#two years in business school countless hours of studying and testing

[aaron04jpg]

A message to my younger self:

"Enjoy the butterflies, enjoy being naïve

Enjoy the nerves, the pressure, people not knowing your name.

Enjoy the process of making a name for yourself, getting faster and faster with each lap and meeting some great people along the way

Bring friends along. Bring family along. Don't assume they'll be a distraction. Don't be afraid to surround yourself with people you care about and love"

- Danny Ric, 2021

[cassorpa]

Andrew Palmer my beloved!

Oh Andy you beautiful guy. Lead guitarist of the Pit Fiends. Ricky Montgomery enjoyer. Gay. (Are those last 2 the same thing?) But how did he get here(all of the following content was created quickly and is subject to change).

TW// Alcoholism, Abuse, Suicide, Familial loss, Job loss, Absentee parents

The following is copied and pasted from my loreforge "History" section for Andy:

Andrew Palmer was born on the October 13th 2008. His father Ife(27 at the time) worked in blockbuster and had done so since he left high school in 1997. His mother Sandra(29 at the time) worked in a secretarial job in an office building indistinguishable from all the others. Ife was not a good husband and, as it turns out, he was an even worse father. He resented the fact that his wife earned more than him and worked less hours. As a result of this he spent most of his time in the Black Mule, a pub in Croydon, and would come home late in the night with a thirst for violence followed by an apologetic outburst of self-loathing and depression. He was not a good man. Things only continued to go downhill from here after Blockbuster closed on December 16th 2013. He drank more, and the stuff he drank was stronger than before. He came home so drunk that he couldn't even move with enough strength or dexterity to carry out his usual beatings. It took two months before he hung himself on February 8th 2014.

Sandra Kabelo was a strong woman and she returned to using her maiden name, Palmer, following Ife's suicide. Despite never being able to leave Ife, she managed to protect Andy as much as she could and following her husbands death she began working a second job to provide for her son but as a result she's almost never home meaning Andy can kinda do whatever he wants. As a result of this, for most of his life, Andy did something no kid his age never did… Studied. The absence of both his mother and father caused a large feeling of isolation in Andy's life that after a while he just accepted as normal. Despite this sense of normalcy he still felt something was missing and so he filled the hole with work. He worked day and night researching things he didn't even need to know. He learned all the flags of the world, all the capital cities. He read countless books from the classics all the way to comic books. He received the highest grades in his class, acing every test but still, after everything, he felt empty.

Andy met Felix on 5th April 2022, 2 years prior to main the story's beginning, when he was in Year 8 and Felix Year 10. They go to different schools in different parts of the city however both of them share the same favourite record shop: Historic Records. It's a small place but it gets a lot of business from the local scene due to its strangely wide range of stock; they always seemed to have whatever you were looking for, no matter how niche. They first spoke when Felix noticed Andy checking out the latest album from a small band from Croydon. They started talking and they immediately clicked. Andy was new to the alternative scene and as such didn't have many friends so Felix took him under their wing and showed them the ropes. The best venues, the hottest local bands, the best places to hang out.

A few months later Felix introduced him to Quinn and Sam, with whom they'd been friends for over 2 years by now, and the unlikely quartet of rebellious misfits decided to start a punk rock band called the Pit Fiends. They started off doing covers of popular bands such as My Chem or Pierce the Veil but after a couple months they'd decided to write their own songs.

After a while they released their first EP onto Spotify entitled "To Hell and Back" which dealt with such topics as the state of the UK government, the groups shared journey towards uncovering and accepting their queer identity and, last but not least, cheeseburgers. They started playing a few local shows, those shows where people pay five quid for a night of shit music and deadly mosh pits, with a set comprised mainly of covers with some original songs interspersed.

During his 9th school year and following some confusing and uncertain feelings towards Felix, Andy began to confide in Quinn about the possibility that he may be queer and crushing on his first real friend. This deepened the bond between the two bandmates and Quinn swore herself to secrecy, knowing that Andy did not wish to make his feelings known to Felix just yet.

One time during his 10th school year, Andy and Samantha found themselves stranded in Brighton following a concert that they had not told their parents about. They didn't consider the logistics of their return trip and as such had to spend the night huddled together beneath Andy's jacket on a bench in the train station. Despite the lengthy groundings they both received (and completely ignored) both of them hold it to this day as one of the coolest days of their lives.

Afterword

I also made piccrews for Sandra and Ife. I did consider the morality of making one for Ife considering he's someone's (fictional) dead, abusive father. However, I use piccrews to visualise how a character looks and keep a consistent design both in my head and on the page. Furthermore, I like when people include images of their characters in posts like these so this is for the people like me!!!

[adorerdraco]

Whole Lot of Red ✧ Draco x Reader

Summary: Sneaky meet ups with Draco where nobody knows the two of you have a thing for the other until the day he sees someone flirting with you and lets his jealousy get the best of him. AU where its around seventh year and Voldermort never existed so Draco never got traumatized !

Warnings: light smut/hinted smut, jealous/possessive-ish Draco, a little more mature themes 

Words: 1.8K

A/N: aging him UP for this one ! and making draco a tad rude bc the way i picture it is just WOW also i like to try to change up the way i write him sometimes :) also couldn’t find this gif anywhere so if it looks low quality its bc i made it >:( i want so badly for him to walk up to me like thaaaat anyways I HOPE THIS IS GOOD

It was a funny thing, feelings, and the way they blossomed in places they had no business being in. Those very specific stomach churning butterflies and skipped heartbeats were unmistakably there every time you found yourself in the Slytherin Prince’s presence. It was a shame really, you had never even given him the time of day prior to the time you were forced to work on a Charms project together but now here you were; completely and undeniably entranced by him. 

Your group of y/h friends and you were gathered in the foyer outside the Great Hall, the doors wide open and welcoming students for the lunch that was going to be served in just a few minutes. Your friends were lost in conversation and you couldn’t be happier as your focus darted around the room hoping to spot the platinum mop of hair.

Out of sheer coincidence, a boisterous group of Slytherins had entered the foyer from the direction of the dungeons, all talking loudly and jokingly pushing each other as they came into view. Your eyes landed on the laughing blond in the middle, his toothy grin almost twinkling under the sunlight that streamed in through the large medieval windows. His gaze wandered around the room for a moment before stopping on you, the smile on his face morphing into a smug knowing smirk. 

A shivering weakness shot up your legs, your heart doing somersaults in your stomach as you recalled the previous night. It involved you sneaking out of the common room to meet Draco in a dark and hidden corner of the castle in the dead hours of night, his Prefect duties long finished and a looming fear of getting caught by Filch. It was you being backed into said corner, his body flush against your quivering one, a strong hand clamped tightly over your mouth to muffle the whimpers that unwillingly left your mouth as his lips left trails of wet kisses along the exposed skin of your neck and chest. It was his knee in between your legs, pushing you harder against the wall as your hands got tangled in his hair while he held your face in place by your jaw, whispering compliments and desires into your ear with kisses to it in between, smiling coyly to himself when he heard the small gasps of pleasure coming from you.

All this was because of a simple charms project, the two of you forced to spend a couple weeks together where it was constant bickering and malicious teasing until the tension between the two of you had gotten so overwhelmingly strong it was suffocating. It had gotten so unbearable that one day, Draco finally had enough as you were reading something out of your textbook for him, suddenly knocking it out of your hands and scooting closer to you on the shared bench, his minty breath hot against your face and darkening gray eyes flickering from your lips to your widened e/c’s as he whispered a breathless, “can I kiss you?” 

Post study make out sessions quickly turned into sneaking away from friends throughout the day which finally led into slipping out of common rooms to meet at night. No one ever noticed nor caught on to the two of you, the both of you keeping it a secret so you wouldn’t have to deal with people’s undesired two cents. 

As much as you enjoyed the hands on affection, you found yourself liking the intimacy afterwards even more. You looked forward to sitting down somewhere with him, his arms wrapped warmly around your body as you asked about each other’s day that branched out into talking about anything and everything. You would skip back to your room afterwards, smiling from ear to ear with your head in the clouds until one day it dawned on you; you were in a sticky situation of constantly wondering “what are we?”

You never dared to ask him though, terrified of his answer and that he would leave you in the dust for even bringing it up. In all your years at Hogwarts, you’ve never seen Draco with a girlfriend, he was the most well-known boy at school, an arrogant and proud Slytherin, a skilled quidditch seeker, and an irresistible flirt. But never having the title of ‘the boyfriend’, despite the countless girls that hung off his arms nearly begging for his attention.

“Y/N,” your friend broke you out of your thoughts, a sly smile on her face as she elbowed your side. “Your little friend is headed this way.”

You looked at her in confusion, turning your attention towards the tall Gryffindor, Trevor, that was walking towards your small group, a bright smile on his face as his eyes stayed trained on you. Your friends giggled teasingly, already knowing what his presence would ensue. He was nice, but annoying as he relentlessly flirted with you every time you had your Transfigurations class with him. You just chose to ignore him even though he always ended up sitting next to you or around you no matter how many times you moved. He was someone who you complained restlessly about to your group which caused them to laugh and poke fun every time he would come up to you around them.

“Y/L/N!” He said happily, attempting to give you a hug as he came up to you which you only begrudgingly returned with a lazy side hug. He took your hand, leading you a few feet away from your group so he could talk to you privately. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet up at the library after lunch to study for our test later this week?”

“Oh,” you trailed off, trying to come up with an excuse but in the midst of your thoughts you remembered you had already made plans with Draco. Speaking of, you had forgotten he was only across the room, unbeknownst to you that he was staring hard at you and your classmate. “I’m busy today.”

“How about after tomorrow?” He asked again hopefully. “We can even go to Hogsmeade after, butterbeers on me!”

You frowned slightly, knowing that this was not a friendly collegiate conversation, but another ploy to try and get you to go out with him. His attempts were increasing week by week and you denied him every single time yet he never got the hint.

“Still busy,” you smiled at him, hoping that if you were to appear nice, it would soften the continuous blow of rejection.

“I’m not going to stop asking until you say yes,” he sighs, hands slipping into the pockets of his robe as he longingly looked down at you. “You might as well give in.”

His hand came up towards your hair, a skinny finger brushing through a strand of your hair as he pulled a small fluff of lint from your robes before flicking it into the air. You stood frozen in place, the gesture being painstakingly too much for your comfort and borderline creepy coming from him.

Draco felt himself shake with anger, the sight of you smiling at the Gryffindor and that he was running his fingers through your hair made his blood boil. Greeting the git with a hug. You being led away from your friends by your hand. He hated the sight. The thought of any man other than him being so close to you made him feel sick to his stomach, a rage sparking from deep within him he never even knew existed. He watched as you looked up at the boy above you, a weird expression on your face that instantly let him know you were uncomfortable.

That was it for him. He was seeing red as he threw his schoolbooks into Crabbe’s hands, pushing aggressively past a pair of boys that were in his way as he power walked towards you and your classmate.

“Didn’t you ever learn to keep your hands to yourself?” Draco called out condescendingly in his haughty accent, his scowl deepening as he approached. Trevor’s head snapped towards Draco, a frown etching itself onto his face.

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Trevor sneered. “Go find someone else to bother.”

“Take your own advice, filth,” Draco shot back.

“Filth? You’re one to talk,” the Gryffindor chortled. By now, everyone within a few feet of the debacle was watching, entertained at the argument that was beginning to unfold, your friends and Draco’s goons staring oddly at the encounter. You only stood there, looking between both boys towering over you in a daze that left you paralyzed in your spot. You were so close to telling off Trevor before Draco came, feeling grateful at your delayed reaction now that he was there defending you.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” Draco threatened, stepping in between you and Trevor as he spoke. “Leave Y/N alone, or I swear you’ll regret it.”

“Why? You think she’d pick you over me?” He snickered. “We’ll see who’s the one feeling regretful when you find her making that decision.”

By now, Trevor had stepped up to the spiteful Slytherin, getting in his face with a patronizing smile. Draco’s face twisted up in anger as his temper got worse, shoving his competition back with the side of his forearm, feeling satisfied when Trevor stumbled back.

“Funny,” he laughed darkly, “I seem to remember her already making that decision every single day while we’re snogging.”

Multiple gasps can be heard throughout the foyer, including your own as you gaped up at the blond, his eyes staying focused on Trevor as he looked taken aback.

“You trying to say she’s your girlfriend?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Your legs nearly gave out below you at his response. This was everything you had been hoping for recently, except not like this. But that still didn’t stop you from feeling giddy, however, the bliss of his revelation filling your entire body with glee. The ‘what are we?’ question being ripped from your mind with relief.

“Is that true?” Trevor asks you, a devastated look glazing over his eyes as you slowly nodded. He gives Draco one more pointed look, bumping shoulders with him before he stalked off into the Great Hall in a rush, everyone scattering around to go inside as well now that the show was over.

Draco turned to peer down at you, fury draining from his body as he admired you. He cupped your cheek, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the opposite side of your face before whispering hotly into your ear.

“If he tries anything with you again, let me know and I swear I’ll deal with him,” he pulls back from you, smiling at you innocently. “I’ll see you later, darling.”

And with that, he sends you a wink, turning around to saunter over to his eager minions while your friends immediately rush towards you with a million questions that you would inevitably have to answer. This was not at all how you expected the day to turn out, not in the slightest.

[mieohmy]

𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗋 | 𝗃𝖾𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝗐𝗈𝗈

PAIRING: CEO boss! jeon wonwoo x secretary! reader 

GENRE: fluff, angst, humor, office au

WC: 5k (whoops got carried away- i mean its wonwoo)

NOTES: mentions of death, depression 

SUMMARY: you loved being a secretary, the work and stress included. but your ‘stone cold’ boss was really testing your limits in more ways than one. alternatively, who knew mighty CEO jeon wonwoo was such a softie?

update: part two can be found here !

update 2: final part → here 

❋

“Yes, sir. Also, the opening ceremony is today at 7pm. Would you like me to set up your chauffeur?” The man nods. “Yes, make sure to finish the layout for tomorrow. And the catalog by Thursday. That’s all, you’re dismissed.” You bow politely before turning and exiting his office. 

You take two steps forward before displaying a scowl and muttering, “never get a break. not even a thank you. just wait, jeon wonwoo, one day i-“ “Y/n!” A voice snaps you out of your trance, spotting Seungkwan walking your way. 

Greeting him, you ask, “What’s up?” “We’re getting food tonight. Team dinner at 7. Can you make it?” he says. You sigh before replying apologetically, “Sorry.... boss wants me to finish something up for tomorrow.” 

Seungkwan taps his feet in disapproval. “The CEO is still giving you more work? When will that man ever let you have a break?” You grit your teeth, attempting to smile. Seungkwan stares at the CEO's office. 

“Y/n, you work the hardest out of all of us, and you have to deal with him every day. If there’s anyone who deserves a rest, it’s you. Our team’s planning on going to the beach on the weekend since we have Friday off. You should join us. It’ll be really fun!“

Contemplating for a moment, you’re about to accept before you suddenly remember what Friday is, eyes widening. Turning to Seungkwan, you smile sadly. “I really-like you don’t even know-really want to go, but I have something really important on Friday. I’m so sorry.” He nods, reassuring you it’s fine. “Well, you can join us on Saturday then!” 

You bow, biting your lip as you continue on. You totally forgot what day Friday was. 

❋

The rest of your shift was rough. Wonwoo, AKA your horrible boss, didn’t seem to want to give you a break. The past few weeks had been very tightly packed with the upcoming debut, and although you understood it was very important, sometimes it felt like your boss didn’t know you were human too. 

Waking up at 5 am, driving to his place and setting up, and then getting to work was exhausting. Not to mention the late nights working on assignments. It all came with being a secretary, but recently, you didn’t know if you could keep going. Maybe it had something to do with your boss’s attitude as well. 

Jeon Wonwoo, CEO of one of the largest writing and printing companies. Exactly how you expect. Handsome, cold, quiet. You’re pretty sure he’s rejected more than a hundred women who attempted to ask him out. What did he even do for fun? Lame word searches?

When you first started working as his secretary, you had at least one breakdown a day. Everything you did was wrong, Wonwoo’s ‘redo it again’, echoing in your mind. He never cared about your feelings, just your work. You needed the job to help your family since it had good pay, and your siblings were focused on school. So it was up to you to provide for your family that you weren’t even close with.

You and your coworkers loved to complain about wonwoo’s cold attitude and the workload he gave out. Sure he was handsome, but it didn’t matter to you since his attitude was such a shutdown. You blamed him for not having a social life or a boyfriend, but of course, he didn’t care. 

That just made you want to work even harder. You stayed up countless nights practicing, studying to be perfect. Until Wonwoo tolerated you. Everyone knew you as Jeon Wonwoo’s longest secretary. It wasn’t easy work, but it made you feel proud, and you were able to push through working for him. 

At least before recently. Wonwoo was extremely busy with the preparations, and so were you. You understood, he was stressed, but was taking it out on you okay? You really contemplated quitting, but this time of the year was extremely important, so you would have to wait until after the new debut passed. I mean, you were kind enough to start the resignation after finishing the event, unlike another person you knew.

Wonwoo calls you into his office late that night, the floor almost empty. You walk in, carrying the same tea you always brought at the now perfected temperature. Setting it down, you bow before asking, “you called for me, Mr. Jeon?” You can tell he’s frustrated by his ruffled hair and wrinkled collar. Your fingers itch, wanting to fix it. 

“Finish the chart for tomorrow. I want you to adjust my schedule since father’s coming by. Cancel everything before 10.” You tense, feeling the frustration course through you. “But sir, I already got all the-“ “I don’t care, change it. You can go now.” You tightly bow and leave, fuming in anger. 

❋

You’re not surprised you only got three hours of sleep. It was a regular thing these days. Groaning, you get ready as usual like every day, the schedule drilled into your brain. You grab a shirt, frowning as you remember the one time Mr. Jeon called your fashion taste revolting and ordered you to a complete wardrobe change. 

It was finally Friday, the day you were anticipating the whole week. Also the one day you got off from work early and seeing Mr. Jeon’s face. You couldn’t wait until 5 when you were done and could prepare for later. The whole week was awful, you’re pretty sure you looked like a raccoon with the amount of sleep you got. 

You’re typing furiously at your desk when Seokmin comes by. His footsteps alert you. “Oh, hey Seokmin. What’s up?” He grins. “Did Seungkwan tell you about what we’re doing later today?” You attempt to smile. “Yeah, I’m sorry I can’t make it. I’m busy later. Can’t wait to get off.” He claps, rubbing his hands together. “It’s alright. Don’t work too hard.” 

You smile, winking. “Don’t worry. And try not to have too much fun without me!” The buzzing on your desk interrupts you, causing you to groan. “What does he want now?”

Walking in, you find Wonwoo signing documents. He doesn’t even look up as he says, “I need you to complete the finalizing documents right now.” You pause, processing the information. “Wait, but those will take me at least four hours. My shift ends in one.” 

He finally looks up, face devoid of any emotion. “Well, that’s your job. You’re expected to do it.” You feel your heart speed up, tightening your hands into fists. You respond shakily, “I’m sorry sir, but there’s something really important I have to do tonight. I can get Mr. Lee to finish it. Can’t you let me go this once?” 

“But why? You’re supposed to do what I ask?” His voice sounds annoyed, bored even. You scoff, feeling your eyes burn. “Those last couple of weeks I’ve been doing everything you asked, even more. Don’t you think I deserve a break?” 

“You signed up to be my secretary. What kind of breaks do you expect? Things are very tense with the new debut now, so don’t expect me to take pity and let you go just because you did what I said,” Wonwoo retorts.

That was it.

You hated yourself. You hated yourself for snapping. But at the same time, you didn’t. 

You slam your papers on the table, shaking. “I work basically 24/7, every day, running errands for you and doing everything you tell me.” Your voice cracks, and you feel hot tears run down your face. 

“And you don’t even have the respect to treat me like a human being? I wake up immediately thinking about what you’re going to make me do for the rest of the day.” A sob escapes you. 

Wiping your tears angrily, you continue to stare at him with wide, furious eyes. “I go to sleep thinking about what I have to do for you the next day. But you don’t even thank me. Not once. No appreciation when I try to impress you and go above and beyond. And then you won’t even let me have one break? I don’t even get vacations or holidays off!”

You sniffle, body shaking, as you let the words sink in. “I signed up to be a secretary, not disrespected.” And with that, you walk out with tears pouring down your face, grabbing as much of your stuff as you can and leaving, ignoring the shocked whispers and startled questions.  

❋

Once you get home, you slap yourself. What did you just do? What did you just say to your boss? Oh god, ex-boss now. You’re dead. Officially. You feel numb like you just watched a confusing movie and were trying to process everything. 

You want to bury yourself in the ground. Or become a rock. That’d be way nicer than being yourself right now. 

But you have to continue on. You don’t even care if you’re going out wearing sweats and a hoodie. He wouldn’t care. After buying everything, you drive to the spot. You pass blurs, barely paying attention as you blankly stare at the road. 

Once you get out, you feel the drops, glancing up. You didn’t realize it was raining while you were driving. You let the water pour over you, making your way to the familiar stone.

Stopping in front, you sink to your knees. 

“Dad...I’m so sorry I’m late. Can you believe I basically threw a tantrum in front of my boss? Well, ex-boss?” Laughing weakly, you wipe the tears you didn’t notice had run down your face. “I don’t have a job anymore, that’s for sure.” 

You look around, your whole body soaked now. Softly, you arrange the flowers neatly in front of his grave. “Are you still proud of me dad?” You smile weakly, adjusting yourself comfortably on the cold wet ground. “I’m so sorry... happy anniversary, still. Another year passed. How are you?” 

❋

You spend days at home, never leaving your bed, only allowing yourself to mope about your life. Your phone is spammed with texts and calls. Probably from coworkers, you figured. You didn’t have enough energy to respond. 

You sighed for the millionth time. Everyone had probably heard about your childish rant in wonwoo's office. How could you let yourself break like that? No one had contacted you and deemed you officially fired, but you knew it the moment you opened your mouth. Maybe finally going outside and getting snacks would cheer you up. 

Cringing, you saw yourself in the mirror. Just like someone who got broken up with by their partner. I mean, it’s not like you had a job anymore or anyone to impress, so you just shrugged and went out for the first in a while.

Entering the store, you walk down an aisle, glancing at the options. You’re squatting, choosing between banana or strawberry when you spot movement in the corner of your vision. It’s just a man looking at the ice cream, but it’s what he’s wearing that catches your attention. 

You raise an eyebrow. Who goes to a mart in a full suit and tie like that? Scoffing internally, you bite the inside of your cheek. Ha, he looks like- The man suddenly turns, and you can never mistake that face. 

BEKDJRE WHAT IS MR. JEON DOING HERE?? You whip your head back, hoping, praying, that he doesn’t recognize you in your horrible clothes. Your heart pounding loudly, you stand up, deciding just to get the heck out of there before-

Oh ****. Why does he have to stand right next to you? 

You internally freak out, don’t make eye contact I swear to god y/n if you do you’ll- 

“What do you recommend? Melon or banana?” You recognize his deep voice and freeze. Is he talking to you? Maybe he doesn’t know who you are??

Facing away from him, you respond in a croaky, low voice. “U-uh banana?” You catch him nodding in the corner of your eye. 

Time to escape. You turn, briskly walking away until a hand abruptly grabs your wrist, preventing you from leaving. Panicking, you don’t move, not wanting to expose your identity. What does this man want??

The hand on your wrist doesn’t loosen, instead, it tightens and spins you around until you’re face to face with him. Your now-former boss, Jeon Wonwoo. 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t have an angry look on his face. Instead, he simply says, “Y/n, I know it’s you. It seemed like you when you walked in. And the fact that you chose banana instead of melon for me because you know I hate melon confirms it.” 

You open your mouth before lamely responding, “Could’ve been a lucky guess?” 

❋

 You would’ve never expected yourself to be outside a grocery mart at 1 am with jeon wonwoo.

Awkwardly shuffling on your feet, you watched as wonwoo paid for your treats. He insisted on it for some reason, and you knew you couldn’t beat him when he looked at you with that face. Chills ran down your spine whenever you thought about it.

When he finishes, you walk side by side out the door, a silence between the two of you. You wait a couple seconds before you can’t take it anymore. 

You quickly fall to your knees in front of him, head down as you plead, “Please forgive me, Mr. Jeon. I-I didn’t mean anything I said. I was just extremely stressed- I completely understand if you never want to see my face again, although I’m not sure why you confronted me today and bought stuff for me but it doesn’t matter anymore- It was completely rude of me, and I just hope you’ll accept my apology.” Finishing your ramble, you keep your head bowed and eyes squeezed shut as you await his response. 

You almost don’t notice it, it was so gentle. Wonwoo’s hand slowly reaches forward and tilts your chin up, and you don’t realize your heart speeding up. He squats in front of you, his face seems surprisingly amused. 

You would’ve never expected the words that came out of his mouth next, either.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I realized the workload I put on you, and it wasn’t wrong of you to burst out on me. I’m afraid I’m not good with words, but after you disappeared, I realized how much you do for the office. Truly, I appreciate your hard work. Hopefully, you can come back to work once you feel fit.” 

You stare at him, processing the words that the CEO of one of the biggest printing companies just said. 

You stay still, eyes still boring into his until you’re finally able to break out of it. You abruptly stand up, dusting yourself off. You breathe a sigh of relief, muttering, “thank you for not firing me.” You clap your hand over your mouth, surprised eyes moving to look at wonwoo. 

You watch as wonwoo’s lips slowly turn up, letting out a quiet chuckle. You blink. Did he just laugh? Like fr? Oh my god, you have to tell Seungkwan. His voice interrupts you. “I should drive you back to your place, it’s getting late.” 

Your eyes widen in shock. Shaking your head, you reply, “oh no, it’s fine. I’ll walk home. It’s not far.” He insists, and of course, you aren’t able to say no. 

It’s an awkward drive as you direct your boss to your apartment. Once you arrive, you quickly thank him, and he smiles. What the-

“Well, I hope to see you soon at work, secretary y/n.”

You can only nod, dumbfounded. You had never seen him smile before, and it was kinda nice.

You numbly wave goodbye as he drives off, entering your apartment and crashing into bed. 

❋

After two days, you’re back in action. The second the elevator doors open, a swarm of people rushed up to you. You stand there as people begin talking, asking questions. You feel like a celebrity being interviewed by paparazzi.

You take a step forward, pushing past everyone. It didn’t feel right to have to answer their questions. You settle at your office, politely asking people to stop asking. Eventually, the crowd leaves.

You’re unpacking the stuff you took home in a blaze of anger when you hear footsteps approach. Sighing, you turn around. “I’m sorry, I don’t- ..Dokyeom?” 

“Y/n!!! What the frick happened? All we know is that you stormed out of the building and didn’t come back for a week!! And with our project, things were going crazy without you...”

Grimacing, you say, “I know, I know, I’m sorry.  It’s stupid, but I’m back for real now. Promise.  I’ll explain it all later, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” 

Dokyeom sighs, giving you one last ‘you better not forget’ before leaving you. 

It takes hours, but you’re finally able to get wonwoo’s schedule up to date. You check the time. Shoot. Wonwoo usually expects tea at this time.

You quickly run over to the drink station, hoping no one comes up to you. You glance around, mostly everyone’s focused on their work and staring at their computer screens. 

You’re pouring the hot water when a familiar voice calls your name. Turning, Wonwoo comes into view. You immediately jump, causing the hot water to splash onto your hand. 

Letting out a hiss of pain, you drop the cup. The sound alerts the workers in the room, most beginning to notice your presence. 

Wonwoo quickly walks over to you, gently taking your hands in his. “Are you alright?” You gape at him, and you’re pretty sure everyone else in the room is dumbfounded too. Whispers immediately break out. 

You snatch your hands from him and quickly bow. “I’m fine, thank you, sir.” Forgotten tea, you dash to the bathroom. Huffing, you place your hands on the sink.

What happened to your boss and why do you kinda like it? The feeling of his warm hands over yours causes you to shiver. You punch the sink, grumbling. 

“Ughh seriously, what’s wrong with this guy?  I yell at him and suddenly he becomes this nice guy? And then in front of everyone too?”

❋

It doesn’t stop after that. For days, jeon wonwoo would somehow make his way to you and act all nice. Sometimes in front of others, and sometimes when it’s just you two in his office. You would always feel hot and nervous afterward randomly. 

It began spreading around the office. What happened to CEO Jeon and why did he become so nice to you? You heard some of the rumors, ‘probably slept together’ ‘did they find out some juicy secret about him? ..’

It was annoying, but you tried to ignore it. You were able to explain everything to doykeom and seungkwan. They were the only ones who knew about the late-night grocery mart trip and wonwoo’s sudden kindness. 

You wanted to confront him, really. And you tried, but he would just say it was because you were his secretary that worked so hard for so long. 

You wanted it to stop. You wanted it to stop cause you liked this side of him, and you didn’t want to admit it.

❋

It all changed one day when you received a text at work. From a number that you didn’t recognize. At first. 

After reading it, you immediately shot up from your desk. Wonwoo came from his office, walking over to you, but you hurriedly made an excuse and ran out, leaving him surprised. 

Groaning, you noticed the rain. Perfect timing... You braced yourself and ran through the pouring rain. You had to get there, no matter what. You were soaked, gasping for air, once you reached the stone. 

They left. You stood there, staring down at it. 

It was just you and the rain.

Until it wasn’t, anymore. You look up. It’s a black... umbrella? Spinning around, you come face to face with a suit. An extremely familiar one.

“M-mr. jeon?” He’s holding the umbrella and staring at you, but it feels like he’s looking into your soul. 

You blink, eyes flicking down to the wet ground. It’s silent until he speaks up. “Why did you suddenly come here? Y/n?” 

You slowly turn back to look at the plaque. “This is where my dad is,” you softly say. There’s a pause before wonwoo responds, “I’m so sorry.” 

You laugh, shaking your head. “You don’t have to be sorry. This is why I blew up last Friday. I was supposed to be here that day.” You feel wonwoo tense next to you. 

Before he can say anything, you face him. “It still doesn’t excuse my behavior. But.. why did you follow me?” He fumbles a bit before replying, “it was raining.. it wouldn’t be safe for you to go alone.” 

You laugh, a pleasant sound ringing in wonwoo’s ears before saying, “thank you. And, I came here because of my family. You might not have known this, but I got this job to help them. After my father died, my mother became depressed and my siblings couldn’t do anything. So I had to get a job to support them.” 

You bitterly smile before continuing, “I’m not even close with them. I was too busy working, and my mother was too busy moping. My siblings are busy with school, and I never see them anymore. It’s gotten to the point where I just pay their bills and don’t even speak to them. Ha, they finally contacted me to say they were gonna visit him today, can you believe it? And I missed them. As usual.” 

Wonwoo looks down at his feet. “I never knew that about you... You’ve been working for me for years, and I didn’t know that.” 

You shift. “What about you?” He turns to you, surprised. “Me?” You nod, “your family?” Wonwoo shuffles closer to you, causing you to unconsciously swallow. 

“Well, I’m not very close with my family either. It was all work, preparing me to take over the business. I mostly grew up alone... and I didn’t really have many close relationships. Uh- well, you can most likely tell. Everyone in the office probably can too.” 

You glance at him. He’s going back into his shell. The one he would always go into when he was stressed, scared, alone. You hesitate. “That’s okay, you don’t have to be close to everyone. It doesn’t hurt to be a little kinder, though. Not to be rude, but a lot of people in the office are.... a bit scared of you? To be honest, we were all a bit shocked when you started caring more. I was surprised. Um- but i-in a good way.” 

Wonwoo stares at you with wide eyes as you focus back on the stone. A comfortable silence fills the air between the two of you. Standing there, hearing the sound of the pouring drops. 

As the rain falls harder, you feel as if you have too.

❋

There’s an understanding, a deeper one between you and wonwoo after that day. You feel like you know him, even if it’s only a little more. 

The CEO suddenly turns into a completely different person. To others, he may still seem like a cold boss, but to you, wonwoo’s an endearing introvert who’s obsessed with cats. 

You were shocked, to say the least when wonwoo comes by your desk and shoves a phone in your face. You flinch before opening your eyes and staring at the screen.  “Mr. Jeon..... why are you showing me a picture of a cat?” 

“It’s cute. Isn’t it?” Laughing, you cover your mouth to hide a smile. “Yes sir, it sure is.” 

He continues to show more of himself, and you find yourself falling deeper. For someone who you never expected.  He has such a cold exterior to people around you, but once it’s just you two, he turns into such a softie. 

Seungkwan confronts you one day. “Y/n, you have to explain. What is happening between you and CEO jeon??” You shake your head in response, but you feel heat creep up your neck. 

“Seungkwannn, I told you already. He just helped me out, and I guess, I understand him a bit better now. He’s not bad, seriously.” 

He lets out a small tch! “A week ago you were complaining about his nasty personality, and now you’re saying he’s not bad?”

You whine, clinging to his side. “Ahh, seriously I said it was nothing. Why won’t you believe me??” Someone clears their throat. 

You and seungkwan turn. It’s wonwoo who else would it be. Immediately, seungkwan bows. “Sir!!” Wonwoo stands there, face passive. “Secretary y/n, come to my office.” 

Seungkwan shoots you a look, leaving you to shrug and follow the CEO.

He offers you a seat, and you sit on the plush couch, waiting.

He shifts in his seat awkwardly, and you raise an eyebrow. “Why did you call me in, Mr. Jeon?” 

He coughs before muttering, “are you close with him? Mr. Boo?” “You mean seungkwan? Oh, he’s my friend, that’s all. Why do you want to know? Are you jealous?” you tease.

But wonwoo only scratches his head. You’re about to apologize for going too far with the joke, but you can’t even respond after what he says. “Well, of course, I am. Cause I’m interested in you.” 

Your mouth drops open. “What did you just say?” He looks at you, a serious expression on his face. “I want to go out with you. Truly.” 

Heart beating faster, you internally panic. He just asked you out? He’s interested in you? What is going on? 

“So? What’s your answer?” You snap out of it, glancing back at your boss, nervously shaking his leg. I mean, you enjoyed his presence. But he was your boss, the supposed cold and scary Jeon Wonwoo.. and also the one who still managed to infiltrate your mind.

“Um, yes. I will go out with you.”

❋

You find out and learn more and more sides to him. They all cause your heart to flutter harder and harder. He’s no longer just your boss, he’s someone you can trust, confide in. 

You begged wonwoo not to tell anyone. All the dates happening in secret. Wonwoo was upset, originally. He wanted to tell people, to show you were his, but you firmly insisted on keeping it quiet. If people in the office found out, you would never hear the end of it. 

You walk into wonwoo’s office one morning, carrying the itinerary for the week. Once he sees you, his eyes light up. He walks over to you, grabbing the file and throwing it on the desk somewhere. 

You stare at him with wide eyes as he strides over to you, wrapping his arms around your body. There’s a second of peace and content, but you interrupt him, tensing and saying, “wonwoo- someone might see us.” 

Even as you continue to shift and glance around to check, he sighs and rests his head on top of yours. “Secretary, can’t you just relax for a second? We’ve been working so much, we need a break.” 

Letting out a huff, you allow yourself to melt into his embrace. “Two more minutes,” you mumble. Wonwoo leans down, so his face is inches from yours, a small grin displayed. You smile back, knowing what he wants. 

You lean in, placing your lips on his. His mouth moves hungrily on yours, causing you to make a small sound of surprise. 

Then there’s suddenly a knock, and you hear the door open. “CEO Jeon?” 

You fly under his desk, squeezing your eyes shut and praying whoever it was didn't see you.

You wait there, attempting to muffle your breathing and keep still. You recognize the voice, it’s Mr. Choi Seungcheol. Vice President of the company. Why did he have to come at the worst time? 

You hear the distinct sounds of their conversation for what seems to be forever before Mr. Choi finally bids him goodbye. Your body slumps in relief, waiting to get out from under his desk until you hear seungcheol suddenly speak again. 

“Also, why is secretary y/l/n under your desk? I see their feet sticking out.” You silently curse yourself. Slowly and very ungracefully, you maneuver your way from under the desk. Standing up, you quickly smooth your clothes and hair. “Oh, ha, Mr. Choi. I had no idea you here. Um- well, you see...” 

You quickly look at Wonwoo and back to Mr. Choi. Stammering, you finally say, “Mr. Jeon thought he saw a coach roach and called me in. Must’ve just imagined it.” You nervously laugh as wonwoo sheepishly nods in agreement. 

Finally, he leaves the two of you, and you sit on the couch, biting your lip as you examine wonwoo’s expression. 

“Was the coach roach your best excuse?”

You cringe. “I’m sorry-! I couldn’t think of anything else. Do you think he saw?” 

Wonwoo shrugs, sitting next to you. “Is it so bad for him to see?” he speaks quietly.

You face him, aghast. “No! It’s just, you know how it is... if everyone knew. They’d misunderstand, think I’m using you or something.” 

Your body freezes as you turn to face him. “Wait- you don’t think I’m using you... right?” 

Wonwoo quickly shakes his head. “No, I know you y/n. You would never do that. I’m just afraid. That you’ll leave me because I’m too quiet, or too busy with work or-..” 

You smile at him softly.

“You know I love you?” He stares at you, shocked. You had never said it to each other before, but you truly meant it. 

Reaching for his hand, you intertwine it with yours. “Did you know I thought about quitting my job before? When we were debuting the showcase. It was so stressful that I really was gonna leave.” You feel his hand grip yours tighter, so you continue.

“But you know I'll never leave you, right? I won’t ever leave you alone.” Nudging him, you add playfully, “that means you’re stuck with me forever.” 

Wonwoo laughs- a short deep sound. 

“I’m okay with that, cause I’m in love with you too.” 

 author note: i actually wanted to write more but got lazy...  im conflicted if i should add to the story or leave it as it is :\\\\ 

[woniepop]

girly girls

Pairing: Kang Taehyun x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: bullying, cursing

Genre: slice of life; fluff; angst

Summary: Three times a popular girl and a nerd were enemies, and one time where they weren’t

a/n: this fic was inspired by my all time favorite movie, Legally Blonde. I enjoyed writing this fic and I really hope you enjoy reading it :)

Y/N L/N has never been someone who liked to be cast in the shadows. Always being the center of attention, y/n has become one of the, if not the most, popular girls in her town. Homegirl is always dressed like an icon even when doing mundane tasks. Girls like her have never really been into anything “nerdy.” She associates herself with more of the bimbo kind, if you will. It was never really a secret, but she studies incredibly hard to get the chance to go to her dream school and become a great computer scientist. Being in such a large friend group of female fashion icons, there was never really anyone who wanted to talk about topics with math or computer science. 

Kang Taehyun, however, is this awkward and incredibly smart boy. Never really associated with popularity, he’s only had about four friends in his life and absolutely no dating experience. He’d always been one to shy away from attention. At most times, he found himself quietly observing others. All this, and he’s still what you would consider the teacher’s pet. He gets all his assignments done, A’s on every test, and raises his hand for every question. As a computer science enthusiast, he has worked his butt off his entire life, filling his schedule with robotics clubs, different languages of code, and coding camps. Senior year was his year. He had finally got into his dream school, TXT Tech, and had already created a very very detailed plan for the future.

Currently, Y/n’s mother was constantly trying to persuade her about fashion school. Having an incredibly fashionable mom wasn’t always the best for situations like these. TXT Tech results were coming out, and even though Y/n was confident she was getting in, there’s still the chance she might have not. Nervously waiting in front of her laptop, she sits impatiently refreshing the page for her results. Within one sentence she hops up from her chair in awe. Obviously attending the school was going to be a big turning point for her, and she was so excited to have been admitted to TXT Tech. 

As Y/n got settled on campus, she finds no one else that looks like her. Obviously, because she stands out, all attention is drawn to her. She’s confident, stylish, and hot. In a sea of gray and tan business outfits, Y/n wears a nice pink pantsuit. She’s relishing in all the attention, not seeming to mind that it’s not good, because she knew she looked good. 

Her first encounter with Taehyun couldn’t have gone worse. Walking to her class, pink drink in hand, she struts confidently to the lecture hall for her computer engineering class. Not paying attention to where she was going, she bumps into a tall figure. This clearly wasn’t the best way you could go about your first day, but all Y/n could do was apologize. 

“I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t see where I was going and-” she rambled. Pausing in the middle of looking up, a very handsome and slightly awkward boy stands there, obviously pissed off and very annoyed. He scoffs and continues on his way to his next class.

Her second encounter with Taehyun was not great either. Clicking her high heels against the floor, she walks to her first class of the day. She had to get there early, she always had to sit in the front of the class. Taehyun on the other hand, nose buried deep in his book, walks directly to the middle. Despite loving programming, he could only handle so much attention. The class had started off well for Y/n, reviewing the class syllabus of “Principles of Programming Languages.” Taehyun, however, was pissed. He had not been called on once and was so frustrated. 

“Y/n, can you tell me the five most commonly used languages of code?” the professor asks smugly. Y/n knew what he was doing. She was being set up. She knew he thought she didn’t know and that lit a fire in her. 

“Python, Java, Javascript, C#, and C” she answers confidently. Hearing this, the professor nods his head. He wasn’t expecting that. 

Taehyun saw this as a perfect opportunity. His hand shoots up and he comments, “Sir, that’s actually incorrect. C++ is actually more popular because although C  has served as the foundation for writing languages like Python and Ruby, C++ is a newer language of code and therefore is compatible with more technology.” Taehyun confidently looks down to wear Y/n sits and smirks. Of course she wouldn’t know that. She’s only the popular rich girl that got in with Daddy’s money. She didn’t actually know anything, right?

It had been a few months since school had started, and finals were just about to come around. For this class’ final, they had to submit a partner project and code a simple game. At this point, it had been very blatantly established that Y/n and Taehyun were enemies. They despised each other. Always competing with each other in class, snickering when the other person got annoyed. It was a silent war between the two of them and everyone could feel the tension in the air. Obviously, it was no surprise they always came up at the top of the class, interchanging the first spot every test. What was surprising, however, was seeing their names together on the partner project roster. 

Taehyun was furious. College was supposed to be his bitch, but now he’s acting like Y/n’s bitch. He was so pissed off. Computer science was supposed to be where he had the upper hand. The one place he could feel himself. Where he was finally better than the stupid popular kids. And yet, he’s here, competing with one of them. It wasn’t fair. She was a girly girl, she wore bright colors everyday, she even had a sparkly notebook. How was she so smart? There was no way, it’s just the laws of the universe. You had to choose between looks and intelligence. That’s just what the gods above said. There’s no take backsies. 

It’s no secret that Y/n is a fashionable girl and having a female centric hobby isn’t really something applauded at this university. Knowing of Y/n’s insecurities, let’s talk about Taehyun’s. Having always worn non adventurous, boring, clothing, he’s known from the very beginning that Y/n’s beauty has helped her in life. Life is never fair, and it shows. Taehyun never ever got those advantages, and now here he is competing with someone just as smart as him. 

 As his jealousy grows in the back of his mind, he decides to use this time to take revenge. The next few days are spent typing away in the library, collaborating and researching for hours upon hours. Knowing that this project was worth 40% of their grade, they spent all their time trying to make this game perfect. 

The day of the presentation of their near perfect game rolls around and Y/n was confident. She had spent countless nights coding this with Taehyun and on her own. Starting the presentation off, Taehyun pulls up a game completely different to the one Y/n coded with him. “In this day and age, gaming has become a hobby more popular than it’s ever been. With platforms like twitch and youtube, all different types of games can catch the eyes of a wide audience. With this in mind, I’d like to present to you Jackbox Party Pack 8. Roleplay games have become the genre of choice for many gamers to play, and viewers to watch.” 

This was not the first person shooter Y/n had coded with him. What was he doing? Y/n stood there, not really knowing what to say. Opening and closing her mouth, she couldn’t form any words. She should have known this was a set up. “Ms. L/n, please continue.” The professor says. She couldn’t. She felt like she was frozen. She was so embarrassed and she should’ve seen it coming. With cheeks welling up in her eyes, she runs out of the classroom. 

With a smirk, Taehyun continued on, explaining how the game worked and how he had coded it. He had spent the past few nights coding it by himself and he was incredibly proud. Paying no mind to Y/n, he stood tall and smiled throughout his entire presentation. Obviously, like any normal person, guilt started growing quickly in the back of his mind. He finally realized he had fucked up. 

Running after Y/n, Taehyun felt incredibly guilty. He had taken the competition too far, and now he’d made someone innocent fail a required class. After running for what felt like hours, he found Y/n crying under a tree. He knelt down and offered her some tissues. Aggravated, she smacks the tissues away and tells him to leave.

Y/n, on the other hand, felt so angry. How could he do this to her? She hadn’t done anything wrong, and if he didn’t like the way she dressed or the way she conducted herself that was fine. All she needed was her to believe in herself and that got her into TXT Tech. While thinking about all the ways she could end Taehyun, she feels arms wrap around her. They’re 🤮Taehyun’s. Before she can rip his arms off, he speaks up. 

“Look Y/n, I’m really sorry about that whole thing I pulled back there. I’ll talk to the professor and give him the real project. I really took it too far and I’ll do anything to make it up to you.” He begs. 

“Um,, no? I don’t care? That was literally so embarrassing. If you really wanted to make it up to me you’d leave me alone.” Y/n pushes him off her harshly and storms off. How dare he? It probably took his two seconds to come up with that half assed apology. This was unbelievable. 

Y/n started trudging through the grass back to her dorm. All she wanted to do was take a warm shower and cry in her bed. She hated everyone. She wanted him to suffer just as much as she did, but she couldn’t do that. 

After two whole days of sobbing in her bed, she decided she was craving her signature pink drink. She really didn’t feel like going out, but delivering one drink would cost like $15. Y/n throws on a casual pink outfit. It’s very different from what she wore at the beginning of the school year, but the one thing that never changed was the color pink. Even in her depressive mood, she still wanted to dress up. She felt most comfortable wearing stylish clothing, that was her home. 

Stepping into the store, she sees Taehyun sitting at a table alone. You know when you see old people sitting along and you feel so bad for them you start tearing up? Like what if they lost their spouse or something :(((((. So anyway, Taehyun gives her lonely old people energy and regardless of what he did to her, she decides to keep him company. 

“Hey, um, can i sit here?” Y/n asks. Taehyun was so surprised. She wanted to sit with him? But he was so mean to her? He nodded his head and sat quietly. The past two days she could tell Taehyun had done a lot of thinking. She could tell he did it because he felt threatened. That wasn’t enough to forgive him, but at least she was being nice about it. 

Taehyun gets up and leaves. He comes back with a pink drink in hand, maybe as an apology. “I really want to apologize to you again, Y/n. Yesterday I don’t know if you saw, but the professor graded the actual project instead, and I had told him everything and that I’d deserve it if he failed me instead.” Y/n wanted to be happy but she wasn’t. She didn’t want him to fail after helping her code the game with her. Maybe she was so nice to him because she had matured, or maybe because she felt something different in Taehyun. Even so, a little embarrassment, she thought, wasn’t enough to cause a person to fail their whole class. Holding his hand on the table, she nods, a silent way she decided to forgive him. 

“Well, at least we’re not the worst team. I think group 7 coded a Niki Minaj roblox world.” Taehyun jokes. 

She laughs. “That’s so funny, what the heck? I guess we just have some hardcore barbs in this class.” People like Taehyun and people like Y/n were never meant to be friends in the first place, but maybe now they were starting to. Y/n, who was always challenging the term “girly girl.” Who always stressed that you have to believe in yourself when the rest of the world is against you. Y/n who became successful, without changing who she was. Y/n, who was feminine and wanted to show that was never a weakness. And Taehyun, who was always unadventurous. Who was never into fashion but still managed to pull off his nerdy outfits with his cute face. The passionate Taehyun whose only hobby seemed like studying. Gossiping for hours at the cafe, they realized this. They were starting to become friends. No one ever expected them to even be able to hold a friendly conversation, but here Y/n was, challenging everyone again. 

[aestheticseungmean]

Can I request 16, 17, and 18 from your prompt list? with Bang Chan? Suggestive please 🥰 love your blog, sweetheart!!!!

Meet My Family-Bang Chan

Chan told his family that he had a girlfriend. Truth was, he didn’t. Who better to play the part than you?

Suggestive, Fluff, Angst if you squint

4K words

Warnings: Suggestive, cursing

Unedited- (For me it says the images are sensitive. They aren’t. It’s just a Chan gif and fake message I made so don’t worry.)

This is a mess...

——————————————————————————

“And in both stories, there is an eternal God who creates the world. And then, there are waters out of which the god rises…” Your mythology teacher droned on about creation stories. The board was littered with written words that were rushed and sloppy. Soft sounds of pens and pencils scratching against paper filled the room. It was 8:45 am and you were already done with life. You furiously scribbled down notes on your poor worn out composition book. “I would like for you to write about the creation story you grew up learning. See you on Monday!” It seemed like you couldn’t get out of there fast enough as you got swallowed up by a sea of students rushing to their next class. As soon as you could, you freed yourself and leaned up against the wall. “I seriously should start waiting before heading out.” Finally, the halls cleared out a little and you safely headed to your advanced photography and editing class.

The classroom itself wasn’t like normal. It was dainty with a black room for the older students who have been taking the class for years. Computer desks were randomly placed across the room with supplies in the back corner for projects. There was even a video booth with a green screen for the film majors and music producers to work on their projects together. Today, it looks like Felix was untangling the wires for his short movie. You opened the door and stepped inside, the air smelling like cinnamon vanilla courtesy of the boy. “Hey, Felix!” “Oh thank god! Can you help me?” His eyes were pleading and you couldn’t say no to his cute freckled face. “Yeah.” You took a seat next to him and began to untangle an orange wire. “I’ve been in here since seven untangling these stupid things and I’ve only got two done.” “Have no fear! Your hero is here.” You two busted out in laughter, the sound echoing through the empty space. Thankfully, your teacher did a reminder of the project that was due at the end of the month and let the class do whatever.

You shut the door and turned on some music to jam out to. The quiet beat brought three music majors who had to find a place to practice their work to the room. “Oh hey guys!” You knew them well despite them being in a higher class than you. “Felix, this is Chan, Changbin, and Jisung.” Countless times, your roommate’s friend has held a party in your party and countless times, you’ve offered up your bed to one of those three to sleep. Most often, they’d wake up with a headache to find medicine next to them with a glass of water. In fact, it happens so often, they have come over to the dorm subconsciously and stayed to write lyrics. They even have clothes in a dresser you bought specifically for them. “Guys, this is my friend, Felix. He’s a film major.” The trio recited their heys and sat down to join the untangling party. Felix laughed as Chan and Jisung jumped at the sudden genre change in music. The soft pop song turned into a hard rock song that contrasted the sad lovesick melody with death. You and Changbin were jamming out and surprisingly, throughout the time, he kept up with the different music.

The professor came in to tell you guys that class was over but if there wasn’t a next class, you could continue the party. Only Jisung left, forced to catch up in his chemistry class or he’ll fail. “I’m impressed that you know all of these songs, Changbin.” Changbin smiled, basking in your praise. “I may or may not listen to your Spotify playlist on repeat.” Chan and Felix laughed while nudging him, giving him “the” look. “It’s not my fault they have good music taste.” The boys were relentless. “I don’t like them like that.” “Ah yeah, sure.” Felix retorted, not believing it. You couldn’t help but giggle knowing that Changbin had no interest in you. Many nights, Changbin would drunkenly go on and on about his crushes. Your stomach grumbled because you skipped breakfast. “I promise I’ll pay for lunch as a thank you.” You looked at Felix and smiled. “That sounds wonderful.” He smiled back, his freckles scrunched up underneath his chocolate brown eyes that made you melt.

Thankfully, the cafeteria wasn’t jam-packed so it was quite easy to find a seat. Jisung had caught up with the four of you. He sat at the table surrounded by textbooks and papers. “Jisung, are you going to eat?” The boy nodded but didn’t move so you took matters into your own hands. Picking up a piece of chicken, you held it to his mouth. He looked at you confused but still took it. “If you aren’t going to feed yourself, I’ll do it for you.” Before he could protest, you already had another piece of chicken held to his mouth. Jisung shrugged and found this way more convenient than study, break, study, break. “Jisung, if you didn’t party all the time, you wouldn’t be in this situation.” He looked up at the voice to see Chan eying him. “Sorry, Chan.” “If you need help, I can tutor you sometime this weekend.” You chimed in wanting to help Jisung because his passion for music was like your passion for photography, limitless. “In fact, I need some help in Anatomy too.” Felix chimed in. “Study group at my apartment this weekend. Everyone is coming and staying the night. Chan and I can help you guys and Changbin can work on his lyrics due Wednesday.” They all agreed happily.

A knock sounded through the door. It was a patterned knock which means Changbin had arrived first. The two of you were chilling while waiting for the others when Chan barged in and shut the door out of breath. “Are you okay?” You asked, rushing from your spot to check on the male. His shirt was tattered exposing his well built chest. Water dripped on his shirt signalling he just got done with swim practice and Changbin knew this. He brought a towel out for the older man and sighed. “They are getting worse each week.” “Who is?” Two others rushed into the apartment quickly closing and locking the door. It was Felix and Jisung. “Your fan club is out there. I’m too scared to get my books they stole.” Annoyed, you rolled up your sleeves and grabbed the air horn before stepping out into the sea of teen girls with their phones out. They clamoured after you, upset that you were with Chan. The air horn shut them up and you were able to talk. “Listen, I know you guys love Chan-“ They all cheered and nodded. “But Chan and his friends need to study and do their homework or they will fail. You don’t want to be the cause right?”

A loud resounding no echoed through the halls. “That’s right. So can you guys do me a favor and hand me the books and supplies you stole from the boys.” A few girls passed Jisung’s stuff to you and you collected it. “And, can you guys please leave Chan alone for the rest of the year so he can graduate and do what he loves?” The girls groaned and you shushed them. “You can still support him. He has a swim meet next friday at 5. I would like to see you guys there to show your support.” Surprisingly the girls left and you headed back in with an empty air horn and textbooks. “Solved.” The boys stared at you in amazement as they rushed to the door to see if the girls were still there. As you had said, they weren’t. “Now that you know I’m not lying, let’s get to work.” With Changbin’s fresh beats playing in the background, the group got work done very fast. It was almost ten when you settled down for a movie and dinner. Your roommate, Johnny, had gotten home and brought some takeout knowing that you were busy and didn’t get anything to eat.

Changbin settled down in front of you and you set to work playing with his hair. Since it was close to Halloween, you put on the first part of It. The empty food containers lay on the table as each one of you gradually fell asleep leaving Johnny to clean up the mess. He gingerly picked you up to carry you to your room; Something he’s always done when you spent countless hours studying. You woke up to see Johnny tucking you into your bed. “Johnny is the best roommate.” Your voice trailed off towards the end as you drifted back to sleep. Johnny chuckled to himself and moved to deal with the others. Amazingly, the others were easy so he did the dishes and went to bed before eleven. He had work tomorrow so he’d leave early in the morning allowing you to work on what you need to work on. Unfortunately, one thing he didn’t account for was Felix’s sleepwalking. Felix walked into your room and laid down on your bed immediately cuddling you.

You woke up to a body next to you and you freaked out for a minute until you saw it was Felix. Quietly, you slipped out of bed and towards the living room where Chan resided. “Morning!” “It’s too early to be that chipper.” You complained while rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. The rest of the weekend went the same way and you guys got your homework done. Felix offered to cook and Johnny screamed when he saw the mess in the kitchen. Chan and Changbin helped do the dishes while Johnny and you cleaned the walls free of the spaghetti sauce. Felix was forced to go out and buy more cleaning supplies. The weekend ended too fast for your liking and before you knew it, the boys were leaving. School was gruesome as usual but you got to eat with the boys again. This time Jisung didn’t have to focus on schooling. “I got a 98 on my test.” He raised his water and cleared his throat dramatically. “I’d like to thank _____ for helping me attain this amazing feat. So thank you.” Laughter erupted at the table as Jisung continued.

——————————-

Chan had texted you asking you to go with him to see his family for the short break. It took you by surprise when he told you why he asked you.

———————————

Day 1 of the break rolled around and Chan made his way to your apartment early to pick you up. He stood in your doorway for a solid minute watching you dance to the music while finishing up packing. “Cute.” You screamed and dropped your brush that you were using as a microphone. Out of embarrassment, you punched Chan and he winced at your strength. “That hurt.” “Don’t s-sneak up on me.” He smiled. “You stuttered.” “I do that when I’m embarrassed.” Chan helped you get your bags into the car and sighed. “Ready?” “Yes.” It was about ten minutes into the drive when you got annoyed with the music playing. “Can I play music?” “Only if you do your cute little dance.” You glared at him and he laughed. “I’m teasing you. Yeah, go ahead. The aux cord is right here.” You picked up the cord and plugged in your phone, immediately playing a song. The scenery rushed by the window and you watched it calmly hoping that it was beautiful the entire time.

“We are almost there.” Chan’s voice broke you out of your trance. “We should make sure that we know everything so we seem believable.” He nodded and went on to tell you some facts about him while you did the same. You two made sure that you had a believable meeting story as well. Chan turned onto a bumpy road that needed maintenance badly. You watched as the small houses passed by, taking in everything that meant so much to your friend. The car slowed down for another turn, this time down a short driveway. “Well, we’re here. My family can come on a little...strong.” “It’s okay.” You were greeted by a dog as soon as you stepped out of the car. It’s brown eyes stared up at you cutely and you couldn’t help but pet it on the head. “That’s Brost.” At the name, the dog perked up its pristine brown ears and charged at Chan knocking him down in the grass. “Berry, off!” Both Chan and Frost turned their head towards the doorway where Chan’s mother stood. Two younger kids ran by his mom and fell on top of Chan. “Chris is home!”

It was almost as if Chan’s mom was an eagle. Her eyes darted towards you and she smiled. You cowered when she neared you to hug you. “You must be my baby’s girlfriend!” “Yes, ma’am.” She tutted before pulling back. “No need to be so formal. Call me mom.” “Mom, let her breathe.” Chan made his way next to his mom, the resemblance uncanny. “My little Chris.” You watched happily as Chan’s mother smothered him with kisses and hugs. “You’ve grown taller.” While he was greeting his mom, you met his siblings. “I’m Lucas!” “I’m Hannah.” You smiled towards the duo and introduced yourself as well. “I’m-“ “______! Chris has told us all about you.” He has, has he? “Kids, don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt someone introducing themselves?” “Sorry, mom.” Mrs.Bang and the kids went inside to clean and finish dinner while you and Chan got your suitcases. “My mom has turned the guest room into a trophy room so we’ll be sleeping in my old room.” You nodded knowing that this was your fate for agreeing.

The room was small. Then again, Chan didn’t want or need too much space. He wasn’t the type to have a bunch of stuff, just minimalistic. What made you cringe wasn’t the cheesy glow in the dark stars plastered on the walls and ceiling nor the dinosaur bed sheets; it was the twin size bed that was barely big enough to fit Chan alone. “This thing has shrunk since that last time I saw it.” “Shrunk? You’ve gotten taller. Besides, we’re going to be sore trying to stay in one place.” Chan chuckled and sat his suitcase in the corner. “Chris? Someone is here to see you.” Both you and Chan walked out to the living room to find Chan’s grandparents. His grandmother walked up to you first to assess you. “So have you guys gotten down and dirty?” “GRANDMA!” You looked past the elderly lady towards Chan whose ears were red. “Chris, it’s a part of life. So I take that as a no?” Giggling at how straightforward Chan’s grandma is, you shook your head. “Kissed?” This time you nodded. You had to make it believable. “Is he at least a good kisser?” “The best!”

Dinner was awkward. Actually, awkward isn’t the right word to describe it. It was utter chaos and embarrassment. Questions came at you from left and right. Chan answered some of them and you answered the rest. At one point, everyone thought it was a great idea to start telling you embarrassing stories about your “boyfriend”. “Oh, I remember when he was about four-“ “Mom, please don’t.” Chan pleaded and begged but she went along with the story. “He loved to sing this one song. I don’t remember it but it was so cute. We went into the grocery store and I lost him. His dad and I looked for about ten minutes until we heard him over the speakers singing his song.” At this point, he gave up and chewed his food, embarrassed and red. “Channie is so cute!” You teased, poking his sides. When you didn’t think he couldn’t get any more red, his mom wet a napkin and clean his face like one would to a child.

After dinner, you stood in the hallway with Chan looking at the pictures. Footsteps sounded close by and his mom called out for him. “They’re coming. Kiss me!” You pulled him close, kissing him deeply. His hands found their way to your waist pulling you flush against him. “Look at them!” “Get the camera.” “I got the camera, mom. I’m recording.” “What’s happening- Ew Chris is kissing his girlfriend.” “My son is a man now.” “Now that’s how you kiss a woman right there. Lucas take some notes.” Is his family always like this? You were the first to pull away not being able to control your laughter. “Seriously guys?” Chan’s family shamelessly watched you two kiss. “Are you sure you haven’t gotten funky yet?” “Grandma! Why?” Chan reminded her that you guys haven’t done anything. A little while later, his grandparents left and the others were settling down to sleep since they had school. You and Chan laid in the twin bed —which was more spacious than it looks— and turned on the newest It. Somehow, you ended you with your back against the wall and Chan’s head in your lap while you played with his hair.

You had your fingers in his hair when a jumpscare appeared on the screen. Of course you jumped but you also pulled Chan’s hair who bit his lip to stay quiet. He had finally calmed down when you tugged at it again, this time braiding it. Chan tried but he couldn’t hold back the soft moan. “Chan, are you alright?” Immediately he pulled down his shirt to hide his growing bulge. “Yeah.” Curious, you tugged at his hair watching as he squirmed. Then you saw it. What he was trying to hide but failing to do so. You leaned down close to his ear and whispered. “You are really bad at hiding how turned on you are.” Your breath tickled his ear and he moaned again, this time louder. “Stop.” Chan looked up at you, eyes blown out. “You should take a cold shower.” Thankfully, he did so quietly. “You are mean.” You looked at the male who walked into the room with just a towel on. Your eyes watched as a drop of water fell from his hair onto his chest and cascaded down his abs and even further beyond the towel. What you didn’t realize was Chan watching you eye the water.

“Are you just going to stare at me while I change?” The tone in his voice was teasing. “So what if I do?” Chan’s smile dropped as you spoke. “Don’t say things like that.” “It’s not my fault you are hormonal.” Your attention turned towards your phone as you pulled up the latest game you’ve been playing. Defeated, Chan made his way back to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth. When the boy came back, you were already curled up, staring at the glowing stars wondering if he made any wishes. From the end of the bed, he crawled up towards the top not wanting you to move. Chan was the first one to fall asleep, being embarrassed took a toll on his energy. You on the other hand, stayed awake, your thoughts were filled with Chan. Was it possible that you actually liked Chan? He was a nice guy, kind, smart, talented, hot, friendly. Chan had always caught your attention every single time you were in the same area. He always stole the spotlight even when it was as simple as studying.

Sometime last night, you fell asleep. You woke up to Chan singing along to a song and putting on a shirt. “You have pretty singing.” Chan jumped and turned towards you smiling. At this point, you were already stretching. “You’re awake.” “I think I am at least.” You realised now that you’ve noticed your small crush on Chan, he seems more handsome than normal. “I want to take you to some of my favorite places since everyone is busy today.” Ultimately, you decided to get dressed in a semi-nice outfit and met him out front. “You look nice.” You were wearing a pair of jeans and a loose shirt that was tucked in the front. “Thanks, I have to dress nice so I don’t look like a potato next to you.” The two of you laughed and made your way to the car. Chan decided to start off the tour by taking you to see the park he used to go to. You ran towards the playground roundabout and jumped on. “Chan, will you spin me?” He grabbed one of the bars and pushed as hard as he could. The roundabout spun around fast and you laughed in joy.

The last few days at Chan’s house, you two grew closer as did your feelings. When the final day came, you were sad because he’s going to go back to being just your friend. Your shared kisses will be no more and he won’t think another thought about you. “I hope to see you guys back soon!” You gave Mrs.Bang one last hug, shared one last joke with Lucas and Hannah, and gave one last pet to Berry. The bags were already in the car. You almost cried when Berry tried to get in the car to go back to the apartment. It might not seem like it but the Bang family held a special place in your heart now. They made you feel like one of them. Like family. Chan waved bye and got in the car and you did the same. “This was fun. I love your family.” “They love you too. I think they liked you more than me.” You rolled your eyes at his joke. “They love you more. Don’t lie.” Chan smiled and pulled onto the main road. Once again, you were playing music but this time, you had Chan’s phone playing his music.

Chan pulled off the highway into a rest stop to use the restroom. You stepped outside to stretch your legs and arms. It was becoming dark outside due to not being able to leave until two. “You know stretching is good for you on long road trips.” “You know you are being such a dad.” He chuckled and stretched beside you. “My turn.” You walked towards the restroom sighing. You were washing your hands when a girl came in crying with her friend. Discreetly, you listened in, not that you had much choice as they were right next to you. “I should’ve said yes but I was too scared. Now he’s moved on. I’m such an idiot.” This was not the place nor the time to interject so you excused yourself from the bathroom. You were going to do it. Confess to Chan. With determination, you got in the car. “Are you oka-“ His words were cut off by your lips pressing against his. He didn’t pull back. Instead, he pulled your closer so that you were leaning across the console. You pulled back when your rib hit the corner of the centerpiece.

“Is it weird that that was a total turn on?” Honestly, you couldn’t agree more. Chan kissed you again, this time helping you settle into his lap. Your knee was pressed against the seat belt buckle but you didn’t care. You were too busy making out with Chan. He rutted his hips against you making you moan against his lips. Your fingers tugged at his hair as his hands roamed down to guide your hips against his. “C-Chan. We need to stop.” His lips attacking your skin made you forget what you were even talking about. “You can’t leave me like this. You’ve been fucking with me all week.” “Chan, we can’t. Not the right place.” Chan sighed but kissed you one last time before allowing you to go back to your seat. The sexual tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. For the rest of the drive Chan was pushing the speed limit trying to get home fast. He quickly turned into the driveway to his small house that he was renting and threw the car in park. “I’ll get the luggage.” “Screw the luggage, I want you.”

[sorryimanon]

A Bit Stir Crazy: Pt 1

Summary: You’re bit of a hot head, so is Bakugou. So what happens when the two of you have to quarantine together for 30 days?

Warnings: cursing, mentions of sex, sexual tension, inevitable smut, slow burn.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem!Reader

Spring finally makes it way to the city of Musutafu, which also means spring break is about to commence. There was only two days left of school before the students endure a week break of relaxation and the possibility of illegal drinking. However, the sudden outbreak of a deadly virus isolates you and your best friend of five years , Katsuki Bakugou, to quarantine together. Tensions are high, and so are both of your sex drive.

<<<

It was your second semester here at Hero University, and so far everything was smooth sailing. You’ve been on top of each of your classes, and most of your classmates are pretty much family by now. Of course, no one can replace Kirishima and Katsuki. Those two have been in your life since the second you stepped into Aziwa’s classroom. 5 years of friendship gave them the role of being your protective brothers. Every guy you’ve dated over the past 3 years had to face the wrath of both Kirishima and Katsuki. In most cases, some would find this possessiveness tedious, but you found it quite comforting knowing they are looking out for you. They were also hard on you and your studies, but only because they care for you. Both of them know about your dream of being a combat medic for pro-heroes, considering your energy restoration quirk, so they were extra tough on you.

However, everything came to a halt the day before spring break. You were currently in Advanced Hero History class when the announcement happened. The teacher, mid lecture, put her textbook down and glanced at the speaker above the door.

“Testing...1 2 3... this thing is working right? AHEM, attention students of Hero University, we’ve been told there’s recently been a sudden outbreak of a virus that’s described as deadly as the plaque!” The speakers voice reverberated across the whole academy. He continued,” We want to make sure that everyone is safe and sound and takes precaution of this virus. The board of admissions at HU have decided to cancel classes and all events at the university tomorrow-”

You didn’t get to hear the rest of the announcement. Everyone in the classroom was busy celebrating and screaming at the top of their lungs. Seems like the issue with the deadly virus evaporated immediately. The thought of getting out early for spring break was more important apparently.

Ms.Leech informed the class to still read the assigned chapters and be ready for a test the first day after break.

You quickly shoved everything your messenger bag and made a beeline to the door. The hallways were far from deserted. Usually classes don’t get out at the same time, but today every student occupied the cramped halls in the building.

“Y/N!” Someone yelled amidst the crowd of loud students. You overtly looked around and spotted the all too familiar spiky red hair and angry looking blonde by the exit. You giggled and maneuvered your way over to them.

“Did you hear the announcement! We get an early spring break!” Kirishima giddily said as you guys all walked side by side on the strip to the apartment complex.

“No shit Sherlock, the announcement was broadcasted across the whole school.” Bakugou responded while rolling his eyes.

“I’m so excited though! That means I have more time to study for my exams!” You jumped with excitement.

“Exams? That’s not for awhile you fucking nerd-” Bakugou was cut off when you grabbed a handful of his hair and aggressively pulled it. “YOU SHITTY WOMAN DON’T TOUCH MY HAIR!”

-

Spring break flashed by quickly, leaving only a day left before classes begin again. Thankfully, you seem to have checked everything off your list of things  needed to be accomplished during break. The only thing you had left to do was finish your reading for adv.hero history. 

After an endless hour of reading, you decided to make a hot pot of coffee. When you walked into the kitchen of your shared apartment with Kirishima and Katsuki, you noticed a sticky note hanging from the fridge.

It read, 

Went to go pick up Kirishima from the airport. Get take out plz. The usual

-B.

You smiled and immediately dialed the noodle shop to go. Kirishima used his spring break wisely and went to visit an exotic island with his family. He would FaceTime you and Bakugo occasionally telling funny stories about his time on the island. Although the thought never occurred at the time, you now felt like you wasted your spring break doing boring mundane things. Yes you had Katsuki to accompany you, but he was gone most of the time hanging out with his other friends. Which hurt, granted, but you understand that he has other friends besides you. Needless to say, you didn’t do that much “relaxation” during spring break.

Suddenly, your phone started going off on the countertop. Katsuki’s name flashing on the screen. Confused, you answered his call anyway, not thinking much of it.

“Y/N turn on the news now,” His said with urgency.

You didn’t argue back, knowing something is off, and raced to the living room. The tv was already on, so you just changed the channels till it reached the local news station. With the volume at its maximum, you sat still and listened to the news anchor.

“This just in, Japan has issued a nationwide lockdown due to the spread of the deadly virus. We’ve been told to report for all citizens to please stay in your homes till further notice. And as for anyone who has left the country, you’ll be permitted to stay within the country you’ve flown to and wait till further instructions...”

Oh shit

-

“Hey hey guys don’t worry I’ll be fine. I mean, isn’t this great news! We don’t have to go to our scheduled classes till further notice! Plus, I think I can score my shot with the maid here at my hotel for the time being,” Kirishima gloated with pure positivity.

“Baka. You do realize there’s a fucking virus going around right? Not to mention there’s a possibility you could die from it.” Bakugou said, trying to throw some common sense at Kiri.

“Right right right. Yes I do know...but that’s not going to stop me from getting laid bro.”

That was one of the few FaceTime calls you got from Kiri. After the third, he stopped calling all together. You grew worrisome for your best friend. Even though he doesn’t show it, Bakugou was worried sick not hearing from Kiri either.

It’s been 5 days since the initial lockdown. So far, you and Bakugou have been doing each of your usual routines at home. First thing in the morning you always prepared breakfast and read a few chapters from your current book. Bakugo did laundry duty and did the dishes after breakfast. Afternoon was just recreational duties. Both you and Bakugou would reside in your rooms doing whatever to ease off the bordem. Evenings were mainly for eating dinner and watching movies.

However, after 10 days, you couldn’t keep up with the routine anymore. You skipped breakfast and didn’t dare to open up another book. Your bedroom became a reminder on how much you’ve spent cooped up in there. Not to mention how easily angered you’ve become.

One day you got angry at how Bakugou was chewing his food. Usually it never irritated you, but now the sight just made your blood boil.

“Who the fuck taught you how to eat?” You spat abruptly.

“Says the person who forgets to clean the tub after they shave their whole entire jungle of a body,” he retored back.

A faint gasp left your mouth, uaware that you completely forgot to clean the tub last night after your feminine duties.

“Don’t know who you’re trying to look presentable for. It’s not like you got a boyfriend, not with all that hair, tch.” he hit you with one last punch to the gut.

You got up from where you were sitting at and begrudgingly walked to your bedroom, locking it in the process. Not daring to leave your room, you open your laptop and started a movie without Bakugou.

-

Out of all days, day 15 by far was the worst. The air conditioner unit stopped working, causing y’all to wake up with drenched bodies. Your room especially was humid, since you had no access to a window. The colored coordinated folders from your book bag had to suffice, using them as makeshift fans. Eventually your arms grew tired of constantly doing the same motion repeatedly, so you finally left your room in hopes for the living room to be much cooler.

You stopped immediately when you caught a glimpse of Bakugou slumped on the L-shaped couch. Not to mention, he was shirtless as well. Heat flushed to your cheeks, making you glow a crimson red. You couldn’t stop staring at the view in front of you. Yes you’ve seen Bakugou shirtless before. Countless of times in fact. The boys would practically walk naked around the apartment, not caring about how you’d react. You were deemed as one of the guys.

But this time it triggered something within you. Something you haven’t quite felt in a long time. Maybe it was the quarantine getting to your head, but you couldn’t help but to wonder how it would feel to be flushed against his naked chest right now. Or if he was the type to snake his hands around your waist and pull you even closer. The thought excited you for a second, but quickly realized this was Katsuki you were thinking about.

Katsuki shifted uncomfortably in his spot, eliciting a whimper during the process. The noise alone made your lower stomach tense with a warm sensation. This was creepy. Watching Bakugou shirtless while sleeping would surly make him go ballistic, but the sight of sweat glistening on his abdomen made his abs more prominent. An image of you being underneath him kept flashing in your head like picture show. A crude and undeniably satisfying picture show. More explicit thoughts kept trying to barge into your brain. So, you ran back into your room and planted yourself headfirst on the floor. Hopefully these thoughts will go away by tomorrow

The thoughts never went away. In fact, they were the reason you didn’t get any sleep last night. A half naked Bakugou Katsuki kept interrupting your innocent dreams, filling them in with dirty scenarios involving the both of you. You knew you were fucked once you heard the faint sound of Katsukis footsteps in the kitchen. You’ve been up all night, with no pure dream in mind. There’s no saving your sleep schedule now. Maybe if you apologize to Katsuki for acting irrational the other day, the thoughts would go away.

Defeated, you got up from your comfortable bed and treaded into unsafe territory. There sat Bakugo, criss cross on the kitchen island eating cereal. It wasn’t an unusual sight, he was the embodiment of a fucking cat.

“Morning shit head,” you playfully teased.

Bakugou raised his head and looked expectingly at you.

Even just looking him dead in the eye raised the temperature throughout your body. This is going to be a nightmare.

“You alright Y/N? Your whole face is flushed...” He paused, eyeing you suspiciously. “You’re not sick are you? If so, I’m kicking you out. I don’t wanna fucking die because of you”.

How charming.

You scratched the back of your neck. “Uh no Katsuki, I just wanted to apologize for the other day. My behavior towards you was unacceptable. This whole quarantine thing has really made me-”

“Shut up. No need to apologize for some stupid quarrel we got into. Besides, we’ve gotten into worse arguments right?” 

You nodded your head, agreeing to how truthful his statement was. It was true. 5 years of friendship and not one time have you guys stopped being friends because of a heated argument. 

“Exactly, don’t sweat about it. I’m just glad you finally came out of your hole. I missed my movie buddy.” He gave you a lopsided grin, to which on cue, your stomach tied itself into a knot.

“Great, because I found a movie last night on my queue that I think you’d like” You beamed as you started making yourself a bowl cereal. Katsuki grunted as a response and leaped off from the island. 

You were too busy focusing on making the cereal that you didn’t hear the faint thump of footsteps behind you. Then, almost as some sort of harsh punishment, Katsuki rested his head between your right shoulder blade. He hummed once he felt your body tense up. His lips were merely inches away from your outer ear. Any other movement from him and you wouldn’t hesitate to throw the gallon of milk at his head. But what he said next caused your whole face to turn pallid. 

“Also, its kind of rude to watch someone sleeping don't cha think?” he whispered before throwing his bowl into the sink beside you. 

At that moment you knew, you were completely fucked. 

[justanotherlifeff]

could you do a nsfw aizawa x female reader? could she be a former student of his who he starts a relationship with now that she's in university and they decide to do student/teacher role-play in his classroom but get caught :O

Teach me, Aizawa sensei!

Warning:NSFW, Smut, Teacher kink (idk what else that's called)

You were walking towards your old school, UA, to meet your boyfriend of one year. You graduated from UA last year and almost immediately started dating your old homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shouta. Now, Aizawa is an extremely professional person when it comes to his job as a teacher or a pro hero so anyone might wonder why he started dating a former student just like that. To explain that, firstly, Aizawa didn't get interested in you when he was just your homeroom teacher. You were just another student to him who had good potential to be a pro hero. It was the same for you to be honest. To you, Aizawa was just a good teacher and an excellent pro hero. However, things changed during your third year at UA. You were always at the top of the class, with perfect scores on every subject till then. However, you had a bad breakup just before your third year started and you flunked three class tests in a row. In conclusion, you were extremely depressed. That's when Aizawa took it upon himself to tutor you and counsel you so that you were back on track. Little did he know that he would find himself falling in love with you. You were quite matured for your age. You understood and handled things like an adult unlike most people of your age. You didn’t prefer going out and getting laid with random people to forget your ex like your friends suggested you to, nor did you try to drink your problems away. However, that left you with absolutely no other way to deal with your issues. When Aizawa started tutoring you, you were always distracted and you had eye bags rivaling Aizawa's own due to countless sleepless nights. Talking to your friends was not an option since they wouldn’t understand why you weren’t letting loose. Honestly, you just wanted to deal with your problem and move on in your own terms but, well, sometimes people just need to talk. With time, you opened up to Aizawa and turns out, he was great at counseling people. He listened, gave you good advice and helped you get over your ex. While he did all that, you fell in love with him. How could you not? He was there for you and he gave you some of the best advices you've ever gotten. Thanks to him, your grades went back up and you got first position in your mid terms yet again. Besides, conversations with him always made you feel happy. He was just an extremely interesting person with a dry sense of humour that you enjoyed a lot. In short, he was perfect except for the fact that he was your teacher.

At the same time, Aizawa realised that he was in love with you as well. He was enticed by your personality. By the fact that you didn't think like just some random brat of your age. You actually were a strong independent woman who knew what she's doing. You just needed that little push that he was willing to give you. Every day, he couldn’t help but notice the way you bit your pen when you concentrated on something, the way your lips looked so soft all the time, the way you would look at him with lust and admiration every time you felt like he didn't notice. He knew that you had feelings for him but you were his student. Ofcourse he couldn't think of anything with you. That was until you got first place during mid terms. That meant your little study session with him would come to an end and everything would go back to how it was before with him seeing you for only half an hour a day. No, he wasn’t having it. Sure, he wasn’t going to date you now as long as you were his student but there wasn’t any problem with dating you after you've graduated right? Which is why he finally had a conversation with you about this as he confessed to you and explained that he wanted to date you after you graduated. Like a sensible person, you agreed.

At the moment, you were visiting your boyfriend at school so that you could go on a long awaited date with him as both of you were too busy, you with University and your internships while he was busy with his teaching and Pro hero career. Both of you couldn’t get any other free time to go out on a date which is why he asked you to pick him from UA as soon as you were done with your classes. However, your classes ended a bit early and you reached UA a bit early, which is why you found yourself at Aizawa's classroom before the class ended. Aizawa's colleagues already knew about him dating you but you were pretty sure that the students of class 1A had no idea about you which is why you were contemplating whether to get into the classroom or not. That was until Midnight found you standing infront of class 1A's door while she was walking by. "(Y/N)! Are you here to meet Aizawa? Go on in, he's in the classroom!" Midnight told you with a smile. "Are you sure, Midnight-sensei? I don't want to trouble him or something..." you muttered, still not used to calling Midnight with her last name. "Oh don't you worry! I'm sure he won't mind. Go on now!" Midnight reassured you with a smile, which gave you the courage to knock on the door before getting in.

"Oh, (Y/N), you're here early." Aizawa stated with a small smile on his face when you got in the classroom nervously. "Yeah, my classes ended early. Do you want me to wait at the waiting room? I came here to let you know that I'm here..." you rambled quickly, trying to explain yourself. Even after dating him for about an year, you still found yourself acting as if he was your teacher since it had become a habit in the last few years. "It's fine. You can sit at the back I'll not take long." Aizawa pointed at the seats in the back of the class. "Hey, you are (H/N) right? Sidekick to Hawks? I've heard about you so much! Your quirk is amazing! I heard you're the only one who can keep up with Hawks himself in his agency!" a green haired boy exclaimed as soon as he recognised you. "Hehe I mean, it's a super speed quirk after all... Thanks though!" you smiled at the green haired boy, making him blush. That's when a blonde angry looking boy almost exploded, shouting, "well, what the fuck is she doing in here wasting our time hah?". "Use decent language in class, Bakugou. She's here to pick me up for a date. Besides, you might want to pick up some habits from her since she was the best student I've ever had in my career. As far as I know, you are not the first in your class so don't go ahead and call people a waste of time." Aizawa glared at Bakugou. While Bakugou Tched, the others in the classroom exclaimed, "AIZAWA SENSEI! YOU'RE DATING A STUDENT?!". " No, she was my student an year back. She's not mh student anymore. Besides, my love life is none of your business so stop wasting time and listen to the announcements..." Aizawa drawled on as you went ahead and sat beside a dark haired pretty looking girl at the back of the class.

Like Aizawa promised, the announcement didn't last any longer than a few minutes and while everyone wanted to talk to you, Aizawa shooed them all away, only to have you alone in the classroom. "Well, that was nostalgic. It's been a while I've got a lecture from you." you murmured, pulling him into a hug as the classroom was empty now. "I missed you...." Aizawa muttered making you chuckle. "You literally slept with me last night!" you teased him. "Don't care. Still missed you." Aizawa grumbled, rubbing his nose into the crook of your neck. "Awww you're just like a cuddly old cat." you purred, running your fingers down his hair. That's when he started kissing your neck making you squeal. "Sh-Shouta! Not here!" you whined as you knew exactly what his intentions were. "Why not, (Y/N)? There's no one here you know. Besides, do you know how many times I've wanted to do this back when you were in my class? Now, be a good student and let your teacher take care of you." Aizawa purred as he held your chin, making you look up at him as he towered over you, his deep voice making you wet. "Yes, Aizawa sensei..." you muttered, looking at him with a lustful gaze. "Good girl. Now go and bend over on that desk." Aizawa muttered to you, giving a firm slap to your ass making you yelp.

Listening to his command, you bended over on the invisible girl's desk, blushing furiously. It seemed like wearing a skirt today was a good choice. Pulling up your skirt, Aizawa pulled your panties down to your ankles as he kneeled on the floor and gave a long lick from your hole to your clit, making you let out a soft moan as you grabbed the desk tightly. With that, he started licking and sucking your clit as two of his fingers pumped in and out of your soaked pussy, making you moan consistently. Aizawa was always skilled with his fingers and you came on his fingers within minutes.

"You came without permission huh? Seems like you aren’t being the model student anymore (Y/N). You need some disciplining don't you?" Aizawa murmured to your ear. "Y-yes Aizawa sensei... Please punish me..." you whined, knowing exactly what he wanted to hear. "Don't worry you little brat. I'll punish you good enough. Let's see how many times you can cum." Aizawa growled into your ear, giving a sharp pinch to your clit, making you moan out loud in pain and pleasure. Without giving you a chance to get used to the sensation, Aizawa plunged his entire length into you, filling you to the brim. One of his hand latched itself on your mouth to muffle your loud moans as he immediately started pounding into you. You felt as if the air was completely knocked out of your lungs thanks to his powerful thrusts that always hitted at the perfect spots inside you. You couldn’t control yourself from keeping your voice down anymore and was thankful that Aizawa had his hand on your mouth. A second orgasm hit you like a truck within minutes but Aizawa wasn’t stopping and continued to overstimulate you.

Meanwhile, Hizashi or Present Mic heard from Midnight that you came to visit and being Aizawa's best friend, he decided to meet up with the two of you since teasing Aizawa about how he bagged a young pretty girl was always fun. Midnight mentioned that you were in class 1A with Aizawa and that's exactly where Hizashi was heading to. What he did not expect was to find his best friend balls deep into his girlfriend who was bended over on one of the desks. "Dude what the fuck?" he exclaimed in English at the sight as both Aizawa and you looked at him with completely mortified expressions. "Uh... I'll just go..." Hizashi muttered, quite shocked himself as he blushed furiously before closing the door.

"I told you having sex here was a bad idea!" you hissed as you fixed your clothes quickly, blushing furiously. "I can't believe I forgot to lock the door..." Aizawa muttered, embarassment written clearly on his face. His boner died down as soon as he got caught. "Present Mic sensei isn't gonna let this one go will he? I'm sure he'll annoy you to death." you muttered, trying to tease him. "I'll pretend that I don't know him if he does that." Aizawa sighed as he sat on one of the desk, waiting for you to fix your hair. "Well, I guess we'll have to continue this one when we go home huh?" you muttered, as you brushed your hair with the comb that was in your bag. "Yeah. Gotta teach you how to be a bit disciplined and not throw yourself at me before I even lock the damned door." Aizawa stated with his stoic voice. "Hehe well then, teach me, Aizawa sensei." you teased your boyfriend who clearly was having another erection as you winked at him.

[Author's note: Am I the only one who literally writes two sentences of the smut scene and then squeals in my pillow cause it gets me all worked up and then go back to writing only to repeat the process?]

[tabby-shieldmaiden]

This is for @promptsforthestrugglingauthor ‘s Friday Night Fights. Please make sure to check the tags for content warnings, and I hope that you enjoy this! 

Reblogs would be appreciated! Comments too!

Just like any day where I have a scheduled exam, I arrive at school as early as I can. I had packed myself breakfast to eat there. Mostly out of habit. I like to eat at school, for some reason. It was a simple meal, two peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches and some coffee in a thermos. I ate it all while sitting under the old tree in the centre of the school’s courtyard. Afterwards, I pack away my lunchbox into my pack, pick up my sword, and head over to the centre of the yard.

I take in a deep breath, and adjust my stance. Then I determine my next move. My mind runs through the many ways I could swing my sword at a hypothetical monster. Most of them were moves I saw from other trainers, expert swordsmen. I had looked through lots of diagrams in the library, and I tried to recall as many as I could. I swung, trying to recall all the advice given to me. Took in a deep breath. Swung my sword again. 

It wasn’t as good as having a sparring partner or a dummy, but for the time being, while the gym was closed and I was partnerless, this was as good a practice I could get. Especially before the practical.

I wanted to pass this test. I wanted to be a good sword fighter period. I always wanted to be a knight or a magical girl or something along those lines ever since I was a little girl. In a world with so many monsters, where more and more different variants are spawning by the day, where researchers and the fighters of monsters are constantly dropping like flies while on the job due to the sheer number of new monsters, I was encouraged to go for it. 

At least, I was encouraged to go for it by my teachers. Other people who knew me for my interests at school.

My mother is still scared for me. I came from a long line of seamstresses. My father had been a baker’s son, before serving some time as a soldier against the monsters, and then dying. He was poorly-trained, and he was already a rather scrawny, sickly man. It was during a particularly intense battle. A lot of people died. Traditionally, in my country, funerals last three days. His funeral lasted three hours. Right before one, and right after there was another one.

It stuck with me. For years, it was all I could think about. I wondered if there could have been a way for him to live. I wished that I could grow up strong and brave. Eventually, I began asking myself questions. Could I get stronger, faster, become a better fighter than my father? Fight the monsters who took his life? 

Those questions, those hypotheticals, became challenges. 

As it turns out, I could. I got good enough to get past an audition, and into Northport’s School for Monster Hunters and Monster Research. Mother was scared, but ultimately supportive. “You’re a tough girl, Janey. But please, be as careful as you can.” I have her and my younger sister Lila praying for my safety every day. Every day, I make sure I work as hard as I can for them.

What no one told me was that most people who enrolled in these specialised schools for monster hunters were trained all their lives. They came from lines of acclaimed monster hunters. Powerful people, great fighters, who spent their youth slaying monsters and keeping the land safe, and then were  lucky enough to retire and go on to start families. 

My classmates were proud. They were good at what they did. They trusted very few. Cliques were common among the people I went to school with. Most of my classmates were better fighters than I was. They were more skilled, thanks to spending a lifetime around monster hunters. While I played with dolls and balls, their toys growing up were swords and shields. And they needed to learn how to use them well. Their families expected them to. And among themselves right now, because of their cliques (the environment was very cliquey), they trained and pushed each other every day. I was mostly friendless, and I had to do a lot of training by myself. It made things like sparring more difficult. Who was I supposed to spar against if all I had was myself most of the time?

I thought I was pretty good before. I was the neighbourhood bully hunter. The girl who would never go anywhere without her makeshift armour. Being an aspiring warrior was my ‘thing’. But once I started school at Northport, I suddenly became a small fish in a very big pond. Especially in terms of my fieldwork.

I was decent at theory at least. I studied monsters and the best ways to take them down - all their common weak points and vulnerabilities - as much as I could, and I was rewarded for my hard work in the form of Cs, Bs, even an odd B+. They, for the most part, are what prevent me from flunking out. I suppose this is a sign I should get into research more than fieldwork… hm…

In any case, in the present I need to focus on my swordwork. I’d been practicing in private a lot lately. Hopefully, they’ll be good enough for the examiners. I always found theory exams much easier than practicals. But hopefully, this time I’ll be good enough to pass this one the first time ‘round. 

I go from stance to stance. Rehearsing how to carry myself, and the right next steps after. They weren’t supposed to be static, which was the problem. The trainers always said I was far too stiff. I needed to be dynamic, flowing, my movements striking and powerful. I’d been practicing loads. But I still wonder, I question, I doubt. And I froze.

Shit, that wasn’t supposed to happen. If I had overthought my next move out in the field, I would have died. They had always said the problem was my way of thinking. Mainly, that I thought too much. “You’ll choke out in the field if you overthink it,” they said. “Just go with your gut, trust that you’ve practiced and let your instincts kick in.” Most everyone in the class was so good at going with their gut. It came as naturally to them as breathing. 

I had to argue with my mother to even get a sword. Prior to this, I had only a year of official training. I think what got me into the school was my good grades in my formal education. I pour countless hours into practicing my fighting skills. But I think too much when I really shouldn’t. I always have. Ever since I was little. And so far, it’s hard to turn that part of me off.

I sometimes wonder if anyone else in this school felt the same way. But honestly, if they grew up in a family of monster hunters, I don’t know why they would. I envy them sometimes. Growing up, they had access to some of the finest monster hunters to train them in the craft.

After a while, I stop and drop my sword. Panting, I pick up my bag, and make my way to the bathroom. It was about time I took a break anyway. I can’t go and take my exam while exhausted. Right now though, I needed to freshen myself up. I have to at least look presentable.

Well, technically I didn’t. The people who judge fieldwork are all seasoned warriors, and they all know not to judge a fighter by their appearances. But I still feel the need to look neat and tidy anyways.

I walk into the bathroom, and I steer myself towards the sink. I wash my hands. Scrub them clean of grime. And once they were clean, I splash some water onto my face. The sweat washes off my brow, and I felt a little more refreshed. I’m still all sweaty from the neck down, but at least my face was clean.

I wish I had brought some deodorant. Ah well. I still should try to do what I can to freshen myself up anyways. I undo my braid, which was already coming apart, and I start to redo it again.

Halfway through, my ears pick up a soft sound. Previously, I had thought that I was the only one in the bathroom. But upon closer inspection…

I turn around, and realise that there was actually a locked door behind me. Another soft sound. Something muted. If I had to classify the sound, I would say it was  a sob. It sounded like the person wanted to make a softer sound, but ended up sobbing louder than they had wanted to. 

I slowly walk to the stall, my concern growing. Was it any of my business? Probably not. But I was an ex-bully hunter. I always, out of instinct, would want to check up on anyone who appears to be having a miserable time in the school bathroom. 

I tap the door once. Twice. “Hey,” I whisper.

A sniffle. “Are you okay?”

No response. Another attempt at a muted sob, which came out loud regardless. 

“Are you crying?”

“Please,” their voice cracked against the word. “Don’t acknowledge it.”

I pause, and bite my lip. For a moment, I contemplated between walking off and leaving them alone, or staying with them. But that decision ended up being harder to make than I thought. I most likely had no idea who this person was as all. Would they even appreciate having a random stranger hang around for them in the bathroom? They sound like me being here was already a pretty big blow to their dignity. 

On the other hand… call me a chronic do-gooder, but I don’t like people being left alone to suffer. I just don’t. But I knew I had to respect them. If they want to be alone, they should be allowed to be left alone. Something my mother told me once regarding heroics was that assuming what was best for someone wasn’t necessarily doing what was best for someone. I had trouble grasping that concept when I was younger. Now, I think I should try to work harder at remembering that. 

With as gentle a voice I can muster, I ask them, “Would you rather be left alone now?”

A loud sniffle. A pause. “N-no. It’s fine.” Another sniffle. A choke. 

And then there was silence. I tap my fingers together, I wonder what to do. “Could… could you stay for a little while?” They asked, their voice soft, tinged with embarrassment. 

“Oh, uh, of course.” I dug into my backpack and pulled out my phone. From there, I check the time. I still had a couple of hours before the exam would start. Ultimately, I guess it was a pretty good decision to head to school early.

It was awkward there. I tried to focus on anything else. The weight of my sword hanging from my belt. The whirring of fans. The strong smell of cheap air freshener. The suspicious looking puddle leaking out of the stall in the far right. Then, they started talking again. “If you promise to not tell anyone else,” a sniffle, “can I vent a little to you?”

I was… well I was a little surprised at the request. I’d had a lot of people vent to me in my lifetime. But those had all been people I knew. Ergo, I knew what words to say to them to comfort them. But I didn’t know who was on the other side of the door. What does one say to someone who may be a complete and total stranger?

Maybe they really do just need someone to vent to though. “Sure,” I say. Maybe all I need to do is listen.

A sniffle. “Okay… okay…” And then a moment of silence. I figure they probably needed some time to put their thoughts together. So I stood there, patient.

“I…” they trailed off again. “I guess I’m just… I’m just worried about disappointing people in the fieldwork exam today.” My eyes widen. They were taking the test today too?

“I… My Mom and Dad expect a lot. They were all really skilled monster hunters back in the day… and… and… so’s everyone else in the family. I come home every day and I always hear about how even though they were so great, they all had their close shaves. And how someone like me could never be a good hunter like they all were…” Trailed off. More crying.

They calm down. “Like, sometimes I feel like I’m the talentless one of the bunch. I feel like I’m in the wrong place. But I actually wanted to be here. So I can only blame myself for failing.” A choke. A sniff. “I just made it into this school. If there had just been one more person auditioning, who… who had more potential than I did… I wouldn’t have even made it… I’m pretty sure.” I chew my lip. Regardless of whether or not I knew them, I honestly didn’t know what to say to help them feel better.

They continue, after taking more time to cry. I stood there, waiting patiently, growing more and more uncomfortable with my inability to truly go in and comfort them. Why couldn’t I think of anything which seemed like the right thing to say? 

“And all my friends… They’re so much better than I am at everything too. They get better grades at everything they can stick with their study schedules… I think I’m actually pretty replaceable to them. Anyone else in my class just seems so much more hardworking than me, and I don’t know why… I don’t know why I can’t seem to ever work as hard as they do. I want to, but I can’t, and now I’m scared I never practiced enough to pass.” They cry some more. It sounds like an insecurity they’d been grappling with for a long time. 

I swallowed after hearing that. Did they… are they a classmate of mine? And if they were, was I actually an object of envy in some ways?

The perspective I had just been given, along with how it was revealed to me, only made me feel something strange. I wasn’t quite sure what I would label that emotion. They continued to sob behind the bathroom stall.

“I see,” I replied, after they had quieted down. I still had no real words of comfort to give them. A bit more crying from behind the door. I look down at my sword, and kick the tiled floor. 

“Thanks,” they say, “thanks for listening by the way. Promise you won’t tell anyone about this?”

I nod. “Of course I won’t.” That was a promise. “I’ll… I need to go now too. Good luck for your test.”

A sniffle. “Thank you.” I leave the bathroom.

It was weird now. Just earlier I had been worried about being held back, and now… those fears have been given a bit more perspective. And well… I suppose I am still worried about the test. But at the same time…

I look down at my sword, and then make my way to the holding room. Hopefully, it should be open by now. It was not. That meant loitering around in the corridor for a bit. Ah well. 

I read a lot of stories about great heroes back in the day. Beyond monster slayers, there were also many fictional tales about great heroes I loved. I still love them, somewhat. But I also realise, as I grew older, that so many of those tales made it feel like the world revolved around one very successful person. And everyone else there was merely a prop to help them attain greatness. And though the world doesn’t revolve around a person, at times, I found myself feeling more like a prop and less like the hero to my own tale. Simply because of how powerless I feel sometimes. 

There were exceptions to those though. The hero sometimes needs to learn that the world did not revolve around them. They needed to learn to accept their weaknesses while acknowledging the strengths of their friends. Then they empowered each other to live happily ever after together. Working together to make up for each other’s shortcomings.

Strangely enough, I suddenly got the feeling to reread one of those stories.

Maybe after the exam. Hopefully, the practice will pay off.

[satsuki2406]

OPEN SKY  Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

"...And never, ever forget that, your dreams are the wings that'll help you fly."

(L/N)(Y/N) has always been forced to live according to others' expectations. As a member of the powerful and influential (L/N) Family, she has had to live with the heavy weight of seeing others write her destiny with no choice but just obey. But when (Y/N) finally decides to risk it all to take the only opportunity to regain the control of her own life, everything ends up going horribly wrong. Surrendered and disappointed, she receives one last chance to prove to herself and to U.A, along with some unexpected help that this was not a crazy and meaningless waste of time.

Maybe this plan could work after all...

PAIRING: (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)

GENRE/WARNINGS: Romance, Fluff, Angst, Mentions of sex, My poor attempt of comedy, family dysfunctionality, Strong language (Courtesy of Lord Explosion Murder 💥), Manga Spoilers.

STATUS: On going

Chapter 1: Failure

Chapter 3: Her Start

2-Sometimes the Greatest Hero of All is a Good Friend

“The person you’ve called is unavailable, please leave a-”

“Still no answering…. You said you’ll call me right after the exam (Y/N), I hope everything is ok. What should I do now? Oh! I got it!” Swiftly, slender fingers moved over the tactile screen of her phone, anxious eyes looking for a specific contact. “Found it!” After a few rings, the other end of the line was answered.

“Good afternoon,Mizaki talking. How may I help you today?”

“Hello, may I please speak to (L/N) Xiù-san?”

“I’m sorry. (L/N)-san is busy right now. Would you like to leave a message?”

“Sure, please let her know I’m calling in regard of (Y/N), I would like to know about her.”

“Alright miss, and your name please?”

 “Yaoyorozu Momo.”

Three days have passed since the whole U.A fiasco, you were of course grounded, with no phone, no internet and completely insolated in your room. Your fever was already gone, just leaving behind a really mild sore throat. Although your body didn’t hurt anymore, your heart did, over and over again you replayed the whole thing in your mind beating your head to find out what you could have changed, what you could have done differently. It was eating you inside out. You felt like a failure and so unfortunate. How could you fail over something so silly?!

You’ve been in your bed since you arrived home that day, already numbed by all the crying you did that night, your mom’s complains, and had barely eaten. You knew that in a couple of days the response from U.A will arrive to already tell you what you knew. And after that, you’ll have no choice but go to class again for the last week of school. Thankfully there’s surely nothing you’ll have to catch up with.

But before you could sail deeper in your personal sea of self-petty, a knock on your door took you out of your rambling thoughts.

“Come in,” you said boringly.

“Sorry to disturb you (Y/N)-sama but Yaoyorozu-sama had come to visit you, do you want me to let her in or you prefer to rest a little-”

“Momo?! Oh, yes please, tell her to come in!”

“As you wish, (Y/N)-sama”

A couple of minutes later Momo entered your room escorted by the same maid. She was wearing your school uniform, by her side were two of her bodyguards, on her left, one was caring several paper grocery bags full of what looked like tons of snacks and junk food, on her right another tall and bulky man held a white cake box and some pastel-colored paper bags. You threw yourself to her and hugged her fondly. She gasped surprised by your sudden show of affection, but she immediately returned it with one of her own, melting with you in a tight embrace. “Momoo! *SNIFF* I missed you so much! I’m sorry for not answering your texts and calls but my mom took my phone away.”

“Oh, (Y/N) don’t worry I imagined something like that, I’m so sorry I couldn’t come before, but when I tried to come visit, one of the maids said your mother had prohibited it.”

“Of course she did, she feeds on my suffering” you mumbled sourly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, I know she can be-uhm…”

“Harsh? Insufferable? Unreasonable? A hag-?”

*AHEM! * Strict, she can be strict-yes! But I’m sure that she is doing it all with your best interest in mind, or I hope so…”

“Aha… not even you believe that, by the way, what’s up with all the shopping bags?” At the mention of them, she beamed, star-eyed, cheeks flushed with excitement, recalling her little adventure of the day.  

“Today I went to one of these really incredible, advantageous little stores where you can find anything, anywhere and have a wide variety of products for a fair price.

“You mean a konbini?”

“Yes! They are great, aren’t they? So convenient!”

“I bet they are.”

“They really are! To think that all of this only cost me ¥10 000!*”

“You spent how much?!”

“Oh, it’s nothing! I made sure to get an ample array of different products to enjoy together and, I thought some yummy snacks would cheer you up.”

You felt your heart clench at such sweet declaration from your dearest and oldest friend, she really was the most selfless and caring being you’ve ever met.

“Momo~! Have I ever told you that I’ll be nothing without you~?”

“Yes, and is nice to hear that you value my efforts, even if I can’t do anything to revert the past and change what happened, I can act now, in the present and do as best as I can to make you feel better and let you know that anything that occurred is not your fault, so please don’t think less of you. Sometimes life acts in mysterious ways that maybe we don’t understand, but someday it will make sense and we will know, comprehend and accept why our plans do not always go as we wish. 

And even if it’s hard to accept at first, there are better things waiting for us than we even expected or asked for since the beginning. What I’m trying to say is, please don’t let this unpleasant ordeal take you down, I know that you’re more than capable to be a hero, even more than me, so keep fighting no matter how many times they knock you down, I’m sure you’ll still rise every time. Don’t give up.” Your friend looked at you while she held both of her hands over her chest, her eyes bright, sweet and sincere made her words hit you with more intensity.

“Momo…” you said moved.

“Oh, don’t mind me, I think I got a little sentimental, but anyway! I hope you like what I brought for this occasion-Oh! Kaji-san, Sasaki-san please leave the bags here.” Momo instructed the bodyguards to put them over the center table of the seating area inside your spacious room. After that, they were dismissed and exited the room alongside the same maid that let them in.

Immediately after they left, another one entered your room with a golden vintage-looking bar cart full of all the musts for a proper tea party. A shiny silver tea set was put in the center of the cart, besides it a couple of white golden rimmed China teacups seated cutely surrounded by all kinds of sweet and savory goodies. Under the same cart, a large collection of the most exquisite teas and coffees could be found, most of them brought by your mother herself from her several trips around the globe. As an enthusiast of these drinks, she always made sure to visit the most renowned tea crafter countries to bring the best of the best with her.

“Good afternoon ladies, what would you like to drink?”

“I’ll have tea, that new black tea my mother got last month,” You said.

“Sure! And for you Yaoyorozu-sama?”

“I’ll drink the same, you talked to me about this tea before, right? It sounded so good that I’ve been wanted to try it since then.”

“I’m positive you’ll enjoy it as much as I did! It has a fruity undertone; it goes really well with everything.” You said excitedly.

Once the hot drinks were set and served the maid left the room with the snacks Momo brought to place them in the kitchen for later consuming. Once alone, you could talk more comfortably and privately.

“So… what in heaven you did or said to make my flexible as a rock mother to let you enter into my fortress of loneliness?”

“That’s easy…”

“School Work”

“That’s it?! And what school work?! Next week is the last week of classes, and we already had our final tests. What else could you do that we haven’t already done last week?”

“A lot actually, we still had to receive our final lessons and they gave back our tests’ results and you mother specify clearly and I quote: ‘Although (Y/N) is sick it doesn’t mean I’ll allow her under any circumstances to get delayed on her studies even if the school year is basically over, she must learn discipline and obedience, put in practice what she’s been taught all this time, she evidently hasn’t been taught properly.’

“Why it doesn’t surprise me she said that? Do you-”

“-Have your tests with me right now? Of course, they are part of the reason your mother let me trespass your ‘fortress of loneliness’ Pretty impressive as always, but I guess you couldn’t beat me in math, again.” She smiled.

“Aw! I studied really hard for that exact reason!”

“Don’t worry it was only 5 points-Wow! you were pretty right! This tea is delectable!” Momo said after taking a sip of her cup.

“But still!-I know! Right?”

“Don’t worry though, you’ll have plenty of times in high school”

After Momo��s comment everything came back to your mind, it really felt like a distant memory, at some point you question yourself if it was real, to begin with, it was hard to believe that one single person could have such bad luck in less than 12 hours, every single thing that could go possibly wrong went horrible. And now it was over, you once in a lifetime opportunity slipped from your fingers as soon as it came. And now with your mother aware of your intentions it could be nearly impossible to escape the path that was already set for you.

It's useless now, isn’t it?’

“(Y/N)?”

“Huh?”

Without you knowing, countless tears started rolling down your cheeks, the sadness and frustration scaping out of your body against your will.

“I’m sorry for touching that topic so aggressively, it was so tactless of me to don’t have your feelings on the account.” Said Momo a bit dejected.

“Don’t worry about that Momo, you are already doing so much to make me feel better and I’m so grateful you are here with me right now and, I’ll have to get over it eventually.” Momo frowned, she knew you really well and although she knew your words to her were genuine, you were not ok or dealing well with it at all, maybe if you…

“Do you want to talk about it? You know, vent your frustrations with me? You know you can trust me.” She said while she took your hand reassuringly.

“I know I can trust in you Mocchan, you are my best friend…”

“But?”

“I don’t even know how to put into words how I feel, it’s overwhelming at so many levels! Everything crumbled down so fast than before I could understand what was going on, I blacked out in the middle of battle center trying to save some guy form a 3 pointer, at the end I was the one who needed to be saved. I lost my only chance to make my dreams come true in such a foolish way and I couldn’t do anything about it! I went through so much! I had to wake up at 4:30 every day to train without my mother noticing, I stayed up until 2 am to study and be prepared for the exam, and all of that for nothing! I don’t even know what to do Momo, I feel I going crazy! I’m losing my mind inside these four walls! I feel trapped, hopeless, I just, I just want to disappear…”

An ominous silence invaded the room, you finally could say all that you have been bottling in out all this time. Momo debated what she could say in a situation like this, you really were screwed. But even having knowledge of your situation and its implications, something told her that, even if it was small there is still some hope. Trying to collect her thoughts she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, after a few seconds she opened them again and looked at you with a mix of confidence and faith.

“You know, since we met, I always thought you were the most courageous and aspiring person I’ve ever known. You never gave up, never let the limitations given by your family stopped you from being who you truly were, like a bird who didn’t know about frontiers or bounds, always focused at the horizon, what laid ahead, in the future, your future. Although you knew it was risky, you did it anyway, you took a leap of faith, and even though things didn’t come out as you wanted, you did it, you dared. Failure means that you’ve tried, don’t let failures and errors stop you, but make you stronger. So please, raise your head, stand proudly because a hero can always-”

“-break out of a tough spot, I know. Thank you, Momo.” You looked at your spread palm and closed your eyes for a moment. “It’s true that there’s nothing I can do, It already happened, is in the past and I can’t change it, but, as you said I have the present, the one that matters, the one that’ll help me shape my future, there’s no point on sulking over something that already happened, but I do have control over what’s happening and will happen. The only thing I can do now is wait for my letter, get over it, get a closure. And after that happens, I’ll just try it again, I learned my lesson, if I want to be a strong hero, I have to think in my wellbeing first, If I can’t save myself, I won’t be able to save anybody. I’ll do it at my own pace.” You closed your fist and opened your eyes full of renewed energy and conviction, you looked up at your always trusty friend and gave her your most sincere smile.“I don’t know how but I’ll keep trying, I’ll definitely do it.” Momo smiled back at you sharing your same emotions, grateful to see the same flame invade your eyes and spirit. 

“I know you will.”  

 “…But first, we’ll have some melon pan.*”

“…” 

*¥10,000 are approximately $91,35.

*Melon pan [ メロンパン ] (meronpan): They are sweet buns made with an enriched dough covered in a thin layer of crisp cookie dough. Their appearance resembles a melon (cantaloupe). Ironically they are not usually melon flavored but it can vary from caramel, maple syrup, chocolate, sometimes with syrup, whipped cream, flavored cream or custard as a filling. In the case of such variations, the name may drop the word 'melon' (maple pan) or may keep it despite the lack of melon favor (chocolate melon pan).

[princessjungeun]

Half and Half: Lia x Reader

where the reader is a troublemaker at school and Lia is the class nerd and she tries to help the reader graduate by tutoring her and then they catch feelings... I rly need some fluff in my life rn 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

CW: violence

When Lia agreed to tutor a student who needed help to pass the class she didn’t know it’d be you. You were known as the bitch not to be messed with. You admit you had a short fuse when it came to your anger but you fixed it earlier this year. However that doesn’t dismiss the fact that you’ve gotten into countless fights over the past 4 years you’ve been in high school.

There was the time that one kid insulted Ryujin, you broke his nose, jaw, busted his lip, and gave him a concussion. That time that one girl called Yuna ugly, you broke three of her ribs. The time someone made fun of your family, you’re not even sure what happened to them, you don’t know if they ever left the hospital. And of course the time someone tried to ask you on a date as a dare, he got a black eye and a busted lip. All that being said, you were definitely feared by everyone in school.

But despite your bad girl image, you were good in school, you were at the top of your class directly under Lia. However, nobody in the school knew that but you. The biggest issue for you was anatomy, it was the one subject you were bad at. It was all memorization which you were good at, but something about the muscles and tendons and all that, it was too much. This being said you started failing slowly, your grade slowly dropping as the year went on. But now it’s March and to graduate you need an 80, your grade is a 54%. Your teacher knew you’d be able to fix it with a little hard work and determination so she set you up to meet with Lia everyday for the rest of the year. That leads you up to now, the first day you have to meet with Lia.

You walked into the library and saw Lia sitting alone, smiling as she looked out one of the windows. Your gaze followed hers and all she was watching was the clouds. You swore you could see her lips moving as if she was talk, but upon a broaching her you realized she was singing softly. You brushed it off and decided to just bite the bullet and get this over with.

“Choi.” You stood behind her and loudly called her name. She jumped in her seat before turning around “o-oh hi Y/N...I’m tutoring you?” You nodded and sat down next to her, it was very clear that she was scared out of her mind. You found it kind of cute.

“Ok um. Let’s get started then...anatomy. Uh wh-what’s it you aren’t understanding? I mean not that you aren’t understanding. I bet you do understand. You probably understand a lot of things! You-” You cut off her nervous rambling. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.” Those few words were the only thing she needed to hear to relax and talk normally.

Throughout the next few weeks you met up with her everyday. You slowly started to catch feelings for Lia and she definitely did too. She’d grab your hand over the table when you two were studying, you’d pretend not to notice. You would just stare at her admiring her beauty while she was asking you a question. She’d laugh at your blushing face when you came back to your senses, mumbling a “you’re so cute” under her breath too.

You liked being around Lia. She was truly an amazing tutor, she knew how to motivate you to do better. You could see her excitement when you got a question right and how much she wanted to help you when you got one wrong. She spent her own free time color coding diagrams and making flash cards just for you.

“That’s not fair! When she tutored me she made me write and color everything. What do you have that I don’t?” Yuna whines as she watched you flip through pages of worksheets Lia made for you. You smiled to yourself knowing she was doing this because she liked you.

Your younger friend whines about how unfair it was. See, Yuna was tutored by Lia for a math class as well as biology. You laughed “stop whining. Go bother Ryu, i’m busy, I have my final tomorrow.” The younger girl sighed and left you alone in the study room, running off to find her other best friend.

The bell rang and you went to your locker, a small note fell out reading:

You’ll do great, make me proud

- Lia ☀️

You smiled and tucked the post it note into your pocket.

When you took your exam it was a lot easier then you thought it’d be. You finished second to last but that was because you went over your answers at least fourteen times before turning it in. “I’ll be handing these back on your way out, for the remaining hour please work on something else quietly.” Your teacher collected the papers and got to grading them.

That was probably the best thing about being in a small class. There only being 14 kids in class with you, your tests, quizzes, and exams were always graded quickly. To pass the time you pulled out your phone, knowing your teacher wouldn’t care, after all everyone feared you.

On the way out you got your paper, nervously you flipped it over and saw you earned a 97% on it. You smiled knowing that this was the last thing you needed to get an A on to pass the class for the semester.

You walked out of the room to go find Lia in the library. After circling around the library and all the study rooms you didn’t see her. That was unusual, she was always here. She practically lived in the library. On your way out you noticed her backpack hanging on the back of a chair and her laptop on a table, but that was it. You felt a pit form in your stomach...something wasn’t right here.

You snatched her belongings up and sprinted out the doors to go find her. You ran into Yuna and Ryujin in the hallways and asked “where’s Lia?” Ryujin shrugged and Yuna responded “I think she’s in the back hallway? I heard some boy earlier saying he was gonna ask her out.” You asked “who? what boy?” Yuna replied “i don’t know he was a little taller than me, pretty muscular, he looked like a player though.”

Your eyes widened as you realized she as with the schools known player. He was the kind of guy to ask a girl on a date and not take no for an answer. He’d cheated on a fair share of girls from other schools as well. Just an all around piece of garbage.

You reached the back hallways and there they were. You watched from a distance and did your best to listen in. Lia was trying her best to politely decline his offer but he wasn’t letting up. She’d managed to stay steps ahead of him as she walked towards the exit which would get her to a more populated area. Just as she was about to walk away for good he grabbed her shoulder forcefully to turn her around. You heard her whimper and you saw her eyes covered in fear.

Without hesitation you grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him. He pushed Lia away so he could focus on you, and Lia fell to the ground with a thud. You heard her soft sobs, an unfamiliar anger courses through your veins. You felt your mind go completely blank, your only thought was “i’m about to beat the life out of him” .

You threw a punch and your hand collided with his jaw making him take a few steps back. You shoved him in the chest and he fell to the ground before holding him up by the shoulder and throwing a few more punches, adding a slap or two just because. Your eyes filled of fire, you only felt yourself getting angrier, stronger with every punch.

You weren’t showing signs of stopping anytime soon, adrenaline flowing through your veins. As you were about to deliver another punch you felt someone grab your hand. You saw Ryujin standing over you “stop. You’ve done enough. Take her and go, I’ll take care of him.” You grabbed him by the collar and said what you thought was only loud enough for the two of you “I swear to God if you ever think about laying your nasty hands on or near my girl again, I won’t stop. There won’t be anyone to hold me back. And i’ll make sure of it.” You let him go, letting him fall back into the lockers behind him.

You stood up and walked over to where Lia was, still laying on the ground. Making sure you had her backpack as well as yours before you scooped her up in your arms. She whimpered softly “Y/N?” Tears were still on her cheeks, her eyes puffy. You shushed her “shhh just close your eyes it’s fine. I’m here you’re ok.” You carried her in your arms all the way home, internally thanking your older brother and dad for making you take boxing and weightlifting classes with them.

When you got home you kicked the door open and laid Lia on your sofa. You left her to rest for a minute and you went to check if you got any part of your face scatched up. Luckily only your lip was bleeding which wasn’t something to worry about.

You went back to see Lia, her eyes fluttered open and she seemed more aware than before. She asked “wha-where am i?” You responded “you were in and out. I brought you home...well my home.” You told her “you have a cut on your forehead, let me fix it.” She grabbed a hold of your hand, which made your heart beat faster.

“Here” You lifted her onto the counter so she was at level with you. You grabbed a cotton ball and doused it in hydrogen peroxide and said “it’s gonna sting.” The second you placed it on her forehead she squeezed her eyes shut, a few tears leaking out as her one hand squeezed yours. You patted it dry with a cloth before putting a hot pink bandaid over the cut.

You pressed it on and smoothed your thumb over it gently. Before this moment you never really took a good look at Lia’s face. Sure you knew she was beautiful but this... she was more than that. Lia’s eyes scanned your face as well until the two of you met eyes. Slowly you felt her legs wrap around your waist and her arm rested on your shoulder. Bringing your thumb up you wiped away one of her tears and said “pretty girls like you shouldn’t cry.”

She asked “earlier...you said i’m your girl?” You replied “not unless you want to be.” She smiled softly before leaning in slowly. You followed her lead before your lips touched softly. Your hand cupped her cheek and you held her fsce as if it was the most precious and valuable thing you’d ever had.

When you two pulled away she shyly smiled before saying “yeah, i do. I want that a lot actually.” You pulled her into your embrace, she kept her head in the crook of your neck. Her breath steadily hitting your skin.

She told you “thank you...i don’t know what i’d do without you.” You pulled her away and told her “thank you too...i got a 97 on my final, I don’t know what I’d do without you too.” Her eyes lit up and she kissed you “i’m so proud of you. Really it was all you.” You laughed, holding her close once again “it was half and half.” Holding her head close to you, you kissed the side of her head and stroked her hair softly feeling her relax against you. “Fine. Half and half.” She giggles against you, pressing soft kisses against your neck as you held her in your embrace.

[pearsonindiasblog]

Preparing to move abroad? Here’s why you should choose PTE to prove your English Language Proficiency.

As you may know, Millions of people dream about moving abroad every year. Students look forward to attaining higher education from international universities while many industry professionals search for gainful employment opportunities abroad. Even in the global pandemic situation caused by Covid-19, up to 91 Percent of students still carry on with their plans to move overseas.

When you are preparing to move abroad you are required to take care of numerous things and one of the most important of them is proving your English language proficiency. In order to take admission into reputed universities, study programs, fulfil your residential visa requirement and for work-related demands, you are supposed to take an English Proficiency test.

Amongst other English Proficiency tests, one which stands out for several reasons is the Pearson Test of English (PTE). It has a comprehensive structure of testing your Reading, Writing, Listening and Speaking skills through questions authentically engineered and backed by years of research.

On top of all this, here are few more important reasons to choose PTE:

Widely Accepted: One of the most significant traits of a good proficiency test is the ability to create countless opportunities for you. In that sense, it should be your go-to test for its acceptance by thousands of academic programs, including well-known institutions such as Harvard Business School, INSEAD and Yale. On top of that, it is approved, for all UK, Australian and New Zealand visa and immigration categories.

2. Easily Accessible: With its outspread network, you can now book PTE as little as 24 hours in advance of a test session, 365 days a year. PTE is available in 350 test centers in over 70 countries. So never mind if any last-minute opportunity comes your way, you can always rely on PTE.

3. Efficient and Fair: PTE takes a modern approach in executing and delivering the test result. So there is no human interaction, as everything is done on the computer and scored by artificially intelligent software, leaving no room for error. Hence it results in unbiased, accurate and objective scoring.

4. Exceptionally Fast and Accurate Result Delivery: What makes PTE popular amongst students is its potential to deliver the results in a seemingly short period of merely two days of taking the test.

5. Comprehensive Structure: With the all-inclusive composition, PTE evaluates four skills of speaking, listening, reading, and writing. The three-hour test provides a score based on the GSE (Global Scale of English). PTE also provides you with the freedom to send your score to the institutions of your choice an unlimited number of times, at no extra cost.

In conclusion, if you are preparing to move abroad to learn from the best institutions and fulfil your dream of working overseas, PTE is your best chance at proving your English proficiency.

[iliketowrite1996]

picture by Vashti Harrison

@chaneajoyyy and  @shaekingitup  quarantine writing challenge!

 Cold Coffee

TRIGGER WARNINGS AND THEMES- guarded heart, Avengers

:Infinity War spoilers, Avengers:Endgame spoilers , mentions of death, emotional, fihgting, years fo denial, anger, strong emotional content, regret.

The coffee maker slowly lets the last drop of dark, bitter coffee fall into your pristine, green cup before you shut off the coffee maker in the student center lounge.

   It’s well after midnight, and ideally , you should have been back in your bed and fast asleep in your bed by now.

   Yet, here you are, straining your eyes under fluorescent light to study for your final the next day.  The only fuel that you’ve ingested since at least 9:30 in the evening has been one energy bar, and countless cups of coffee as you fight your battle against your worst enemy in your college days- Final. Exams.

The jet black words on the off-white page seem to be mocking you, laughing at your attempts to remember which formulas to use for what, your pencil lead and erase slowly whittling away as you write, erase, write again.

   ‘’Okay,’’ you speak more to yourself than the empty commons area, ‘’Let’s see if you got this one correct.’’

   A glance into the answers at the back of the book let you know that… no. You did not get this correct. You miss, miscalculate, misunderstood. Something.

   ‘’I’m going to be here all night,’’ you groan, placing your head in your hands, somehow willing yourself to keep studying when you want to give up.

   ‘’Um… if you are going to be here all night, I hope you don’t mind some company.’’

   You look up from the distress-inducing objects that are your math book and notes to see a young man standing there, laptop and books tucked neatly under his arms.

   He’s someone that you recognize from your Monday and Wednesday, nine a.m. lessons. He’s standing before you dressed in a plain t-shirt, green plaid pajama pants, and… are those bunny slippers.

   ‘’Ignore the slippers. They were the cheapest things at the campus store,’’ he speaks by way of explanation, ‘’Um, anyway. Do you mind if I join you?’’

   ‘’Um… no. No, not at all,’’ you motion to the seat across from you, watching as he pulls the red, plastic chair across the floor to sit down, ‘’At least now, someone is here to wake me up if I fall asleep.’’

   ‘’Not if I fall asleep first,’’ he smirks, a crooked grin illuminated by the lights of the enar empty student center, ‘’I know that we have met in class. Well, we have seen each other in class. But we have not met before. I am T’Challa.’’

   T’Challa- his name is as beautiful, simple yet complex. He speaks with a confidence that could only be birthed from within, not willing to reconstruct it in order to make it make sense to those who don’t care to attempt the three-syllable moniker.

   ‘’T’Challa,’’ you speak, his name somehow leaving a sweet taste on your tongue as you say it, ‘’It is nice to meet you, T’Challa.’’

   ‘’It is nice to meet you, too. I would like to stop calling you, ‘That girl that knows all the answers’. May I have a name?’’

   Much like you, T’Challa lets your name roll on his tongue as he speaks it, enjoying the way it falls out of his mouth, ‘’How beautiful. Well, we have our final exam in just a few hours. I suggest we study.’’

   So the two of you sit there, pouring over your notes and discussing the formulas and how best to remember them.

   ‘’I think that I am going to make a cup of coffee, ‘’T’Challa stands, stretching golden brown arms up to the sky as he stands, the plastic chair yet again scraping against the cold tile floors, ‘’Would you like a cup?’’

   You look to where you’ve somehow finished your entire cup of coffee in the last forty-five minutes, nodding as you do.

   T’Challa obliges by taking your coffee cup, rinsing it in the sink before turning the black coffee maker back on.

   You watch him as he works, keeping an eye on what he does. He pours the cream, scoops the sugar in, and turns off the coffee maker within a matter of five minutes.

   ‘’If anyone questions why the coffee maker is broken,’’ he begins, gliding back over to you with his coffee and yours in his hands, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips, ‘’I’ll say it had to do with you.’’

   ‘’You’d throw me under the bus,’’ you raise an eyebrow taking the cup from him and thanking him, ‘’Nice.’’

   ‘’This is my first cup of coffee. From the discarded pods, I’d say that this is at least your third.’’

   ‘’Observant, aren’t we,’’ you chuckle a bit, blowing into your coffee to cool it a bit, ‘’Alright. Let’s get back to this.’’

   The two of you spend the rest of the night studying. You take practice tests, review the formulas, go back and forth until you’re on your fifth cup of coffee.  until you look up to see that the clock reads 3 in the morning.

   ‘’I’d better get back to my dorm and hope that this caffeine wears off enough for me to sleep,’’ you take your glasses off, rubbing at your tired, red eyes before replacing them to get a clear look at T’Challa.

   ‘’I agree,’’ he speaks, picking up his third cup of coffee, ‘’As I continue to drink my coffee.’’

   You laugh despite yourself, the sound filling the room, ‘’I guess we’ll just go back to our dorms and lay down. I’ll see you in class, T’Challa.’’

   ‘’I will see you then, ‘’T’Challa agrees, standing again, ‘’Perhaps… perhaps tomorrow, after three, you would like to join me for a cup of coffee.’’

   You hesitate at this. You have one final at nine in the morning, another at 12, and one more at 6. You really should use that time to study. It’s the end of your freshman year, and you're hoping that you won’t have to take any of these classes over the summer. You should stay focused, and leave the coffee date for another day, or decide against it all together…

   ‘’It is alright if you do not want to join me,’’ T’Challa quickly amends, rubbing the back of his neck, looking away, ‘’I know how stressful freshman year can be for people. It is fine. You probably are seeing someone any way.’’

   ‘’No, no. I’m single. It’s just that…’’

   You came to college with the goal of focusing on the endline- the endgame. Graduation. You, being number five of your grandmother’s six grandchildren, and the first to graduate from college. It has been drilled into your head for years- books now, boys later.

   You should say no. It is the practical thing, afterall. He’s a sophomore, you’re a freshman. You are still trying to figure things out, taking extra classes over the summer to hopefully graduate a year early and go into the job force as soon as you can.

   It’d be pointless to focus on him… because he has the power to side track you, as you’ve seen in your roommates.

   For all of these reasons and more, your answer to his proposal

   Knowing all of this… you still find yourself meeting this charming, handsome, upperclassman. Over coffee.

   ‘’So, you’re a freshman,’’ T’Challa begins the next day, sitting across from you, ‘’What are you studying?’’

   ‘’I’m a Business major,’’ you reveal, ‘’What about you?’’

   ‘’I am a Communications major,’’ T’Challa informs you as he opens up a packet of sugar, letting the small granules of snow white sugar fall into his coffee before stirring them in, ‘’Where are you from?’

   ‘’Originally, Atlanta, Georgia. My family moved here when I was ten. Where are you from,’’ you question, stirring your cream into your own beverage, nothing the way the coffee and the cream mix together to make your drink sweet.

   ‘’Wakanda,’’ T’Challa declares, ‘’Born and raised until I came here for university.’’

   ‘’Wakanda… wow. I can’t imagine being that far from my parents. I could go home if I wanted- they’re only two hours away. Even that feels like years at times. What made you decide to come here for school?’’

   ‘’A multitude of factors,’’ T’Challa leans back in his chair a bit, ‘’I Have a cousin that grew up in Compton, and I have spent some time here before. He got into NYU the year before I did, so I do have someone here. I also just… let;s just say that my family is very well known in Wakanda. I could not make a single move without anyone bringing up my family and their accomplishments. Here, I can just be… T’Challa. Not ‘ T’Challa Udaku, son of T’Chaka and Ramonda’.’’

   You can sense something leaving him when he speaks these words- whether it’s because he is revealing something that he has never told anyone before, or because he regrets doing do, or because he regrets holding it in that long.    

   ‘’What made you decide to go for Business,’’ T’Challa questions as you replace the lid on your coffee cup, taking a sip and savoring the taste as you do.

   ‘’I want to own my own business. I want to empower young girls, but especially younBlack girls,’’ you give away, running a hand over your cropped hair, ‘’I want them to have the confidence that I did not seem to have growing up.’’

   ‘’I sense that there is a story here,’’ T’Challa guesses, finally picking up his coffee and taking a sip, ‘’I would like to hear it, i you would care to share it.’’

   It’s complex in its simoletey, his response. Just like his invitation to meet him here today, T’Challa’s proposal has a light layer of something else covering it like a opaque film- you can sort of see what it is, but not easily.

   ‘’And why is that?’’

   ‘’I have been watching you,’’ he speaks confidently, ‘’In class. You are quiet, but you are confident. You do not need to shout to be heard. I would love to get to know you better. If you are open to that, of course. No pressure.’’

   There it is again- his effortlessness. He’s so sure of what he wants that he can ask without hesitation. It’s a smoothness, a suaveness that you think he must have been both born with ad had bred into him.

   ‘’What made you notice me,’’ you ask, cupping your cup with both hands, ‘’There are over a hundred people in that lecture hall.’’

   ‘’I know,’’ he begins, staring at the faux-wood countertop of the table that you are settled in, ‘’Like I said before… you are secure, yet you do not feel the need to boast about it. It is something that I like about you. I do apologize if I am coming off strong.’’

    Onyx black eyes stare into yours, something hidden beneath them that you can’t quite determine. There’s honesty mixed with a secret, vulnerability mixed with a strongness that you have not seen in anyone else.

   ‘’And you just zeroed in on me,’’ you run a finger along the edge of your coffee cup’s top, observing the man in front of you.

   You’re pretty good at reading people. You can tell what they are doing, thinking, and if they can be trusted. T’Challa is like a book- he can be read, but you can only go so far before you have to stop, unable to unlock the next chapter until he is ready.

   There is something there though… a story, much like your own. One that you want to read.

   Which is how you find yourself accepting another coffee date with T’Challa the next week, the Thursday before you’re set to go back to your respective homes.

   This is a strange predicament, because you find that you enjoy his company. And, without the threat of a final exam lingering over your head, you see how the clock spins, one hour merging into another, then another, then another.

   Pretty soon, you’ve been talking for four hours, about everything and some things and nothing all at once.

   ‘’So what made you want to cut your hair, ‘’ T’Challa questions after you alert him that the decision had been made, almost on a whim, yet somehow with much consideration, nearly two months ago.

   ‘’I have always wanted to go back to my natural hair,’’ you run a hand over your cropped curls, ‘’In a way, it felt like a new beginning. Starting over. Connecting with my roots.’’

   ‘’How so,’’ T’Challa leans back again, sipping his coffee as the sunlight enters through the window, illuminating his features and bathing him in its warmth.

   He’s beautiful.

   ‘’I just… It was nice. For once,I was not worried about what people thought about my hair, what they thought it should look like. It was invigorating, I guess you would say, to do my thing and have it be done. I have spent so many years just doing what is expected of me, so it was nice to do something for myself.’’

   T’Challa is looking out of the window now, a familiar look of knowingness mixed with an odd sort of desperation etched into his features, ‘’Believe me, I know how that is. I… My family expects a lot of me. It is my duty to carry on our duty to Wakanda. Somehow, though, I wonder if I had the choice, would I choose something else.’’

   ‘’And what would that be,’’ you question, breaking off a bit of your croissant to eat it.

   T’Challa seems to realize what he’s said, almost as if the worlds startled him by making themselves known, outloud, public for someone else to hear.

   ‘’I think that, that is a conversation for later,’’ T’Challa murmurs, looking to his watch, ‘’We should be getting back to the dorms.’’

   As mucha s you would like to press the subject a bit further, you decide against it. You fear that if you try to turn this page to read deeper into his story, the book will snap shut, and someone will get hurt. So you keep your mouth shut about his story, instead agreeing with him, taking your treat and coffees and riding the shuttle bus with him back to the dorms.

   ‘’I know that I will be going back home for the summer, as will you, However, I do want to keep in touch with you.’’

   ‘’You do,’’ you genuinely question, ‘’How come?’’

   ‘’I love your blindness, ‘’ he chuckles, handing you a slip of paper, ‘’Let me just say, we both have a story. I am interested in getting to know yours, and you seem to be interested in getting to know mine. So why not keep in touch over the summer?’’

   Again, you’re a bit taken aback by the calmness to his approach, how he knows who he is, and is willing to put himself on the line to you, someone who is secure in who they are yet is afraid of who others portray themselves to be.

   Because there is no guarantee that the pretty and fascinating cover matches the words on the pages inside.

   Still, you take his number, something deep inside of you beginning to be sparked at this moment.

   ‘’Sure, T’Challa. We will keep in touch.’’

   And keep in touch you do.

   It is strange, you feel, getting to know someone else’s story while allowing your own self to bread so deeply, so completely, so intimately.

   The summer births new notions- T'Challa is sweet, he is smart, he is kind. He mentions volunteer work as though it is his responsibility and not from the kindest of his heart. He offers to come see you when he gets back to New York in August. He shares stories of his younger sister, Shuri, who is his sunshine, his mother Ramonda, who is his comforter, his baba T’Chaka, who is his inspiration.

   You reveal more of yourself, too, slowly allowing T’Challa to take a look in between the lines, to come face to face with who you really are underneath pretty words and flowery images.

   A summer turns into the fall, and your story now has T’Challa written into it, his name so conveniently fitting on some pages of your life story.    

   His hand fits in yours just the same way as you stroll around campus, taking in the changing leaves and the cold chill of the air, cups of coffee in our hands.

   When winter fades into spring, he reveals the truth that he is a prince and that he must go back to Wakanda at the end of the next school year, and he’d understand if you did not want this with him, because it is a lot, even for him.

   His face in your hands, a kiss reassured him that, yes, you’re ready to see where this goes. Because you’re seeing how this story unfolds, and he’s a part of it now- him, his quiet confidence, and cups of coffee.

   A year later,a s he graduates, you meet his family, a milestone added as he begins to bring up marriage over a cup of coffee the next day as you catch breakfast before his flight back to Wakanda.

A cup of coffee serves as his welcoming gift to you the very next year when you step off of that plane and into his arms, ready to begin your life as queen-in-training.

Coffee motivates you for the next five years, the intense sweetness luring you out of bed and into daily lessons, work, and training to prepare you for the role that you will take as soon as King T’Chaka steps down, and T’Challa steps into the throne.

Coffee, as blacka s the light and as dark as T’Challa’s mood lately, serves as the first conversation starter after the untimely death of King T’Chaka. T’Challa, who has called himself off as of late, smiles a bit, shoulders relaxing a bit as he places the document that he’s been looking at to the side.

‘’Thank you, my love,’’ he whispers, taking a sip for the first time since he officially became the king and the Black Panther, ‘’I am tired.’’

‘’You need to rest, T’Challa,’’ you take his face in your hands, looking into his eyes, ‘’You can not go on this way.’’

‘’There is so much to do, entle. Meetings and festivals, surveillance duties… The job of  a king is never easy.’’

‘’That may be, but you’ll run yourself ragged. Then, you won’t be any good for Wakanda because you'll be too tired. Please, T’Challa. Drink your coffee, take your break. We can’t worry about the things that we can't chance… we’ll let our story be written, and we’ll smile again.’’

Those words…

Those very words are what stick inside T’Challa’s head six months later. He watches as you peer into the bottom of your coffee mug before looking up at him, mouth agape as you read the question written in the bottom of said cup, ‘’Will you marry me?’’

Your kiss, your yes, tastes both of coffee beans and happiness, salty with the tears that fall from your eyes as you scream yes.

Your wedding day is no different from any other day that you have spent with T’Challa- you're watching the day, the beginning of a new chapter, unfold before your very eyes, coffee nestled safely in your hands as your stylist does your hair for your big day.

‘See you at the altar,’’ T’Challa had written in that delightfully handwriting that delightfully spidery handwriting that you've come to associate with your soon to be husband.

Coffee, it seems, shows up in every area of your life with T'Challa. In each new story, it makes its appearance. In each chapter, its presence is made known by its significance to a situation. It’s interwoven through your everyday lives, as well as in your special events.

Two years after you're married, coffee is left on the table as the two of you discuss the arrival of the Avengers, and a place for you and Ramonda to go.

‘’I will not leave you,’’ you place a hand on his arm , ‘’Never.’’

‘’Darling,’’ T’Challa sighs, placing a hand over yours, ‘’I am afraid that is the best way. Then, you will be safe.’’

‘’You do not have to do this, T’Challa. Steve and the others can fight somewhere else, can they not?’’

‘’They need our help. And I am going to help them.’’

For everything that he is, T’Challa keeps his promises. He is a man of his word, and he knows who he is. It is the thing that you both simultaneously love and detest about him, because it means that there is no arguing ith him in his situation,

But he compromises- you can stay in the palace, just please, stay there.

‘’You can have a cup of coffee waiting for me,’’ T’Challa presses a kiss to your forehead and then to your lips before leaving his forehead against yours, staring in your eyes, ‘’I will be back before you know it.’’

And you know that he is being optimistic- T’Challa’s eyes shine with hope and he wants it to believe it as much as he wants you to believe it. So he says it with such earnestness that you can not help to do what he says as soon as he leaves you, to fight a battle that someone became both of yours.

So you make the coffee. You make it and you sit at the kitchen table, willing yourself to ignore the way your stomach is twisting, turning, and tossing.

You sit there for a while, and the coffee goes untouched. But T’Challa will be back. He has to be back.

He’s coming back.

A day. Two. Three.

And the coffee goes untouched, left cold, because you can’t quite bring yourself to move it, somehow still believing that T’Challa will come back, will keep his promise, will let your story finish writing itself

It’s sad, funny in a horrific way. Years of building a story were put to an end from one snap, and T’Challa is…

He’s…

He never came back, he never got that cup of coffee like he said.

And you’re screaming at Steve Rogers, five years later, wbcause how dare he and his band of so-called heroes come your way, telling you they need your help? HOw dare they walk into the life you've been trying to build, putting your business degree to use opening a center for those affected by Thano’s snap.

How dare they come and try to interrupt your new story when all they did was burn the other one to crisp, leaving nothing but a simple pile of literal ashes of your love. All that is left are your memories, your wedding ring, the fragments of a cup broken against the wall, that once held coffee that was never drunk five years ago, but now holds years of tears, frustration, anger, hurt, each emotion  shining off of each shattered piece, glistening beneath the light of the room.

‘’On behalf of the queen, I will have to ask you to leave,’’ Ayo speaks, standing in front of you.

‘’We understand,’’ the one you recognise as Natasha speaks, pain behind her eyes mirroring your own, ‘’We are so sorry. And we will make this right.’’

You want to scoff, roll your eyes, and ask her how dare she.

But… but there’s something else there. Something you haven’t seen since you last looked at T'Challa's eyes: hope.

Hope is what made you give T’Challa a chance, what made you accept a coffee date, what led to years of bliss with that man, what led him to fight to keep you and others safe.

   It is the same thing that has you walking into the Avengers’ meeting, all eyes on you.

   ‘’I want to help. I saw something in you that i have not seen in others in a long time: Hope. I’d like to experience that again.’’

   They are all sharing looks with each other, and Natahas is the first one that speaks up, ‘’We are going to bi=ring them back. We’re going to get T’Challa back.’’

For the first time in years, you find yourself believing. There’s a hope there. You’re going to get your husband back, the love of your life returning to your life.

‘’You’re not alone. I am here to help,’’ you respond, a small smile forming, ‘’And I am going to help.’’

‘’If you don’t mind my asking,’’ Tony Stark begins, eyes on you, ‘’What changed your mind?’’

‘’Thanos may have written my story. But if he can do that, I can, too. I’m getting T’Challa back. And the others, too.’’

So this is where you find yourself now- suiting up with one of T’Challa’s old suits, ready to defend and avenge him.

‘’What are you going to do when you see him again,’’ Natasha questions, eyes on you as she suits up herself.

‘’I am going to have coffee with the love of my life.’’

[almondharry]

the pages of summer

Prompt: Romance 101: Y/N is participating in a study abroad program for school when she meets Harry; who is in the same place writing his new album.

This is prompt 12 of @always-jackedup Sarah’s 25 days of summer challenge. This is my first time writing a y/n blurb! Here is what I came up with! Do give a click to the other prompts done by the talented authors who are apart of this!

word count: 9k

————

Studying abroad for a semester was Alice’s idea. She was the loud-mouthed girl who had taken the empty seat beside you in your freshman Intro to Asian Civilization course. You’ve been super glued at the hip for as long as you can remember; she’s the first number on your speed dial, the only one who can make sense of your nervous ramblings. The building blocks of this friendship stacked up one after the other, from stressing over impending midterms to complaining about shitty boys, and of course, empty tequila bottles.

She was the type of girl who thought going to the movies alone was embarrassing, so it wasn’t a surprise when she claimed she needed someone to go halfway across the world with.

“Think of it as a grad trip!” she exclaims with arms thrown in the air, her eyebrows almost touching her hairline.

The carpet on the floor is itchy against your bare thighs from where you’re sitting on her bedroom floor, legs pretzled. Your finger twirls the loose fray of your denim shorts.

Alice has a huge rectangular cardboard display in front of her, the type students used for science fairs, but without the flaps on the right and left. It’s no longer the plain white that you remember it being when she bought it from the dollar store years ago. Instead, it’s full of cut outs in all different shapes and sizes; you particularly like the tiny airplane stickers dotted at the right corner. Your eyes catch a magazine article clipping—Travel on a budget now!—and a picture of some exotic beach; the highly saturated water meant she pulled it off of google images. This moodboard has been a work in process for as long as can be.

Alice started it as a motivator to get her through the times where she desperately wanted to drop out of university. She’d always said that she would reward herself with a trip at the end of her studies.

“We’re not graduating for another semester, Alice.”

“So what? Let’s call it a pre-grad trip! We owe it to ourselves!” She gathers her pin straight hair an inch below the crown of her head before fastening the shiny black strands with an elastic from around her wrist. “You’ll be off to law school and I’ll be starting a full-time job. We can’t really push it to after graduation now, can we?”

A gust of air leaves your lungs in a sigh. She’s right, there is no denying it. Who knows what flexibility your schedules will allow if you delay this into the future. You recall back to the relentless hours you spent in preparations of your LSAT exams. You had deprived yourself from a social life for months, studying for the most important test in your life did take off some years of your life span. Now that your acceptance letter came in you think you can treat yourself to jetting away for a semester with a great friend. You’ve earned it, you tell yourself.

Alice is looking at you with expecting eyes. The anticipation that gleams in her eyes is childlike, the look is enormously similar to a little kid about to open a christmas present they’ve been yearning for.

As a smile slowly crawls on your lips, her eyes double with realization. You agree. The rate at which she jumps up and throws her lanky arms around your neck suggests someone lit a round of firecrackers under her. Her high pitched squeals leave your left ear ringing.

You roll your eyes and laugh into her bony shoulder. “Alright, alright! Let’s bring the globe.”

***

The reason why Alice and you get along so well is because you agree on the same things. You’ve decided to stray away from common study abroad places such as London, New York, Toronto, for your semester. You want to experience life somewhere completely different. Also the fact that those placements have already been snatched up by other students narrows down your pool of options by quite a bit.

You both settle on the city of Tariz. It is a secluded area with a decent population, not large enough to be a well known staple city, but enough to have a bustling sense of community. Their language is a mix of Turkish and broken English.

The brochure you are given and the exploratory google searches here and there only feed your excitement.

Most of the architecture of the city is ancient. High arches and intricate stones decorate multiple streets. The streets are more like tight valleys, the rusted bricked walls of neighboring houses and stores transport you into another time period completely. There is even a dated sculpture planted in the middle of the town circle, it’s details are so well preserved that it seems life like—you’re dying to feel the smooth stone under your fingertips.

Your laptop displays all the potential flight times and costs. With a tap of your finger, the plane ticket is confirmed.

***

The first words you learn are Kirree and Poffasa.

Kirree is local drink of Tariz. It’s a bitter coffee with a splash of milk and two drops of essence that smells like roses. You prefer to sweeten it with honey, rather than sugar. Poffasa translates to please. The combination of these words are used every time you step into the corner shop located on Cardin Street.

The bell clanks above you and signals the worker behind the counter of your arrival. A welcoming grin pulls at his lips, you’ve come in enough times for him to remember your name. He knows to talk to you with more hand gestures and use short words.

You found this family owned cafe on your second week here. It’s situated beside a book store and a florist. There is an open patio outside which you take advantage of every once in a while when the humidity won’t poof up your hair. When the wind blows your way, it carries a strong scent of light florals—it’s quite poetic. It’s also only a ten minute walk from the university you are taking your courses at and two streets down from the apartment Alice and you rent.

“Kirree?” The man behind the counter—Amjad—inquires with a raised brow.

“Poffasa.” You smile.

He taps your order into the system and you drop some copper coins in the cup of his palm. Amjad moves with ease behind the counter, his fancy coffee machine makes a churning sound as he holds the rim of a cup to its long narrow mouth. He stirs milk and essence in a way you’ve seen him do countless times. Although you miss seeing a Starbucks within every ten steps, you’re grateful that you are able to experience a sip of someone else’s culture.

Amjad passes you the drink, it’s a simple latte cup with a bleach white plate at the bottom. Another smile is exchanged between you two, this is usually where the conversation stops.

“Tib tu,” you say. It’s a casual thanks people say to one another, you had picked it up recently.

Amjad’s eyes brighten up instantly. His smile becomes impossibly wide in a way that tells you he’s proud of your slowly developing ability to communicate. You can’t hold a fluent conversation just yet, but enough to keep a casual one going.

“Tib tu!” He laughs and wipes the counter with the rag previously rested on his shoulder.

You are engrossed into your course review settled at a circular table. Your laptop informs you of the requirements for the essay due next week, you crack open the novel and highlight potential quotes to help support your thesis. It is a simple Wednesday afternoon, business is slow, which is ideal because it doesn’t interrupt your concentration.

Hours pass by and you bob your head every once in a while to the soft radio filling the small shop. Neon yellow ink bleeds over a particular line you find interesting when the bells above the door chime and bring in a gust of humid air. Your upper lip curls in disdain momentarily because of the thick sticky air cuts through the coolness of the AC. You lick the pad of your index finger and flip the page.

The steady thump of boots against the floor gets louder as the person nears the counter to your right. Amjad had ducked in the back a moment ago so the customer waits patiently. This would’ve been fine, but then they begin to whistle a tune under their breath. Your focus on the essay in front of you shatters like delicate china.

You look up to see the artist behind this pesky noise. From your position, you are granted the view of his side profile and your eyes widen gradually. Sharp jaw, wavy hair, high cheekbones. He is cute. Something about him screams so familiar; maybe it’s because he has the same build as your ex or maybe the tattoo on his arm is close to the one Alice has. Your brain tells you you’ve seen him before, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

Amjad comes out from behind swinging doors and your head drops back to your books.

“Zerki! Tim tu ga?”

“I’m sorry—English only.” It’s a British accent, the words are timid and he blends the first two together.

“Ah!” Amjad nods quickly with a wide, understanding smile. You can tell he is excited because this is a new customer. Although this cafe isn’t a tourist location, the university located near it brings in countless study abroad students. You assume he is another student somewhere from Britain.

Amjad swipes a plastic menu from behind him before placing it in front of the customer. You remember him showing you this on your first day here. The descriptions didn’t help much because it wasn’t in English, but the corresponding pictures did clarify some fog.

He puckers his lips and the deep frown between his brows is enough to say he hasn’t been in this city for more than a couple days. His index finger taps a picture and he looks up expectantly to Amjad. You pick up bits and pieces of the conversation. He is trying to ask a question about an ingredient, but Amjad thinks that’s what he wants to order. There is a lot of hand gestures and frowns and crumpled brows as they try to understand each other. This goes on for about five minutes until Amjad looks around the shop with a sigh. His eyes land on you and he instantly brightens up.

He calls your name and your head shoots up. “English? You English speak?”

You remember giving this information when telling Amjad what you’re studying in uni. Your eyes bounce back from the customer to Amjad before slowly nodding. He wants you to briefly translate something for him. The legs of your chair screech against the tiles as you get up and walk towards them.

When you come to stand beside the customer, you can smell the shampoo he uses. The citrus wafts into the air and when mixed with the smell of fresh brew, it is an odd yet pleasant scent. “What are you trying to ask?”

“I just want him to take the sweetener and milk out of this.” He points to the image on the laminated menu.

You raise a brow. “You sure? The Kirree is going to be really bitter, like worse than black coffee.”

“Yeah, that’s what I like.”

You give him an odd look but turn towards Amjad. “Kirree, na sarr, na dou.”

“Ah!” Amjad nods right away, plucking a cup from a tall stack before grabbing a marker. “Nama?”

You meet the green of his eyes. “He’s asking for your name.”

There is a pregnant pause in the air. It lasts long enough for you to second guess if you said your sentence loud enough. Then you see the beginnings of a smile ghosting his lips, the corners are upturned, but barely. Like he knows something you don’t.

He brings his index finger to rub horizontally below his nose. “It’s um, Harry.”

The scratchy sound of Amjad scribbling letters on the cup fills the silence. He turns his back to prepare the drink at the counter.

“Thank you,” Harry says.

“‘Course, it’s no problem.”

You occupy your previous spot and get lost in developing the arguments for your body paragraphs.

***

It’s childish. A part of you prides yourself on the fact that you are a regular at the cafe. You come here so often that you can find your way even if you were left blindfolded on the street. Amjad and you have gotten to know each other so well that he doesn’t have to ask for your order anymore. Hell, the table that you religiously sit at probably has your name neatly engraved on it. It is your quiet cafe.

Then you see Harry. You don’t think much of it when you see him after a week. Then he comes once again, four days later. Then again, two days after that. The days between his visits get shorter and shorter to the point that he is here everyday. You feel the crown that you’ve titled yourself with slowly slipping off your head.

He doesn’t make much noise because he reads—a lot. His designated place is at the table on the other end of the shop, you catch yourself stealing glimpses of him. Sure, it’s attractive that he’s a cute boy who likes to read, but what really gets you are his expressions when he finds a specific line or passage interesting. You’ve seen his brows draw in when he is upset. You know the two deep dimples that poke his cheeks when he finds something witty. You’ve witnessed his lips part slowly when he reads something poetic.

Right now, his chest vibrates and the corner of his eyes crinkle as he shakes his head. He is wearing a plain black sweater. A string of planets coloured in pink, blue and yellow, start from one shoulder and end at the other. You want to drag your finger over the knit material.

It’s slow. The swirls begin in the pit of your stomach and gradually increase in size. The last time you felt something develop this quickly was when you were in grade school, toes hidden in hot playground sand and eyes fixed on to your crush. You could’ve sworn he had an ever present halo hovering above his head. You still have one thing in common with your eight year old self, you both admire from afar and never build up the courage to go after what you really want. One sided pining and yearning is all you know.

Your attention gravitates towards the window when you become numb to the words on your laptop screen. You allow yourself these little breaks to lessen the stabbing strain your eyes develop. You lean back into the chair, from this angle you have a perfect view of the fountain outside. A butterfly flaps its wings insistently to keep its little body afloat, it circles the pointy tip of the structure. The water sparkles under the setting sun, it looks like a picture cut and pasted out of paradise. You wonder what it would be like to thread your fingers in its ripples rather than gripping a pen to your notepad.

You entertain this daydream for a moment longer. Then something pricks your skin, like a million tiny thumbtacks. The feeling of being observed passes over you; it’s silent and formless. You tear your eyes away from the scenery and your line of sight reflexively falls on soft green eyes. They are already focused on you, imploring and bated. A jet of warmth shoots down your spine.

You bite the inside of your cheek and deliberate looking away, but there is something magnetic about holding his stare. It’s playful, yet holds a pulling weight. He isn’t giving up either, hasn’t made one effort to try to blink away. It’s like you both hold one end of a rope, challenging tugs are given from each side to see who will break first.

A smile spreads across his lips, it’s slow like dripping molasses, and suddenly the butterfly isn’t circling the peak of the fountain. It has made a home in the pit of your stomach, thrashing wildly against your ribcage.

The bells clank above the door as a new customer walks in, and like a delicate twig under a heavy stomp, the moment is broken. It’s a middle aged woman with a toddler balanced on her hip. You blink away quickly and pretend to type a sentence on your keyboard. An Indian summer heat bites at your cheeks.

The sigh you release is deep rooted in your belly. The moment you shared was like clutching a fistful of sand. The grains quickly slipped from your hold and before you know it, you’re left with dry, empty hands.

***

A bead of sweat drips down the nape of your neck and trickles down your spine. Your cheeks are splotched red and baby hairs are matted to your forehead. The humidity levels are sky high today. The short walk from your lecture to the cafe is equivalent to a small marathon. You take a right at the intersection and the figure walking in front of you looks disgustingly familiar.

It’s Harry, and he is also walking towards the cafe.

He wears a simple black cotton t-shirt which shouldn’t make your heart skip like a stone over water, but it does. His shoulders slope in humble curves, but hold strength. The material moves with each step he takes and clings to his shoulder blades. Your mouth goes dry from the way his muscles flex under the fabric.

Your gaze flickers down to his left arm, it’s covered in detailed ink whereas his right arm is more sparse. A particular floral tattoo grabs your attention, the petals of the expansive rose begging to be traced. In his palm he clutches a worn leather journal, a long tie of the same material wraps around it multiple times. You’ve seen him spend hours with hunched shoulders and a pen pressed tightly to the papers, you wonder what secrets it wraps. In the same hand, he holds some sort of novel, you see a dog ear folded near the first few pages. You don’t have the opportunity to analyze a title because he is pulling the heavy glass door of the cafe.

The door doesn’t open fully, it stops awkwardly at a forty-five degree angle when he catches your image reflected in the glass. You don’t miss the slight jump of his brows when he first notices that it’s you.

He shuffles to the side with his fingers still wrapped around the handle of the door. With his movements, the door opens wider. The crisp, conditioned air flutters from inside the cafe and goosebumps pimple the skin on your forearms. It takes you a second to realize he is holding the door open expectantly.

“You first.” He cocks his head towards the shop.

You press your lips together to hide a budding smile.

It’s just a door, you tell yourself. People hold open doors for others all the time. It’s a common courtesy. Nothing extravagant. As you step in the space, you can’t help the warmth that slowly spreads in your chest—like a drop of watercolour staining a white sheet.

You don’t have time to overthink this simple act of kindness, you take in the shop you notice it is brimming with people. Kids and teens sip colourful refreshers and lemonades and almost everyone has an iced drink to combat the heatwave passing over today. As you notice most of the tables are being taken up, your eyes immediately pull towards your designated table. A relieved breath escapes your lips as you see that it is the only vacant spot. Your feet rush to it in a hurry and you drop your bag on the chair to stake claim.

You make eye contact with Amjad and gives you a nod, as if saying he’s already in the middle of preparing your drink. Harry is the second person in line and browses the pastry options while scratching the scruff on his face. You take this time to get situated by pulling out your agenda, laptop, and a textbook.

You’ve opened up your last draft and skim over some lines to jog your memory of what you left behind. You had grown accustomed to the quietness of the cafe, but today, the lack of it makes it harder for you to focus on the words in front of you.

The wave of light citrus in the air causes you to halt your typing. Your eyes catch the plaid printed trousers that taper in at the ankles from the corner of your eye. You lift your line of sight to see a simple blank shirt tucked in at the waist. Higher are the ringed fingers which grip two plates that are topped with Kirree cups. Finally, you look up to see it’s Harry, a journal and novel is tucked under his armpit.

His eyes are a muted green, framed with thick lashes. Reading glasses are perched on his head, they keep the few disobedient curls from sweeping over his forehead. You know he gets annoyed by them when he reads or writes, especially when they poke his left eye.

He releases his bottom lip from behind his teeth. “Amjad sent this over.” The Kirree in his right arm raises towards you.

You quickly reach forward to take hold of the plate, making extra sure you don’t let the steaming liquid trickle over the rim, or even worse, accidentally brush your skin against his. You’re positive the latter would leave a deeper burn. “Great, thank you. You didn’t have to bring it over.”

“S’alright. I was headed here anyway.”

You tilt your head to one side, silently urging him to continue.

He scratches the back of his neck, the curls at the nape of his neck shift. Harry’s neck cranes as he looks around the shop. His jawline sharpens when he looks completely to the left. Today everything is bustling. A kid pulls the hem of his mother’s dress with a deep frown to get her attention. Two little girls with matching pigtails fight over a specific coloured crayon two tables down from you. A group of students fill up the remaining tables; from their flashcards, it seems as though they’re conducting a study group. The whole town has chosen this cafe to seek refuge from the brutal heat.

The time he takes to analyze the buzzing environment, you press the rim of your drink to your lips.

“The only other empty chair is this one.” His eyes flicker to the simple white plastic from across you. The tips of his ears are impossibly red. “Mind if I sit?”

You almost choke on your sip, but you contain the liquid from spluttering out by downing the scalding gulp. “‘Course.” The urgency behind your immediate reply makes your face hot.

He lifts the chair slightly before pulling it from the table. The small courteous act of avoiding the ugly screech against the floor sends your heart flooring.

You think your heart would tire eventually, but the annoying thing continues to jackrabbit even after a solid ten minutes of him being seated across from you. Your palms are sweaty and your brain is firing up with a thousand different thoughts every second. How long had you wanted him to sit across from you? How long had you wanted him to exchange more than a smile with you? You’re getting words from him. He’s actually talking to you. It’s all a bit overwhelming.

Hours later, you’re fed up with the mundane reading. You had set a goal to read 800 pages, but you can make it barely through the 200 mark. It stares back at you from your laptop screen, challenging and daunting. A deep defeated sigh leaves your lips and your shoulders sink.

“What are you reading?” He asks, his eyes trained on the novel in front of him.

“It’s a reading for my modernism course. I rather individually pluck my eyelashes out.” He purses his lips to suppress a smile; A candlelight flame dances in your chest. You squint at the cover shielded behind his fingers, but you can’t quite make out the picture or title. “You?”

“Bukowski.”

Your lips part slowly. “Oh.” His eyes follow your movements when you raise a hand to gently tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “Sorry.”

“No, no it’s okay—it’s hard to see because the cover is well loved.”

“No, I meant I’m sorry that you have shit taste in books.”

His face is blank for a minute, not giving away anything as he mulls your words over in his head. Then the corners of his lips poke up. When you see the dimple is more prominent on his left cheek, you almost let a strangled, breathless Fuck slip out. “You think so?”

You scrunch your nose and nod.

“You should try something by Murakami.” Multiple titles run through your mind and you purse your lips as you mentally browse which one to offer. Something about recommending a book, a song, or another piece of art, can be so vulnerable because people only like things they can see themselves reflected in. You pray to whatever higher powers that exist that Harry won’t think twice about it. “Have you read Norwegian Wood?”

He wets his lips with his tongue. They become a vivid pink, like fresh peonies or a sickening sweet birthday cake frosting. “I’m afraid I have not.”

Your fingers dip into the slit of your bag and before you can register what is happening. Your copy of the novel is slightly curving at the corners and feels more weighted from when you first bought it. This is because countless sticky notes and page markers you’ve stuffed in between the front and back cover. You can’t believe you’re freely handing over your annotated book, it’s full of all your thoughts and views and it seems intimate to give him access to that. You think to take a moment to rip out all your work, but your arm is already extended and he clutches the other end of the book.

***

“He held a door for you,” Alice notes.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“He sat with you. For hours.”

“—Because the place was full.”

“You caught him staring at you! This sounds exactly like a dreamy movie!”

“It’s not, it’s just—” Your palm gestures vaguely in the air. You’re at a loss for words because if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t know what this is. What you do know, is the childlike glee you get around him and the stolen glances you pocket away and the shy smiles you exchange. “—Harry from the coffee shop.”

Alice stresses your name in a pointed tone. “Please.” She drags a tiny brush over the sparse area of her toe nail, the fushia pink compliments her newly tanned skin. The smell of polish and acetone is poignant in the living room. “We both know you’re clueless as can be about these things.”

Your jaw meets the floor as you prop up your weight on the cushion of the sofa. “Am not!”

“Are so!” Alice twists the cap on the nail polish tightly. She flips the small bottle and shakes it to insure it won’t drip. “You need people to literally spell out if they like you or not!”

“Being clear is a good thing!”

“But… where’s the romance in that?” You should’ve known telling Alice about Harry would get twisted into something. Alice is adamant that he has a thing for you, but you can’t connect the dots. You thought asking for an unbiased perspective on this situation would bring some clarity, but all Alice knows are the countless rom coms on Netflix and the wall full of cheesy lovey dovey novels she collects. “From where I see it, you both are longing from a distance. How long has this been going on for?”

“Like almost two months.”

Her eyes double in size. “Jesus!”

“I know, I know.” A palm comes to rub over your face to hide the red colouring your cheeks.

“Before we leave you need to do something about him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Find a moment, grab him by the shoulders and lay one on him. It’s not like he’ll see you again.”

You roll your eyes.

***

Harry doesn’t sit alone at his table like he previously used to do. After that day you gave him the novel, he has glued himself to the seat across from yours. It’s nice. You both work in amicable silence together with occasional conversation; you switch between your laptop and novel and he scribbles some words in his journal. It’s not a stream of consistent thought, the words are broken and spaced out and formatted differently. You assume he writes poetry.

It’s an unspoken rule that you’ve both made together. Every week you pick something new off the chalked menu items and alternate buying. Today you pick a slice of carrot cake. You remember him saying in passing that he was fond of it and wondered how different it would be from traditional American or European cake.

The plate sits dead center of the table, a fork at each end. You dig the metal to the pointy end of the cake and cup your palm underneath the utensil when you bring it to your mouth. Harry does the same except he doesn’t use his palm. It’s endearing that a crumb is stuck to the left corner of his top lip. You make deliberate eye contact while you both chew slowly. A rating becomes more clear in your mind as time passes and you see the same behind his eyes.

“Love it,” he concludes.

You continue chewing your bite for a little longer, he’s waiting, expecting to keep this conversation going. Harry scans your features as you derive your final thoughts. He doesn’t realize this, but his eyes have a weighted tenacity that you find yourself squirming under. It’s not uncomfortable, more so intense—He makes you feel like you’re an exceptionally important person. You run a tongue over your teeth before letting yourself speak.

“It’s good.”

“Just good?”

“Good,” you confirm.

He has gotten a sense of your rating scale without you defining it for him. He remembers the coconut slice was mind blowing. The strawberry was amazing. The peanut butter, nutella and banana was exceptional. He recalls you closing your eyes briefly because they rolled back in bliss. The indulgent moan you let slip through made his brain short circuit. The high points of his cheek were the same colour as the cherry drizzle that topped the rhubarb cake.

He digs his fork once more to grab another bite. You refrain.

A sweet smile dances on your face as you tuck your chin in the palm of you hand, your elbow anchors your weight on the table. You don’t know when to tell him that with each bite he takes, he adds on a couple more crumbs to his face. A part of you doesn’t want to tell him at all because it’s so adorable.

“What?” He prompts when he sees you observing him.

“You’ve...” You trail off, but then roll your eyes last minute, deciding not to let him in on it. It’s a miniscule thing. “Nevermind.”

“Now you’ve got to tell me.”

“It’s fine.”

The sinking feeling in his stomach knots his intestines together. A plunging fear of his identity being revealed is something he doesn’t know that he’s ready for. You had asked him what his name was for Amjad to write on the cup. You clearly didn’t know anything about him. He wanted to see how long the cloak of invisibility spell would last on him. There’s something about meeting someone without them having preconceived notions set about him. It’s rare and refreshing for him and he wants to prolong this with you. He gnaws at his lip momentarily, do you know?

“Did you google something?”

You splutter a confused laugh. “What?”

“It’s—I” He threads his fingers through his hair. A panic bounces in his eye. He knows the inevitable, you will find out sooner or later. Should he just tell you now? “Did you—”

Before he gets a chance to finish his sentence you crumple a napkin in your hand and lean slightly across the table.

He is taken aback by your sudden closeness, but relaxes his tense shoulders when the floral notes of your perfume floats around him.

You drag the napkin at the corner of his mouth and collect the persistent crumbs. You feel his eyes trained on one side of your face. There is a charged intimacy in the air that both of you don’t acknowledge. This innocent act speaks louder than any words between you two could. You tell yourself that maybe this feeling is one sided, a complete travesty, but then you see his adam’s apple rise and fall has he swallows a nervous gulp. It’s enough to let you know he feels it too. To keep yourself from doing something you might regret, you pour all your focus to the task at hand. This moment lasts for a couple seconds at most, but the fervor behind it could outlive even the oldest stars.

“There,” you say, your back meets your chair once again. “That was all.”

***

“How much have you gotten through?”

“I’m at the halfway mark. A few scenes have stuck out to me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Your eyes immediately flick up meet his. Curiosity and anticipation pull at each end of your lips to form a smile. Your wrist finishes jotting down the last of correction on your essay, the red pen in your grasp moves on autopilot because Harry has once again captured all your attention. He’s done it numerous times before, it’s just something he is good at. “Which ones?”

There is a soft grin on his lips. “When Toru lets go of the firefly on the roof.”

“Why did you like it?”

“It was such a simple act, but probably meant so much more.”

“You’re right, it did.” You nod. Red ink strikes out two sentences, but your ears are still perked up. “What else?”

“Naoko’s birthday.”

“Really?” The pitch of this word is higher than your previous ones, you’re surprised. You once had a conversation with someone who passionately claimed the scene should’ve been ripped out Norwegian Wood. You stop writing completely and give him your utmost undivided attention. You elbows press to the surface of the table as you lean it slightly and drop your volume to an octave lower. “Is it because they fucked?”

“Yeah,” he nods after a moment of contemplation. You shoot him a look, not because of his scene choice, but his lack of explanation, and he backtracks immediately. It would be awfully disheartening if that is all he had to say about that. “No, no, no. It’s not what you’re thinking. It was just so sad and lonely and—” He takes a deep breath and his nostrils flare. “I really felt for Naoko. It’s an oddly relatable thing—being in that state of mind, feeling that, all while giving yourself to someone. I don’t know, it’s just—”

His words hang in the air, but from the crumpled look on his face, you know exactly what he wants to communicate. The impervious silence between you two stays for a moment.

Talking about books with him was something you look forward to. He likes when you push him to read certain books. He admits once with a bashful look that he was intimidated by you. Your list of recommended books—it only went up to five, ink scratches on tissue you handed him one night before parting—made you seem very well read in his eyes. You dismissed it quickly with a wave.

A smile quirks your lips. “That was one of my favourites too.”

The praise balloons a feeling in your chest that would only contribute to one-sided feelings. You told him your list is no match to what is really out there; your goal isn’t to be a pretentious well-read girl, but it’s to find more titles that make you feel a spectrum of emotions.

He takes a minute to absorb your words. With an understanding nod he goes back to writing in his journal. You think you pick up on a musical note or chord, but you can’t be sure.

***

The blanket of humidity suffocating the town finally breaks on a Friday. In the wee hours of the early morning, you hear the clap of thunder rip through the clouds and pour down a bucket of water. It transitions into a romantic drizzle as noon rolls around.

It was one of those odd days where you are at the cafe before Harry. Your plain black umbrella sits in his chair, drops of water fall off the pointy tip and splatter against the floor.

“What’s this?” Harry grips the hooked handle of the umbrella as he lifts it up. The folded flaps of the fabric move like the arms of a ceiling fan before hitting against each other. “You’ve replaced me already?”

He has a pleased look on his face, clearly too proud of his joke.

You drop all traces of expression from your face and force your eyebrows to curl in a deep, confused frown. The slight tilt of your head to the left completes the faux look. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

He rolls his eyes, pinching his lips to on side in an effort to subdue the smile you both know is about to flourish. “Funny.”

You laugh under your breath. He wipes away the remaining droplets of water on the chair before taking his seat. Fingers comb back his hair, you notice it is a darker brown, a wet curl curves at the shell of his hair in a perfect swoop.

Like always, hours go by without you noticing. The sun has long bid its farewell. You’ve shared casual conversation, another slice of cake, and another book recommendation.

Amjad begins to flip the stools upside down on their respective table, the sound makes you look up. The lights are toned into a dim buttery yellow rather than the stark white you’re used to. He’s closing up for the night. It’s just you and Harry in the space, both of you begin to collect your belongings. You tuck your laptop into its sleeve before plucking your highlighter and pen into your bag. The novel you used is carefully bookmarked and pressed into your tote bag.

“Shit,” Harry hisses. Through the glass window you see the sky is an angry black, flashes of white remind you of when you had taken your high school graduation pictures. The rain is no longer a shy drizzle, it’s a wrath coming down so hard as though it seeks age old revenge.

You are thankful that you’ve brought your umbrella, but Harry can’t say the same for he is looking at the scene in front of you while scratching the back of his head. As he turns to you, you can see the same thought floating in his head.

“It’s alright, I’ve got one.” You wave the umbrella in your hand as you hike up the straps of your bag to your shoulder.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “We’re headed the same way anyways.” You know your stop comes before Harry’s, it’s only a short walk from the cafe, you plan to pass the umbrella to him so he can continue his path back home.

As you near the door, you call out a farewell to Amjad. “Ta ra!”

“Ta ra!”

The sound of rain drowns out the clanking of the bells as the door shuts behind you. You quickly press a hidden button and the metal arms of the umbrella spread wide open. You shelter yourself under it and shuffle so Harry has enough room under it.

“You’re good at it, you know?” He says as you both begin the trek. The raindrops make a muted pattering against the material of your umbrella.

You face him and raise a brow. “What?”

“Just—living here, communicating, and all that sort. I would’ve never guessed you weren’t from here until I heard you speak English.”

“Yeah?” You breath in the smell of fresh rain, the wind mists some water on your face and a calmness seeps into your bones.

Harry shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers, his shoulders cave inwards. “Would’ve probably just sat at my table like a fool and wonder why you come here so religiously.”

A smile pulls at your lips. “You would wonder about me?”

“Maybe.”

You laugh at his reluctance to say a proper yes. You know it’s a solid yes. Your eyes focus on the potholes in the sidewalk, rain water creates puddles and you strategically place your steps. “I would too—about you.”

“Now, you’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m serious.”

“Sure,” he hums.

A cool breeze circles the lonely streets, the thin hair on your arms stand up tall. The silence that makes itself prominent is comfortable. You decide this a perfect moment to tell him. You can’t begin to imagine the hurt on his face when he steps foot into the cafe and you’re not there. You’ve been practicing a speech in your bathroom mirror for two weeks now, trying all sorts of combinations to find the right words. Nothing has stuck so you bite the bullet and blurt the first thing that comes to mind.

“I’m going home.” Your heart is in your throat. Your voice is no where near bold and sure as you’d like it to be. It’s a timid whisper and you’re just thankful you haven't stuttered from the bundle of nerves in your gut.

He doesn’t reply immediately, you begin to ponder if the sound of rain submerged your sentence.

“We both are.” He gives you a weird look.

“No—I mean, I’m leaving Tariz. My semester here is ending, for the study abroad thing.”

Though the humidity in the air is long gone, you feel a thick heaviness in it.

“Oh.” The tone of the word suggests that he wasn’t expecting this. Harry scratches the back of his neck looking down at the pavement. “When’s your last day?”

The silence speaks for you.

His eyebrows jump. “Really?”

You roll your lips together before replying. “I’m afraid so.”

“Well, did you like it? The experience.”

You grin. Of course he could ask you this. You haven’t given much thought to this question up until now. You know when you go back home this will be the first thing people ask you, you take the opportunity as a way to practice an answer.

“Loved it,” you say without a shadow of doubt. “It went beyond my expectations.”

Harry gives your hand that fists the umbrella stem a push from below, urging you to raise it slightly higher. When you look up to see him, you realize the material grazes the top of his head. You mumble a quiet sorry before complying, he ignores your apology by prompting another question. “Favourite part?”

“There are loads. But the Kirree, the culture—”you take a brief pause, it builds the anticipation. “Amjad.”

“Amjad?”

“Amjad,” you confirm. It takes so much from you to not laugh at his ridiculous tone. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” The shrug of his shoulders is anything but casual. “I just thought, nevermind.”

You chuckle, shaking your head while trying to keep your smile at bay. “You’re so obvious.”

Wet hair strands glue to your face with the help of the rain. Your fingers peel them from your skin before tucking them behind your ear.

A deep sigh leaves him.

“I am, aren’t I?”

You both stop at the abandoned intersection. A red palm glows from the other side of the road, halting you from taking a step. You both could make a run for it because no cars are zooming the streets at this time, but you don’t. You feel the heat lift off Harry’s shoulder, there is something so intimate about being under the same umbrella on an empty street with him.

A sigh slips through your lips. You’re going to miss him the most. The routine, the secretive smiles, the tension. Alice’s words inject into your skin like a long needle. Do something.

“I liked meeting you too, for the record,” you say after a moment.

“Yeah?” His nose scrunches up as he looks to you. The traffic light above waves from the wind, a colourful glow lights up his profile emphasizing the sharp cut of his cheekbone and jaw. “It was good, seeing you every day at the cafe. Liked it—quite a lot actually.”

The sentence would’ve been fine as is, but the last four words he tacks on the end adds a double meaning. They put a tangible definition to the feeling that you both had been dancing around since day one. A painful silence settles between you two, it’s razor sharp and so prominent. You both know that it’s something you can’t avoid for any longer.

It’s a brush of fingers at first. Innocent enough to be an accident between strangers on the subway or two people walking in opposite directions on the same side walk. Then it happens again. This time his fingers slot between yours. The silver metal of his rings are frigid against your heated skin. You hope the relentless pattering of rain against pavement masks the boistourius thumping of your heart.

You think you’re imagining it all, but then he shifts his body towards you. His towering height looms over you and he leans in slightly. His breath is warm as it puffs on your cheek, a dizzying contrast against the cool drops of water that rest on your skin. Your lips slowly part in awe and his eyes immediately flicker to them.

The sharp tug he gives your hand is enough to pull you in a step closer, chests press against one another. The touch makes you tighten the grip on the handle of your umbrella, your knuckles become a snow white.

“This okay?” He asks softly. It’s a whisper, silvery and light, but flares a torrid heat in the pit of your stomach.

A stated latency is introduced into the wet atmosphere around you, it traps your bodies into a secluded bubble. His thumb brushes a long stroke from the diviot where your thumb and index meet all the way up to the tip of your pointer finger. The slow, tender pace of it almost makes you whimper.

Only when he sees your chin move in a nod does he press the tip of his nose to the skin of your cheek. You almost cry then. It’s a cruel, calculated torture for him to drag his nose from your cheek to your temple. Your fingers slip from his in favour to clutch the fabric of his sweater. You pull the threads closer to you, a silent plea to move his lips near yours. You feel his smile press against your temple. His palm rests on your hip then gradually slides to your lower back. Your lashes flutter momentarily before resting on your flaming cheeks.

His lips brush the smooth, thin skin of your eyelid twice, he plants a gentle kiss at the corner of your eye. He moves down to the apples of your cheek, the cupid bow of his lips lovingly traces the skin there. Your fingers crawl up from his chest and rest where his shoulder and neck meet. As he continues his innocent torment, the pad of your thumb traces the bump of his adam’s apple.

He brings his free hand to tilt your chin up, he aligns his forehead with yours. You both stay there for a moment while taking calming breaths. You notice his skin his warm under your fingertips and the rise and fall of his chest isn’t steady. You never put sugar in your Kirree, it’s always been honey for you. This is because the grains don’t fully dissolve and sit stubbornly at the bottom of your drink. As you crack your eyes slightly open, you see he has something golden on his lips. Shiny, sticky, inviting.

“Please,” you breathe.

His lips are warm, slick, and sweet against yours. You’d seen them quirked up in a smirk, in bashful smiles, in teasing grins. You wonder what they look like pressed so delicately against yours. The pads of his fingers dig into your flesh as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth. His tongue laps in just the right way—slow, with the tiniest bit of pressure. You cradle his cheek and follow the line of his jaw with your finger.

When you sigh into his mouth, he lets out a tremulous whimper. Harry was like a cup of freshly brewed coffee; scalding hot and tempting. The steam dancing above the rim would blister your mouth, but you took a sip of him anyway. You know when weighed, all the benefits surpass the costs. You’d rather feel him on the roof of your mouth all day than never at all.

His arms snake around your waist and hold you in place. Your lips part for the length of a blink, the glistening of his mouth is mesmerizing under the light of the lamp post hovering above. You can only draw half a breath before he’s leaning in once more. This time his lips are ferocious. The iron grip you have around the nape of his neck pulls tightly at the curls resting there.

Every nerve ending in your body is screaming, ablaze with the same intensity of molten lava. Your mind is swimming with too many emotions, you don’t begin to label what they are, it will be useless in your dazed state. Your palm presses flat against his chest, you feel his heart jackrabbit through his sweater. There is a tingling sensation in your palms that shoots sparks up your arms.

When you both finally pull away, he doesn’t let go of you. He keeps you close to resume his light brushes; his lips against your cheek, chin, temple. It’s when the tip of his nose bristles against the bridge of yours, your shoulders sag with a deep sigh.

“We...” the word wavers when you say it.

“Yeah?”

You gulp. “We missed our walking signal.”

The slow grin that crawls on his face says he is willing to miss a million more.

***

“Aww,” Alice coos towards her laptop screen. A dopey grin splits her face in half. It tells you she’s either looking at the current royal wedding pictures or reading another one of her romance novels. “That’s so cute, she must be so lucky.”

“What are you on about?” You inquire from your position on your bed. Although you had no complains while studying abroad, you firmly believe there is something so delicious about sleep in your own bed.

“I’m reading the Rolling Stone article about Harry Styles’ new album,” she says without turning back. He is her newest celeb obsession, you think it will pass over in a month. Alice has her laptop situated on your work desk that you’ve placed in the corner. From her position, her back hides the screen she is reading. “He said he wrote a song about a girl who he met in Tariz when working on his new album. Isn’t it crazy how small the world is, like we were there just last year.”

“We were,” you agree from behind a parted novel. It’s another Murakami novel. You woke up today and your fingers had a mind of their own when they plucked him off your reading shelf. Something in your bones was begging you to read it. “I’m glad you took me.”

Alice ignores what you say, she’s too busy gushing over the guy on her screen. She is speaking way too fast and going off in a million different tangents all fueled from her excitement. You think you hear her say something about psychedelics and sex. You shoot her a worried look and before you know it, she’s pushing the device onto your lap.

“Here, just look!”

The fans of the laptop start up and blow a gust of heat on your thighs. As you blink to the article pictures in front of you, your heart drops to your stomach.

“Alice,” you say breathlessly as if you’ve just seen a ghost. You blink quickly to help clear the image, maybe you’re seeing things. But the longer you stare at it, you become more and more sure of the face staring back at you.

“What?”

Sharp jaw, wavy hair, high cheekbones.

“Oh my God.” Your mouth is dry. “Oh my God.”

“What! What is it?”

You point an accusatory finger in the direction of the webpage. “It’s him! That’s him!”

Alice’s forehead wrinkles. “I don’t follow.”

“The guy I snogged from the cafe in Tariz!”

Her eyes become the size of Saturn. “No...”

“Yes...”

As the confirmation is uttered in the air, a stillness floods in. You both stare at each other, blinking slowly with blank faces. The suspended silence makes it harder for you to draw a breath. You see the gears turning and locking in place behind her eyes as she grasps onto this new piece of information.

The high pitch squeal that comes from her wind pipes can be easily mistaken for a hyena sound effect. “Fuck!”

“I’m—” Your face is burning and your palms have a sheet of sweat, but your neck and chest is like ice. You fan yourself with your palms. “—I think I’m having hot flashes.”

“I would too if I snogged Harry fucking Styles.”

Blood rushes to your face. “I didn’t know!”

“How did you not know?!”

“Because I live under a rock, you know this. I just thought he was another study abroad student like us!”

“This is so fucking funny.” Alice is howling with laughter. She clutches her stomach and leans forward without any shame. You can’t blame her though, if the tables were turned you doubt you’d react differently than her.

“Fuck, he wasn’t writing poetry.” The inside of your palm slaps your forehead. You feel a sharp throbbing pain pulse at your temples, so you clutch your head and clamp your eyes shut. “Those were probably songs, oh my God, I am so stupid!”

“Babes, babes.” Alice drags the pad of her thumb under her eyes to catch fallen tears. “We’re buying tickets.”

The pillow you throw at Alice lands with a loud smack.

“There is no fucking way I’m going to another study abroad thing with you—ever again.” Your arms limply flail about. “Look what this first one made me do.”

Alice scoffs. “You made out with a rockstar.”

The pointed look you shoot has enough strength to bring down civilizations. “Not the point.”

“Well, I wasn’t insinuating buying a ticket to another place.”

Your lips part with confusion. “Then what?”

“We’re going to catch his show.”

————

Don’t ask me where the city of Tariz is in the world, I made it up. Also all of the language is made up. So is the drink. Lol. Can you tell I didn’t want to do research? My mc is dumb, that scene in NW was ass. Anyway, let me know your thoughts? 

Thank you for amina @harrysdodgyankles for editing the moodboard

My wonderful betas are the best. Thank you so so so much to @drivingmekiwi @midnightcities @shelvesandwhelves @fireawaynjh

[creatingnikki]

Dearest Tavleen,

I think the fact that you don’t like onions is actually an interesting one and that you should stick with it when people ask you to state some random facts about you! I do think it’s interesting because I too have never come across someone who doesn’t like onions and I definitely love them. The fact that I love onions is material because I don’t actually love or even eat most of the conventional vegetables found in an Indian home.

I have never tasted karela (bitter gourd) or baingan (brinjal) in my life – and I don’t plan to. Bhindi (ladyfinger) is also something I have only tasted twice in my life – once at each work place of mine because my co-workers couldn’t believe it and peer pressured me into tasting it. Everyone at work finds it very amusing to hear about my relationship with vegetables. I won’t say it’s unhealthy because I do enjoy vegetables such as cabbage (love!), broccoli, white onions, all colour capsicums, asparagus, basil, kale, etc. Oh but I despise tomato! I just can’t stand it. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that yours is a fun fact you should definitely stick with.

You said ‘I genuinely enjoy knowing what people do’ and I know you do haha because I have sent you countless long voice notes explaining stuff about my office and what I’m working on. I don’t think people are usually interested so in knowing what kind of work others do – like they care about knowing their job title, the company and how much they earn – but actually wanting to know what is it that they really do, yeah I don’t think so. See, because of that and so much more, I have always told you how you strike me as such a smart, mature and prudent 19 year old.

(Guys, go send her an ask telling her about the work you do. She actually cares so you can get into all the details or just tell her some random facts.)

At 19, I couldn’t care less about what people were doing – even though I had no idea what decisions I was going to make career-wise. I would spend all my time watching Kdrama, writing poetry and sleeping. And I didn’t feel one bit guilty so that’s really saying something – I wish I could get back some of that easy-going attitude that the younger me had.

Also, the fact that you started your brilliant book blog – Travelling Through Words – in school (10th grade I think?) just further goes to prove my point. Can you guess what I was doing in 10th? Watching tv shows, indulging with idiots and breaking my own heart. I was such a smarty ;) But you know it’s not even about how productive you always have been – I think that’s a dangerous metric to respect of love someone, including your self – it’s about the things you say and the things you understand. It blows me away and it comforts me at the same time. So, for that I have to say thank you. I have another thing I must thank you for – for getting me to finally start The Love Project this year. If it wasn’t for you it would continue to be an idea in my head. Thank you for always pushing me to do the things that are right for me. I think you have a high opinion of me (or am I just making an ass of myself by assuming that? Haha) and I think sometimes I try to do the right thing to be that person that you think I am. I think I want to be that person too – more of her anyway.

About saying I love you and it coming more easily to you when you were younger…I relate to that and I don’t know if you feel the same way about it as I do right now. But for me I really don’t know what love is or who I love – other than my family and like a few friends, you being one of them. Btw, I love you too, Tavleen <3 I also think I want to show my care and affection to people more through actions and want them to do the same so it just doesn’t feel necessary to me as much. Also, I think love is something I’m more clear about or at least selective in a way. Like I understand now that I can have a good time with a friend and care about them but not necessarily love them. Does that make sense? What I mean is that affection and consideration and fun is all good but it doesn’t have to be love. And that’s okay. I think despite all my confusion for love, I think the one test in my mind is – would I die for the person I love if such a situation ever arose? And if I don’t even have to think for a second before saying yes, then yes, I love them. And as I said, I love you.

About the last time you felt your heart completely shatter…I can understand that. It’s weird but I remember being obsessed with Grey’s Anatomy and I had decided that I want to be a neurosurgeon. So once my 10th boards were done and I had to pick a stream – commerce, arts or science – I told my father that I’d pick science and go to med school post 12th grade and he said, ‘Don’t be stupid. Pick commerce. You are very smart but you won’t work that hard and you know it’.

As much as it hurt at that point, he was right. After taking commerce I realized that it’s the perfect stream for all those who are smart but don’t want to work hard. And hence, I think it wouldn’t have been the right stream for you anyway. You’re a hardworking kid who is very smart. It may have not gone as you planned or wanted but somehow life has a way of bringing us to exactly where we fit/belong. Be it place, people or career. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that or keep faith but I still do because like can you imagine me being a med student studying multiple hours every day for 5-8 years? Lol, I can’t so I have faith in the fact that the universe is looking out for us.

As for the last time or the times you felt loved, I feel happy that I could play a part in that. And that you have other people to do that too. I think there’s a trick with the little things and them mattering. It strikes me as a business concept. So two very basic ways that a business can make money is by – first, having a great profit margin. That means their cost to create something is a lot less than what they are selling for. Or second, even if they have low profit margins to have great sales and sell such huge quantities that it makes them money. I think with the little things to really matter we need to have many of them. I may be wrong but it just strikes me as that. And of course a lot of that does depend on the people in our life but I think a more powerful chunk lies in our hands. I think it’s building systems that bring us joy. Whether that’s being mindful and reducing screen time, reading more or building coping mechanisms, I think we just have to be intentional about our well-being and joy.

Of course I have a lot more to say to you – surprise, surprise – but this won’t be my last letter to you. The first quarter of 2020 will be over soon but we have 3 more. And we have each other. And I think we will be okay.

Love Always, Nikki

PS Expect something to reach you soon ;)

I wrote this letter for Tavleen based on some questions she answered (and I also know her personally. She is a dear, dear friend). You can check the questions and her answers here. 

You can check the other love letters I have written over here. 

[sidhewrites]

The Prince in the Wood, Part 5

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part Six.

Approx. 1450 words.

Content warning for a mentions of hospitalization, medical tests, blood pressure, and one mention of of underage drinking.

So I kept it to myself. Chalked the bruises up to an uncomfortable sleeping position, and the scratch something that I must have done by accident in my sleep. Of course, I wasn’t one to stir -- hardly ever had to make the bed, I moved so little -- but it was easier simply to ignore it. After all, it never happened again. I always made it to my own bed before I fell asleep, and Mary stayed up late with a little flashlight, reading or drawing or doing whatever it was she busied herself with long after I’d fallen asleep.

And life continued. Frail, fragile Mary remained home more and more, now a regular at the doctor’s office for all the tests they were trying to run. The doctors never found anything beyond the usual -- anemia and insomnia and, occasionally, low blood pressure -- but they kept an eye out all the same.

My remaining teenage years resembled something almost normal. I got a girlfriend, then broke up with her the week before prom. I went out to parties where some of the kids drank alcohol. And I applied to colleges, both local and prestigious, just to see where I could get accepted. Mary applied as well, but we all knew she’d be going to the nearby community college to stay close to home. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t make it into anything more noteworthy than a state school that offered generous scholarships to local residents, but it was still a good few hours’ drive away -- further than I’d ever gone from home without my family, and our trips had never lasted longer than a weekend.

The idea of so much change terrified me as much as it drew me in. I loved my family, but my life had always revolved so closely around them, and a part of me was desperate to see the sort of person I would be if it was just me. No crazy sister who’d run out into the woods and spoke weird languages into thin air, no fathers obsessed with security and locking us up like prisoners. As normal as our life had become, the shadow of the past still hung over us in a way I could never truly escape without leaving home.

Mary thought it would be a great idea. We were studying one afternoon, going over guides and notes for an upcoming exam when I presented the idea to her, and she smiled at me instantly.

“You could do anything you wanted,” she said, eyes bright in a rare moment of energy. “Join a rock band. Write a movie. Become one of those goth girls that old people are scared of.” 

I laughed. “Some old people are already scared of me.” I put on my best smirk a la Norman Bates, and said, “Would you like to buy some girl scout cookies?’

Mary laughed as well, and threw an eraser at me, which I promptly put in my pocket.

“Mine, now,” I said.

“Hey, wait, I need that.”

“Too bad. It’s coming to college with me, now.”

We both laughed then, arguing over erasers and supplies and forgetting to compare our notes. 

The day after the exam, however, Mary had another episode. She woke up paler than ever, dark circles under her eyes, and we had to rush her to the hospital. Alarmingly low blood pressure, with another bite, this time on her wrist. It looked like it had healed up overnight, nothing more than two faint scars on her skin, but there was nothing else that seemed connected to it.

I sat with her while our dads spoke with the doctor in the hall, reading opinion columns out of yesterday’s newspaper out loud. The IV beside her bed dripped slowly, replacing the blood that had been lost seemingly overnight, and she frowned up at the ceiling, only half aware of the world around her.

I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and looked up to see Mary’s hand reaching out to mine. I took it and gave a gentle squeeze, hoping it would ground her in reality at least a little bit. “I’m here,” I said.

“Promise not to forget me?” She spoke so quietly, I almost missed it.

“What?”

“When you go away and have an exciting life on your own. Will you remember me?”

I didn’t understand. She spoke as if my future had already been decided, as if she knew what I would choose when I barely knew myself. “Don’t say that. You’re my sister. How could I leave you behind?”

She just smiled sadly at me, and then looked up at the ceiling again, eyes misting over like they had so often before. Nothing else I said would reach her, and I gave up before even thinking of trying again.

But she was right, in the end. I accepted a place at the state university, and by the end of that summer, half of our bedroom was packed up in suitcases and loaded into a borrowed SUV. We made it a family trip, spending a few days in the city just exploring before I moved into the dormitory officially. It was a tearful week, though the city life seemed to do Mary some good. She filled out some, a bit of color coming to her pale face as we explored and sought out hole-in-the-wall shops and restaurants. 

I slept fitfully while we were there, nothing like the deep sleep I was used to, but I wrote it off as nerves. Everything was changing all at once, after all, and I hadn’t a thought to spare for anything else.

My roommate, Shannon, was a girl from out of state who was here on both swimming and academic scholarships, and she terrified me at first -- at least until she put up video game and movie posters on her side of the wall. She introduced me to all her favorite pieces of media, as well as the best places and tips on how to study without burning yourself out. We became fast friends, and I found myself more than a little excited, even when the day finally came to say goodbye to my family.

I hugged them all tightly as I could -- even Mary, fragile as she was -- and swore to write as soon as the week was up to let them know how things were going.

“Remember your promise,” Mary said through tears, her little hand gripping mine.

“I’m not gonna forget you.” I’d lost count of how many times I had said it over the past few months, but I still said it again. “I promise. I’ll write and call, and I’ll be back home before you know it.” 

She nodded, dubious, and hugged me again, before shuffling into the car and letting Pop start the long ride home.

I did write them, by the way. I remembered at the end of the week, and every other week after that for the first month or so. But school was -- busy. Occupying. I joined a club, I went to parties, and Shannon always had something to do. My letters and phone calls home became less frequent, and I thought about my family less and less. My sleeping patterns never improved, but Shannon introduced me to the world of coffee, and we spent plenty of countless nights awake, playing the latest games until dawn. 

I was living a life free of my old worries and nightmares, even going so far as to spend one weekend in the nearby woods with a few friends, close enough to a campground to be legal, but far enough from civilization that we could almost forget the world beyond.

Someone had brought an electric lantern that could flicker like a dim campfire, and we sat in a circle around it, daring each other to come up with the best ghost story. Everyone came up with the cliche scary stuff -- skinwalkers, deranged murderers, and the ghosts of their victims.

And then it was my turn. Everyone looked at me, and I froze.

I’ve never been that creative. I couldn’t come up with imaginary monsters that hunted us down or things that had once been human. That had always been Mary’s gift, not mine.

Mary.

Her name struck me oddly, and guilt began to press down on my chest. How long had it been since I’d given my sister any thought? There was so much else in my life that I could barely stop to think about anything beyond the university’s campus, much less my sister, convalescing in a bedroom hundreds of miles away.

Someone said my name, and I looked up, suddenly brought back to the present. 

“It’s your turn,” they said.

I nodded. I had an idea.

“These woods are alive, you know, and they have a prince. When the leaves rustle, it means they’re going to invite us to visit him for tea.”