeremy had sworn off the night shift after his first and only week on it, he didn’t like thinking about it, but the reason it was so bad was the animatronics weren’t right, they had something wrong with them, which is why they were scrapped. Those animatronics that seemed out for his blood weren’t in use anymore, and with them the problems of the night shift were gone. At least that’s what William said, Jeremy had no intentions of seeing that for himself, just the thought gave him anxieties.

But that means at least Scott would have the 6 hours to just sit down and relax, right?

He still didn’t think it was good, and Scott definitely should be taking more time off, but maybe Jeremy’s reaction was a bit unwarranted. He would apologize for his harsh tone when he got the chance.

Jeremy took both his medium roast with extra milk and sugar and the half-drunken dark roast with milk and one sugar and put them in the break room’s fridge, maybe they could drink them at lunch together later he thought.

and he got to work.

#What prompted this? idk. just wanted to write SOMETHING suddenly #jeremy fitzgerald #phone guy #fritz smith #fnaf #writing #can't even tell if i like this but I've put hours in it now so lmao HEEERRE <3 #scotty guy

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purplelurkinghini · 4 years ago

Text

Narcissus by the Pond

0. PROLOGUE

Under the cut is the prologue to yet another multi-chapter mess I am planning to write. What is different about this one is the narrator: Edward Nygma himself. Another aspect of this piece that sets it apart from the rest of my writing is its epistolary form. That’s right, baby! First-person POV!

If you’ve seen >> this << post floating around, this is indeed me actually putting that second prompt to use.

Enjoy!

Dear ▚▛▙▙

I found a cat toy while cleaning out my closet today. It was that ashy plush mouse stuffed with dried nepeta cataria which you spent money on instead of saving up for your student loans. If he were still here, he’d be rolling around on the floor in some vivid dream in which he was a lion and it was a gazelle. And, if you were still here, I would’ve asked you to stay.

The day you got that tabby’s claws into me was the day you checked into work late. Frank, our project manager and your internship supervisor, had to drop his showman act and instill in you the fear all WayneTech employees are motivated by. After you offered your excuses and exchanged glances with the floor, you were free to enter the kitchen to heat up the coffees that you went out of your way to fetch for us each morning.

My daily routine, which you’ve played no small role in forming during your short stay with us, was disrupted by the absence of caffeine in my bloodstream. I remember my Rubik’s cube and how I crammed a corner into my palm, squeezing down on the still unscrambled sides. I would call it an ‘absentminded’ action, but we both know that would be an incorrect assessment. My mind is never not present, even as it wanders. For this reason, when you finally came out of the kitchen, I couldn’t not wonder what happened to your sweatshirt. It must’ve been soaked in rainwater, I concluded, and that was the reason you removed it. Or, rather, that was the excuse you used as you removed it. After all, your sneakers were soggy, but you couldn't exactly walk barefoot all over a corporate. Even so, there you were, in a far too small t-shirt which was too tight around your torso and too short to cover your stomach, walking around the office with your brewed bribes.

“Here you go, Jim” you placed the foam cup right in front of his face to get him to notice you. I’d argue that that slip of skin that was eye level to him was enough to get that scatterbrain's attention. He must’ve made a joke, or attempted to, because you laughed louder than anyone should around him.

“Cory,” you sauntered over to him. “I asked the barista for two tablespoons and a half this time.” Sure, he might’ve taken his glasses off before taste-testing it, but his lenses were fogged-up before the lid came off. You felt the most confidence around Cory, the least confident one in our team. While no line of code was too complex for him, women were a mystery he had yet to solve. You see, I haven’t failed to notice you making the most physical contact with him, brushing your hand against his as a means of disarming him.

After he served you a stuttered smile, you moved on to Paul who was pretending to be preoccupied with his screen. He’d been watching you since you walked out of the kitchen, yet still acted surprised when you showed up next to him. You didn’t mean to disturb him, of course, so you tip-toed around his desk, silently setting the cup on a coaster. He thanked you without taking his eyes off of his work, but took the time to watch you walk away as soon as you turned away from him.

"I'm sorry, Ed," you pouted as you placed the coffee on top of a stack of papers. "I know like to have your coffee before 8, but the storm hit while I was in the shop and the whole street took cover in there-"

"Slow down," I released the Rubik’s cube, flexing my fingers. "I'm not your supervisor. It’s not my forgiveness you need."

"Well, no, but I actually want your forgiveness," you covered your mouth in a coquettish display. "I mean-"

“Like I said,” I brush off the blush creeping up on my cheeks. "There's no use for that." Fetching the foam cup, I take a sip of the scolding beverage and brave through it. “There's no use to ask the barista to write our full names either. This calligraphy exercise cost you a scolding from Frank.”

“Actually,” you pulled the hem of your shirt down which only uncovered more of your cleavage instead of hiding your stomach. “I wrote your name myself.”

I stroked the surface of the cup right across the script. Again, I can’t call this action ‘absentminded’ either, but my mind had wandered off again. That lovely lettering was yours and so was the green marker, so you must’ve scavenged your backpack for it on a crowded morning train. You also must’ve taken your time steadying your hand for each stroke, each dot. E. Nygma. You also must’ve cleaned up the cup as it inevitably spilled and steadied your tongue for each stroke, each lick. Maybe you ever sampled the coffee yourself, the taste of cherry Chapstick staining the rim.

“Well,” you interrupted my intrusive thoughts. “Jim’s showing me the new user interface, so-”

“Of course,” I dismissed you and my daydreams.

“Talk to you later.”

Yes, that was the day the cat got his claws into me. It was after I’d drained the drink, and found myself restless still, that I made my way into the kitchen for another one. That is when I spotted you in the corner, cradling the sweatshirt you discarded earlier. At the sound of my steps, you straightened your back, but you didn’t turn your torso towards me.

“Hey, Ed,” you smiled and it was a painful sight because I couldn’t ignore the panic I ignited in your eyes. “Lunchtime already?”

“What are you doing?”

“Umm, trying to dry my shirt?”

The closer I got, the more gregarious you grew. You asked about what I’d like to eat, what the guys would like to eat, if I’d like to order out. You didn’t stop until I asked it of you.

“What are you hiding from me?”

Before you could bellow out something long enough to cover the sound, I heard it.

“Did your hoodie just meow?”

It was only then that you turned, facing me fully. “Please don’t tell Frank, but this is the reason I was running late.” Two pairs of eyes were pleading with me. One belonged to you and they were begging. The other belonged to an orange ball of fur and they were unblinking.

You were holding a bottle cap filled with water up to its meowing maw, so you must’ve been attempting to keep the animal hydrated, even after rescuing it from the streets in the middle of a storm. You bought kitten kibbles on your way to WayneTech and that had eaten ten minutes of your time and cost you a scolding from Frank.

“I couldn’t just leave Eddie to drown in a ditch somewhere.”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah,” you let it sink its little teeth into your skin as it held a single finger close with two whole paws. They feel like needles, I should know, but you carried on cooing the pincushion. “He reminds me of another green-eyed ginger. Maybe you know him.”

Yes, you remember now, don’t you? That was the moment Eddie sunk his claws into me, and I do mean it literally. He released your finger only to get his paws trapped into my button-up. I also mean it figuratively, as I swore to keep your secret the very next second. And, once you were by my side, shadowing me as I was coding like you wanted to since your first day of internship, you made me swear to keep him. How could I not? Your dorm had a ‘no pets’ policy and you had named him after me.

The two of us had time to get acquainted after you left for your evening classes. I fed him the kibbles and was careful not to get caught. And, because I wouldn't be using it that day anyway, I replaced your sweatshirt with my gym towel. While it smelled like a sad, soaked kitten, whatever fruity fragrance you were using had yet to fade from the fabric. That evening I drove straight home as soon as I left WayneTech, skipping my daily workout. My daily routine, as I’ve mentioned, had been modified by you.

“We don't even need to potty train him,” you giggled when you saw Eddie digging through the brand new litter box I had ordered. It had been waiting for me by the front entrance along with the delivery guy and yourself.

You got into a cab before even texting me, asking for an address only after the driver started the clock. I expected that stupid stunt from the likes of Jim, not you.

“He's a clever boy,” I smiled when I saw you were still wearing the green button-up shirt I asked you to exchange that shrunken t-shirt of yours with. “Like his namesake.”

You kneeled before the kitten and produced the plush mouse I'd only seen Eddie play with once. “Did the shampoo arrive? He should be high enough to not scratch our eyes out now.”

After rolling around on the rug with a bag full of catnip, he seemed blissed out enough for a bath. And, after only scratching you twice as you held him for me to scrub his ginger fur ever so gently, we got him all dried and drained. Those green eyes were barely opened as he looked up at us from the cat bed he was supposed to grow into and the sweatshirt he had grown fond of.

“Now we know he hates all water,” you said through gritted teeth as I sanitized your shaking hands. Your fingers were as fidgety as Cory's, yet I doubt his skin was ever that soft. “Not just the rain.”

“I bet he'd hate flees more,” I caressed your knuckles after bandaging the bloody bits.

“I hate the rain, too,” your eyes were downcast, much like earlier that morning, seemingly searching my sheets for something. “I never knew Frank could be so-”

“Terrifying?”

“Mean,” your giggle wasn't as gleeful as I'd grown used to. “I thought he was going to fire me right then and there.”

“He wouldn't,” I squeezed down on the shadows of your hands as they were snatched away from me. Then, I leaned in close and almost brushed your love with my lips as they moved: “He will let the anxiety that comes with that uncertainty eat you alive first.”

“See, now you're being mean,” you laughed, finally looking up at me.

“Me? Never,” I said, satisfied with myself. You were laughing - actually laughing - because of me.

When the dryer dinged, I was confident in leaving you in my bedroom with a smile on your face. After all, I was the one who brought you in there and I was the one who brought that out of you. Once I've collected your clothes, I returned to find you had already removed my button-up and was drying up the rest of your skin with one of my towels. You were turned only half the way, so you must've perceived me in your periphery. Paul pulled the same thing earlier today. Still, you sounded surprised as you covered the side of your breasts I bet you wanted me to see.

"Forgive me,” I turned around, but, unlike you, I did it all the way. “Here you are,” I stretched my arm behind me to hand you the bra and t-shirt.

“Thank you.” It was only after your bomber jacket was zipped to your chin that I dared to look at you directly. Your sweatshirt was Eddie's now, so you covered up with what you had. “For everything.”

“Let me drive you to your dorm.”

"You've already done enough," you pulled out your phone as I walked you to the door. “I'll just call another cab. Eddie needs you here. You need to wear him out, or he'll wear you out tonight.”

“Cats are crepuscular creatures,” I assure you. “Not nocturnal. I'm sure he'll fall asleep before I even turn in for the night.”

Yes, I was sure he'd fall. However, Eddie was so convinced. And, sure enough, there he was, meowing in my face at midnight.

My mistake was letting him get his claws into me. You see, I couldn't bear waking that little bastard up. Not when he looked so small in the middle of your sweatshirt, in the middle of his bed. He finally had a dry place to dream in and I couldn't take that away from him, so I let him sink his claws into me that much deeper.

And yours, as well.

After chasing him with my hand atop of my covers and letting him swat at the finger-spider, he was ready for bed. My bed. Yes, his green eyes were drooping when he surrendered to sleep. It just so happened that he did it on the left side of my bed. And I, not willing to risk another rude awakening, placed him atop of the pillow. Then, ever so silently, I slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. It was on my way back that I stumbled upon it: your sweatshirt.

I recall calling it off the floor and taking it with me to bed. For Eddie, of course. He loved that sweatshirt, as I'm sure you know. However, as I placed it on his pillow, I caught a whiff of it. It smelled like rainwater, pet shampoo, Eddie, and you. It was your sweat and deodorant, sweet and soapy, just as I had smelled it on my shirt before tossing it in the laundry basket and I couldn't smell it on the left side of my bed.

As I closed my eyes, I saw you. You were walking around the office, their wandering eyes watching you. You pass my desk and I am drenched in your scent. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. Your sweatshirt is drenched, so you discard it. Your t-shirt is too tight, so I can see the dip of your belly button and the swell of your breasts. Though I am convinced you had a bra to cover them, my mind wanders. It wanders about the color of your nipples and it paints a picture of them peeking through the flimsy fabric.

And, as my mind wanders further, that flimsy fabric is pulled down, your hands wriggling at the hem of it. That's when those peeks pop out along with the rest. All of a sudden, you're soaking. Sweet. Soapy. You even try to hide this from me, crossing your arms over your chest. I capture your hands, soft skin, and fidgeting fingers, and wrestle with them. Oh, how easily you surrendered to me, sighing in defeat. I lock your arms behind your back with one hand and squeeze your tit like a stress toy. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. I had to taste it.

When my tongue touched the tip, you pushed against it, filling my mouth with your flesh. You wanted this. That nipple is as sharp as a needle, but it melts in the heat of my mouth. You wanted this. After your tit is slick with my saliva and the peak is all puffy, I gather the other one in my grip and repeat. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking.

You wanted this and you told me as much. You said it loud enough for the others to hear. You wanted this. You wanted me. And, as if I haven't done enough, as if I haven't given you enough, I gave you all of me. Clearing the desk, cube, keypad, computer, and all, I slam you atop the surface. I had to pull down your pants for you, but your legs part all on their own. As for your panties, well, they all but dissolved under the duress. You attempt to hide from me again, tightening your thighs together. And, again, you surrender to me all too easily. After all, you want me. Your pussy? As I parted your legs and pushed your knees up to your chest, I saw how much she wanted me. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking.

However, I was not in a hurry. No matter how hot were your insides and how cold the chills were down my spine, I still took my sweet, soapy, soaking time. I set myself loose, my length slapping against your ass once it sprang free. You shivered, your back arching like a bow and your hands treading through your tangled hair. You wanted me. I took my time, sandwiching my shaft between your pussy lips, sliding across the slick and even wearing your labia as a hood atop its head for a maddening moment. It was only when you began begging, mewling to be mated that I gave myself to you. I crammed my cock inside of your cunt and went in so deep, I felt your heartbeat as your inner walls collapsed around me.

Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. I fucked you into a fever, your skin as slick as your insides and your mouth leaking as much saliva as your pussy was spilling precum. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. Soon, it would've been spilling cum. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. When I did come, however, it was in my fist and not between your lips.

As I opened my eyes, you disappeared. There was nothing there to greet me but the strike of the street lights slashing the darkness across the ceiling. Your sweetness had been replaced with my saltiness. It was indeed soapy and soaking, but it wasn’t you. Then, for the second time that night, I slipped out of bed and snuck into the bathroom.

The day you got cat’s claws into my shirt was the day you sunk your own under my skin. After that day, we shared a secret. I never told Frank about Eddie, but Eddie never told you about what I did in the dark. His glowing green eyes didn’t judge me, but they never let me forget. After you left without a notice, ginning up your internship, changing your phone number and never surrendering your real name, I couldn’t face them anymore. His eyes never let me forget, so I rehomed him.

I found your Gotham U sweatshirt while cleaning out my closet today. The name you gave WayneTech is nowhere to be found in their student records. Your name can’t be found in any police records either. Your real name, however, I am sure will uncover quite the mystery.

Yours,

E. NYGMA

#Edward Nygma #Riddler #Edward Nygma x Reader #Riddler x Reader #It is Not Safe For Work #Riddler x You #Edward Nygma x You

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baepop · 5 years ago

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J’aime

You’re the newest hire at a local café and head barista Jeon Jungkook takes you under his wing.

Word Count: 16.2k

Pairing: You x Jungkook

Genre: Slight Fluff, Smut, Angst

A/N: What’s next? maybe a Taehyung fic to quench my secret thirst?

Part 2 | Part 3

Working at J’aime Café had taught you a valuable lesson: Where there’s high risk, there’s high reward, and in the absence of said reward, there would be unbelievable loss too.

It all started when you finally got around to checking your voicemails one March afternoon and you realized the job you applied to months ago had finally reached out to you for an interview. Since you weren’t always the best at keeping track of these things, and noticing the voicemail was now a week old, you quickly paused your show and checked the time. Two o’ clock, still during business hours.

The phone rang twice before a courteous voice responded to your call. “J’aime Café, how can I help you?”

“Yes, hello! My name is Y/N and I applied for the barista position. The manager reached out to me for an interview last week. I was wondering if it was possible to come by sometime soon for an interview?” You held your breath and crossed your fingers, hoping they wouldn’t turn you away because you were so late on responding.

“Ahh, Y/N! Yes of course, can you come by this afternoon? If not, then we can do your interview maybe… Wednesday morning?”

“Today’s perfect! Thank you so much!” You couldn’t hide your excitement and gratitude but made a mental note to be more professional in person.

The manager chuckled at your glee and ended the phone call with a simple “See you soon.”

The café was only a 15-minute walk away, so you weren’t in a rush to get ready. You spent the next half hour or so trying to decide what to wear. Dress for the job you want, not for the job you have. That’s what you’d always heard growing up, but if that was actually the case, you’d be walking over there dressed in a cop uniform. You sighed and placed your hands on your hips. What was that other piece of advice about job interviews? Oh yeah, dress as if you already work there so they can better picture you as an employee. Since the coffee shop was small, you had only ever seen three people working there total including the manager and they always had on jeans and knitted sweaters or some variation of that, so you ultimately decided to trade your pencil skirt for black jeans and your heels for boots. You kept your pretty pink blouse on though. Good first impressions are always important. If there was anything that worried you in these situations, it was being forgettable.

You checked your ponytail for any fly away hairs then headed off towards the café. As you walked past the park near your house, you rehearsed your replies to general interview questions. So why do you want to work here? I have plenty of experience in customer service and feel I could bring great things to the table as an employee here. Do you have experience handling money? Yes, yes, I do. I have worked with countless POS systems as well so I’m sure I can learn yours very quickly.

You were so busy interrogating yourself that you didn’t notice or thank the person holding the door open for you once you arrived at the coffee shop. You stood in the lobby, searching for the manager. When you realized you were accidentally standing in line, you rushed to get out of the way. You clutched your handbag with clammy hands as you observed your surroundings anxiously. It’s just an interview, most likely informal, given the setting. You got this. Don’t sweat it.

You’d never realized how busy it could get here, seeing the huge line of customers that had accumulated. When you looked behind the bar, you realized there was only one employee back there. You didn’t want to bother him inquiring about the manager, since they were already so busy, so you found a stool to sit on and wait patiently.

As you watched the cashier ring customers up, you were impressed by his cheery disposition and professionalism despite having so many drinks lined up and no barista. Thankfully for you and the cashier, only about 2 minutes had passed by before two employees came out of the back room. They seemed to be in a heated discussion, but upon closer look, it was more playful than anything. The one with earrings and hand tattoos was tying on his apron while smirking and nodding at the older one holding a clip board. In an incredible show of annoyance, the barista walked away mid conversation and began making all the drinks that were backed up, making sure to slam the doors and cups obnoxiously. However, he was able to do so many things at once that it was no time at all before he cleared the crowd of people waiting on their orders.

You were in such awe at the barista’s sheer talent that you almost forgot why you were there in the first place. It wasn’t until the man with the clip board stood in the way of your eyesight that you realized you had a mission. As you stared up at the stranger, you had to think for a second what it was that he had just asked you.

“Are you Y/N by any chance?”

“Oh uh, yeah! Hi, are you the manager?” You wiped your hand on your thigh and went in for a handshake.

“Yes, I am,” he shook your hand firmly, “Thank you for coming in so soon. As you can see, we really need some new employees around here!” The manager, whom you presumed to be Mr. Kim noted on his nametag, raised his voice towards the end of his sentence so that the barista could hear from behind the bar. Seeing the guy with tattoos chuckle at his boss’ cheeky behavior had a calming effect on you.

The interview went extremely well, so well that it only lasted 10 minutes before you got a job offer. You accepted it right away of course, considering there was only $3.79 in your bank account, so you showed up to the coffee shop first thing in the morning the very next day.

You were excited and confident yet nervous. You had worked plenty of jobs to put you at ease with customer interaction, but never at a coffee shop. You didn’t know the first thing about making specialty drinks or brewing coffee for that matter. You’d simply always been a tea person.

The manager asked you to come in once the café opened, so you were there just as the cashier was unlocking the front door. He held it open for you just as you entered and offered you a dazzling smile.

“Hey, you’re the new hire, right? My name’s Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi! You’re going to be shadowing me today.”

“Yes, hi,” you weren’t sure why you were blushing, maybe because he already knew who you were, “um where can I put my stuff?”

“Oh, we have cubbies in the back office. Just find an empty one then come meet me out here when you’re ready. Oh, and grab an apron and a hat while you’re back there.” You hurried to do exactly as he said, determined to do a good job on your first day. Everyone seemed so capable and diligent, you didn’t want to come off as a newbie at all.

You noticed the cubbies immediately as you stepped into the back. You put your sweater and satchel in one of the cubes next to one that housed a leather jacket and an iPhone. Since you saw another cube filled, you wondered if the handsome barista would be working today too. You forced yourself not to think about that for now, you didn’t want to be distracted on your first day. Once you found the extra aprons and hats, you headed to the front of the shop where customers had already begun ordering. You rushed to the cashier’s side to observe him as he took orders and wrung them into the touch screen accordingly. The same scenario played out from the day before: Customers began crowding the end of the bar, checking their watches impatiently and wondering where the hell their drinks were. You began getting nervous, hoping no one would complain to you. You had no idea what to say to them.

As if sensing your anxiety, Hobi finished wringing up the last customer in line before turning to you and saying, “Don’t worry, he always does this. Why? No idea, but Jungkook’ll be in any second now to make these. He has to anyway, because neither of us have been trained on making drinks!” Hobi laughed and patted you on the back before turning towards the crowd of people that had just walked in. You laughed along nervously, checking the door for the boy with the tattoos.

Thankfully, thirty seconds later, the infamous barista barged in through the door and b-lined it to the back to grab an apron. “Oh, shit! Here’s my phone! I thought I lost it! Thank god!” Jungkook yelled at no one in particular and you giggled at the theatrics that could be heard from the entire shop. On his way to the bar, he eyed you briefly but didn’t say anything, choosing instead to greet the regulars.

“Ahh, there he is! The resident rockstar is gracing us with his presence! We’re finally gonna get some coffee everyone!” An older man with grey hair and a hoarse voice bellowed out. Jungkook laughed and high fived him over the counter.

“Jerry! You old bastard, still haven’t croaked in your sleep, I see! Vanilla latte with three shots coming right up!” Jungkook began making everyone’s drinks with the same ease as you witnessed the day before. His banter with the older man seemed incredibly inappropriate, but clearly it was okay since his customer replied with booming laughter.

“Nope, not yet son! Still healthy as an ox.”

“Not if you keep having all this caffeine. But it’s not like I’d stop you. I’d miss your wise crackin’ around here.” Jungkook handed him his latte and the older gentleman took a sip.

“Don’t you worry about that, son, even if I did croak, I’d still come back and haunt your ass for making me some god-awful drinks!” Him and Jungkook laughed heartily at his jabs, even gaining chuckles from a few customers as well as from Hobi. “Alright, I’m heading out. See you kids tomorrow morning.” The older man waved at everyone including you and sauntered out of the door.

As you watched Jungkook make the rest of the drinks that were lined up, you noticed he interacted with each and every customer. None of them were as acquainted with him as Jerry was, but they remembered each other’s names at the very least.

You noticed the kind of morning regulars at the cafe were more of the same than anything else. Many of them dawned suits and work uniforms, most likely residents from the area stopping in on their way to work in the neighboring metropolis.

After 9 o’ clock, business severely died down. It was only then that Hobi was able to give you a tour of the café and answer questions you already had.

“Have you ever made coffee before?” Hobi inquired while slapping the top of the brewing machine.

“Uhh…to be honest, no I haven’t,” You noticed Jungkook ‘tsk’ with a side smirk as he wiped down the counter, no doubt listening in on Hobi training you, “I’m more of a tea kind of person.”

The older guy smiled, “That’s okay, it’s pretty easy to learn.” His patience with you made you happy.

“This,” he pointed to the pots with handles, “is where you put the grounded coffee into, then you press the ‘brew’ button, and the coffee begins dripping into these containers that keep the coffee hot. Some people don’t like the fancy shmancy drinks that hot shot over here serves and prefer regular cups of coffee. If you’re on the cash register, then it’ll be your responsibility to serve the regular coffee.” You nodded along with everything he was saying but couldn’t help your small smile at his jab to Jungkook. He moved you two further down and pointed to a contraption you’d never seen before. “This is for ‘pour-over’ coffees. Some people order special coffee blends that we don’t brew in the machine, so whenever that happens you just come over here and put the grounded up coffee in this cone, get some hot water, slowly pour it over the grinds and watch it drip into their cup. Just make sure you don’t forget about it or it’ll overflow.” Hobi mimed all the actions out as he explained the process. It was endearing. You tried your best to retain all the information. After explaining where to find the coffee filters and the cup sleeves from, he decided to give you a break from the information overload. “Here,” Hobi handed you a rag and a bottle of Windex, “why don’t you wipe down the windows outside and then come back and we’ll pick up where we left off.”

You gladly took the cleaning supplies from his hands and went out to the small tables that lined the front of the shop. The entire front was made of glass, so you could still see Hobi and Jungkook from where you were. As you sprayed down the windows, you noticed Jungkook leaning over the bar resting his cheek on his palm and shamelessly staring at you. You swallowed and tried to focus on the task, pretending you didn’t notice him even though the blush on your face told a different story. What’s his freaking deal? Given his demeanor with the employees here and the customers, you wondered if he would start picking on you too, or if he was just straight up flirting. Either way, you didn’t have time for either since you desperately needed to keep this job. When you entered the shop again, you noticed Hobi left to use the bathroom, so you took the chance to make polite conversation with Jungkook.

He had been watching you the entire time that you came in, but still you tried not to acknowledge it and look busy, which was hard because you didn’t know enough to pull that off. You fiddled with the coffee filters before clearing your throat to speak.

“So…your name’s Jungkook, right? How long have you been working here?” You looked over at him innocently. He was leaning on the counter propped up on one elbow with a smile playing at his lips.

After a second, he replied, “Couple months.”

“Oh…but you seem really good at what you do. Did you catch on quickly?”

“Not my first coffee shop, babe.” Your heart skipped a beat at the pet name. Jungkook was eyeing you, probably waiting for your next question, but you weren’t sure what to say. Yep, definitely shameless flirting.

“That’s because he got canned from his last gig for showing up late every day.” Hobi’s voice came from behind you and startled you, but you were grateful for it since you had the perfect exit to this charged moment between you and the bad boy barista.

Jungkook chuckled and responded, “What can I say, your mom just can’t get enough of me in the morning.” Hobi chucked an empty cup at Jungkook’s head but the younger boy ducked down slightly and dodged it.

With laughter in his voice, Hobi turned to you. “Come on, Y/N, let’s get you away from this terrible influence.” He stopped at an odd machine with a large hole at the top and a simple lever. “Okay, so now let’s go over how to grind up coffee beans…”

Their banter and the overall atmosphere was infectious, and it had you smiling from ear to ear for no particular reason.

With thirty minutes left to the end of your shift, the café got busy again. When you checked the time, you realized schools in the area had already let students out which would logically explain all the uniformed teenagers in line ordering drinks full of whipped cream and fruit. This time, Hobi let you stay back and fetch any coffee orders that had come in, but hardly any of them wanted regular coffee. During the few times that Hobi handed you empty cups to be filled, you’d hold the lever that allowed coffee to trickle into cups then glance over towards the end of the bar. The scene that unfolded before your eyes had you smiling as if enjoying a private joke. It seemed Jungkook was a hit amongst the local teenage girls. As he handed out fruity drink after fruity drink, they all giggled and thanked him personally. One even took her phone out innocently, but you could tell she was recording him, probably for her Snapchat.

The cafe filled up with students who were in no rush to go home, changing the sleepy ambience of the shop into a rowdy, hip one. Once Hobi wrung up the last person in line, he turned to the barista and said, “Don’t catch a case out here Jungkook. These girls have their hopes up.”

The three of you laughed in unison, but Jungkook looked over at you with a look of offense on his face. “Y/N! Don’t laugh at his jokes! And here I thought you were cool.”

You couldn’t help but giggle like one of the girls on the other side of the counter. “I guess you judged me too quickly, huh.” Hobi gave you a fist bump and chimed in about how you were his new favorite.

As you untied your apron in the backroom, you recapped the day in your head. You were overall satisfied with your first day at your new job. The job seemed easy enough to do, your coworkers were cool, and the customers were more bearable than at some of the other jobs you worked in the past. Sure, there were people here and there that seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, intent on giving service workers a hard time for things out of their control, but other than that it was a great day. And it absolutely had nothing to do with the head barista flirting with you. Not a single thing.

A whole month had passed before you got your first action on the bar. You had been feeling nervous and hesitant about starting that part of your training, especially seeing the sheer volume of people that order drinks during rush times. You feared you’d only be in Jungkook’s way if you tried to help, so you settled for observing as much as you could. Hobi had been getting his feet wet in that area this past month, so when you learned enough of the register, he’d leave you alone and help Jungkook with backed up drink orders.

Jungkook had taken the time to train Hobi while it was slow, especially since the older boy had already learned everything he could about cashiering. You, on the other hand, were content with wringing up customers and cleaning up after them. However, on this one particular day, Hobi called out of work and Mr. Kim had stepped out to run some errands for the day, so it was just you and Jungkook working at the cafe. Jin had felt confident enough to leave the shop in yours and Jungkook’s hands, and although you were fully capable, you still wished he hadn’t left. If you were being honest with yourself, Jungkook made you nervous. Cute guys made you nervous, and the ones that were both cute and shameless made your hands clammy. He was always respectful with you though, and kept his distance when Hobi wasn’t around, which is why you still hadn’t established a close relationship with Jungkook like you had with Hobi. You knew the older guy’s last name, where he was studying at, what shows he was watching at the moment, what his favorite super villain was; but when it came to Jungkook, he was simply still a beautiful mystery.

After the morning rush, when the café emptied and there was nothing left for the two of you to busy yourselves with, you started to feel awkward again. You weren’t sure how to talk to someone like Jungkook, who was always so blunt and boisterous. You, on the other hand, were reserved and polite. You weren’t exactly shy, you just weren’t sure how to navigate a friendship with him, but you wanted to learn so that there wouldn’t be so much silence between you two. Not to mention, his shameless staring, which persisted just as it did from day one, confounded you. He never ever tried to make a move on you, almost as if he was waiting for you to say something to him. If you were being honest, the staring flustered you because it was coming from such an attractive confident person. You were definitely attracted to him too, but you’d never start anything romantic with a coworker. Those kinds of things always got too messy, especially with such a small staff.

As you wiped down the windows outside, your eyes automatically found Jungkook’s on the other side. You smirked and waved at him, acknowledging him for once. He flashed a crooked smile at you and nodded a ‘sup’ at you in return. You couldn’t get the stupid smirk off your face as you finished cleaning the windows, realizing you probably looked like a happy idiot from inside the shop. You thought about what to say to him when you’d have to go back inside, ultimately deciding on just coming out and asking him what his deal was. So, when you put away the cleaning materials and met Jungkook’s lingering eyes, you cleared your throat and asked the burning month-old question at the tip of your tongue.

“So…what’s with the staring?” You put your hand on your hip but then second guessed yourself and placed it on the counter. Jungkook watched your movements carefully and chuckled, observing your false bravado.

“Easy, you’re very beautiful.” Jungkook watched your eyes widen before continuing, “I can restrain myself though, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You smiled and looked at anywhere but at his face. “Ah…well, that answers that. I was just asking, thought maybe I had something on my face.”

Jungkook laughed, “No, nothing like that. Is that why you don’t really talk to me, because I make you uncomfortable?” Jungkook kept his gaze directly on your burning face which made you feel like you were on the hot seat.

“What do you mean? I totally talk to you.” You crossed your arms, giving up on willing your blushing cheeks to cool off.

“Psh, not like you do with Hobi. You guys are like best friends now. I’m third wheeling it over here.” Jungkook mirrored your arms crossed over your chest. You giggled and rolled your eyes, playing along to his false offense.

“Well, I don’t know… Hobi’s easy to talk to I guess.”

“And I’m not?” It was evident that Jungkook took pleasure in grilling you with that teasing smile playing at his lips, but you refused to backtrack now.

You took a minute to think before responding, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but not exactly. You’re really…how should I put this…out there. And I’m more of an…in there…kind of person.” After a beat, you both laughed at how much you weren’t making sense, you with embarrassment and him at how cute you seemed when you were flustered.

“Well maybe if you got to know me you wouldn’t be so shy.” Jungkook challenged you with a wicked glint in his eye and a sexy side smirk.

“Point taken. So, tell me about yourself then, Mr. Third Wheel.” Jungkook laughed at his new nickname.

“What do you want to know, babe?” You rolled your tongue around on the inside of your cheek and tried to think of a good question for him while ignoring the thrill that his pet name for you inflicted.

“Umm, okay, are you a student anywhere?”

This time it was Jungkook’s turn to roll his eyes at you. “BORING. Seriously, that’s what you want to know about me? Let me guess, your next question is about my favorite color.” His teasing flustered you further, proving your point about how hard it’d be to have a conversation with him.

“Okay fine! Have you ever killed anyone?” You looked Jungkook in the eye in an attempt to intimidate him.

“If I told you the truth then I’d have to kill you too, and I don’t really feel like doing that, so, pass.” You smirked at each other until it turned into a stare down, conceding after a while and rolling your eyes at him. Just then, you noticed a customer making their way to the register and just like that, your brief albeit silly conversation with Jungkook was effectively over for the time being.

Once you two were done wringing and serving the random group of people that interrupted your conversation, Jungkook immediately turned back to you and asked a follow up question. “So, what about you? Have you ever killed anyone?”

You smiled and responded, “Oh, tons! My favorite victims happen to be flirtatious coffee shop baristas. You know any?”

Jungkook’s laugh was disarming. The more you talked the more at ease you felt with him. He was definitely charming, which is probably why he got along with strangers so easily, and probably why he could get away with coming in late all the time. What he lacked in professionalism and punctuality he more than made up for in expertise and people skills.

Before you knew it, 3 o’clock rolled around and tons of school kids flooded the café. You were able to wring everyone in a timely manner, so there was nothing left to do but watch Jungkook make drinks. You felt bad at how slammed he seemed, so you asked if he needed any help, secretly hoping he’d say no.

Jungkook smiled down at the drinks he was making and responded, “Sure, if you’re feeling up for it!” Why don’t you come over here and top these bad boys with whipped cream then hand them out.”

You immediately grew nervous but rushed over to help. There was a different kind of pressure when it came to making drinks, you quickly realized. Not only did you have to worry about making everyone’s orders correctly, you had to do it quickly with no mistakes since all the customers would crowd the bar and watch your every move. Your hands slightly shook as you took hold of the whipped cream dispensers. The café made their own, so it wasn’t the cans of cool whip you were expecting.

Jungkook noticed your confusion and answered your thoughts. “All you have to do is shake it a bit, hold it upside down and swirl it on top of the ice so that it makes a nice cone shape. Go on.”

You did as he instructed, but when you squeezed the handle, the trapped air inside of the tin released into the cup and sent an ice cube sliding across the counter. Your face was blazing with embarrassment, but Jungkook didn’t seem to think it was embarrassing it at all. Instead, he offered you some more help.

“Here, do it like this.” Jungkook stood close behind you and took hold of your hand that held the contraption. He squeezed your hand so you could get an idea of how firm to hold it, tilting your hand completely upside down, and helped your finger pull the trigger. Slowly and smoothly, cream circled the top of the drink nicely. With his head almost resting on your shoulder and his mouth so close to your ear, his instructions sent shivers down your spine. “You have to turn it all the way and ease up on the trigger or else you’ll make a mess.” You nodded tightly, pretending to understand what he said only because your brain wouldn’t stop obsessing at the way his chest felt pressed up against your back and his hands on yours.

Your fingers shook while fitting a lid on the drink. When you finally handed it out to the customer, you caught a dirty look from the girl who it belonged to. You figured she was one of Jungkook’s many admirers. The thought had you alight with humor. As you continued to top the drinks and hand them out, you realized how easy it was to work with Jungkook. The hard part was trying to keep your cool.

“Look at you go! It’s almost as if you’re an actual barista!” You chuckled at Jungkook’s comment as you handed out the last drink.

“Oh, didn’t you hear? I’m your replacement.” Jungkook looked at you for a moment without saying anything.

“What?”

“Shy my ass. You’ve got a mouth on you. I like it.”

“I never said I was shy.”

“Touché.”

Just then, Jin came in through the front door.

“Thanks for holding down the fort you two. Y/N you can go, you did a great job today.” Jin rounded the corner of the stand and you handed him your apron.

“Same time tomorrow?” You looked at your manager who was busy checking the sales on the register.

“Yep, see you in the morning!” Jin answered you absentmindedly so you took that as your queue to go, but not before saying something to Jungkook.

“Do you think you can manage the bar without me?” You asked him cheekily as you removed your hat.

He smiled at you with narrowed eyes. “I don’t know how I’ll go on, but I think I might just barely make it.”

And just like that, you headed home with butterflies in your stomach for the first time in ages.

Three months into working at the café, a new horror movie came out, and since Hobi knew you were a horror fan, he invited you to come see it with himself and Jungkook.

“If we go tomorrow night, the tickets are half off for students. You in?” Hobi was busying himself counting the change in the drawer while you contemplated going out with them. They didn’t want to go until late, so you’d definitely lose out on sleep, which you weren’t a fan of, but you didn’t want to turn down your first invitation out from your coworkers. You knew Hobi and Jungkook regularly hung out together outside of work, and it made you feel a tad left out whenever they talked about things you weren’t a part of.

You also couldn’t lie and say you weren’t excited to hang out with Jungkook off the clock. Over the last two months, you two had taken any and all chances to flirt when left alone but you both knew how to behave yourselves while in the presence of Hobi and Mr.Kim. It sort of became like a game of who could make the other blush the most. You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t enjoying Jungkook’s dirty looks, because what had started off as glances turned into full blown body checks, winks, lip biting and cheeky facial expressions. You also couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t take extra time in the mornings to get ready for work for this exact reason.

You knew it was probably a bad idea, what started developing between you and Jungkook over the last couple months. You wouldn’t accept responsibility for how it started, but you did acknowledge that your shameless entertaining his advances wasn’t innocent in the slightest. You knew this was a slippery slope to go down, but it made your harmless fling all the more exciting.

That’s why when you looked at Jungkook after Hobi’s invitation and caught his subtle wink at you, you accepted right away. You hadn’t been out in so long, especially not with the opposite gender.

You pondered what to wear when you weren’t busy tending to customers. If you tried too hard and dressed in the sexiest outfit you could find, you might seem desperate. You might also give Hobi the wrong idea. If you wore something casual that you might wear to the coffee shop, then it might be embarrassing if they show up dressed to the nine.

When the time finally came for your movie date with the boys, you settled on the best of both worlds. You let your hair down, which would be a nice change from the ponytails and buns you wore to work. You still kept your usual look of denim and a nice shirt, but you traded your comfy work shoes for heeled boots. Trying without trying. You decided against putting on a full face of makeup since you didn’t want your coworkers looking at you differently at work without it on. You called an uber once you were satisfied with your looks, feeling butterflies the entire way there. You weren’t just excited to see Jungkook either, your relationship with Hobi had evolved into genuine friendship outside of being coworkers, so you couldn’t wait to hang out with him either.

Once the car pulled into the movie theatre, you immediately noticed the boys waiting out front. They were dressed impeccably, and you instantly regretted changing outfits. Hobi was sporting sweats and a denim jacket with trendy sneakers and a beanie. The outfit was sporty but sexy at the same time, given it seemed he wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath the jacket.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was wearing something akin to what you pictured he might look like after hours. He was wearing the leather jacket you noticed was always in his work cubby paired with ripped blue jeans, a bucket hat, combat boots, and a plaid button up tied around his waist. You almost didn’t want to get out of the car, but you knew you’d keep getting charged for the ride if you didn’t, so you exited with a sigh and waved to get their attention. They were in the middle of a conversation, but it was Hobi who saw you first. He smiled and did a silly dance to show how happy he was to see you and it made you crack up.

“Why did I agree to go out with you?” You teased Hobi.

“Because you have nothing better to do anyway.” You feigned pain at his words, no doubt a minor habit you had picked up from Jungkook. When you turned towards Jungkook, you instantly noticed how he wasn’t laughing along with you guys. Probably in one of those moods again.

It happened very rarely, because Jungkook was always a cheery person, but once in a while he wouldn’t be in the mood to socialize and those were the most boring days at work.

When all three of you headed inside, Jungkook went ahead of you two so you gave Hobi an inquisitive look while pointing at your grumpy third wheel to which he responded with a shrug. You sighed, a gloomy mood setting in at the thought of not having as much fun as you thought you would.

You offered to hold seats for everyone while they waited in line at the concession stand. You wanted to give Jungkook time to get over his bad mood, and you also wanted to avoid craning your neck from getting stuck with bad seats. You busied yourself on your phone in the meantime, but you weren’t scrolling for long before you felt someone take a seat next to you.

Jungkook sat down with a large popcorn and tossed a few pieces in his mouth, “Hey work wife, I missed you.”

You smiled and put your phone away. “Oh yeah? How much did you miss me exactly?

Jungkook took hold of your hand that was resting on the arm rest in between you two. “This much.” He laced your fingers together and wiggled his eyebrows. You couldn’t help but laugh, since it all felt elementary. It brought you back to your first date ever when holding hands, and any skin ship for that matter, was a huge deal.

You wriggled your hand out of his grasp, since you weren’t comfortable flirting around Hobi. You didn’t want your friend to feel like a third wheel at all. “Seriously though, you okay? You seemed kind of down earlier.”

Jungkook looked embarrassed at your worrying. He shifted in his seat and, could it be, a light blush forming on his cheeks? He smiled to himself, looking down at his thighs, “What, are you worrying about me now?”

This time it was your turn to look at Jungkook and wonder how he could be so cute while being flustered. “Of course I do, can’t have my work husband being sad.” You pinched his cheek and Jungkook smiled his most dazzling smile yet. He swatted your hand but held onto it for a while, caressing your palm and turning your hand over in his as if never having ever held a hand before, then letting go. It was a tender moment unlike your usual flirtation with aim at getting a rise out of the other. It was so sweet yet fleeting that you spent the rest of the two-hour movie thinking about it. Jungkook glanced over at you many times during the movie, but you refused to look at him, fearing he might catch on at exactly how much he was having an effect on you. It was starting to feel all too real, and you couldn’t be your usual cool and playful self if what was going on between the two of you was aactually real. You’d never thought of Jungkook as a boyfriend, although you did think of him under the covers late at night. You willed the sinful thoughts out of your head for the next two hours, so you didn’t seem weird later when it was time to say goodbye.

It wasn’t hard to put it out of your mind eventually, especially when you saw how much of a weenie Hobi was when it came to horror movies. You keeled over with laughter at the sight of his pale face while exiting the theatre. “Why did you want to see this movie if you were going to be so afraid?” You spoke in between laughs.

“Because! I don’t know! I didn’t think it was going to be that scary! Besides, I wanted you to come and I know it’s your favorite, so…”

“Awwwww, Hobi! I’d have come even if it was a Disney movie.” You pinched your friend’s cheek and his answering crescent eyes of happiness had you giggling. You looked over at Jungkook, and it seemed his bad mood had returned, so you continued only speaking to Hobi. “Seriously, thanks for the invite. It was fun! We should do it again.”

But now, all three of you had reached the outside of the theater and the night had brought a chill with it that had all of you hugging your torsos. You hurried to pull out your phone and order an uber home, but Jungkook had other ideas.

“Put that away, you’re coming with us.” You looked up at the boy who was barely looking at you in the eye.

“You sure? I live close to the shop, are you going in that direction?”

Jungkook took hold of your arm and started walking to his car impatiently. “Okay, okay!” You looked back at Hobi who was observing everything from the back. As if knowing exactly what your look meant, he answered with a shrug yet again that said I have no idea why he’s acting this way.

You called shotgun once you got to the car and Hobi playfully kicked the back wheel of Jungkook’s car in theatrical anger. Once the three of you pulled off in the direction of Hobi’s house, you got into light conversation about the scariest parts of the movie and the faulty plot. Jungkook didn’t say a single word the entire time. He stared straight ahead at the road and kept both hands on the wheel. You glanced at him periodically, looking for reactions that might tip you off for the cause of his change in mood, but nothing made sense. By the time you said your goodbyes to Hobi through the window, you had given up on talking to Jungkook and settled for looking at the small-town scenery passing you by.

However, the longer you sat in silence, the more annoyed you became at the situation. You couldn’t help feeling like you did something wrong and you wanted answers, so you lowered the music playing on the radio and fully turned towards Jungkook. He looked at you sideways then kept his focus on the road. When you didn’t say anything, he offered a simple, “Yes?”

“Did I do something? Why are you being weird again?”

“I’m being weird?” Although Jungkook kept his serious demeanor, you could hear a smile in his voice, so you pressed further.

“Yes! You seem grumpy and It feels personal.”

After a thoughtful minute, Jungkook released the steering wheel with his right hand and took hold of your left hand.

“Sorry.” Jungkook offered a simple apology in a voice so small you weren’t sure if you actually heard it. He didn’t look at you again for the rest of the ride, but you were content with the silence and holding his hand in the darkness of his car. You welcomed the way your heartbeat quickened at the romantic contact, preferring this over his cold demeanor from earlier anyday.

It dawned on you after a while that you hadn’t told Jungkook your actual address. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“Yes,” Jungkook looked over at you and smiled at your puzzled reaction. “Because I’m not taking you home, I hope you don’t mind.”

“…You’re kidnapping me?” You smiled at him, wondering what was going through his mind.

“Is that what you normally call dating?”

“Oh, so this is a date now?”

“Yeah, didn’t you get my rolled-up proposal sent through carrier pigeon?”

You giggled, feeling relieved that things were back to normal, and also excited at the turn of events. “What’s the plan then?”

After thinking for a moment, Jungkook simply replied, “I hope you like darts.”

He ended up taking you to a hole-in-the-wall bar in town. He explained that it was his absolute favorite place to go because of the ambience and the cheap beer prices. You were content for a few reasons. For one, not many people were here, so you didn’t have to worry about talking loudly. You also enjoyed places with good beers on draft, and this was one of those places. Lastly, Jungkook seemed to be at ease here, so it made hanging out, playing games and talking casually way more fun.

Although it felt just like any other day at the café with Jungkook, you were a little on edge now since your suspicions at the theatre seemed to be proving themselves true. Did Jungkook want to date you seriously? Or did he simply want to hang out a little extra? Since the flirtation had become so normal, you weren’t sure what to make of the situation. Neither of you were the mushy type, so you feared you wouldn’t really know what was going through his head unless you asked him directly, but you didn’t want to risk seeming clingy or making him feel weird. While playing pool, you decided where you would draw the line, for your own sanity. The smell of his body wash, the way his shirt clung to his chest, and the cocky look on his face after sinking balls on the table was making your head swim. You knew it was only a matter of time before the light touching, hugging, and hand holding evolved into something more intimate, so you resolved to not let things go further unless you outlined the parameters of your relationship with him in clear bold lines. You were the type of person to fall hard for someone you had a crush on, and you could already tell that Jungkook had the potential to devastate you. You needed to be careful.

Normally, you were so much better at pool, but you were so deep in your thoughts that you were missing every shot and not realizing it. Jungkook got down to his last ball before putting his stick down and making his way over to you. You watched him approach you, put his hands on your hips and lift you onto the table so you were seated and meeting him eye to eye. The gesture took you by surprise, and you weren’t sure how to react, so you held onto his arms and looked up at him questioningly. He settled his body in between your legs while his hands rested on your thighs.

“What’s up with you?” He looked into your eyes getting straight to the point.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re sucking right now. And you were talking big game earlier, which is something you don’t do unless you can walk the walk. So, what’s on your mind?”

“Here’s a little advice, if you’re taking a girl out on a date, you might not want to insult her pool skills.” You jutted your chin out at him in a petulant pout.

“Oh yeah? Or else what?”

“Or else you’ll probably never hear from her again.” You flicked his nose playfully.

“Well it’s a good thing I work with you then. There’s no avoiding me.”

Your smile faded. Although you were both joking and talking in hypotheticals, he was absolutely right. You were having fun, but you still weren’t sure if you wanted to risk starting something with a coworker that might end badly.

Jungkook noticed your change in demeanor and backed up a few inches. “Sorry, did that one hit too close to home?”

You laughed weekly while running your fingers through your hair nervously, “Yeah…”

Jungkook sighed and extended his hand to you so you could get down from the table. “It’s late and we have work tomorrow, let’s get you home.”

As Jungkook closed the tab out at the bar, you couldn’t help but feel like a total idiot. Here was this extremely sexy and extremely cool guy who was interested in you, and you shot any chance you might’ve had with him down due to fears of something that might never even occur anyway. You felt so stupid and mentally kicked yourself all the way back to the car.

When he didn’t take hold of your hand again during the car ride to your house, you began panicking, realizing your fling with Jungkook might’ve truly ended before even starting. That’s when you realized how whipped you were for him, and how much you’d rather take the risk with him than to have nothing with him at all. It took all your nerves and then some to try and turn the night around by the time you reached your house. You decided you’d kiss him if he consented, and if he wasn’t interested then you’d deal with it and hope the earth might swallow you whole.

Jungkook parked the car along your block and took the keys out of the ignition. Good sign. He turned to you and said nothing, the ball was in your court.

“So…thanks again for tonight. It was fun.“

“Yeah it was.”

When Jungkook didn’t offer anything else, you cleared your throat. “Um…sorry if I made you feel some type of way back there. I liked where things were going before I got all weird.”

Jungkook smirked and leaned his head back on his car seat, reveling in your struggle to convey something that was clearly embarrassing for you. “What do you mean where things were going?”

You blushed at the thought of saying the things that were actually running through your mind. “Yeah, you know, with you being so close to me.”

Without missing a beat, Jungkook placed his hand on your upper thigh and squeezed, looking at your eyes and then your lips. You looked at his veiny hands on you, then up at his face and decided to throw caution to the wind. You leaned into him and planted a soft kiss on his lips, to which he responded by knotting his hands in your hair and kissing you back deeply.

As your lips went to town on each other, you thanked the heavens above that the night wasn’t a lost cause after all. You relished in the kiss as long as you could and took in every detail as if it was your first kiss ever. His lips felt incredibly soft despite the passion he was putting into the make out session. He tasted like wheat beer and buttered popcorn, and you couldn’t get enough. It didn’t take long before your tongues were introduced into the equation. Even as the kiss ignited and the movements of your heads became more exaggerated, you still wanted more. It was almost as if you two had been holding back your lust for each other for so long and now the flood gates were open.

You reached for his head and took his bucket hat off, running your fingers through his slightly damp hair that smelled like Irish Spring. You tugged lightly on his strands, eliciting a groan from his unrelentless mouth on yours. You were both leaning towards the middle with your hands on each other, but it was a bit uncomfortable, so you took your seat belt off and climbed into his lap carefully. The moment excited him and took him by surprise at the same time. He disconnected your lips from each other briefly to look up at you and smile. You blushed, wondering if it was too much, but the negative thought left your head as fast as it entered when he held your head on both sides and brought you in for another kiss. You rested your hands on his chest and tugged on his shirt slightly.

Jungkook’s hands roamed your body with restraint. It was obvious he wanted to be a gentleman and not rush things, since his hands deliberately avoided your more intimate areas. You could tell he was hungry for more, so you appreciated his show of respect. As his hands rested on your waist, two of his fingers dipped under your top and dug in, creating dimples on your flesh. You’d have enjoyed that more if his hands weren’t so cold. You flinched at the contact, moaning into the kiss to show discomfort. His hands immediately retreated, but you two laughed at the comical moment.

You sighed and sat back on his lap, looping your hands around his neck. “I should get inside.”

Jungkook’s head fell back onto the seat with a thud, his hair bouncing along. “Yeah…I should get home too.”

You both sat in silence for a few seconds, neither of you wanting to move. After taking in his fucked out appearance, you grew satisfied with yourself and exited through the driver’s side. You closed the door, waved and then headed in. From your window, you watched Jungkook adjust his pants, start the car and drive off. The whole scene had you smiling to yourself, and you were floating on cloud nine until the moment you fell asleep.

You and Jungkook hadn’t been found out about until a month after your first kiss. You both still lived with your parents, so it was almost impossible to find alone time with each other that didn’t involve heavy petting in the backseat of his car. Needless to say, you were both extremely pent up, which is why when he invited you to come to the store extra early one day, you knew he was up to something.

“Jeon Jungkook? Coming in EARLY?! Something’s gone awry.” Jungkook rolled up his cleaning towel and whipped you with it for teasing him. You yelped at the stinging feeling on your bottom.

“Say you’ll come.”

“I don’t know Jungkook, what if Mr. Kim comes in early?”

“Don’t be so paranoid. Do you want to learn how to make fancy lattes or not?”

You rolled your eyes as you wiped down the counter, knowing he was full of it. “Fuck it, why not. What time exactly?”

“Hmmm…you need a lot of help, better make it 6:00am.” If it wasn’t for the fact that a customer had approached the register at that moment, you would’ve whipped him back for making fun of you.

Bright and early the next day, you and Jungkook met up at the front of the café as planned. Mr. Kim gave him a copy of the store keys for days where he would be too busy to open himself, and it seemed Jungkook was planning on making good use of it.

Normally you’d look like death coming into work this early but knowing who was waiting for you here in private put a spring in your step and a good mood that was unlike you in the morning. Jungkook was a morning person, so he was never afflicted with such issues.

As you watched Jungkook turn on the espresso machines and check the stock for all the necessary ingredients, it was only just now occurring to you that you’d have to make fancy drinks, which was intimidating because the shop’s regular customers were used to Jungkook’s expertise, flare and efficiency.

Jungkook lined up several cups along with clean pitchers and milk on the counter before turning to you with a quirked brow. “You ready?”

“Uh, yeah I guess,” you answered nervously.

Jungkook smiled warmly and patted your shoulder. With his other hand he tipped your chin forward and stared into the depths of your eyes. “You’ve got this. I believe in you, relax.” You melted just a tiny bit.

Turning your attention to the counter, he explained what the training consisted of. “Each of these cups is a different order. I’m going to show you step by step how to make each one, and then I’m going to time you on how fast you do them.” Lifting up one cup at a time, he explained, “These are the different ways someone can order an espresso drink here: a latte, a cappuccino, a flat white, a macchiato, and an americano.” Jungkook handed you an empty pitcher. “This is where you put milk for steaming. If you look inside, there are different measurement lines to fill the milk to depending on what size they order.”

You filled the pitcher with milk to the second line, nodding along. Suddenly, Jungkook stood behind and reached around you, holding your hand with the pitcher and taking hold of the other. He led your free hand over to the nozzle on the espresso machine and very carefully showed you how to steam the milk properly. You flinched at the piercing sound of the steam aerating the milk, causing Jungkook to chuckle softly behind you.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me, I’m new at this!” You pouted with false offense.

“Sorry sorry, you’re just so cute I can’t help it.” Your face beamed in the dim morning light streaming into the café. There was absolutely no denying that you were whipped for this man.

Jungkook led your free hand around the buttons on the machine, showing you how to queue espresso shots. You watched in wonderment as the thin streams of chalky brown liquid shot out and filled tiny shot glasses. The overpowering aroma of coffee quickly filled the air.

He had you prepare 3 pitchers of steamed milk, eventually letting go of you so you could do it on your own, much to your disappointment. “Let’s start with one of the easiest drinks to make, a latte. Pour the shot into the cup and the milk over top.” You did as he instructed, watching the milk turn light brown inside of the cup and eventually foam at the very top.

Jungkook inspected your drink then took a sip. “Not bad. Okay Ms. Fancy Pants, make me a macchiato this time.”

You hesitated with the shot in one hand and the milk in the other. You knew this particular drink was the reverse of a latte…or was it? You poured the hot milk into the cup and swirled the espresso over top. Looking at Jungkook for approval, you pursed your lips at his flat stare. He tsked, shook his head and leaned off the counter to get you a new cup.

“Macchiato means ‘through the middle’. Pour the shot directly through the center and don’t deviate.” You nodded wordlessly at his stern expression. As you remade the drink, you couldn’t find an explanation as to why you found him so sexy even when he was peeved.

“Okay, do you remember how to make the flat white?” You did, but you wanted him to touch you again, so you shook your head. Jungkook smiled and lead your hand holding the pitcher of milk to create the perfect flat white latte. You both held the pitcher close to the cup after pouring the espresso in first, then brought it up a few inches, then back down until a small while dot of milk formed at the center of the brown froth. Your hand felt electrically charged from the skin to skin contact, making it hard to focus on what you were doing.

“Now for the cappuccino, I’ll give you a few tries to get it right since it’s hard to nail down at first. Hold the steam above the milk for 9 seconds instead of 4 to create a lighter, foamier pitcher of milk.”

You followed his instructions and poured the shot along with the milk into the cup. Jungkook lifted the cup and instantly put it back down. “Not light enough. Again.”

Your eyebrows knotted in concentration as you began steaming a fresh cup of milk. You didn’t get the cappuccino down until the 5th pitcher of milk which slightly embarrassed you, but Jungkook was patient and tentative throughout the process. You felt gratitude at his willingness to train you so well.

“All that’s left is the americano, and that’s the easiest one of all. It’s simply shots and hot water to the top of the cup.”

“Psh, this is cake work.” You retorted cheekily, squeezing a lid onto the coffee cup and handing it to Jungkook for a taste.

“Oh yeah, hot shot?” Jungkook brought the cup to his mouth briefly and nodded in approval.

“Yeah! Where’s the real challenge? I want to make the cool drinks you do with the artwork at the top.” You decided to reward yourself with a little whipped cream for getting through the training smoothly.

Jungkook laughed heartily. “Ah, you’re a fan of my handiwork I see. Well unfortunately,” Jungkook grabbed you by the hips suddenly and sat you on top of the counter in between the espresso machines, ”That’s not something I can teach you in one day. It takes a lot of practice and patience.” Jungkook took your wrist in his hand and led your finger topped with whipped cream to his lips. Maintaining eye contact, he parted his mouth and sucked lightly on the tip of your finger, leading with his tongue. You inhaled sharply at the view; all things coffee related instantly fleeing your mind. You slid your finger out of his mouth slowly. He opened up as you ran your finger along his bottom lip. You’d never wanted a taste of whipped cream more in your life than you had at that very moment.

It seemed Jungkook was on the same page because it only took a split second before you two were all over each other. Your legs molded themselves around his midsection and your hands held his face to yours. Your heads moved together in rhythm while your lips ravaged each other. Tongue was immediately introduced, both of you having wanted to kiss each other again for so long. You couldn’t get enough, needing more and more every passing second. You wrapped your arms around his neck, smashing his body against yours as your tongues swirled together in harmonized motion. Jungkook’s hands greedily surveyed the lay of the land, first starting off on your thighs, then your mid back, and now the top of your ass. He squeezed and groped which only encouraged your need for him. You writhed against the kiss, rubbing your breasts against his chest. Jungkook pressed you into him then took you off the counter completely. You were vaguely aware of being transported as you bit and dragged out his lip. Jungkook let out a soft groan as he placed you on top of what you assumed to be Mr. Kim’s desk. Jungkook’s fingers ran up into your hair and tugged, forcing your head to the side and exposing your neck. He began trailing wet sloppy kisses down from your ear which had you shivering in excitement. You let out a low moan when he reached the base of your neck, letting him know it was a soft spot for you. You arched your back and pushed your chest in the air to which Jungkook responded by roughly groping your breasts through your button up shirt. You hissed through your teeth at the faint pleasure his movements brought you, but you still wanted more. You’d been eyeing him for months, and when you both finally took the next step, it felt like you were stuck there for far too long. If you were this addicted to his lips, there was no telling how addictive the rest of him could be, and you so badly wanted to find out.

Jungkook reattached his mouth to yours as his hands found the fleshy feel of your bra under your shirt. You moaned into his mouth, reveling in the miniscule pleasure it brought you. You reached your hands under Jungkook’s shirt, feeling his abs on the way down to his belt and pulled on it to bring him closer to you. You began unbuckling it impatiently, struggling to work the metal latch. It took Jungkook a second to respond, realizing things were moving along in full gear. He started unbuttoning your shirt with a quickness the likes of which you’d never seen before.

However, your shirt only made it just past your shoulders before you heard the familiar bell of the shop door opening. You and Jungkook froze as Hobi sauntered into the backroom. He was fully engrossed in his phone with his airpods in, but the quick movements of you and Jungkook getting redressed attracted his attention. His face morphed from surprise to sheer horror as he realized what was going on in Mr. Kim’s office in the early hours of the morning. Hobi yelped dramatically and threw his hands over his eyes, fleeing out of the office and out of the shop altogether.

Jungkook found his reaction amusing as he tucked his shirt into his pants. You, on the other hand, were so mortified and embarrassed that you couldn’t move. Your face was tomato red and you were paralyzed in horror.

Jungkook continued chuckling as he redid the buttons of your shirt. “I guess the training took longer than we thought, huh?”

You lowered your face into your hands. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Poor Hobi! He probably thinks we were in here fucking!”

“I mean…things were kind of heading in that direction…” You began beating Jungkook on the chest with your limp balled up fists which only made him laugh harder.

You didn’t feel shame about being sexually active, or being attracted to Jungkook, but rather being seen in a negative light for getting it on in an inappropriate place. Who knows what was going through Hobi’s mind at that moment? You had to do damage control, and quickly.

You hopped off the desk and exited the back room, immediately spotting your work buddy squatting on the other side of the glass. You approached him with caution, your face still blushing furiously. Hobi looked up at you with a straight face but busted out into laughter, at which point you began beating him too. You could hear Jungkook laughing harder at the spectacle going on outside, which only made your embarrassment find permanent footing.

For the rest of the day, Hobi would hand you cups with a smirk on his face and exchange meaningful glances with Jungkook here and there, reigniting your embarassment every time. You hated them so much for the rest of that entire week.

At the end of the workday on a Friday, weeks after your hookup with Jungkook in the office, you noticed a folded-up note placed on top of your belongings. You quirked your eyebrow at it then looked back out to the floor, but none of the boys were even looking in your direction. You opened it up and read Jungkook’s scrawl: Let’s chill at my house this weekend. My parents are away 😉.

Your heart instantly began beating furiously in your chest, and you quickly stuffed the receipt paper into your back pocket. You blushed as you gathered your things. The store was busy, so you weren’t able to say goodbye to Jungkook or Hobi as you exited the shop.

You contemplated what to text Jungkook when you got home. Of course, you wanted to go, but you were nervous about the entire thing. You were again reminded about how your fling was never supposed to get this far, despite your carelessness in the early morning all those weeks ago. After Hobi had caught you two in Mr.Kim’s office that day, you slowly began pulling away from Jungkook. It was so easy to get caught up in his cologne and the way his eye contact made you feel, so you needed to reign in your emotions and get a clear head before you rushed into something you couldn’t backtrack from. If you took that next step with him, there would be serious repercussions, and it seemed as though you two were headed in that direction, so you needed time to adjust. You were never able to muster up the courage to be frank with him about everything you’re feeling, so you felt as though you had no footing when it came to your relationship with him. Because of that, you weren’t sure if this meant you two would be officially dating or not, and you felt way too awkward to bring it up at this point, especially if this was all just fun and games in his head.

Your after-work routine had become second nature to you by now. As soon as your bedroom door closed behind you, the events went exactly as follows: Run the bath water as hot as possible, strip your work clothes into the laundry bin, light the vanilla candle that barely had any wax left in it, loosen the bun on your head, slowly and carefully submerge yourself in the steaming water without splashing any out of the tub.

As you laid on the porcelain, you closed your eyes and rested your head back onto the edge, contemplating Jungkook’s note. You wondered if Jungkook really hadn’t noticed you ignoring his advances this entire time. Maybe you weren’t being obvious enough? You sighed heavily and sank deeper into the tub, because that meant you would have to go over and explain why you couldn’t hook up with him despite having the perfect opportunity to do so, and you were not looking forward to that.

You remembered that Jungkook was off tomorrow, but you weren’t, and you were thankful for that. He might back you into a corner, and you needed to find the resolve somewhere inside of yourself to turn down this amazing boy. You texted him back a simple sentence: What’s your address?

Your morning Saturday shift went by way too quickly, not giving you enough time to settle your nerves. You tried to focus on work, but every once in a while, your mind would drift to what was to happen later that night. It didn’t help that there were barely any customers to keep you busy, so you were in your head the entire time. You’d never worked a Saturday before, so you didn’t know what to expect. Normally Jungkook would work Saturdays on his own. You idly wondered why today was any different.

Thankfully, Mr. Kim had opened the store with you and had tasks lined up to keep you at least a little busy. You quickly surmised that Saturdays at the coffee shop were dedicated to deep cleaning.

As you soaked the coffee pots in cleaning fluid and scrubbed the calcium buildup from the steaming nozzles, you practiced what you would say to Jungkook when he’d try to make a move. I don’t think we should keep doing this. No…that’s too serious, I don’t want to make things awkward. Listen, this is fun and all, and I appreciate you inviting me over, but I’ve given it some thought since our last hookup and I don’t want to have sex with you!

You blushed and chuckled at yourself for getting worked up at imaginary scenarios. It all felt quite silly considering you were putty in his hands anyway. Would you even have the resolve to refuse him? You knew a big part of you didn’t want to, but you knew if you didn’t then someone would end up getting hurt and you knew that person would most likely be you. You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you had to quit this super convenient job because of relationship drama. You shook your head at the thought.

As soon as your shift at the café was done, Jungkook pulled up in his car out front and beeped the horn to get your attention. He didn’t tell you he’d be picking you up, so you were caught by surprise. It also warmed you a little that he went out of his way to get you when you could’ve easily driven to him. You smiled and waved at him as you approached the car. He leaned across and pushed the door open for you.

You had planned to go home and doll yourself up a little, but this scenario was probably for the best, although you couldn’t help the relief you felt at having decided to shave the night before. You beat back the unhelpful cheeky thoughts.

“Hey you.” Jungkook took off towards his house, whistling an upbeat tune.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were picking me up, thanks!” You buckled your seat belt and sat back, but then realized this scenario was not for the best, since you wouldn’t be able to drive yourself home if things got awkward at his house. You clenched and unclenched your hands in nervousness, but Jungkook grabbed it and brought it to his mouth, gently brushing his lips on your knuckles then holding onto it for the rest of the ride. The sweet gesture calmed your nerves.

Only 15 minutes had passed by before Jungkook was pulling into a driveway that lead to the back of a big beautiful house. As you exited the car, you could already hear loud barking coming from the back door. Jungkook headed inside first, holding an overly excited golden retriever back so you could enter. The dog barked excitedly then calmed down enough to sniff your shoes. His tail wagged with an intensity that you swore was creating a draft. You extended your hand uncertainty and the dog licked it eagerly.

You giggled as you petted the animal, “I didn’t know you had a dog!”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Jungkook smiled and leaned on one of the counters in his kitchen as he watched you squat to rub the dog’s neck.

“Touché.” You took a break to look around. The back door had led into a giant kitchen adorned with stainless steal appliances. You whistled at how beautiful and grand it all was. “Nice house!”

“Thanks, my parents work hard.” Jungkook busied himself on the stove. It seemed he had prepared something for you two to eat. Your stomach rumbled at the smell of peppers and onions sizzling on a pan.

“Ah, so you don’t take after them I see.”

Jungkook chuckled at your jab, “Keep talking like that and you won’t get any of this delicious food I slaved over!”

“Oh, you slaved over this meal!? I gotta see what it is then” You giggled as you uncovered each pot sitting on the stove. Your mouth watered at the assortment of noodles, meats and vegetables that smelled amazingly. “I will say, I’m impressed. I guess making drinks isn’t your only forte.”

“Oh babe, you have no idea.” Jungkook smiled cheekily, enjoying his not so private joke as he grabbed two ceramic plates from the overhead cabinet. You swallowed thickly.

Jungkook served you a hearty plate and then did the same for himself. You waited for him to finish, unsure of where to sit and eat. He led you past a dining room, down a hallway and into a big living room with large sectionals that faced a mounted television on the wall. An episode of an anime played on the screen as Jungkook plopped himself on the far end of the couch and began digging in. You were happy at how normal this all felt, almost as if you had been coming here to hang out with him for years.

You took a seat on the couch an arm’s length away from him and began eating as you focused on the show. It was an episode of One Piece that you had already seen, but it still engrossed you enough to forget about being all alone with your crush.

After a while, you looked over at Jungkook who had been observing you for who knows how long.

“What?”

“You inhale your food, you know that?” He beamed his signature crooked smile at you, and you were too caught up in it to retort.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and took his empty plate and yours to the kitchen to wash, yelling over your shoulder, “I like to eat, OK?! Sue me!”

You didn’t hear Jungkook’s footsteps following you as you washed the plates in the sink. His arms snaked around your midsection and his chin rested on your shoulder which startled you enough to drop the plate you were scrubbing. Thankfully it didn’t break, so you kept doing the dishes as you willed your heart to stop drumming in your ears.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to do all that. You’re my guest.” Jungkook spoke softly next to your ear as he watched you rinse his plate.

“I don’t mind, you cooked after all. It was delicious by the way.” Your voice was small in the quiet of the kitchen.

After a while, Jungkook brought his hand up to your chest and rested it there. “Why are you so nervous? Your heart is beating really fast.”

You blushed and took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. Jungkook gently turned you around as soon as you put the plate on the dish rack. You looked up at him, but his eyes were focused on your mouth. He leaned into you, but instead of kissing you, he brushed his nose against the tip of yours.

“You have nothing to be nervous about. I just wanted to hang out with you. There’s no pressure here, OK?” You nodded at him, unable to meet his eyes but instead wishing he had kissed you. “Want a tour?” Jungkook smiled widely and it was infectious because you found yourself grinning back at him while nodding.

The curly haired brunette took you through each room of his spacious house. He led you around the first floor, explaining which family member was in each framed picture that lined the walls. You giggled at a cute picture of him as a baby hung just past the bathroom and you could swear Jungkook blushed just a little at your reaction. Once you had seen everything on the first floor, the boy took you by the hand and led you up the stairs. The second floor had 3 bedrooms in it and another bathroom. Taped up cardboard boxes lined the walls to which Jungkook apologized for. You rolled your eyes at him because his house was impeccable. If he thinks this is messy, I’m never taking him to my house.

The last room Jungkook showed you was his own. He waited at the entrance of it as you bounded past him and into the room. It heavily contrasted the other rooms you had seen since it was smaller in size and had dark blue painted walls instead of the usual ivory. Sports trophies and metals sat perched atop floating shelves along with manga books and video games. You took your time going through everything as he watched you carefully from afar. Once you reached his desk, you noticed his high-tech gaming setup complete with a back-support chair. You plopped on it and spun around. Reaching out to touch a button on the keyboard, it made a loud click noise. Mechanical keyboard.

You looked back at Jungkook. His expression was wary, having no idea what was going through your head as you studied the most personal things about him.

“Mechanical keyboard hooked up to a Corsair desktop with liquid coolant? Jungkook, you’re such a nerd!!” He let out the breath he was holding and laughed as he came in to sit on his bed.

“I won’t deny it.” Jungkook watched as you surfed his computer, checking what games he had downloaded. This setup cost a couple thousand dollars easily, so you took the opportunity to play a game of Overwatch while you could. Jungkook tisked after every time you died, but it was hard to focus on the game when he was sitting 2 feet away from you on a bed. You wondered if he was going to make a move on you or not. What if he doesn’t? You contemplated having the conversation with him anyway.

“Okay, get up. You just put my gamer tag to shame. I have to show you how a true master does it.” You giggled as he replaced you on the chair and instantly queued up for another game. You sat cross legged on the bed watching him play for a while. He was really good, you couldn’t deny it, but as your eyes took in the rest of his room, an alien feeling came over you. You gazed at the polaroids of a younger Jungkook smiling amongst his friends hanging along a large mirror, at his worn-out baseball glove that sat on top of his dresser, at the mess of clothes at the corner of the room that looked like he had changed outfits 6 times. Your heart was full in that moment, and you realized just how much you really liked Jungkook. You were so happy to be there with him, so content in his presence even as he was engrossed in his game. No, you more than liked him. And you knew this for months, but you didn’t want to admit it to yourself until now. You smiled down at your lap, realizing you were never going to have that conversation with him after all, there was no way you could part ways with someone that made you feel the way that he did, risk or no risk.

Suddenly overcome with emotion, you looked back at Jungkook who was hunched over the screen, furiously clicking away at the keys on the keyboard. In one swift motion, you pulled your shirt over your head and threw it on the floor. You took your hair out of the bun it had been in and let your strands fall over your shoulders. Jungkook looked over his shoulder at you briefly but did a double-take, realizing you were suddenly sitting on his bed with no shirt on. His mouth fell open in shock, but he didn’t miss a beat, instantly standing up to turn off his desktop and joining you on the bed. He placed a knee on the mattress next to you and leaned over you, attaching his lips to yours. You leaned back until you were laying on the bed with Jungkook on top of you. He held his weight on his elbows, careful not to be overbearing, but you didn’t care about that. You wanted to feel him on you, so you wrapped your legs around his waist and brought him to you. His arms rested on either side of your head as his lips worked gently and tentatively on your mouth. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, but after a while your hands began roaming and exploring. Your fingers took turns entwining themselves in his shiny brown locks, then caressing his face as you made out. Eventually, they reached for the bottom of his shirt, but he was already ahead of you as he kneeled briefly to take it off then reattached himself to your lips right after.

Your fingers began kneading the muscles on his shoulders and his arms, feeling how taught they were. Your fingertips lightly slid down his chest and onto the flat expanse of his stomach. You felt his abs twitch as he smiled into the kiss, “Sorry, your hands are cold.”

You giggled an I’m sorry as he took hold of both of your hands in his and held them above your head on the bed, pinning you down. You wanted to keep touching him, so you writhed against his hold on you, pushing your chest into his. You could feel Jungkook’s boner where it lay stiffly on your thigh just past your sex. You circled your hips trying to get it to hit the spot that needed attention. Jungkook understood what you were after and began bucking his hips sensually into yours. You moaned into the kiss, feeling his clothed shaft press harshly against the apex of your thighs. Jungkook lifted his face away from yours, dragging your bottom lip out as he did. He held both of your hands with his right, freeing his left to begin groping your breasts. His hands worked their magic over the lacey fabric of your bra, your nipples hardening just under the material. When he didn’t unhook your bra, you sat up and did it yourself. You realized he was probably letting you take the wheel after what he had said in the kitchen, so you decided to do just that. You got up on your knees and pushed Jungkook onto the bed, mounting him and putting your hands on his chest.

A wild glint shown in his eyes, to which you smiled and bit your lip, returning to his face to continue making out. You began circling your hips, grinding your clit against his boner and earning some groans from the boy. You sat up so you could watch his face as you continued grinding on him. His hands came up to your hips and held onto them roughly with his head thrown back in pleasure.

Your hands found the rim of his pants and began tugging. Jungkook lifted his hips so you could pull them down. You slid his pants to his ankles and he kicked them off. Your mouth watered as you stared down at the view beneath you. Jungkook’s chest heaved as he regained his breath from making out nonstop. His tan abs dipped below the waistband of his black boxer briefs that stretched tautly over his muscular thighs. Jungkook sat up on his elbows, looking up at you expectantly. You looked back at him and maintained eye contact as you slowly slid your jeans off of your body. Jungkook bit his lip as he watched you undressed for him. His dick twitched in his boxers, begging for attention. You quickly obliged, squeezing his boner with your hand over his boxers. He hissed and laid back down, draping his arm over his eyes. You wondered if he was shy when it came to sex, and the thought had your heart bursting at the seams.

You leaned down and licked a stripe over his clothed shaft, earning a gasp from the boy. You drenched the fabric in your saliva as you stared intently at Jungkook who had sat back up to look at you in surprise. You curled your fingers over the waistband and watched him for approval. He lifted his hips with permission as you slid the material off of him. His boner sprang free, leaking and angry. You licked your lips, gently taking hold of it. You swept your hair to the side and tucked a few loose strands behind your ear as you leaned in to get close to his penis. You gave it a few lazy strokes as you gently kissed the tip. Again, you watched for his reaction, and he assured you he wanted this just as much as you did when he bucked his hips at your mouth’s proximity to his member. You smiled at how excited he seemed, licking another strip up his shaft and leaving a wet streak from bottom to top. Jungkook hissed again, wearing his bottom lip out with his teeth. Once your tongue reached the top, you took his head into your mouth, curling your lips over your teeth and letting it rest on your circling tongue. Inch by inch, you took him into you keeping your mouth tight around him. Jungkook gaped as your nose furrowed itself in his pubic hair. You came up slowly, sucked the top a bit then went down again. Jungkook laid back down, enveloped in absolute pleasure. His hands found themselves in your hair, eventually holding your head in place so he could buck into you. As Jungkook fucked your mouth, you couldn’t help the drool that spilled from your lips and dripped down his member, further lubricating him and creating sloppy wet sounds each time he entered and exited your mouth. Jungkook’s expression became focused and borderline angry with his eyebrows knit together in pure pleasure and concentration. You noted how deliciously vocal he was with his consistent moaning and groaning filling the air. You could feel yourself getting increasingly wet at the view and the sounds before you.

After a while, Jungkook slowed and then took himself out of your mouth. His penis was dripping wet and even more red than it was before. You wiped your mouth with your thumb as he stroked himself lazily. Jungkook tore his eyes away from you briefly to rummage through his nightstand for a condom. You busied yourself with getting rid of your underwear. Feeling your sex yearning for attention as he struggled to find a condom, you mounted his midsection again and sat directly on top of his penis. Slowly, you began moving your hips back and forth. You slid easily along his shaft with the lubrication of your spit that hadn’t dried yet. You moaned lightly, feeling some pleasure from your movements. Jungkook stilled as he felt your pussy getting so close to enveloping him. He held your hip with one hand and clutched the condom in the other. His eyebrows knit together as he hesitated before leading your hips back and forth once more. Your moans and his groans filled the room in unison. Your wetness coated his dick, further exciting him.

“Fuck Y/N. You’re such a bad influence.” Jungkook’s voice shook and you smiled, realizing how fucked out he was, but you were too, maybe even more. Jungkook watched you excitedly as you took hold of the base of his penis and line him up with your entrance. He tossed the condom to the side and helped guide his penis into you. You both moaned loudly as he slipped inside of you easily. You quivered at the feeling of being so full. When you tried to move, Jungkook held you in place and you realized he was trying not to bust right then and there. You smiled and leaned forward to kiss him, deciding to give him a break so he could calm down. You kissed him passionately as he cupped your face between his large veiny hands. After a while, his hands traveled down to your ass and squeezed them hard. You responded by tightening around him. He began easing himself in and out of you, holding your cheeks apart so he could eventually slam into you repeatedly. You moaned loudly into his mouth at the sudden pleasure that overtook you. Jungkook moved his head back to disconnect your lips and watch your face as you moaned. You sat up and began bouncing on his dick wildly. Jungkook moved his hands to your breasts when he noticed them bouncing with each rough hip thrust. You steadied yourself by placing your hands on his lower stomach and threw your head back in sheer pleasure.

You took the opportunity of Jungkook eventually taking a break to begin circling your hips with him inside. Surely enough, the head of his penis found your g spot and you began moaning carelessly again. He watched as you got yourself off on top of him, reveling in the view of you letting your inhibitions go. Jungkook watched you intently you got closer and closer to reaching your high. Your hips quickened in pace then suddenly stopped as your toes curled and your walls pulsed around him. You keeled over on top of him, feeling every inch of your skin breaking out in goosebumps. You laid your head in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily. Jungkook moved your hair out of the way then kissed your forehead. You chuckled out of breath before speaking, “Fuck, Jungkook.”

Swiftly and effortlessly, Jungkook flipped you so that he was now on top. Jungkook decided to give you a break as he focused his attention on your breasts. He pinched and pulled on your nipples, sending tiny shocks down to your sensitive core each time. He brought his tongue to one and began licking and sucking, then did the same to the other. You scratched his head idly, appreciating the way he took his time with you.

Jungkook began kissing upwards on your chest, all the way up to your mouth and kissed you intimately. The kiss was deep and slow, without tongue this time, and it took your breath away. You had to hold back a moan at how sweet the kiss was. You never wanted it to end, but when his hand traveled down towards your sex, you knew you were ready for more. Jungkook sat back and slapped your clit with his dick before easing himself inside of you once more. You were still slick from your orgasm and it had Jungkook closing his eyes in pleasure. You shivered and pulled Jungkook back onto you again to feel his warmth on you. Slowly yet steadily, he began moving in and out of you as he laid on top of you. His arms caged your head in as he began kissing you sweetly again. This time you did moan, and it seemed to egg Jungkook on, but he didn’t want to ruin the romanticism in that moment, so he continued his slow place and focused on your mouth. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and began circling around yours sloppily. You opened your mouth fully, willing to take anything and everything. It all felt so good and so surreal, you could feel yourself getting impossibly wetter, and you knew he could too with the way he began growling.

“Fuck, Y/N” You could only moan your answer as you both instantly felt the need to fuck hard. Jungkook lifted himself up just enough as he sped up and begin pounding into you roughly, holding your hips in place as he did. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he fucked the living soul out of you. Eventually, he sat back and held your legs wide open as his dick entered and exited you relentlessly. Your moans grew so loud, you were sure it could be heard from outside, but you didn’t care. You wanted him to keep fucking you forever, but your body had other plans. It didn’t take long for the familiar blooming in your lower stomach to begin making your toes curl again and your back arch. With his hair clinging to the sweat on his forehead and a look of concentration, Jungkook looked into your eyes while you stared back at him with your mouth agape. “You gonna come for me again?” Jungkook’s words were tight and stern which only made you moan more.

“Fuck, yes, yes, I-I am. Fuuuuck Jungkook!” Your second orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks. You stared up at the ceiling as the familiar warm feeling spread to your extremities.

“That’s it baby, c’mon.” Jungkook fucked you through your orgasm as your walls spasmed around him. As you lay on the bed exhausted and reeling, he quickly pulled out of you and pumped himself a few times, spurting cum all over your stomach. Jungkook groaned loudly as the ropes of hot white liquid shot out of him. You were too spent to look, instead feeling the burning sensation of each drop landing on your moist skin.

As he milked the last of his cum out of his dick, you looked at your stomach covered in white and laughed breathlessly. “Jesus Jungkook, empty your balls once in a while.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’ve been busy.” Jungkook laughed breathlessly along with you, running his fingers through his sweaty hair. He got up from the bed and returned with baby wipes. You cleaned yourself up and tossed the soiled wipes in a nearby trashcan.

Making space for him on the bed, Jungkook laid down next to you. Neither of you said anything for a while, choosing instead to look up at the ceiling as your breathing evened out. You began breaking out in goosebumps at the feeling of being naked without a blanket over you. As if on cue, Jungkook pulled the covers up over the both of you. You turned to the side in contentment. Jungkook spooned you and wrapped his arm around you, making it easy for the both of you to drift to sleep.

In the middle of the night, you woke him up for another round, but this time it was him who was giving you oral, and just as with all else, he was extremely generous.

Monday came and went without any sign of Jungkook at work. When you showed up on Tuesday morning and he was absent again, you pouted, wondering what was going on. After the morning rush, you decided to mention it to Hobi at the risk of sounding clingy.

You watched your friend wipe down the counters before clearing your throat. “It’s not like Jungkook to miss two days of work in a row. I wonder if he’s okay…”

Hobi stilled his hand on the rag and looked at you in confusion.

“…What?” You quirked an eyebrow at him, wondering why he was starting to look so surprised. It seemed like he was trying to find the right words with which to respond. “Spit it out Hobi! You’re worrying me.” You couldn’t help the bad feeling that fell over you as you watched Hoseok fully turn to you with a worried expression on his face.

“Y/N…didn’t Jungkook tell you?”

“…Tell me what? Ugh Hobi just say it!” You bit your lip anxiously. Hoseok rubbed his neck, mimicking your anxiety.

“Y/N…Jungkook’s last day was Friday. He moved to Connecticut with his family this past Sunday…” You stared at your friend in disbelief, waiting for the punchline that never came.

You chuckled nervously. “Hobi…what are you talking about? I was just with him and-“ The memory of all the boxes around his house flashed in your mind and made the rest of your sentence die in your throat.

Hobi looked at you with pity in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I know you two were close. I figured you already knew. I wonder why he didn’t say anything…” When you didn’t offer him a response, he resumed cleaning the counters and gave you a much needed moment to process everything.

You sagged against the register and stared into the backroom at Jungkook’s deserted cubby, unable to believe the sudden news. Why wouldn’t he say goodbye? Your first instinct was to feel betrayed and used. You opened yourself up to him and took the risk of falling, and he wasn’t going to be there to catch you after all. But you knew you couldn’t blame him entirely, since the ball had been in your court the entire time.

After a couple minutes of silence, a group of customers walked in, so you tore yourself away from the backroom and focused on them, willing your tears not to fall, and they didn’t, at least not until you got into the bathtub later that day. Turns out, you had been Jungkook’s replacement.

#bts fanfiction #bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #bangtan smut #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #bts smut #coffeehouse au #j'aime #jaime #j'aime fanfic #jaime fanfic #baepop j'aime

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digitalworldbound · 4 years ago

Note

koukari 24 or kenkari 30? sorry for the challenge :p but if you're not comfortable with the pairings, go ahead with takari! :3

Pairing: ken x hikari

Summary: “I can’t talk to cute people, okay? I don’t know how to flirt!” (#30 from the prompt list)

Author’s Notes: I was revisiting my old fanfiction from when I was thirteen, and it reignited my love for cheesy AUs. So, I present to you my first ever KenKari content (I apologize if it is bad, but I've tried my best!)

on the corner of thompson rd. and fifth street stood a quaint structure with walls that appeared to sag and well-worn stairs. a seemingly hand-painted sign hung above the door way read : ♡ book 'n' brew ♡

in full honestly, the crooked hearts would of been enough to draw ken in completely had he not been on a search for a new coffee joint. earlier that september morning, a bug placed strategically in his starbucks cup stirred up the motivation to search for a more tasteful choice in brew.

mindless trotting about lead him to the worn, brick steps. many customers were slightly deterred by the haggard appearance of the building, but ken thought otherwise.

it was charming and smelled of home. plus, the little pink hearts were hard to dismiss.

pulling the smooth handle and trapping the chilly air behind him, ken opened the door and stepped in.

the store was quite small, as expected, but seemingly transported him away. warm fairy lights hung on the edges of tall, oak bookcases. the lights made ken’s dark cerulean eyes dance with wonder. while the oak cases were aging, they were sturdy. books lined the shelves in every way imaginable. when the books filled up the shelves vertically, the left-overs were placed haphazardly in the spaces between, whether that be on top of, in front of, or behind other books. the smell of well-loved pages filtered through the air, mixing with the smell of freshly brewed something.

the coffee! ken reminded himself.

humming a mindless tune under his breath, he made is way to the countered that was nestled in between two bookcases. plants, napkins and even more books littered the counter top. the owner, however, was nowhere to be found.

"hello?" ken’s crystalline voice called out.

"how may i help you?"

ken made a noise of surprise, not expecting the light, feminine voice to come from behind him.

a girl emerged from behind one of the bookcases, her hair swept to the side and held in place with a barrette. she looked ethereal in her loose dress, the extra fabric making her look like a bird ready for flight. she coughed quietly, her amber eyes drilling into his own with curiosity.

blush erupted like wildfire across ken’s cheeks. the tips of his ears burned in embarrassment. he was caught staring, but the stranger’s beauty was disarming.

"so?" the owner lightly suggested, a gentle reminder that ken still had yet to respond to her initial question.

"oh, yes! i was wondering if you had any coffee?" he finally spoke up. all too late, he realized his mistake. a flush rose to his neck, and ken had half the mind to run out of the store and never return.

raising an arched eyebrow, the stranger purposely flitted her eyes over to the obviously placed coffee pots, before turning her attention back to ken.

"hm, i would say that i do." she chuckled. her dress gently swayed behind her as she slipped behind the counter. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled in his direction.

"obviously." the boy muttered under his breath, embarrassment consuming him alive.

"pick your poison."

ken pretended to ponder his options. on a normal day - which this wasn't - he could always go for a medium roast coffee with creamer and two sugars, but today felt inexplicably different.

"i think i might go with some oolong tea today, if it isn't any trouble."

"of course not, silly. it's one of my personal favorites." the barista smiled. she turned around, completely engrossing herself in the task at hand while ken decided to explore the shop.

his fingers danced on the spines of novels and novellas, enjoying the way they felt beneath his fingertips. as a child, ken never had the attention span for reading. he was always distracted by the butterflies or colorful markers or dandelions. these things were real, and for him, the words in the books weren't.

consumed by his thoughts and the texture of the spines, ken drowned out the shop owner's declaration of warm drinks.

when the surprisingly small hand cupped the boy's shoulder, he jumped, knocking several books from their perch.

"oh no, i'm so sorry. usually, i'm not this clumsy." he offered, quickly picking up the fallen objects and shoving them haphazardly back onto the shelf. anxiety swirled in stomach; he felt like an absolute fool.

the owner simply smiled and pushed the small mug into ken's cold fingers. how long had it been since he stumbled into the shop? ten minutes? an hour? the thoughts were washed away with the first sip of tea, as the warm, comforting flavor washed away the flush on his cheeks.

"my name's hikari," the mystery barista offered, turning towards the door behind the cluttered counter space, "yell for me if you need anything else." she smiled, then disappeared.

"i'm ken ichijouji!" he called after hikari, but it was too late. her delicate frame had already slipped away, disappearing into further into the shelves.

with a barely distinguishable pout on his pink lips, ken sipped his oolong tea languidly and perched himself in recliner nestled into a dusty corner. the cloth on the seat had once been beautiful, ken was sure. years of patrons had worn away the bright red velvet into a thread-bare pink. it was s comfy, so ken snuggled himself deeper into the chair.

glancing around, he browsed the titles nearest to him.

viva by e.e cummings

pride and prejudice by jane austen

star girl by jerry spinelli

the hobbit by j.r.r. tolkien

hikari apparently had an interest in most things, not unlike ken. they just had interests in different places.

losing interest in the books quickly, ken demolished the luke-warm beverage and placed his dirty mug (that he now realized adorned the same little pink hearts as the sign that hung above the entrance way) next to the coffee pot and hurriedly yelled out his goodbyes.

he closed the old, wooden door, walked down the brick steps, and turned onto thompson rd. his stride was strong and his gaze was fixed onto some imaginative point on the horizon.

ken was on a mission.

the rest of his week was rough, even by ken's standards. book 'n' brew had been closed for the past five days, much to his dismay. ken had inherited the ability to burn water and couldn't be trusted to make his own tea. with the name-brand fix no longer being an option, five whole days without caffeine had put ken on edge.

it was a rather dreary sunday. the rain fell in sheets and drenched the ken down too his sock-less toes. inky black hair plastered to his forehead; his eyelashes had already clumped together. his wet sneakers lead him down the familiar cement of thompson rd. and his heart leap into his throat when he saw the lights on in the infamous bookstore.

the warm atmosphere was once again barren of any patrons (besides ken, of course). hikari was much easier to spot, given that she was directly behind the counter. ken’s heart-rate picked up; he was almost giddy.

hikari's hair was swept to the side again, the ends barely dancing across her shoulders. her billowy dress had been replaced by jeans and a t-shirt. an apron hung loosely off her thin frame. she wore the tea stains like accessories. his heart gave another weird flutter.

however, before he could question his reaction, ken became far too preoccupied with the smells of the quaint shop. cinnamon wafted around his ears while cocoa assaulted his nostrils.

the owner physically perked up when the wind chimes above the door sang a song, signaling the first customer of the day.

rain dripped from his clothes as ken walked towards the delicious aromas while mulling over the half-baked plan that he attempted to conceive a week prior.

it wasn't much. he just thought that hikari was impossibly cute and wanted an excuse to strike up a seemingly casual conversation. the only problem that presented itself was the fact that ken absolutely despised reading.

so, during his caffeine withdrawal, ken invested a part of his meager wages into a hoard of "spark notes" books. these were easier to understand and got straight to the point, anyways. every morning of his coffee-less week began with a literary classic. much to his dismay, the plots bored him to tears. lovers would fight and makeup, enemies would always become friends. books were too predictable.

nevertheless, when the shop was finally reopened, ken had the basic knowledge of not one, but five(ish) novels to use as conversation starters. he wanted to be prepared to keep her interest, no matter how small his understanding of the material.

"hello, hikari!" ken chirped, a bright smile spreading across his wind-nipped cheeks.

"good morning, ken ichijouji, how have you been?" though she was talking to him, her eyes never left the countertop she was cleaning. the shadows under her eyes did not go unnoticed, but ken decided against bringing it up.

" i'm great! i've been put off, though, as your shop hasn't been open in nearly a week."

hikari chuckled darkly, her eyes meeting his for the briefest of moments. "don't worry about that. i'm here now. would you like anything to sip on or any novels to escape into today?"

ken was slightly confused by the unusual turn hikari's behavior. her voice was no longer sweet, but laden with exhaustion. however, he let none of this deter him from his mission.

"yes, please. i would like a coffee with creamer and two and a half sugars, please."

the blue-eyed boy watched intently as hikari made his drink. In an effort to bring a smile to her face, ken joked that his preferred his coffee the color of his sun-kissed skin. despite how stupid it sounded, her cheeks warmed as she giggled. looking like an idiot was worth it if it meant that hikari would laugh like that.

"so," ken began as the silence settled in, "have you read any good books lately?" he took a quick sip of his coffee and let the warmth sink to his icy toes. september was almost over, but the chill of october was already creeping around the corner.

the corner of hikari's mouth twitched, and ken’s heart soared when he knew he made the correct choice.

"hm," the young woman started, her body relaxed against the cluttered surface of the counter., "i had you pegged as more of a 'movies-are-better-than-books' type of guy." her elbow grazed a stack of books that were balanced precariously on the edge.

"ah, well, of course not! i have loved reading since primary school." ken stuttered out. his face was a shade of deep red, resembling the worn-out velvet of the chair he was sat in. the lie sat uneasily at the pit of his stomach, but ken pushed it aside.

"well, to answer your question, i just finished the book thief by markus zusak." by now, a smile had warmed up hikari’s amber eyes, brightening the mood. rain still splattered against the shop windows, but the pair paid little mind.

"what was it about?" inquired ken. while he had no interest in reading, he certainly had an interest in whatever hikari was talking about. her slow, languid voice soothed him.

hikari eagerly rambled on and on about the characters and plot, being careful to only tease at the spoilers. ken stared intently into her eyes. he didn't have a clue what she was talking about, but he loved every minute of her voice ringing in his ears.

the coffee sat abandoned in his lap, warm long gone and chilly. the raven-haired boy took a drawn out sip, absentminded. furrowed eyebrows and a quirk of the month made hikari giggle in the midst of her story-telling.

once hikari’s story lulled to an end, ken began to talk about the books he didn't really read. he steered away from specifics and danced around with the big ideas. though her attention was divided behind between making herself a cup of tea and ken’s pride and prejudice synopsis, she seemed at ease.

"you remind me of Lydia Bennet, actually.” hikari’s hair whipped around, her eyes wide with surprise. ken was too preoccupied with the speech he prepared, one that he was sure would enthrall her. “you have that aura about you.”

“i have the aura of girl that would run away with a grown man at the age of fifteen?” the incredulousness in her voice snapped ken from his coffee-induced stupor. He hands shook. oh god, i should have read the book.

“the sparks notes didn’t mention that part.” his mouth reveals him before his brain can put a stop to it. “oh, god, i’ve ruined everything. i can’t talk to cute people, okay? i don’t know how to flirt!” his absolute, all-consuming panic must have been obvious from the way the warmth crept across his face.

her giggle caught him off guard. “how can you laugh at a time like this? i just compared you to a mother’s worse nightmare.” ken was miserable, doing his best to disappear into the cushion of the recliner.

“because it was endearing to watch you pretend to know what you’re talking about.” hikari said simply, her cheeks pink.

ken only hummed in response, not trusting his voice to respond. Instead, he basked in the warm atmosphere and tried to gain the inertia to take himself to work. while they sat in comfortable silence, mulling in the conversation, hikari leaned down and pried the empty ceramic mug from ken’s now-cold fingertips.

the contact sent a shiver down his spine, his heartrate skipping sporadically in his chest. he was on fire.

and ken knew.

he knew by the blush that rose in the girl’s cheeks, and the look of confusion still in her eyes. ken knew that coffee was good, but it had never tasted better than when he was with her. he had never tried so hard to gain the attentions of the girl, never expecting himself to be willing to do research on a subject that didn't interest him just for the sake of conversation.

the realization shook him to his core.

ken knew that he was falling for her.

so he did what he was best at.

he ran.

"oh my, look at the time. i am going to be late for my shift. it's been good. thanks for the coffee." he slammed a wad of money on the counter and rushed to the door, wind chimes tinkling after him.

hikari's goodbyes were caught in her throat.

#kenkari #ken ichijouji #hikari yagami #digimon

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nataliedanovelist · 6 years ago

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GF - Tiger Stripes

A gift for @siro-cyll, cuz they’re the best and I love them and lowkeygotahugecrush, but anyways! They’ve inspired me so much the last few weeks by just being them and I wanted to do something special. I hope you like it! - N.S.

~~~~~~~~~~

With the soft, warm steam coming from his mug, the pleasant early-morning sun baking his naked chest, and the cool breeze awakening his senses gradually, it would be an understatement to say that Ford was comfortable.

The breeze ruffled his fluffy charcoal-gray hair playfully before disappearing, leaving behind a still Summer's air. While it is true that he became cold easily, one of the reasons why he wore turtleneck sweaters all year-round, the star his planet revolved around warned his exposed skin pleasantly and Ford felt no anxiety nor unpleasant chill as he stood on the porch, watching the day begin.

The aged scientist sipped his hot caffeinated drink, something he had excruciatingly missed while out in the Multiverse, but over the last ten months he had been home, Ford had taken full advantage of the Columbia-imported beverage and revisited his old habits with each mug. He took in a deep breath; with Bill dead, the remarkable start to a day, his brave choice of attire, and the fact that he was back in Gravity Falls for the summer, surrounded by loved ones, Ford was flooded with a sense of peace and he felt at home.

Of course, that wasn't to say he wasn't at home on the Stan O' War II with his brother; he and Stan had the time of their lives on that boat, sailing the Arctic ocean and fulfilling the dream they had shared since their childhood; and they looked forward to continuing on their adventure when the summer ended. Still, Gravity Falls has always been and always will be where Ford felt at home, felt like he could be himself, and while those characteristics applied on the Stan O' War II, here in the Mystery Shack two little bundles of joy made it even better.

Speaking of, she was opening random doors like the creep she admitted to being, wondering what all had changed since she and her brother had arrived for the summer. Mabel pleasantly found that, all in all, not too much had changed. Some more things had been moved into storage to make the Soos and his Abuelita's move easier when summer ended, and some things were moved around for convenience's sake, but no great change that threw the teenage girl for a loop; this was still her true home and her family was still here.

Mabel skipped to the kitchen to fix herself a cup of Mabel Juice to satisfy her appetite until her Grunkle Stan would make his world-famous Stancakes. As she poured her homemade drink into a glass, she noticed the used coffee-dipped spoon by the sink and when she looked at the coffee-pot, some of the dark, gross, adult drink was still in there, probably enough for two more servings, a second one for a sleep-hating scientist and one for Mabel's favorite conman.

Looking forward to spending time with him, as she always will, Mabel made her way to the basement to surprise Grunkle Ford with her presence. She was confused to find it empty, it being typical for her uncle to overwork, never ceasing, but maybe he wasn't in the mood to work. Or maybe he was working in another room. Mabel checked the private study on the second floor of the basement, but it too was empty. Then she checked the thinking parlor, astounded and also pleased to find it empty; if Ford wasn't working (which was a good thing in Mabel's book) then where was he?

Mabel decided to calmly roam the house for him, now halfway done with her Mabel Juice. Ford wasn't in the living room and it was unlikely that he was upstairs. Just as she was thinking to check his room, in case he went back there to drink his coffee in peace, Mabel decided to check the porch since she was so close to it. She opened the door and looked around, then made a big smile that was free from braces. Ford was standing to her right, a hand on his hip and another hand holding his mug, shirtless and enjoying the sun.

"G'morning, Grunkle Ford." Mabel said cheerfully and let the door close behind her

Ford jumped, nearly sloshing coffee on his hand, and his face turned red as he looked at his great-niece. His free arm was now crossed over his chest, trying to preserve some privacy, but it hardly mattered; he was still fairly exposed.

It wasn't uncommon for Ford to sit by the window in the Stan O' War II shirtless in the morning, but back there he was assured that Stan would not wake up until nine o'clock, plenty of time to finish his coffee and cover himself again. He never had to worry about someone seeing his torso and the many ugly scars that littered his skin, but he had overlooked that his beautiful niece was an early-bird, just like him, and he had misjudged the risk of being caught.

Ford cleared his throat. "G-Good morning, Mabel. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, did you?" Mabel asked and stood next to him, watching the sun and blissfully unaware of how uncomfortable her uncle was.

"Y-Yes, I did, my dear." And Ford sipped his coffee to give him something to do that wasn't standing awkwardly.

Mabel also sipped her juice, smiling and happy. Ford casted glances down at her, waiting for her to make a remark or comment about him only being in his plaid pajama-pants, but she was distracted by the beautiful morning. Ford tried to move past his self-conscious fear, but that was easier said than done. Surviving out in the Multiverse had earned him a handful of battle-scars; old gun-shot wounds, scratches from monsters, chemical burns from acid, and most recently two discolored scars on his wrists and one around his neck, the burns Bill gave him as the devil tortured the scientist for information. Some scars he had received well before the Multiverse and some he had received willingly, but this was a conversation Ford was not ready to have with his innocent little girl and he hoped he could somehow avoid it today.

However, Mabel was an insightful, kind young lady, who was bound to notice when something was wrong with a loved one, so she glanced up at Ford and asked, gentle as a kitten, "Grunkle Ford, are you okay?"

Ford looked down at her and gave her a smile she almost bought. "Yes, I'm okay."

"Are you sure? Did you have another nightmare?"

Ford shook his head. "No, I slept soundly, thank you."

Mabel decided that she believed him and then looked down at his arm, about to take his polydactyl hand, but something else caught her attention and it made her smile. "I like your tiger stripes."

Ford raised an eyebrow at her. "Excuse me?"

"Your tiger stripes." Mabel clarified and softly touched some scars on his left arm that were from when a huge monster scratched him. Ford typically didn't like to be touched, but the girl was so gentle and only had the best intentions, so he held back a shiver and let her feel his skin. "They mean you're very brave. They look really cool!" Mabel's curiosity and fascination got the best of her; she moved her little hand up his arm and to his shoulder, where more scars laid. Her eyes sparkled like stars and she just kept on smiling at her uncle's body. "I especially like those big ones on your chest. Wow, you must be really brave!"

Ford bit his lip. He was completely and utterly speechless. Did she fully understand what he had to do to receive these marks, or did she believe they magically came to be when someone was brave? Did she have any idea what he had been through? Or did she really understand what she was saying at all. When Ford looked at her beautiful brown eyes, the brown eyes that matched his own, he knew that she did understand even if not fully. He wasn't sure if he wanted her to understand fully yet, but for now he could enjoy what a blessing his niece was. "Th-Thank you, Mabel. Really, thank you so much."

Mabel smiled with rosy cheek and held his hand. Ford squeezed her hand kindly in return. After a minute, Mabel pulled him to the couch by the hand and sat down, patting the seat next to her. Ford smiled and sat next to her, then allowed her to curl up against his chest and watch the sunrise. He blinked his misty eyes dry and wrapped a strong arm around her, much warmer with her and no shirt than any sweater could ever warm him.

#gravity falls #ford pines #transgender headcanons #siro-cyll #ford and mabel bonding #mabel pines #there's not enough sweater-twins bonding in the world #fanfiction

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solllaris · 5 years ago

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retrograde — 01

↳ here.

PAIRING: Frat!Tom / Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: It takes some convincing, but you ultimately agree to go to a frat party and are pushed out of your comfort zone in more than one way.

WARNINGS: language, underage drinking, anxiety/panic attacks, & insecure thoughts

WORDS: 5874

NOTE: This series is my baby so please be nice. The reader’s fears and anxieties are basically a reflection of my own, so posting this makes me feel super vulnerable. There were many moments I seriously considered deleting everything I had made for this series because I was too afraid to put myself out there like this, but obviously I didn’t. I really want the reader’s story to help someone or make them feel like they’re not alone because anxiety can make you feel so isolated at times. So to the person reading this right now, to the person with anxiety or depression or whatever: You are not alone. You will never be alone. And I hope this story shows you that somehow.

series masterlist — masterlist — add yourself to my taglist!

Tortoise shell glasses the color of honey inched their way down the bridge of your nose again and you would’ve been greatly annoyed if your glazed-over eyes weren’t focused on the large plastic cup of coffee on the table. Fingers still tensed and poised over the laptops keyboard, your attention had shifted for the millionth time to the dark browns streaking through the blonde colored liquid at the bottom and your fried out brain was mesmerized by it. Anything was more intriguing than the open, half-way completed book review on your computer screen where the blinking cursor taunted you from the corner of your eye. At your wits end, you turned away completely with a groan that you stifled with a hopefully motivating gulp of your iced cold brew swirled with caramel.

Shoving the frames further up your nose where they belonged, you nursed the straw of your coffee between your tongue and teeth and glanced briefly about the room. The Learning Commons was fairly full for ten in the morning, but you weren’t too surprised; it was the go-to place to go — not only to get coursework done, but also to just unwind and mess around. That Friday morning hadn’t been any different from the rest and bleary-eyed college students milled about, drinking their caffeine from the God-sent Starbucks in the building and chatting to their friends through sleepy slurs. For a person who really enjoyed people-watching, the Learning Commons was the prime place for you to spend most of your time. You blended in and fell into the shadows just as you liked.

Blinking twice, you realized you had zoned out again. Your vision focused and you saw you had been staring blankly across the room at a boy drooling all over his open textbook. His slackened grip around his mechanical pencil kept allowing it to fall over in his hand, rousing him each time for only a few seconds and then he was out cold again. The sight made you laugh under your breath and you impulsively tipped your head back onto your roommate’s thigh from where she was sprawled out on the couch behind you. Just as you wanted, Scout’s fingers that had been raking through your hair stilled to let you know you had her attention.

“Look,” You said loud enough for her to hear over the raucous youths around you and discreetly pointed across the way at the sleepy boy. “That’s about to be me if I don’t get this paper done soon, I swear to everything Holy.”

A snort exploded through her nostrils and your head jostled with the movements of her leg kicking the guy whose lap they rested in.

“Jude.”

Another harsh nudge to his thigh and the frustrated boy mashed a button on his video game controller, a ‘paused’ message appearing on the flat screen TV. A harsh, pointed look urged her to continue so he could get back to his game.

“That guy over there looks just like you.”

When you glanced back over, the drooling guy had completely given up on at least attempting to remain upright to look like he was getting work done. His cheek was smashed against the pages of his book, pushing his lips out in a pucker face, and his wrecked hair stuck up at odd angles on his forehead. An unbridled bubble of laughter threatened to come up your throat and you had managed to contain it — until a little string of drool puddled on the paper his cheek rested upon. Both you and Scout shook with the force of your giggles and you briefly found yourself thinking that it probably wasn’t that funny, but to a sleep-deprived university student it was comedic gold.

Jude must’ve shoved Scout’s legs off his lap if the loud ‘thud!’ of her feet hitting the floor beside you were any indication. They came dangerously close to knocking over your cup of caffeine — the only thing getting you through the early hours of the morning — and you were quick to snatch it up, cradling it to your chest like a protective mother. Your look of disgust towards your two friends was completely ignored, overlooked by Scout’s cry of protest and Jude’s annoyed, but slightly amused, glare at the girl.

“That’s what you made me pause my game for?” He huffed, tugging his fingers through his dark tufts of hair.

She shrugged, a shit-eating grin on her face as she plopped her warm toned legs back onto his lap. “Y/n said it first, not me.”

You were mid-sip, a mouthful of bitter coffee coating your tongue when you squealed a close-mouthed noise of protest, widened eyes flickering between your friends.

“I did not!” You cried once you’d successfully swallowed without choking. “I said that would be me if I didn’t finish my paper soon.”

“Lies,” Scout muttered.

Twisting your body to face her, the back of your hand smacked against her bare outer thigh, a loud and satisfying ‘smack!’ emitting from the harsh flesh on flesh contact. Your puppy dog eyes turned to Jude, bottom lip jutting out just slightly and he laughed, the action making his irises twinkle and scrunch closed.

“I’d never say that about you, J,” You said cutely.

He bumped his knee against your right shoulder lightly, jostling you to the side, and rolled his eyes but the tiny upwards lift to the corners of his mouth told you he was far from annoyed.

“Alright, alright, I believe you.” He groaned, quickly flicking his gaze back to the TV and unpausing his game. “Fuck you and your puppy eyes.”

Grinning triumphantly, you sipped your coffee happily and flopped back against the front of the couch. The sleeping computer screen on the coffee table immediately put a pin in your bubble of contentment, an instant frown replacing the bright smile on your lips. You set aside your half empty cup with a heavy sigh and swiped a finger along the smooth track-pad, waking it from its automatic sleep to tuck back into the four page book review for your U.S. History class. The cursor blinked approximately five or six times before you began to type, but you had barely written three words when the glass doors of the Learning Commons burst open and a group of rowdy boys piled through the entrance.

Well, you thought. Maybe just one more day of procrastinating won’t hurt.

A muffled groan sounded from Scout. “Great. Your frat brothers decided to grace us with their presence, J.”

Your fingers went slack over the lit up keys and you slouched defeatedly; at the rate you were going, the outcome of your paper was beginning to look more and more dim, but the fraternity boys couldn’t care less that some people were actually attempting to get their assignments done by their due dates. They joked and jostled each other and you kind of hoped they could feel the blazing burn of your laser-beam glare you shot their way, but their oblivious grins stuck a pin in your wishes. You watched them for a moment longer as they split off, some falling into the snack bar or coffee line while others drifted towards a vacant table or couch; you took that as your cue to pack up your things and traipse across campus to the library. (Why did you pick somewhere so loud to write a whole ass paper anyway?)

Scout managed to tear her attention from her phone long enough to notice you zipping up your bag and beginning to stand.

She quirked a perfectly shaped brow and asked, “Where are you going? It’s only 10:30; our Psych class isn’t until 12.”

“Thanks for the reminder. I wasn’t aware that the class I’ve been going to every Friday for a month now doesn’t start until 12,” You bit back with the most deadpan tone you could muster.

Jude snorted without taking his eyes off the TV, his fingers never ceasing their rapid movements between buttons on the game controller. Scout responded with a swift kick to said controller (which earned her a string of expletives as he fumbled to retrieve it off the floor) and waggled a chipped nail-polished finger at you.

“First of all, the ‘tude is not appreciated and second, both of your friends are sitting right here so my question is very valid.”

“Okay, rude.” You pouted sulkily as you gathered your hair to tie it up into a bun with the velvety pink scrunchie on your wrist. “And if you must know, I’m going to the library because it’s way too loud in here to write a paper.”

“Ugh.” Scout groaned and threw her legs off the side of the couch, rolling off onto the floor in the most ungraceful maneuver you’d ever witnessed in your life. “I guess I’ll go with you. I still haven’t finished that Biology worksheet due today.”

“Really?” You inquired absentmindedly as you fiddled with your messy bun in the reflection on your darkened phone screen. (She was taking forever and you needed something to do so you didn’t look like a complete moron.) “I finished it like the day she handed it out last week.”

You didn’t even have to look over at the caramel-skinned girl to know that she had rolled her eyes hard enough to get stuck inside her head. “Literally no one asked,” She retorted.

“Mmm, and to think I was actually going to give you all the answers..”

Just as you watched her expression morph into a sickly sweet one, a shrill whistle cut through every conversation in the room. The loud chattering of college students died down to muted whispers until the only distinguishable sounds were the whirring of the old air conditioning unit in the building and the clambering of shoes against wood; once you turned away from Scout you saw that the latter had come from a blonde boy in basketball shorts standing on a table in the center of the room. Kappa Sigma was emblazoned proudly across the chest of the scarlet colored hoodie he wore and you fought the urge to roll your eyes because of course he was in a fraternity.

The blonde frat boy’s voice faintly resonated in your ears, but you turned away from his dramatic display anyway to latch onto the sleeve of Scout’s over-sized Harvard University t-shirt. You insistently tugged on the crimson colored material because you really just wanted to get a head-start on your paper. Instead of relenting and following you, she simply shrugged you off and it was then that you got distracted with one look at a stupidly attractive guy in a stupidly, tight t-shirt.

If you had ever seen someone who was truly poured into a shirt it was this guy. The gray material was stretched taut across his pectorals and abdomen, dipping and curling into each chiseled line on his body. The stitching around the short sleeves looked two seconds away from ripping open as his biceps bulged from the way he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. You didn’t think the view could get any better until your eyes slid further up to a jawline that could probably cut straight through glass and to top it off, a head full of effortless curls—your ultimate weakness. You were pretty sure you were gaping open-mouthed at him at that point, but it wasn’t everyday that you saw a real life fucking angel on campus.

So yes, you gaped at him. Proudly.

Until you were caught...which you were seconds later.

Your heart dipped dangerously low in your chest and for a moment it felt like the warm blood in your veins had turned to ice. That feeling of sudden panic from such a cute guy looking at you prompted you to swiftly turn away; the cold you had felt literal seconds prior shifted to an uncomfortable warmth as the shock of being caught staring shifted to embarrassment. Your brain raced almost as quickly as your heart and you tried to pretend to focus on the blonde guy standing on a table to calm down, but then you made the dumb decision to sneak another peek.

Big, big mistake on your part.

Insanely hot frat guy was still looking at you. Not only was he still staring, but the beginnings of a smirk were forming on his pink lips and maybe he was not-so-subtly flexing his biceps. Seeing the corded muscles ripple and bulge under his tan skin truly was entrancing and if Scout hadn’t grabbed you by the material of your sweatshirt you would’ve stood and stared for a little bit longer.

Fingers snapped in front of your face and you blinked once, twice, three times before she really came into focus. She shot you a funny look and asked, “Seriously, what were you staring at?” She followed your gaze when your eyes instinctively shot back towards the insanely hot frat guy—who had thankfully looked away. “What is wrong with y—ohhh.”

A shit-eating grin stretched across her face and you immediately groaned. “Don’t start, okay?” You grumbled and finally managed to pull her towards the glass double doors. “He’s stupid hot and I was respectfully looking.”

Scout snorted from behind you as you held the door for her, both of you stepping outside and beginning the trek across campus to the library.

“You were point two seconds away from drooling,” She teased, bumping your arm with her elbow.

You felt the heat tickling at your cheeks and ears again, so you quickly changed the subject.

“Anyway,” You said pointedly, shooting her a look that could kill. “What was that whole ‘getting on the table’ display about?”

“Right. I forgot you were a little... preoccupied.” She smirked and dodged your incoming fist, giggling like a maniac. “Okay, okay! There’s a party at the Kappa Sigma house tonight.”

Scrunching your nose up at the mention of a party, you tossed your empty cup of iced coffee in a trash bin as you passed.

“Well, I have a hot date with Doctor McDreamy and I can’t miss it. You know how much I love me some Derek Shepherd.”

Just as you reached for the door handle to the library, she smacked your hand away with a serious expression.

“C’mon!” She whined, her bottom lip jutting out like a child. “You’ve never been to a party with me. It’ll be fun!”

“My definition of ‘fun’ is very different from yours, Scout.”

A sly smile turned her full lips upwards again. “Tom will be there…”

Your brows furrowed as you wracked your brain to put a name to a face. Tom. Did you know a Tom?

“Um. Am I supposed to know who that is?” You asked cluelessly.

Scout groaned. “Tom Holland. The guy you were ogling in the LC,” She explained with a ‘duh’ tone in her voice.

Absentmindedly you fiddled with the strap of your shoulder bag. You were already growing tired of the conversation and wished she’d just drop it; if anyone knew your anxiety situation, it was her and you thought she’d learned by now that you would never set foot in a party. Attending a frat party of all things was sure to bring on a panic attack and you’d rather not hyperventilate in front of a bunch of testosterone-filled college guys. No way in hell.

Exhaling an exasperated sigh, you shifted on your feet tiredly and let your head fall back towards the sky.

“Is that supposed to convince me?” You shifted around your friend and managed to snag the door open before she could stop you. “Because it’s not working.”

Save for a girl lightly snoring on one of the couches and a guy wearing glasses slaving over his keyboard, the library was practically barren. You immediately felt comforted as you traipsed along the outskirts of the large room, like a warm hug after coming home from a long day; except it was barely after eleven in the morning and you were ashamed to admit that you already needed comforting. Whilst another large exhale huffed past your lips at the thought, you dropped your bag down on the worn cushions of a couch pushed under a window and plopped yourself next to it rather ungracefully.

A rather loud thump resounded through the room as Scout carelessly deposited her own things on the floor by a comfortable looking arm chair; she simply shrugged at your warning glance, mumbling “those two are dead to the world anyway” under her breath and turned to pull a black binder from her backpack.

Soon, the silence between you two was filled with the clicking of your fingers across the keys on your laptop and the scratching of her mechanical pencil on paper. It was nice—relaxing even—and you sunk further into the soft couch that hugged your body, your mind only filled with the words you needed to get down to finish your stupid book review.

What kind of history class has to write a book review anyway? This wasn’t English.

You should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

A small wad of balled up notebook paper hit your left cheek, bouncing off and into the crack between the cushions. Before you could retort, she was already whispering vehemently.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the party.” She stabbed her pencil in your direction as she spoke. “You’re going. Plus, I’ll be with you the whole night. Promise.”

Arguing with Scout was like arguing with a brick wall—pointless and you’d never win and you honestly just wanted her to shut up at this point; so even though the idea of standing in the Kappa Sigma frat house while the plaster walls vibrated and bodies jostled around you almost made you want to throw up, you reluctantly agreed to go with her. You tried to convince yourself it wouldn’t be so bad, that your best friend would be at your side the entire night, but you still couldn’t shake the butterflies in your belly the entire day.

Just as you’d expected, you were pretty sure you were this close to blowing chunks in Kappa Sigma’s bushes.

The lawn was crawling with college students bearing drinks and you were thrown into the middle of them, one hand clasped in Scout’s as she led you up to the porch and the other anxiously fiddling with the hem of your gingham printed shorts. You were hyper aware of everything happening around you: knocking shoulders with a short, blonde girl, the loud shouts over a game of flip cup, the bass of the song playing in your chest, and a putrid, skunk-like smell that caught in your lungs no matter what you did. Already you wanted to leave, but one look at your best friend’s excited face had you willing yourself to suck it up and try to have fun.

Clutching onto Scout’s hand like it was your only lifeline, she guided you through the foyer and an expansive dining room before reaching the kitchen and the pressure in your chest lifted enough to calm your racing heart; it was significantly less crowded, only inhabited by a small group of girls and a guy with his head stuck in the refrigerator. You watched as Scout paid none of them any mind and instead helped herself to two red solo cups, pointing the nozzle to the keg in one and letting it fill with the sepia toned beer before doing the same with the other cup.

You had just opened your mouth to protest, but the look she shot you had the words dying in your throat.

“Just trust me, alright?” She said and you let her shove the full cup into your hand. “It’ll help with your nerves.”

For a brief second your gaze flickered to the group of three girls seated at the kitchen island, all huddled together and speaking in low tones. It made your skin prickle and heat up and you wondered if they were talking about you—how out of place you seemed.

The white brim of your cup slotted between your glossed-up lips and you took a hefty swig. You immediately scrunched your face up in disgust at the bitter, watery taste of the ale but you were willing to down it if it drowned out your impending anxiety for the night.

“Ugh.” You cringed and peered at the frothy beer in distaste. “How do you drink this shit?”

Scout just grinned and raised her beer in the air.

“Cheers bitch,” She hummed and downed a gulp big enough to puff out her cheeks with the liquid. “Now drink up.”

So, you did cautiously while she retrieved her phone from her back pocket; you distantly heard her say the words “text” and “Jude” but you were more focused on the guy leaning against the counter a few steps away. It was the same guy who’d been rummaging in the fridge when you came in and it appeared he’d found what he wanted: a bottle of Michelob Ultra that he held by the neck. His other hand was occupied by his phone, his head tilted downwards as he scrolled with his thumb, but then he tipped it back to sip his drink and your heart plummeted.

You wasted no time grabbing Scout by her bicep to get her attention.

“Don’t look now but super hot frat guy, Tom, is literally right there,” You whispered frantically through gritted teeth and tugged her towards the exit.

Of course, she resisted. The “don’t look now” part of your sentence slipped in one ear and out the other because she turned back to glance at him with the subtlety of a hand grenade. Her small squeal had you yanking her back around, your stomach rolling with enough nerves to make you vomit for real this time.

“I literally just said—”

Just after the words left your mouth, Jude sauntered into the kitchen, loudly exclaiming: “Tom, man, how long does it take to get a drink?” Then, his six-foot-three hulking physique lumbered towards you and Scout—which effectively made Tom’s dark brown irises lock onto you. “And why have you guys not answered my texts? We’re about to start another round of flip cup.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes and you wished you were dead. You knew you should’ve stayed in the safety of your dorm with Meredith Grey and Derek Shepherd. Why didn’t you?

Maybe it was because you were the biggest pushover on campus?

Yeah, that had to be it.

“Sorry, mate.” Tom didn’t glance away from you as he spoke. You noticed a smirk playing at his thin lips before it was covered by the open top of his beer bottle when he took a drag. “I guess I got a little... distracted.”

His little jab at you didn’t go unnoticed.

Yep, he definitely recognized you from earlier in the day when you practically undressed him.

Deep down you knew he was just messing with you, but you couldn’t help feeling humiliated—like you were the center of a joke and not the kind of joke where he was laughing with you; suddenly overcome with a need to escape, you ignored his remark and turned to Scout and Jude instead.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna go to the bathroom or step outside really quick.”

You barely heard her concerned voice asking if you wanted her to come with you before you were high-tailing it out of the room and up the dark wooden stairs in the foyer. You took them two at a time and in your haste to ascend them, the smelly beer in your still-full-to-the-brim cup sloshed over the rim and saturated the front of your black shirt and flowy shorts. Your face contorted in discomfort at the feeling of your wet clothes sticking to your skin as you slowed down, reaching the top floor at a more careful pace. The paranoid feeling that everyone was watching you make a fool of yourself began to set in and just as your breathing started to escalate, you ducked into the first bedroom you saw and quickly shut it with a click.

Absentmindedly, you sat your now half empty beer cup on the dresser by the door and slumped back against the wood. The cold doorknob pressed into the bottom of your spine but you didn’t care because all you could think about was the soaked fabric clinging to your front, Tom’s subtle mocking comment, and the feeling you’d felt coming up the steps.

In the back of your mind you knew how dramatic and blown out of proportion you were acting; your anxiety, however, didn’t get the memo. So there you were, panting and quivering in some random frat guy’s room with tears pooling at your lash line. You were beginning to feel nauseous lurches in your stomach and all you wanted was to go home.

You’d never wanted to be here in the first place.

An uncomfortable warmth bloomed in your chest around your heart—a feeling you were all too familiar with. If you had to guess, you assumed it was the way a heart attack might feel. You were panicking for absolutely no reason at all and all that you knew was that you needed to get out of here.

With shaky hands, you pulled your phone out of your bra and wiped away the sticky residue from the beer before composing a new text to Scout.

Sent at 11:33 PM: i feel sick. i think i’m gonna head back to our dorm

Then, feeling inexplicably guilty for not even trying, you typed again as your tears left splotches on your screen.

Sent at 11:33 PM: i’m really sorry

The click of your phone locking sounded like a blaring horn to your over-sensitized body and you slumped tiredly into a desk chair, shoving your phone somewhere on the desk carelessly. You were still shaking and you didn’t know if you were cold or hot and bile had started to burn your throat and in your hazy mind you swore you heard the doorknob turning but who knows?

“Uh, what the fuck are you doing in my room?”

If you thought you were going to throw up before then you definitely were now.

You grabbed the trash bin beside the desk and hung your head over it, the contents of the day emptying from your anxious stomach.

“Christ,” The guy grumbled in annoyance. Didn’t you know that voice from somewhere? “Of course. A drunk girl chooses my room to throw up in out of all the fuckin’ other rooms in this house.”

Shame crept up your neck and made you feel even hotter than you already were. You felt like such a mess—you reeked of alcohol, your hair was damp from a cold-sweat, and a stranger had just witnessed you puking your guts out. Great.

You couldn’t speak. All you could do was take shaky, staggered breaths and sniffle through your tears but you did manage to see who the mean guy in the room with you was. Just as your luck would have it, the guy whose bedroom you’d taken hostage in was none other than Tom Holland.

Your stomach twisted and again you ducked your head back in the bin to puke some more.

“Look. I’m sorry you feel like shit and drank too much but you’ve gotta get outta here.” You felt his large, strong hand curl around your bare bicep to tug you up out of his chair. “C’mon. Time to go.”

It was at that moment Tom finally noticed three things: that you were the girl from earlier in the LC, then again in the frat’s kitchen, that you were shaking like a leaf against him, and that you were struggling to breathe normally. It was clear to him you weren’t throwing up because you were drunk; you were throwing up because you were having a full-blown panic attack.

In his bedroom.

And he’d been nothing but a dick to you so far.

“Woah, hey, hey,” He murmured softly, his voice taking on a much gentler tone. Delicately, he brushed the sweaty hair from your warm cheeks and allowed one of his palms to meet the small of your back. “It’s okay. You’re alright, darlin’.”

You focused all your attention on the quiet hum of his voice in your right ear and the silver cross necklace rising and falling on his chest with each breath. You tried to sync your breaths with his even, steady ones and although it took awhile, you managed to calm yourself down to a non-hysterical state.

Tom’s fingers, however, never faltered in their dance along your spine. “Good girl,” He hummed soothingly.

Tingles tickled at each of your vertebrae.

Good girl. Was he trying to kill you?

Clearing your throat, you set the trash bin beside the desk where it lived and stood up to move closer to the door and away from Tom. You were pretty sure you’d embarrassed yourself in front of a hot guy enough for one day and didn’t want to do anything rash...like jump his bones for calling you a good girl.

You felt yourself getting hot again.

“I’m sorry.” You fiddled with the damp hem of your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. “I just...needed some air and then I spilt beer all over myself and—yeah.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” He shrugged like a girl having a panic attack in his room was normal, then gestured to your ruined outfit. “I’ve got some stuff you can borrow if you want.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay, really—”

“C’mon. That can’t be comfortable,” He said with a raised brow. He was already rummaging through his dresser drawers before you could protest anymore. “Let me help you out, alright? I’ve already been the biggest dick to you tonight.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you took the clean clothes from his outstretched hand and sent him an awkward smile.

“Thanks. I’ll, um, get these back to you. Sometime.”

He grinned at how awkward and fumbly you were. It was cute. He liked that he was the cause of it.

“Sounds like a pretty good plan to me,” He agreed cheekily, unable to hide the smile on his lips. “Gives me an excuse to see you again, huh, darlin’?”

Oh.

This boy was definitely trying to make you explode and you were two seconds away from doing so, sweat pooling even quicker in areas you didn’t even want to fathom.

Thankfully, before you had the chance to embarrass yourself any further, Tom turned his back on you, chuckling lowly under his breath and urged you to get changed.

As you toed out of your high-tops and peeled your sticky, black shirt from your torso, your attention wavered just as you reached for his heather grey t-shirt. You distractedly grasped the soft material to put it on, but you were too entranced by Tom’s back muscles through his own shirt to follow through.

The fabric was stretched taut over the expanse of his broad shoulders and every little movement allowed you to see the rippling muscle that was underneath it. Your fingers itched to slip under his shirt and feel his toned back for yourself, to lightly dig your n—

“Jude said your friend is waitin’ for you on the porch.” His English twang had you throwing the clean clothes on hastily before he turned back around. “I’ll walk you down.”

All you wanted was to get out of this frat house and into your shower as quickly as possible so you agreed even though you felt like your insides were on fire.

You gathered your dirty clothes and hooked your fingertips into the canvas backs of your shoes before you were ushered out into the corridor. The party seemed to have thinned out a considerable amount with only the occasional person loitering about on the second floor; the thought of someone seeing you with Tom’s baggy clothes on made your cheeks flush and you tilted your head down towards the floor, avoiding anyone’s curious eye. To your anxious mind, it felt like everyone was watching you and Tom descend the grand stairs in the fraternity’s house so you held your gaze with the dark hardwood floor the entire trek to the porch.

His warm palm met the small of your back for the second time that night and you cautiously glanced up into his dark brown irises. You were surprised to see the incredibly soft edge they had taken on and even more surprised by the way your spine instinctively arched against his hand.

A guy had never touched you like this before—it felt intimate and tender and you were a stranger to it.

“Hey.” He had to stoop down towards your ear so you could hear him over the still-blaring music. His breath tickled your neck and his bottom lip brushed the tip of your ear. You couldn’t stop from shivering. “Are you alright?”

No, you weren’t. He was really, really close and your heart was beating dangerously fast again.

“Yeah,” You breathed in reassurance, pushing what you hoped was a convincing smile. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

He didn’t look completely convinced. However, he didn’t push the subject further and you were grateful.

“Alright.” He nodded and it was silent for a split second until you both reached the front door. “You look beautiful in my clothes by the way.”

And then Tom was pushing open the door and there on the porch like he said was a worried Scout. Thankfully, she was way too preoccupied with hurtling questions of “are you okay?” and “what happened?” for her to notice the way your skin was flushed and how you couldn’t quite look anyone in the eye.

The weight of the fingers splayed along the base of your spine disappeared as Scout swept you away from Tom and into her crushing embrace.

“Oh my God!” She shrieked as she hugged you to her, your bundle of clothes and shoes between you digging into your stomach. “You scared the hell out of me. Did you fall in the toilet or something?”

For the first time in what felt like forever, a small snort of a laugh left your throat.

“I’m fine,” You reassured and tangled your digits with hers, tugging her down the porch stairs with you. “And no, I didn’t ‘fall in the toilet.’ I just want to go home and drown myself in the shower.”

“Good. You smell like shit.” Her nose wrinkled. “And please enlighten me on how you ended up in Tom fucking Holland’s bedroom.”

You laughed again and spared a glance over your shoulder.

Tom still stood on the porch, readjusting his backwards hat over his brunette curls. You caught the little smirk on his lips and you swore he winked before Scout was tugging you further up the sidewalk and you were forced to turn back around.

Every inch of your body tingled.

It wasn’t until you stood under the shower head’s chilly spray of water back in your residence hall that you realized you’d left your phone in Tom’s room.

TOM TAGLIST:

@xoxohollands ♡ @outshineallthestars ♡ @pcterparxer ♡ @worldoftom ♡

RETROGRADE ONLY TAGLIST:

@softholand ♡ @sushiinmidnight ♡ @stuckonspidey ♡

54 notes · View notes

shuahoonie · 6 years ago

Text

you. [tom holland] - five.

PAIRING: tom holland x female!celebrity!reader

SUMMARY: ah, to be young and in love. it sounds great if only you and tom were actually dating out of pure love and not for the sheer reputation of your careers. it also should be great if you two actually got along, but life isn’t that easy.

WARNINGS: mostly swearing! sexual innuendos are present kids! a bit of fluff, a bit of angst. it’s haters to lovers / fake dating au so take that information as you wish! this is definitely a filler chapter tho.

WORD COUNT: 3761 words

SONG INSPO: hard times - paramore

A/N: hiya babes! sorry if i skipped a two weeks-worth of an update, got caught up from uni & my part-time job. been writing for uni a lot, and ngl yall kinda wanna cry! anyways, the amount of love i’ve received for this series is wild you guys!!! thank you so much for the kind words! i know i suck at replying but please know that i really appreciate it you guys and y’all make me feel soft and so loved 🥺 sorry again for the late update, hope this makes up for it!! enjoy part five & happy reading x 🥰💛

UPDATES EVERY SATURDAY 11 PM CST

gif credits: @thwip

You woke up by the sun beaming on your face. Already dreading the day, you pulled the covers over your head and buried yourself in the pile of pillows that were taking up most of the space on your bed. God, you were exhausted from yesterday.

See, yesterday- yesterday was a blur. Everything happened so fast. You and Tom were trending on Twitter for god-knows how many hours. Headlines about you two dating were plastered everywhere.

It made you roll your eyes. Do people care that much? And they do. People cared a lot about you two. People said that you two look great together, while a handful said you were in it for the clout. Technically, we both are.

So, now that you got the people’s attention, what’s next?

Well, for starters, they started tracking yours and Tom’s relationship from where and how it started. They wouldn’t find anything because you two aren’t really dating in the first place.

However, they did compilations of possible hints that you two were dating-or maybe was just getting to know each other. Luckily for you two, you followed each other on Instagram for quite a while now so you got that foundation to build up.

You liked some of his photos before, as did he. You actually found Tom quite adorable back then. The first time you saw him was when you saw Captain America: Civil War with your friends. You and your friends bonded over watching Marvel movies and once you saw Tom Holland as Peter Parker on screen, it was safe to say that you weren’t just crushing on Sebastian Stan anymore.

However, you did convince yourself that nothing trumps over your crush on Sebastian Stan. You also convinced yourself that you were crushing on Peter Parker-not Tom Holland. Peter Parker was sweet and kind, Tom Holland was not.

You pushed off the covers and finally pulled yourself out of bed. After doing your morning routine, you threw yourself into the couch with a coffee in hand while a toast on the other.

Today was your last day off before you went back to taping so you were expecting a pretty dull day today- that is until your phone kept on buzzing.

You looked at the caller ID before letting out a huge groan, “Zoë, Please for the love of God, it’s my day off.”

“Good morning to you too, Y/N.” Your manager said on the other line. “And I know it’s your day off, I just wanted to check up on you.”

You furrowed your brows. “That sounds oddly suspicious, what are you planning to do, Zoë?”

“Would you relax, Y/N? I was just asking if you have anything to do for your day off.” She replied.

“I’ll probably do a bit of grocery shopping later, but other than that I might bury myself in blankets and watch movies in the living room.” You answered and took a bite of your toast, frowning as you tried to swallow your sad and bland breakfast.

“Okay, that’s good to know-Oh, and I also wanted to tell you that your taping tomorrow has been moved for the next two days. Apparently, Alissa won’t be back till tomorrow.”

“Oh, thank god,” You sighed, relieved to hear that you have another day off. “Thanks for the heads up, Zo. I’ll see ‘ya soon.” You hung up the phone and finished the piece of toast.

You watched a few episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine before you gathered up the will to get yourself ready. After taking a well-deserved warm bath and doing your extensive skincare routine -watching videos about Koreans sharing their skincare routine on Youtube really got the best of you and your bank account- You put on a plain white shirt and paired it with your favourite pair of mom jeans.

As you grabbed your keys and your wallet, ready to bust out the door, you heard your phone ring.

“Are you home?”

“Yes, I am, Ronnie. Why are you asking?” You asked her.

“Cool. Can you open the door please?” She asked on the other line.

Confused, you opened your front door and sure enough, Veronica was standing in front of your apartment wearing her university sweatshirt and denim jeans.

“Oh thank god you’re ready, I had the most awful day at school. I just received my paper for my 400-level political science class and let’s just say that the mark I got, I haven’t done it in bed for a while now.” Veronica ranted off, taking her shoes off before placing her books on the coffee table.

It took you a solid minute before you just realized what she just said. “Ronnie, I don’t want to know about your sex life-” You said before you fixed your hair. “Or lack thereof.”

“I could really use some good fucking, ‘yannoe?”

“Jesus Christ, Ronnie-” You sighed as you handed her shoes back to her. “C’mon, I have to do some serious grocery shopping.”

“Okay, but I’m driving,” Ronnie said as she grabbed her car keys. “You’re a horrible driver.”

“Works for me,” You shrugged and locked the front door.

The travel to the grocery store was typical: you two belting One Direction songs the whole time. You and Veronica were strolling the yogurt aisle when she asked about your whole love life situation.

“Oi, I thought you and Tom weren’t dating?” She asked as she put an assorted pack of yogurt down the cart.

“I’m never going to eat that,” You pointed at the yogurt. “And we aren’t.”

“I will eat it whenever I stop by unannounced at your place,” Veronica argued. “Then what’s with that photo that I’ve seen with you two holding hands yesterday?”

You looked around, checking if there was anybody within-distance that could hear whatever you were about to say. “We’re not actually dating.” You murmured.

“Come again?” Veronica asked, completely lost.

“We’re just doing it for publicity.” You whispered loud enough for Ronnie to hear.

“I’m sorry, but how exactly did it escalate to that?” She asked, totally confused.

“Remember that stunt I pulled at the club the other day?”

“Yeah, you were all over the news.”

“That was the reason as to why it had to escalate to me and him dating.” You answered as you pushed the cart again.

“Yeah, no, I need a cup of coffee before we do this, I’m all caffeine-out,” Veronica said before she bid of herself off and went towards the Starbucks that was found near the entrance of the store.

You rolled your eyes playfully at your friend and carried on completing the least stressful adult task for you.

It was actually quite serene. You managed to finish your shopping without people noticing you-well, that’s a stretch. People did notice you. Most of them gave you an acknowledging nod followed by a small smile, some of them asked for a photo, and only a few just stared at you-which you didn’t mind.

You were paying for your things when Veronica appeared right beside you with a cup of coffee in hand. “What? Did the line at Starbucks reach the parking lot? What took you so long?”

“No, but a cute guy bought me a drink.” She beamed, taking a sip of her coffee.

You chuckled. “Good for you, Ronnie.”

“Y/N, girl, I swear- he has the most gorgeous eyes.” Ronnie carried on, the smile was stuck on her face. “Oh, he was so sweet.” She sighed happily.

You were happy for your friend since it’s not every day she meets someone that she’s completely enamoured with. However, she can express her liking for this guy while helping you load the grocery back in the cart. “Ronnie, that sounds great and all, but can you help me with the groceries so we can leave now?” You practically begged.

Veronica nodded and helped you load the groceries back in the cart, immediately speeding up the process. Taking too much time fixing your groceries at the till always gave you anxiety, especially when there’s a long queue behind you.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Veronica gasped as you two were walking towards the parking lot.

“What? What happened? Are you okay?” You asked, completely baffled.

“I forgot to tell you that he has this amazing accent,” She sighed, making you roll your eyes.

“Ronnie, I swear to god I will fucking kill you.” You grumbled as Veronica opened the trunk of her car and started handing you the groceries for you to put in.

“I forgot to get his name though,” She mumbled. “which is a bummer because he was honestly a godsend.”

All you could do was roll your eyes as you were lost for words.

“Oh, quit rolling your eyes at me. Just because you have a boyfriend, doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to have one.” Ronnie pointed out.

“As if I actually have a boyfriend,” You countered, finishing up with the groceries.

“Whatever,” Veronica mumbled and shut off the trunk of her car. “I’ll just put this cart back and-”

“Hey, Veronica, was it?”

You and Veronica both turned your heads towards the person who just called Veronica’s name. As soon as she saw who the voice belonged to, it gave her extreme delight.

“Yes,” She beamed at the brunette with insanely blue eyes. “We talked earlier but I didn’t get your name.”

“Sorry ‘bout that. I had to take a phone call and when I got back, you weren’t there.” The guy explained. You took a good look at him. He seemed familiar but you couldn’t exactly put your finger on it.

“No, you’re okay! I had to go back to my friend here-which reminds me,” Veronica pulled you closer “This is my best friend, Y/N, Y/N, this is-”

“Harrison,” The guy smiled at you and extended his hand for you to shake. You politely shook his hand and after what seemed like an eternity, his eyes widened. “Wait, You’re Y/N L/N, right? From the Alchemist?”

You gave him a small nod, still trying to figure out who he is. “You’re also Tom’s girlfriend, I presume?” He asked a bit shyly.

“Great. I can’t believe I have to live with that label attached to my name now.” You thought to yourself.

You weren’t exactly sure if and how you were going to answer his question. Where are you with this stunt anyway? Are you and Tom supposed to be vocal about your relationship or were you two just blatant and left the people to figure out for themselves?

Harrison seemed to take notice of your hesitation in regard to the question. “It’s okay,” He says softly. “I know.”

“Pardon me?”

“I know the real deal about you and Tom.” He whispered.

There was a look of panic in Veronica’s eyes. “Yeah, that they’re totally in love.” She said defensively. You, however, seemed unbothered. You were also curious. You’ve seen Harrison before but you couldn’t point out where you’ve seen him.

“Harrison, you’re Tom’s best friend, yeah?” You asked him, starting to get a picture of how familiar he is.

Harrison nodded. “I wasn’t really expecting for our first meeting to be like this.” He chuckled.

“Eh, it’s alright,” You shrugged. “Much better for us to meet this way and in our own circumstance, considering your friend makes everything ten times more unbearable.”

Harrison let out a small laugh, “Tom’s not that bad once you get to know him.”

“Oh trust me, I know him plenty and so far, I’m not liking it.” You argued quite defensively. “Well, I’ll leave you two to chat for a bit as I put this cart back in its place.” You said as you gave Veronica a short look, in which she beamed at you in return.

You purposely took your time with returning the pushcart back in its rightful area. You fumbled with your phone for a bit, checking your Twitter only to find out that you’re still trending and people still have no idea what to feel about you and Tom’s relationship.

“Why did I pour my drink all over him again?” You asked yourself in frustration.

As you walked back towards Ronnie’s car, you saw your best friend and Harrison talk animatedly around each other with their smiles never leaving their faces.

The tad bitter side of you wondered if their mouths hurt from all that smiling, it also made you wonder if it’s even okay for a normal person to smile that much. However, the better part of you was glad that your best friend was happy. Veronica needed to be happy.

Soon after, they bid their goodbyes, not before exchanging phone numbers. Harrison gave you a friendly wave-goodbye before he walked towards his car.

As soon as you sat on the passenger seat of Ronnie’s car, you were already greeted by a huge smile on her face.

“Okay, don’t get mad-” Ronnie began.

You groaned. Knowing your best friend, you knew that she did something that will get you mad. “Ronnie, what did you do?”

“Okay, so I know that tonight was supposed to be our movie night but I just couldn’t help it! You know me through thick and thin, Y/N! You know how I do things impulsively around guys that I’m interested in. I’m like a mindless machine around them! I don’t even know why I’m talking this much when I usually have everything under control but Harrison-”

“Ronnie sweetie, breathe,” You said with your hands placed on top of her shoulders. “You are babbling and I need you to get straight to the point.”

Veronica took a deep breath before she said the words that almost made you want to smack the living daylights out of your friend. “I invited Harrison for dinner and I told him he can bring Tom too.”

“Could you stop?” Veronica threw the kitchen towel at you as you continued to glare at her. “You’re being childish, hon.”

“I am not being childish! You’re being childish.” You argued, crossing your arms.

Veronica just stared at you, her face seemingly screams that she’s absolutely done with you.

“Okay, so maybe I am being childish,” You admitted. “But you threw the towel at me so I’m not the only one here with an attitude.”

Veronica rolled her eyes as she finished setting up the table. You two were supposed to have pasta over dinner and have a Harry Potter movie marathon while eating junk food. Well, you two were still going to do it, except this time you’re joined by Harrison and Tom.

“This is the worst thing you’ve ever done to me,” You said dramatically.

“Y/N, hon, you’re exaggerating. I’m pretty sure this evening’s not going to be bad.” Ronnie commented.

Veronica left the kitchen and proceeded to the living room to check her makeup in the mirror that was propped over the wall. You followed her into the living room and threw yourself on the couch.

“Ronnie, why did you even invite them? Don’t you have classes tomorrow? Also, aren’t you supposed to be writing your paper for your social class?” You asked as you watched Ronnie retouch her makeup.

You were trying your best to cancel this dinner. You tried to reason with your best friend though because this is your house in the first place. However, she pulled the “This is my chance in getting myself a love life” card and she has moaned for years that she really wants to meet someone. You’d do anything for Veronica’s happiness. You’d also do anything to keep your best friend quiet about how she wants to date so bad.

“I already have my draft for that paper, just need to edit it,” Ronnie replied as she applied a coat of mascara. “Besides, I don’t have any classes on Mondays, you knew that.”

“Right,” you mumbled. “Still think this is a bad idea though. Things got so unbearable with Tom yesterday, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle another day with that guy ever again.”

After your whole lunch scene with Tom yesterday, it felt suffocating. It was unbearable. He was back with his usual snarky attitude and it drove you mad.

You learned one sure thing about your set-up though: He was only charming around other people, but if it’s just you two? He was a jerk.

Not even a minute later, the doorbell rang. You got up and checked who was at the door and sure enough, two familiar faces filled up the screen.

“Speaking of the devil,” You muttered before opening the door and was greeted by Harrison who gave you a hug.

“Thanks for having us over, Y/N” Harrison said as he pulled away from the short hug. He then proceeded to give Veronica one, and it was obvious that his intentions were solely focused on her anyway.

“Uh, yeah. No problem.” You said almost awkwardly as you gave Ronnie a look, who in turn mouthed a grateful ‘Thank you’.

You turned back to the door and saw that Tom standing there, a stoic look on his face. He looked like he came out of a photoshoot based on the clothes he was wearing: slouchy black button-ups and a pair of denim jeans. “Holland,” You greeted him as you opened the door a bit wider.

“Y/L/N,” He said as he gave you a once-over. “You look...” Tom seemed like he was really trying hard to think of a nice word to say.

“Don’t strain yourself,” You said as you rolled your eyes.

You were wearing an oversized band shirt -that was tied in a knot at the front- and paired it with high-waisted patterned pants. You and Ronnie shared a small argument on what you should wear for dinner.

She insisted that you should dress for your comfort while looking presentable and you argued that that is the outfit that gave you comfort.

You also argued that Ronnie and her guests should be glad that you weren’t wearing sweatpants like you anticipated before Ronnie invited people for dinner.

“Good because I wasn’t planning to,” Tom nagged, sending you into absolute overdrive.

As soon as he had his back turned on you, you resisted the urge of strangling him right then and there.

Unbeknownst to you and Tom, Veronica and Harrison caught the frustration painted on your face causing them to chuckle amongst themselves.

You and Tom had only known each other for two days at most, and yet you already had the most confusing relationship that existed in this world.

“If this carries throughout the evening, the world will know me not as Tom Holland’s girlfriend, but as the girl who killed him.” You muttered to Veronica as you passed by her.

“Relax, Y/N,” Veronica chuckled as she put a hand over your shoulder. “Dinner wouldn’t be that bad.”

Saying that dinner wouldn’t be that bad would be an understatement. Dinner was horrible.

Veronica and Harrison were pretty much occupied during the entire meal. They mostly had their attention to each other, which didn’t surprise you. Ronnie and Harrison were smitten for each other, it actually made you snort.

You and Tom, though, were a different case. You two were seated across each other and you two wouldn’t stop bickering.

It started when Tom accidentally kicked your foot underneath the table.

“Ouch!” You yelped. “Why did you kick me?!”

“It was an accident,” He said defensively.

“Psh, right” You scoffed. “Accident my ass.”

The “I accidentally kicked you underneath the table” carried on for the entire meal, with you and Tom exchanging kicks every few minutes.

You two also shared glares throughout the dinner.

“Why are you mad at me?!” Tom argued.

“Because you’re here!”

“Well, why did you invite me then?!”

“I didn’t! It was all her!” You hissed as you pointed at Veronica who was rather talking intimately with Harrison, and was also very much oblivious to the argument unveiling in front of her and Haz.

“God, why did I even think coming here was a good idea.” Tom moaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously annoyed.

It didn’t even end there, as you all moved from the kitchen and into the living room to start the Harry Potter marathon, you and Tom started bickering over a piece of furniture.

As Ronnie and Haz went to the loveseat sofa, you claimed the larger couch so you could lay down while watching the film and leaving Tom with nothing to sit on. You didn’t have much furniture considering you’re the only one who lives in this apartment.

“Scoot over, Y/N.” He said as he approached the couch you were laying on.

“You can sit at the ottoman.”

“And have nothing to rest my back on?”

“God, you are such a diva.” You grumbled. “Just sit on the floor then.” You replied as you pulled the faux fur blanket over you, keeping you warm and cozy.

“I don’t want to sit on the floor for hours,” Tom argued as he tried to pull you up from your position.

“Fine, I’ll get you the floor cushion.” You said in defeat.

“I want to sit on the couch, Y/N.”

“I am not moving, Holland. You can’t make me.” You said rather childishly.

“Fine,” Tom sighed and pulled the ottoman closer to the couch. He pulled up your feet and sat on the end of the couch as he propped his feet on top of the ottoman. He placed your feet on top of his lap, as you claimed you weren’t going to get up from your laying down position. “Then don’t move.” He dictated, leaving you to roll your eyes.

And as for the cherry on top, you had your manager nag you to post something about your evening. You didn’t even know that Veronica filmed a quick story for her Instagram until you received a message from Zoë saying: “A couple of fans that follow Ronnie saw her story. Share it on your Insta too, it adds foundation to our story.”

Ronnie’s Insta story showed the television playing Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s stone, and it panned to Harrison who was smiling softly at the camera and then, panned to you and Tom who were sharing the couch. You two were watching intently and from the looks of it, you looked like a very believable couple.

Your manager was right and that irked you. The devil works hard but Zoë works harder.

TAGLIST:

@thomasthetankson @autty0314 @marvelous-tswiftfan @averyfosterthoughts @theolwebshooter @jackiehollanderr @sltwins @herondalescecilys @notjustpenandpaper @ihopethatwemeetinanotherlife @gothicwidowsworld @heartofholland @stxfxniexreads @peruvian-bae @hollands-osterfield @thenoddingbunny-blog @galacticstxrdust

CAN’T BE TAGGED:

@sectusempried

#tom holland imagine #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland blurb #tom holland and reader #tom holland angst #tom holland imagines #tom holland x y/n #tom holland au #tom holland and you #tom holland and y/n #tom holland x you #the girl writes i guess #txmhoellandwrites

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 5 years ago

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A Family of Five- Part 1: Of Different Worlds

Calum and Harlowe’s marriage hasn’t always been easy, but it has always been filled with love. This is a collaborative experience with In Sorrow and In Joy. Dad!Calum. Black OC.

CW: Over the course of this series, there are mentions of pregnancy, therapy, and postpartum depression. There is also 18+ Content (Smut)

Enjoy my masterlist | Series Masterlist

Support me on kofi.

No one has my permission to repost my work of fiction. This includes translations as well.

______________________

Calum watches as Luke runs behind his daughter. Looking at the two of them, it might be hard to tell that Luke’s the father, seeing as she takes after her mother strongly- brown skin and dark hair. But Luke loves that little girl with everything in his body. He finally captures the three-year-old. “That is your mother’s praying shawl. How did you get your little chubby fingers on it?” Luke asks, the giggly three-year-old.

From the back of the house, Calum can hear what sounds like swearing. But he can’t understand the exact language. “Where is she?” Luke’s wife shouts.

“With me, babe. She has your scarf!” Luke hands it out to his wife and turns his attention back to his baby girl. He tickles her. “Did you pray with Momma?”

The little girl giggles. “Yes. I pray.”

Luke kisses her cheek. “Next time, don’t steal her scarf.”

“Or chew on the rug,” his wife adds. Calum chuckles from the front door. The little girl runs up to him, holding her arms out. Calum picks up his goddaughter.

“Oh my, you’re getting bigger every day,” he coos, poking her nose.

“Cawum,” she giggles burying into her godfather’s chest.

Calum kisses her hair, suddenly overcome with joy. His can’t wait for his little bundle of joy to be born. His wife is five months pregnant and they’re expecting a boy. Calum was prepared for a baby thanks to his goddaughter. But how would he teach his child his culture? He watched Luke and his wife have weekly “lessons.” They started out as a way for Luke to learn and they just continued once the baby was born.

But Calum wants his kid to be happy and healthy; that was most important to him. Though his wife and he debated on how to raise the boy confidently in the multiple cultures. Calum’s wife tried to ease his worries, but he still had anxiety. He needed his baby boy to understand that he belonged on this earth, even if society tried to convince him otherwise. Was it so wrong to want your kid to grow up in a world that would love them and not tear them down? Was it wrong that sometimes Calum feared that maybe the world would never accept people of color?

“Wove you,” the little girl coos.

“I love you too,” he breathes. “Be nice to your mum; take care of each other.”

She nods and Calum places her back on the ground. She waddles over to her mom. Calum and Luke finally exit the house. Luke’s car is in the shop and Calum offered to pick him up to drive over to the studio. Sure it was out of the way, but Calum also gets to see his goddaughter. So if he had to drive an extra ten minutes in the opposite direction of the studio, he would do it.

“How’s the missus?” Luke asks, climbing into the passenger seat.

“Good, she’s barely slowed down at all.”

Luke notices the worry creasing his friend’s forehead. “Her continuing to teach dance classes isn’t going to harm the baby.”

“But she goes and does water aerobics twice a week. I know that doctors say that the exercise is good for her. I just worry she’s going to go overboard.”

“You worry wort. She’ll be fine. I know it’s scary; trust, she’s doing everything she can to make sure that baby stays healthy.”

“How did you manage to stay sane? This is nerve-wracking. And I’m trying to help her out with the diet. But this no coffee is killing me.”

Luke laughs. “I didn’t stay sane. That’s the key. No one does. Also, if I just so happen to order your black iced coffee by accident…who would drink it?”

Calum sighs in relief. “I would owe you big time. Man, I’d kiss the ground you walk on.”

“No need to go that far, but let’s just say, I’m so used to grabbing an extra one that I just so happen to do so right now.”

As the first drop of coffee hits his tongue, Calum’s whole body relaxes. He’s missed the caffeine so much. While his wife never drank coffee, she did have to cut back on the cups of black tea. Calum’s so accustomed to the coffee the first few days he had a headache. He’s been able to wean himself off of it but it’s definitely hard.

“Don’t jizz your pants,” Luke teases at the sound of satisfaction Calum emits.

“Shut the fuck up. It’s been months. I need this.”

After working in the studio, Calum drops Luke off and then starts back home. When he walks inside, he can smell food. A snore hits his eardrum. His wife sleeps on the couch with Duke curled up at her feet. He carefully places his keys up and shrugs out of his coat and boots. Like most days when Calum works late, she put his plate in the microwave for him. He unwraps the foil and sets a timer.

He sits and eats at the dining room table; his wife is a stickler that he not eat on the couch so much. He’s not sure why but abides by the rule anyway. Finished eating, he cleans his plate and then carefully situates himself at her feet, having to, unfortunately, move Duke. She flutters awake. “Hey, baby.”

Calum leans down and captures her lips in a kiss. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

She grunts and points to her rounding stomach. “You grow a toe on a second body and see how much energy you have.”

Calum takes her foot in his hands, working at the arch. “How was your day?”

“Good, just drained. The girls are picking up on the routine very fast. I’m proud. How’s the writing? And my favorite baby girl?” She’s always called Luke’s daughter baby girl from the start.

“Writing was great today. Finished up two songs. And she’s just as adorable as always.”

____

When his wife walks with a tall bag from Barnes and Nobles, Calum groans. “What do you have now?” He thinks its more parenting books. They absolutely do not need anymore. “If those are more parenting books, I swear.” He walks over, taking the bag from her.

She rolls her eyes. “They’re not parenting books. Just look.” She starts pulling about books. The cover has a small brown boy on the cover. “I’ve never seen so many books with black boys on the cover. I couldn’t help myself.”

Calum sits on the couch and pulls his wife to his lap. “ ‘The Snowy Day’ this one looks so cute,” he says softly.

Calum pulls out about ten different books from the bag. All little black boys on the cover. He hears sniffling and looks over to his wife. Tears run down her cheek. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Just overjoyed. But this baby isn’t just black, they are so much more.”

Calum nods; he knows what she’s getting at. They place the books on the bookshelf in the nursery. Did Calum, the second he discover that he was going to be a father, start putting together a nursery? Yes, he did in fact. He didn’t know the gender, but it didn’t matter. He went with soft green, sure to fit either way. Besides, he didn’t really believe in the whole needing blue for a boy or pink for a boy. Of course, if his boy wanted to change it, they would happily do so; but Calum didn’t want to start shoving down gender stereotypes down his unborn baby’s throat. Calum was warned against putting the nursery up so early. Even against the color, but he couldn’t help it. His wife did not object. She knew all too well not to stop him. He wanted– no, needed– to make this a reality.

Staring into the darkness, Calum couldn’t stop seeing her tears. They were happy but felt incomplete. That nursery felt incomplete. He grabs his phone from the nightstand and slides out of bed. The FaceTime call connects in only a few moments. “Is everything alright?” his mother asks.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound too convincing. What is it, baby? Is it the baby? Is she alright?”

She always knows. “She’s fine. Baby is fine. I just– I need some recommendations. Do you remember any of the books you used to read me as a child? Ones in Māori or by Māori authors?”

His mom sighs in relief. “I’ve kept some of them. I’ll ship them to you.”

“Oh, no, I’ll just find them on like Amazon or something. That’s expensive.”

She shakes her head. “No, no, it’s okay. If you want them, why spend the extra money?”

“But Mum, c’mon. It’s expensive. I’ll take the names and find them.”

“Nonsense. Now, it’s how late over there. Rest, baby, everything will be fine.”

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood imagine #calum hood series #dad!cal #dad!cal series #calum 5sos #dad!calum #calum hood x black oc #5sos #5sos imagine #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #h writes

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today-only-happens-once · 6 years ago

Text

Caving In (Part 2)

Title: Caving In (Part 2)

Word Count: 6343

Summary: Virgil doesn’t really know what happened, but he can’t ignore the ripple of effect it has across the Mindscape. Even if Thomas keeps trying to. Platonic LAMPT.

Warnings: angst in droves, hopeful ending, tears, aggression and anger from multiple characters, denial/self-deception, some violence (kind of? It’s protective manhandling/shoving), mentions of being locked/trapped in a room, lots of arguing and some yelling, some cursing, mention of character collapsing, Dark Sides (i.e. Deceit and Remus are both in this fic) fulfilling their functions in ways that are not necessarily beneficial for Thomas (so they’re kind of Morally Gray but tend more towards villain-vibes in this fic), allusions to being triggered but the trigger is never specified, allusions to panic attacks.

Author’s Note: This fic feels… very different from that kinds of stuff I usually write. Which means I’m Mega Nervous. I don’t wanna ramble too much here, since I tend to over-explain and/or share too much when I’m nervous to post. Just wanna give mega props to @creativenostalgiastufffor helping me talk through this fic and letting me harass her whenever the nervousness got Too Much.

...

Read part 1 here!

...

Nothing is right.

Virgil can’t shake the feeling of uneasiness deep in his gut when he wakes up—as if sleep didn’t ease the tension he carried with him, but rather just put it on pause. Virgil sits up and scrubs a hand across his eyes, hating the way the shadows of his room linger in the corners with watchful eyes. Taunting him with the understanding that his room had been witness to… to something, even as Virgil still wasn’t sure how to make sense of it.

What had happened yesterday? Virgil had wracked his brain into the late hours of the morning for some kind of explanation before sleep finally claimed him. Usually, when he had such a dilemma, he’d pad his way quietly to Logan’s corner of the Mindscape and ask the Logical Side to share his thoughts. Logan had always been grounded and calm and willing to help.

But last night, Virgil didn’t go to Logan. With the mere thought of the Logical Side came the accompanying images of him with black eyeshadow, stiff shoulders, and unsteady steps. Logan had told Thomas to rest, and then went to his own room without another word. And each thought of going to either Roman or Patton brought similar images back to his mind.

Virgil tries to take a deep breath to appease the queasiness of his stomach. It doesn’t help as much as he wished it would.

The Anxious Side makes his way to the kitchen with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. He knows it’s late morning, if not already the afternoon. The Mindscape is….eerily silent. On most days, even in the absence of conversation, Virgil could at least hear the movement of the other Sides going about their business. On good days, Roman would be singing somewhere. Or Logan would be shuffling through papers. Or Patton would be watching a movie.

It’s silent. It makes Virgil’s skin crawl.

He rounds the corner around the banister, surprised—given how quiet it is—to see Logan sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a book.

“Morning,” Virgil ventures with a forced nonchalance. He glances at Logan out of the corner of his eye as he makes his way to the counter. The eyeshadow as faded out, but there’s still something stiff and uncomfortable about the way Logan is sitting. Virgil eyes the coffee, but he isn’t sure he can stomach the bitter liquid right now with how tangled the knots in his stomach are.

“It is 12:34,” Logan replies, matter-of-fact. Impossible to read. He doesn’t look up from his book. “Which technically makes it afternoon.”

Virgil hums. “Noted.”

Everything is uncomfortable and awkward and wrong. Virgil hates it. He hates how he suddenly doesn’t know how to act around anyone. He’d compare it to before he ducked out, but in some ways it’s even worse. Because even when he was “the bad guy”, he knew what to do. This is different. He wants to know what happened yesterday. He doesn’t know if it’s okay to ask.

Then again, Virgil supposes that if he were to ask any of them, Logan would be the best choice. He’d get a straight answer, anyway.

“Hey, uh,” Virgil tries as he opens a cupboard to avoid looking at the Logical Side, “Logan?”

“Hm?”

Virgil knows it’s best to ask point-blank, so he lets the question tumble past his lips before he can chicken out. “What happened yesterday?”

There’s a long pause. Virgil stops staring absently at the collection of mugs he doesn’t plan to use and instead glances over his shoulder. Logan meets his gaze quietly, then he sighs softly. Logan closes his book and sets it on the table in front of him.

“Thomas—” Logan’s mouth snaps shut with an audible, sudden click. He clenches his jaw, a flash of something—panic? Anger?—through his eyes. Virgil frowns and opens his mouth to say something when a different voice speaks up from the entryway to the kitchen.

“Thomas is fine, Virgil,” a familiar, deep voice purrs. “No need to go asking around about something that’s in the past.”

Virgil whirls towards the voice, his hands instinctively curling into fists. “Deceit.”

The Lying Side arcs an eyebrow. “Virgil. Lovely to see you again.”

“What do you want?”

Deceit pushes himself off from leaning against the entryway and steps further into the kitchen. “The same thing you do. Ultimately, anyway.”

Virgil glances at Logan, whose resolute silence and grinding jaw only serves to make Virgil angrier on his behalf. The Anxious Side glares at Deceit. “Cut the bullshit. Why won’t you let Logan talk?”

“Relax, Virgil.” Deceit glances down at a gloved hand, then back up. “I’m merely being honest on Logan’s behalf. Let him save his breath. Thomas is fine.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you.”

Deceit takes a step forward, his gaze suddenly intense and sharp. There’s a demanding edge in his eyes, even as his voice keeps that infuriating smoothness. “You never do. Especially when it comes to Thomas being okay. But tell me something, Anxiety. If you keep making something out of nothing, where is that going to lead Thomas?”

“I—”

“I’ll tell you where,” Deceit hisses, moving even closer. “Pain. That none of us asked for. If you keep digging where there is nothing to be found, you’re not going to benefit anyone. You’re certainly not going to benefit Thomas.”

Virgil stands his ground. “I’m trying to protect him.”

Deceit’s yellow eye glints slightly as he gives him a scrutinizing stare. “We all are. But don’t let the fact that you happen to feel uneasy cloud your judgement. I, too, am part of Thomas’s self-preservation. And I can assure you: Thomas is fine.”

Virgil chances a glance towards Logan, surprised to find him gone. The Anxious Side doesn’t know when he left. Deceit’s words reverberate in his skull. Thomas is fine. Thomas is fine. Thomas is fine.

“You’re a bad liar, Deceit,” Virgil snaps. “I don’t even want to believe you on this one.”

Deceit’s gaze narrows before he pulls back, a look in his eyes that makes Virgil suddenly uncomfortable. “Hm. Takes a liar to know a liar.”

Virgil disguises the sudden chill that runs down his spine with a scoff and an eye-roll. When he looks back at where Deceit had been standing, he’s gone.

…

Hours later, Virgil still can’t stop thinking about what Deceit had said.

Thomas is fine.

Virgil had always been dedicated to the idea of ensuring that was true. That was his job—make sure Thomas is fine. Physically, socially, financially, emotionally. Fine. If there was a risk to that, it was Virgil’s job to make sure Thomas limited that risk as much as possible. Sure, sometimes Virgil overdid it, but he’d gotten better at that, hadn’t he?

Thomas had told him once, it’s important for me to recognize the concern, register it, and carry on, changing my actions if necessary. And the host had, for the most part, held up his end of the bargain. When Virgil was concerned, Thomas at least listened to what he had to say. Sometimes he changed his mind, sometimes he didn’t. But Thomas still let Virgil make sure he was, well. Fine.

Deceit is capable of telling the truth. Virgil knows this. In some ways, Virgil can’t help but think, it’s precisely what makes him so frustrating.

Thomas is fine.

Is he?

Virgil groans to himself, flipping his hood up over his hair. He leans his head back against the arm of the couch and stares up at the ceiling of the Mindscape Commons. His thoughts are running in circles. It occurs to him, distantly, that he still hasn’t seen Patton or Roman today.

As if on cue, Virgil hears someone coming down the stairs. He picks his head up and glances over. Usually, the Anxious Side could tell who it was by the rhythm and weight of their steps. But these are heavier and slower than usual. Virgil can’t help the faint note of surprise when Roman emerges, in his usual Prince attire but somehow lacking a certain vivacity that usually emanated from him like a beacon.

Roman doesn’t even seem to notice him on the couch. He has a few strands of hair falling into his face, and Virgil thinks he can still see faint traces of eyeshadow lingering like a faded bruise around his eyes. Roman pauses at the bottom of the stairs with his hand still on the banister railing. He looks… out of it. He looks quiet and small and so unlike Roman it makes Virgil’s stomach squirm with discomfort.

“Roman?” Virgil ventures quietly, sitting up more fully. “You okay, dude?”

Roman blinks quickly and shakes his head, seemingly finally noticing the other Side in the room. “Virgil,” he greets, and even his voice sounds exhausted. Roman smiles dimly. “I’m afraid I’m a bit tired. Nothing a little caffeine can’t fix.”

Virgil wants to remind him that it’s almost three in the afternoon. He doesn’t. “I think Logan drank the last of the coffee,” he says instead. He watches Roman closely.

“Ah. Well.” Roman blinks hard again, then glances uncertainly back at Virgil. “I suppose I should go assist Thomas. No rest for the weary, and all that. We can make do.”

Virgil had always been well attuned to the anxieties of Roman, Logan, and Patton. Roman’s insecurities about his performance and others’ perception of it radiated from him in waves on the bad days. Roman may be Thomas’s ego, but he is also the other side of that same coin in equal weight. Hesitation and self-doubt are not new emotions to pass through Roman’s eyes.

But the uncertainty behind his brown irises as he glances at Virgil is something different. It’s not his regular brand of self-doubt; it’s not the kind with which Virgil already knows how to help.

“Roman,” Virgil says suddenly as he realizes the Prince is about to leave. Roman stops and Virgil swallows. “You don’t… seem good.”

Virgil wishes immediately that he had said something else, because he sees the way Roman starts throwing up walls. Starting with the dramatic show of an offended gasp. “Excuse you, I am the single most delicious snack—”

“Dude,” Virgil cuts in, “Stop. It’s me you’re talking to. Look, I wasn’t trying to make this into a whole thing. I’m just…. Worried.” Understatement.

“Virgil—”

“Is this about what happened yesterday?”

The question is met with a startled silence. When Virgil meets Roman’s eyes, he realizes the Prince looks briefly like a cornered animal. Then Roman starts shaking his head. He waves a hand.

“We don’t need to talk about yesterday, Virgil,” he says, dismissively. “It’s not going to happen again.”

Virgil stands up slowly, his gaze narrowing at the Prince. “How do you know that? What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter what happened.”

“For crying out loud—”

“Let it alone, Virgil!” Roman snaps, something both angry and desperate his voice. “It doesn’t matter, okay? Leave it alone. Thomas is fine.”

Virgil freezes at those words. Thomas is fine. “You’ve been talking to Deceit. Haven’t you?”

Roman clenches his jaw for a moment. “So what if I have?” he asks in a much softer voice than he’d been using a moment ago.

Virgil opens his mouth to reply, but no words find their way up his throat. There’s something small and pleading in Roman’s eyes. Something haunted. Virgil doesn’t know what he can say to him. And before he can formulate a response, Roman averts his gaze and sinks out of the Mindscape.

Virgil grits his teeth and pulls on the strings of his hoodie, tightening it around his face until he can’t see for a moment. He half-sits, half-collapses back on the couch with a heaving sigh.

He can’t be mad at Roman. Not really. A small part of Virgil wants to argue that Roman should know better than to listen to Deceit by now, but a larger part of him knows that he really can’t blame the Creative Side. Deceit had told him that Thomas was fine. Of course Roman would want to believe that. And if Virgil is being honest with himself—actually honest with himself—he knows that he also wants to believe it.

Thomas is fine.

But he isn’t. And if nobody else would acknowledge it, Virgil would.

…

“Thomas.”

Virgil had waited until Roman returned to the Mindscape before deciding to confront the host himself. He figured it would probably be best to talk to Thomas alone. Or, if nothing else, at least without any of the other Sides manifested. It hadn’t taken very long. Roman and Thomas were both still exhausted, only spending about an hour brainstorming ideas for new videos before Thomas called it a day.

Virgil had thought briefly about how that was only postponing work until later, when they would have even more to do and less time to do it. He decided not to voice the thoughts, though. He had more pressing matters to deal with.

Thomas looks up from the computer in his lap from his position on the couch. “Virgil?”

“We need to talk.”

Perhaps it’s the lighting, or the lingering tiredness, but Virgil thinks he sees the host pale slightly. “Um, yeah. Okay.” He sets the computer on the coffee table in front of him, rubbing the back of his neck. “What’s up?”

Virgil arcs an eyebrow. Was Thomas really going to pretend he didn’t know why Virgil was here? “Yesterday.”

Thomas glances away, studiously avoiding meeting Virgil’s gaze again as he stands up from the couch and crosses into the kitchen. “What about yesterday?” he asks in an unusually even voice.

Virgil watches his retreating form. “I think you know what.”

He sees the way Thomas’s shoulders tense beneath his blue polka dot shirt. “Look, Virgil, I appreciate the concern. But it’s fine. I’m fine.” Thomas pulls open the freezer.

Virgil stays by the bottom of the stairs, watching carefully as the host pulls out a bag of pizza rolls. Thomas doesn’t look at him, turning the knob on the oven to start preheating it. Thomas repeating the words that had been parroted to him all day felt like a nail in the coffin of his worst fear. Of course, it makes sense, doesn’t it?

Deceit says what Thomas wants to believe. Virgil had to snap him out of it. Even if that meant falling back on old habits for a moment.

Virgil crosses towards the kitchen. “You were in my room.”

“Virgil—”

“You were trapped in my room.”

“I—”

“You couldn’t get out and I couldn’t get in. You were stuck, with Logan and Roman and Patton.”

“And Remus,” Thomas mutters.

Virgil stops. “What?”

Thomas shakes his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t even matter.”

“Bullshit, it doesn’t matter. Of course it matters—”

“It’s over.”

“What is over? I don’t even really know what happened! I just know It was bad, Thomas. It was bad—”

“Enough!” Thomas snaps, dropping the bag of frozen snacks on the counter and whirling around to face Virgil. Virgil freezes. It had been a… long time since Thomas had yelled at him. The host sucks in a breath that trembles slightly and runs a hand down his face. As quickly as it came, the outburst dissipates. Thomas sags a little against the counter, pinching the bride of his nose. “Please, Virgil. Just… leave it alone. I don’t want to think about it.”

Deceit’s words hiss in the back of his mind. If you keep making something out of nothing, where is that going to lead Thomas? I’ll tell you where. Pain. That none of us asked for.

Virgil swallows. Shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie again. “Whatever,” he says, quieter. “Wear oven mitts when you put those in.”

He sinks out before Thomas can so much as glance up.

…

Virgil finds Remus half an hour later when the Anxious Side emerges from his room.

He didn’t like being in his room anymore. It didn’t have the same effect on him that it did on the other Sides—and Thomas, for that matter—but the longer he stayed in that space, the more clarity was brought to the images from yesterday of them shaken and afraid and quiet. They’d been standing here. In his room.

Why hadn’t Virgil been able to open the door?

He steps out of the room, unable to take it anymore, when he sees the Intrusive Side practically skipping down the hallway. Virgil flushes, his hands clenching at his sides. He remembers suddenly what he had thought was the sound of Remus’s laughter from the other side of the door.

Virgil grabs the back of Remus’s shirt and yanks him to a stop, shoving him up against the wall.

“Ooo, Virgil,” Remus says, sounding positively delighted. “I do love it when you play rough.”

“What did you do?” Virgil growls.

Remus waggles his eyebrows. “Probably something kinky, but I think I need more context.”

Virgil had forgotten for a brief moment just how easy it was for Remus to make him feel nauseous. “Yesterday. You were in my room with them. You kept the door shut.”

“That’s what’s got your underwear in a twist?” Remus grins. “I think it was boat loads of fun. If Thomas is a boat. Specifically the Titanic, right before it went under. Your room is fun, Virgil, why have you never invited me over?”

“What did you do to them? What did you do to Thomas?”

Remus winks at him suggestively. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I’m not playing games, here, Remus. You put them all in danger.” Virgil had thought he was just a nuisance. A minor inconvenience, Virgil had decided to label him after Logan had explained that his existence didn’t make Thomas a bad person. Maybe Virgil had misjudged Remus, though. After all, a common cold can become something much more serious, can’t it?

“I put them in danger?” Remus raises his eyebrows, his mustache twitching. “Oh, no, no, no. I think that’s your wheelhouse, Hadesfrown.”

Virgil furrows his brow, letting go of the other Side roughly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I only arrived at the party after Thomas was already in your room. Which begs the question, where were you?” Remus taps Virgil’s nose with his finger. Virgil scrambles back a step, batting Remus’s hand away from his face. Remus continues, unperturbed. “You missed quite the show, though.”

“I…”

“Thomas even asked about you. They all did. And you were nowhere to be found.” Remus pouts like a child. “Left them alone to fend for themselves.”

Virgil shakes his head, tripping as he backs up a step further. “No. That wasn’t what happened.”

“Patton was the first one that started crying.”

“Stop.”

Remus tilts his head. “I thought you wanted to find out what happened.”

“I-I do.” Virgil hates that he trips over the words as they leave his lips.

Remus looks unconvinced. He adjusts the fabric of his ridiculous, sparkling sleeves from where Virgil had been gripping him. “Do you? Or are you just looking to put the blame somewhere else?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on.” Remus flicks a hand. “Honestly, Virgil. Make up your mind. Do you want to know what happened in your room without you? Because I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you all the juicy, delicious details. But I think your real problem is that you couldn’t help them.”

Virgil averts his gaze from Remus, staring instead on the carpeted floor on the Mindscape hallway that resembled Thomas’s apartment hallway.

“I mean, that’s kind of your whole job description. You’re supposed to keep Thomas from danger, aren’t you?”

“I—”

“You said it yourself.” Remus takes a step closer. Virgil steps back to maintain the distance. “Thomas was thrown into the lion’s den. Your room, Virgil. Where were you when Thomas needed you? Because I was there. And I can assure you: they don’t do as well as I do when locked in your room.”

“Shut up!” Virgil snaps, looking up, but Remus is already gone.

….

Hours later, Virgil thinks he hears a knock at the door to his room before reminding himself he must have imagined it. The last thing he expects is anyone to come knocking on the door to his room. Nobody seemed to want to talk about it, so naturally they’d want to avoid being there too, right?

Virgil tugs the headphones off his head just in case and lets them hang around his neck loosely. Evanescence floats out from the speakers. He’d been trying, without much luck, to drown out the thoughts tugging at his mind ever since his confrontation with Remus.

Remus had a point, of course.

Virgil hadn’t been where Thomas had needed him, when Thomas had needed him. The fundamental part of his job—protect them—had been neglected. Virgil had failed, and he’d failed spectacularly. He couldn’t even do his basic job, and everybody he cared about got hurt in the aftermath of his shortcoming.

Maybe Remus had a point; maybe Virgil needs to stop looking for other people to blame. Maybe it’s his fault for not being there in the first place. Virgil’s name was derived from the word vigilant. And he hadn’t been. Not enough, anyway.

It was his own room. Virgil hadn’t been able to get into his own room to help them get out. How pathetic is that?

Another knock, tentative but nevertheless present, interrupts his thoughts. “Kiddo?”

Patton?

Virgil pauses his music from his phone and shuffles to the door, swinging it open. Patton stands on the other side with his cat hoodie pulled over his blue polo, the gray hood pulled up over his flop of brown hair. The father figure figment offers Virgil a small, uncertain smile. His gaze flickers briefly past Virgil’s head into the room, then back at the Anxious Side.

Virgil steps out into the hall and closes the door behind him with a quiet click. “Hey,” he says. “What’s up?”

Patton shrugs, but there’s something small and uncertain about the movement. “I just wanted to check in on ya.”

Virgil looks at him a little closer. It’s the first time Virgil has seen the Moral Side since he’d kissed Virgil’s head and went to his own room the previous night. Patton looks a little better rested than Roman had earlier today, but he still looks wrong. Like he’s trying to make himself smaller than he is. His hands are tucked into the pocket of his hoodie, his arms tight to his side as if trying to hug himself.

He looks like he’s still a little bit afraid. Virgil knows the feeling well. He hates how it looks on Patton.

“Do you want some hot chocolate?” Virgil asks suddenly, already walking towards the Mindscape kitchen. “I could use something warm to drink.”

“That… sounds really nice.”

They make their way in silence. Virgil feels like he should ask something, or say something to break the quiet between them, but he doesn’t know what to say. As he passes Logan’s room, he sees that the light is on. He thinks about knocking. He doesn’t.

When they reach the kitchen, Virgil rummages through the cabinets for a pair of mugs and some marshmallows. He’s admittedly a little relieved when Patton breaks the silence behind him.

“It’s been pretty quiet around here today.”

Virgil finds a mug with the words “espresso patronum” for Patton and a Nightmare Before Christmas mug for himself. “Yeah,” he replies. “It has.”

“Are you okay?”

Virgil glances quickly over his shoulder at the Moral Side before grabbing the marshmallows off the shelf and closing the cabinet. He isn’t sure how to answer. “Are you?”

Patton is pouring milk into a pot on the stove. He doesn’t answer right away. “I don’t know.”

Virgil thinks it’s the first honest answer he’s been given today. He feels an odd twinge of pride. Patton had promised he’d try to be more honest about his feelings, and he’d stuck true to that.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Virgil offers.

Patton stirs the milk with a wooden spoon and doesn’t look at Virgil. “Have you seen Logan and Roman today?”

Virgil leans against the kitchen counter and rubs the back of his neck. “Briefly,” he says. “Deceit kind of… intervened in my conversation with Logan. And Roman was, um.” Virgil tries to think of a kind way to word what had happened between him and Roman earlier today.

Patton nods. “Yesterday was…. A lot. For both of them.”

Virgil swallows. “For you, too.”

Patton finally glances over at him. The corner of his mouth twitches in a faint, sad smile. “Yeah. For all of us, I think. I think Logan is still angry. And I think Roman is hurt.”

The Anxious Side crosses his arms over his chest and tries not to wince. Because of me, he adds to the end of Patton’s comments. He knows Patton wouldn’t dream of saying it. He’d always been too kind for that sort of thing.

“And what about you?” Virgil asks softly, meeting Patton’s gaze for a fleeting moment before Patton looks back at the pot of milk.

“Oh, your old Dad is just… worried,” Patton says with some hesitation. “Afraid.”

Virgil watches as Patton sighs, taps the wooden spoon on the edge of the pot, and sets it aside. Virgil jumps up and sits on the edge of the counter as Patton leans on the one beside the stove. The light above the stove and the lamp that was left on in the commons space is the only source of light in the small kitchen. Patton’s hood casts shadows across his face. It makes him look younger somehow.

“Afraid of what, Patton?”

“Afraid of it happening again.” Patton looks at Virgil again, and holds his gaze this time. “It was… scary, Virge.” The same haunted look that had been in Patton’s eyes when Virgil first saw him last night flickers through his eyes again.

Virgil shifts uncomfortably. “You think there’s a chance of that?”

He sees Patton swallow. “I don’t want to think that. But… yeah. I do.”

“Thomas wants to think that he’s fine,” Virgil says in a low, quiet voice.

“He isn’t,” Patton replies immediately. It solidifies something in Virgil’s chest. “Logan can’t let go of his anger over what happened. Roman can barely keep it together and won’t stop berating himself when he thinks nobody is around to hear him. I’m…” Patton’s voice wavers. “I don’t think I’m okay either, Virgil. I just… want to be.”

And it was his fault. Because he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been able to fulfill his role, his sworn duty. But maybe he could now.

Thomas had said that it was important for him to recognize the concern, register it, and carry on, changing his actions if necessary. But part of that was on Virgil. To make sure Thomas was doing those things. And right now, he wasn’t. Thomas wasn’t recognizing or registering the concern. The obvious signs that he was not okay.

Thomas isn’t fine.

“Virgil?” Patton asks. “What is it?”

“I have to talk to Thomas. And… I think I need everybody else, too.”

…

Thomas is in his bedroom when Virgil rises up behind him, just inside the doorway. The host kicks a dirty sweatshirt in the general direction of the laundry basket and sighs, raking a hand back through his hair. He’s changed into pajamas. Music plays quietly from his phone, discarded on the bed amidst the haphazard arrangement of blankets.

Virgil clears his throat. Thomas jumps a little, spinning around to face his Anxious Side.

“Geez, Virgil.” Thomas presses a hand to his chest. “You scared me.”

“Can we talk?”

Thomas sighs a little, but Virgil doesn’t miss the tensing in his shoulders. “Is this still about yesterday?”

Virgil purses his lips at the exasperated look in Thomas’s eyes. “Yeah. It is.”

“I already told you I don’t want to talk about it.” Thomas adjusts in his hair again and leans over to pick up a pair of socks. He tosses them into the basket as well.

“I know,” Virgil says, watching him busy himself by needlessly adjusting the blankets on the bed. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. But I think you need to.”

“Can’t we just… agree to disagree?”

The Anxious Side scoffs. “When have I ever been okay with just ‘agreeing to disagree’?”

Thomas is silent, snatching his phone as it tumbles unceremoniously to the floor from a blanket he’d been shaking out. He looks… tired. Virgil knows that it really shouldn’t come as a surprise—everyone had seemed tired in the Mindscape today, so it certainly stood to reason that Thomas would appear tired as well. But it reminds Virgil suddenly of Thomas’s red eyes and wet cheeks moments before collapsing against the Anxious Side yesterday.

Virgil never wants to experience that again.

He sighs. “You’re really going to make me call in the cavalry?”

“Virgil—”

The Anxious Side waves a hand. In short succession, Patton, Roman, and Logan all rise up at various locations throughout the room. Thomas’s surprised and faintly alarmed gaze flickers between the four of them. Virgil can’t tell if Thomas realizes how rough the rest of them look. He doesn’t know if maybe just seeing them would be enough of a wake-up call to get the host to stop lying to himself.

The thought makes Virgil’s own gaze take in each Side closely. Looking for any…. Inconsistencies. Looking for Deceit.

“What is this?” Thomas’s brow furrows as he asks the question.

“I know you’re mad at me,” Virgil continues, looking back at the host. Thomas meets his gaze, something that looks almost like confusion flickering through his eyes. He opens his mouth to reply but Virgil holds up a hand and interrupts him. “Look, I get it. I wasn’t there when you needed me yesterday. But… Thomas, you have to face facts. And if you don’t want to listen to me, maybe you’ll talk to them.”

“Thomas,” Logan says suddenly, as if afraid to lose the chance, “you must stop trying to outrun what happened yesterday. It will eventually catch up to you.”

Thomas shakes his head quickly. “I’m not outrunning anything. Yesterday was just. A freak thing. I’m fine.” Virgil doesn’t miss the resurgence of frustration that flares in Logan’s eyes.

“Are you sure about that, kiddo?” Patton asks softly. The lamp from the nightstand illuminates his face more than the light from the Mindscape, and Virgil can finally see he also still has the lingering shadow around his eyes like Roman had earlier. “I mean. Look around ya.”

Thomas does. His gaze floats around the room, and Virgil silently implores that he really sees them. That he sees the way Patton is trying so hard to be small, the way Logan clenches his jaw against words he’s afraid won’t be heard, the way Roman ducks away from the careful eyes of the host as if he’s ashamed.

From the slight caving to Thomas’s shoulders, Virgil thinks maybe he has. “Guys….” Thomas says, his voice wavering. “I—”

“You’re all just worrying too much,” Roman interrupts in a rush, sweeping a hand out. “Thomas, you’re fine. We’re all fine.”

Virgil shoots Roman a sharp look. He can see Thomas nodding uncertainly. “Right,” Thomas says slowly. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine. I mean, a little tired, but still.”

Virgil hears Logan huff a breath beside him. “Thomas. You must stop this ridiculous charade. Yesterday—” Logan’s hand suddenly clamps across his own mouth, muffling his words.

Tension ripples down Virgil’s muscles, coiling them tightly. Deceit. He can see the flash of anger spark in Logan’s eyes again.

“Logan’s right—” Patton’s hand flies to cover his own mouth, too. Confusion, followed immediately by alarm, alights in the Moral Side’s eyes too.

Virgil feels his throat tighten. Thomas squeezes his own eyes shut.

“Thomas,” Virgil says urgently, because through Thomas is the only way he can fight Deceit when the Lying Side won’t show himself. “Thomas, you have to stop lying to yourself. You are not okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“No,” Virgil demands, distortion leaking into his voice. “You aren’t. Look around you, Thomas. Does this seem ‘fine’ to you?” Virgil steps closer, gesturing to Logan and Patton both.

“Yesterday was just a one-time, freak thing,” Thomas insists. “It’s not going to happen again.”

Virgil looks desperately around the room. Roman is staring at Patton, his gaze somehow both distant and horrified. Virgil can feel both Patton and Logan looking at him imploringly. But he doesn’t know what else he can do.

The room feels like it’s spinning. He’s fighting a losing battle. Thomas is drowning. Deceit has his claws sunk deep into him, and Virgil doesn’t know how to break him out of it.

Maybe it’s too late.

“I…” Virgil sags a little. He doesn’t know what else he can say to Thomas to snap him out of it. He doesn’t know how to help him. The painful, terrifying helplessness he’d felt yesterday slams back into him with a force that makes the air choke in his lungs. His heart hammers in his chest with the weight of his failure, his constant shortcoming.

He says the same words he said then.

“I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t protect them from what happened yesterday, and apparently he can’t protect Thomas now. He’d failed. Again. And everyone was going to get hurt. Again. Again and again and again.

“Sorry?” Thomas asks, his eyes fluttering open and looking at Virgil in confusion. “What are you sorry for?”

“For everything.” Virgil waves a hand. “Because I wasn’t... Because I couldn’t get through the fucking door.”

Thomas blinks. “You… you were trying to get us out?”

Virgil stares at the host standing in front of him. Could Thomas really have not heard him through the door? “I mean… yeah. Of course.” Virgil blinks as the distortion fades, but continues speaking. “I’ve always aimed to protect you. I just… failed yesterday. And apparently I’m failing you again.”

“Failing me?”

Logan releases a sharp, relieved breath as his hand falls away from his mouth. “Virgil, what happened yesterday was not your fault.”

Virgil shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand in Logan’s direction. “I should have been able to at least get you out. I... I don’t know why I couldn’t get that door open. And once it did open…” Virgil shivers. His arms feel heavy with the reminder of Thomas’s weight against them. The way he’d just… collapsed….

Virgil thinks he might be sick.

“If anything,” Logan replies, his voice a bit softer, “I am the one to be principally to blame. I was the reason he was online in the first place. And when he saw…. What he did…” He casts a furtive glance at the host, who averts his gaze. “Well. Everything happened very quickly.”

“I should have been able to get us out,” Roman says quietly. His voice is heavy and resigned with more weight than Virgil knows he ought to shoulder. “I should have found some kind of solution to the problem at hand. Maybe even be fast and strong enough to fight off….” He trails off. Shakes his head. “Instead… how I acted in there was… unbecoming of a prince.”

“We were scared,” Patton adds in a gentle voice, his own hand falling away from his mouth. “I think a lot of us still are. I think… you are, Thomas. I think that’s why you want to believe Deceit so badly. But it’s not the truth.”

Thomas winces. The host looks like the ground has shifted beneath his feet. His arms wrap around his chest in a loose hold. As if he thinks that he can physically hold himself together, and maybe keep the rest of them from falling apart too. Thomas stares at the ground just short of Virgil’s feet, opens his mouth, and then shakes his head and lifts a shoulder helplessly. Instead, he sucks in a trembling breath.

“You’re not okay,” Virgil says again, in a much softer voice than he had before. He swallows thickly. “And I’m… I’m sorry, Thomas. Because maybe you would be if I could have just… gotten through that door. Got you out of my room.”

“You were trying,” Thomas says suddenly. His eyes—glistening a little in the light of the lamp on the nightstand—glance up and lock squarely onto Virgil. “That’s what you just told us, wasn’t it? You were trying to get to us. You were trying to help us.”

“I was… scared.”

“Yeah,” Thomas says, rubbing absently at his arms. He glances down at his sock clad feet, then back up at his Anxious Side. “It was…. Scary. Intense. And… Patton’s right. I think maybe I am scared that it’s going to happen again and I won’t know how to get out, and you won’t be in there to help us. Just like last time.”

Virgil hears Logan take a deep, slow breath. When he adjusts his glasses, Virgil realizes that Logan looks calm for the first time since before the incident happened. “Perhaps it is time to see what resources are available to us.”

Patton nods, a note of hope to his still unusually subdued voice. “Just because we’re not okay right now…”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t get there,” Roman finishes, with a single nod. He stands a little bit taller now.

Thomas takes a deep breath. He holds it for a few moments. Then releases. Virgil feels something warm squeeze his chest as he realizes Thomas is trying the 4-7-8 breathing exercise Virgil had taught him the very first time Thomas had shown up in his room.

Thomas and Virgil exchange a faint smile and reply at the same time.

“Okay.”

...

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Part 2 Tags: @ironwoman359, @anianthe, @andotherstuff9, @korsaromantic66, @sandersfander1820, @theinvisiblespoon, @engineering-a-better-world, @dragonindigo245

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #platonic lamp #platonic lampt #virgil sanders #sympathetic patton #ts deceit #remus sanders #tw cursing #tw arguing #denial #self-deception #please heed warnings on this fic #it's a lot #also please let me know if some of those warnings need to be in the tags down here #be safe #skdfjdslfjdksljfdksljf #i will never not be afraid to post #here goes

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