#Frat!AU

[vivwritesfics]

Frat! Lando x reader ×Frat! Max like then being the typical fartboys but being overprotective and soft when it comes to the reader you can do whatever u want with it... I trust ur writing more than I trust myself with anything

It was only meant to be a small gathering, not a full on party. If they had known it was gonna turn into this, they never would have brought her here.

Max and Lando surveyed the scene. It had been three weeks since they told their little mouse that they didn't want her seeing anybody else, three weeks since they made it exclusive.

The label of boyfriends hadn't been placed upon them yet, but they didn't care.

It had been so easy to keep an eye on her at first. She'd been wearing Lando's neon coloured hoodie when she went to get herself a drink. She'd promised them that she'd be right back, which she was. Standing in front of them with her red plastic cup full of dirt cheap beer. Max and Lando stayed standing behind her, sometimes taking sips.

But then she went to get another drink. And then she wanted to dance. "Stay where we can see you," Max had whispered in her ear before they let her go.

Frat houses got so dang hot during parties like this.

Lando searched for the neon yellow of his hoodie. He found it, crumpled in a pile on the arm of the sofa. No mouse attached to it. "Shit," he hissed through his teeth and turned to tell max of the situation.

It was almost like she didn't want to be found. Max and Lando moved through the dance floor. They found her friends and asked them where she went.

They either didn't know or wouldn't tell them. Max and Lando couldn't blame them; the nature of their relationship wasn't exactly known and they were just trying to protect their friend.

But it wasn't helpful.

Lando picked up his hoodie fron the couch. When had she taken it off? And why hadn't he noticed?

The booming music, flashing lights and stress were getting to him. The sense of helplessness he was feeling hadn't yet reached max, it looked like.

"Come on," he said, sensing Lando's unease. "She's probably in the bathroom."

They didn't find her in the bathroom. In fact, they didn't even make it to the bathroom. The second they turned around they saw their little mouse, being led towards the stairs by a stranger.

The rage that consumed the both of them was white hot. Lando led the charge, his expression viscious.

"Hey!" He shouted, hand falling to her shoulder and grip tight, bruising. But he wasn't looking at her, he was looking at the guy holding her hand. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? Because I know you're not trying to take my girl upstairs."

They didn't notice her trying to pull away from the guy holding her wrist. "It's okay, guys!" She called to her boyfriends as she tried to lean into Lando. "He was just helping me come find you."

She finally got free of the guy and stumbled forward slightly. She would have tumbled straight to the floor if it wasn't for the way Lando was holding her.

"C'mere, little mouse," Max said gently. He removed Landos hand from her shoulder and pulled her into his chest. "Let's go outside while Lan works some things out."

She nodded but reached for the hoodie before Max could lead her away. His touch was so comforting, not like Lando's a moment ago.

Max kept her outside of the house for just a few minutes. He helped her to pull the hoodie over her head and kissed her cheek. "Is Lando mad at me?" She asked as she leaned against his chest. "I was just trying to find you guys."

"And you thought we'd be upstairs?" Max asked with a chuckle, his fingers scratching at the back if her head. It was so damn soothing.

Her face dropped. "I didn't realise he was taking me upstairs," she mumbled and shut her eyes, hiding herself against max.

When Lando walked out of the house, his knuckles were bruised and bloody. "Let's go," he said and led the way back to the car.

[spiderbeam]

congrats on 1k eve!!!! 🫶

🎧 + lando + 27 :)

🎧 — mercho by lil cake, migrantes & nico valdi

bonus: frat au!lando

You can still hear the music coming from downstairs as you stand inside the bathroom. It’s more muted now, but not easily ignored.

Your top is on the sink. Pretty, expensive, and now with a personalized stain of cheap wine bleeding into the white fabric. There’s frustration boiling inside your gut as you stare at it. It’s ruined. It’s unsalvageable. It’s—

A gentle knock on the door.

“You okay in there?” Lando asks from outside his bathroom, voice slightly muffled.

You inhale sharply, nodding even though he can’t see you. You start pulling his orange shirt over your head as you open the door, shrugging it on.

When your face finally pokes through, you find Lando leaning against the doorframe, eyes expectant. He smiles, dimples showing. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, averting your eyes to look down around his shirt. “So. I look like a traffic cone.”

Lando clicks his tongue as his eyes drop to his own shirt wrapped around your frame. “I think the words you’re searching for are thank you.” His gaze lingers, before returning back to your face. “I can take it back if you don’t want it.”

You scoff. “Yeah, right. I’m not going back to a frat party without a shirt on.”

Lando shrugs, pushing himself off the doorframe. “Suit yourself.” But then, even inside his dimly-lit room of his frat, you can see his eyes staying a moment too long on his papaya-colored shirt.

You tilt your head. “What?”

“Nothing,” he answers, a bit too quickly. Lando smiles at you, and for just a moment, you think you can see pink dusting his cheeks. “Nothing, it’s just… never mind. It looks good on you, I guess. Oversized stuff, I mean. Not that I didn’t like your other shirt—”

“I thought you frat boys were supposed to be smooth.”

“I am,” Lando replies defensively. “Or I can be. When I want to.” You make a noncommittal ‘ah’ before Lando tilts his head towards the door of his bedroom. “Whatever. Ready to join the party again?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Lando offers his hand, and you’re not quite sure why you choose to take it. You’re not that close—friends, sure, but less of the type that tell each other secrets, and more of the kind that can share a laugh at a party. And so, when you got your entire front drenched in wine, you expected Oscar to come to your aid, maybe Logan—but Lando?

He guides you out of his room and down the stairs with his hand still holding yours. The music beats against your eardrums. You can hear shouting from downstairs, alongside singing and cheering. Funny, how for a moment there your whole night seemed to be ruined—and yet the party didn’t even stumble.

By the time you reach the end of the stairs with Lando, the song that’s blearing over the speakers is making it hard to hear anything other than its lyrics. And yet, even past the music that threatens to make your head spin, you still manage to spot him across the room. The reason you got cheap wine spilled on you. The reason Lando had to come to your rescue in the first place.

Your ex-boyfriend.

He’s pretending not to notice, but you can see him angling his face towards you. His eyes drop to your—Lando’s—shirt, to your hand in his. And only then do you realize he seems to be talking to another girl, his hands on her waist.

Asshole.

Lando notices. “You okay? We can—”

You turn to him abruptly. “Do you wanna dance?”

Lando blinks at you, brow twitching. “What?”

“Do you wanna dance?” you repeat, still feeling your ex’s stare on you. You tilt your head towards the mass of people on the opposite side of the room, still holding his hand.

The corner of his lips curve upward, and he laughs lightly, but follows you into the dance floor anyway. The music seems to vibrate against the walls. Bodies bump against yours, swaying to the song. Your hands settle around Lando’s neck, his resting on your waist.

Lando leans closer to your ear. “I know what you’re doing, you know.” He’s looking somewhere behind you—you wonder if he’s meeting your ex boyfriend’s stare. You hope he looks pissed. You hope it ruins his night.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answer simply.

Lando chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s okay.” His eyes drop from your face, to his shirt, to your lips. “I don’t mind being used by you.”

the funny thing about this song is that mercho (song title) is just slang for mercedes lmao

eve’s 1k event 🎧

[disneyprincemuke]

where the fun begins, 2 * ls2 (ms47)

it’s friday: logan throws the party he’s claims he’s having just for you to come around, not even knowing if you’ll be attending

pairings: frat!logan x reader, college!mick x reader

notes: um im on my phone in school i dont have a word count and neither did i plan on making this this long… sry guys uwu hope u like it (i’m desperately running out of logan gifs pls help me)

biggest thanks to @angsthology for helping me out with the white man fight and smug logan because i couldnt, for the life of me, figure that scene out so thank yew baby :*

(f1 masterlist)

| one | two | three | four |

friday rolls around, two days since logan had seen you in the bowling alley with another guy. he also spent the last two days organising a party, completely last minute, sending the entire house into a frenzy to set it in stone.

typically, parties are structured and planned at least two weeks ahead of time. but this time is different.

he can't ignore the frustration that clouds his thoughts when he thinks of that night. or you, in general. all he sees is you wrapped around someone else's arms.

he's been watching the door for the past hour, curious if you had taken him up on his invitation. it's been two hours since the start of the party, and logan knows damn well that word has gotten around about their open house party.

it should have been invitational only, as they usually host their parties. but it's way too last minute to make it an exclusive party. so, they made sure word got around.

he knows that you know what time the party starts. because mick's friends have already made their way into the frat house, drowning in alcohol and pressed up against girls on the dance floor. he only wonders if you would ever come by.

logan folds his arms over his chest, smiling smugly as he watches the crowd pour into the dimly lit home. he turns to oscar. "see? i told you i could pull it off."

oscar stops next to him, hands in his pockets. "i got to say – this is the most effort i've seen you put in a girl," oscar teases, glancing at his friend from the corners of his eyes. "you must really like her."

"i just don't like losing," logan scoffs with an eye roll. "especially not to some loser like the guy she's with."

losing? no, he is jealous. but he would rather abolish this entire party as a whole than admit that to anybody.

"schumacher?" oscar laughs, throwing his head back. "he's not even a loser, mate. have you even talked to him?"

"whose side are you on, dude?" logan frowns, throwing his arms in the air. "there is a wrong answer to this question."

oscar rolls his eyes and punches logan. objectively speaking, he is on mick's side; for your sake. but in a friend perspective, he’ll always be on logan’s side. but even he can admit logan’s a bit of a dick sometimes.

"whatever, dude." he smiles to himself, watching liam open the door to let another crowd in. "it's a very well-put-together party. i'm surprised. where did you get the keg on such short notice?"

logan has this shit-eating grin on his face, one that oscar desperately wants to wipe off. but he can only step back and watch the downfall of all his antics. it's funnier that way.

"frederik knows a guy."

oscar raises an eyebrow. "alright, mate." he pats logan on the back. "liam’s hosting the beer pong. let’s go?”

logan shakes his head, staring at the door with his arms folded over his chest. “later.”

“staring at the door won’t increase the chances of her coming,” oscar hums proudly, patting him on the back. he pushes him through the crowd of college students and massages his shoulder as he tries to find where liam had set up the table. "and anyway, they're coming after pre-drinks."

logan stops in his tracks. "how do you know that?"

oscar steps back with a smirk. "lily told me. did i not update you on that?" he sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. "must have slipped my mind."

he knew, since the night logan plotted this party, that you and your friends would be pre-drinking before coming here. another reason you're apparently dragging your feet here is for lily – not wanting her to be alone in a frat house.

as honest of a guy oscar tries to keep himself, it doesn't remove suspicion from him trying to take advantage of her. understandable and respectable. so he told you to take your time.

"dude!" logan scowls, shoving oscar back. "that's vital information you should have told me ages ago! i've watched the door like a fucking hawk all night waiting to see if she's coming."

"it's funnier this way," oscar giggles. "also, it's because i'm dating lily."

"you're what? since when? why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"way before you started seeing her. but you're focused on the wrong thing, mate."

"i doubt that, actually."

"oi, beer pong bitches!" liam screams, his hands cupped over his mouth as he beckons for the pair to approach him. he's knelt on a bar stool to catch their attention in the crowd. "logan is up first for the public versus the house."

logan chuckles, slowly making his way towards the beer pong table once more. "are you sure? i'm undefeated, mate," he turns to his friends, "you'll never get your turn if i'm up first."

frederik grins, gesturing towards the rows of red cups filled with sizzling cheap beer. "we wanna see how long you last."

oscar giggles, patting his back. "revenge for making us scramble to put together this party at such short notice."

"and anyway," liam laughs breathily, stumbling into logan's body. he takes a sip from the red cup in his hand. "we have another table for the casual games by the pool."

"and i don't get to play at that table? how rude," logan scoffs, stepping towards the table. he spreads his arms out as he looks around the crowd. "any takers?"

there are a couple who try taking logan down in his own game of beer pong. but as someone who's always in attendance at every party on campus, he's simply mastered the game – how to distract his opponents when he's losing, how to throw them off the game, and how to hit the ball into the cups.

he's figured it all out.

the games pass by very quick, and logan only drinks a couple of cups out of the 6 opponents that are brave enough to step up to the challenge.

"seriously?" logan giggles, slightly intoxicated from the beer. he watches the previous guy walking away, greeted by his group of friends and consolations for a 'nice try'. but logan knows it wasn't a good try. he didn't have a fighting chance at beating him. "where's the real challenge?"

"i could probably beat you."

he hears a chorus of 'oh's from his own friends crowded behind him, lifting his head to meet a pair of blue ones. he sees you first, hands on someone else's body and an arm wrapped around your shoulders. his eyes land on mick, smugly grinning at him with a hand inside the pocket of his jacket nonchalantly.

"yo, isn't that-"

"liam, read the room."

logan doesn't notice lily threading the edge of the makeshift circle over to his side, greeting oscar with a smile. he tilts his head at mick. "you think you can beat me? i'm undefeated, bro."

he sees you whispering something at mick, swatting at him with a small smile. logan knows that look: the flushed cheeks, swollen lips and slightly smudged mascara under your eyes. you'd drunk a little too much during your pre-drinks.

and so do you with logan: the heaving, permanent sly lazy grin and slumped shoulders. you even notice the way he's already slurring at his words.

"mick, should you really be entertaining this?"

mick smiles down at you, squeezing you with a soft shake. "just a bit of fun. we're at a party after all. i'll keep it friendly."

"i know you will. but will he?"

"trust me?"

you tilt your head and lift an eyebrow. you sigh with a small smile, "fine."

"asking for permission?" logan scoffs. "what are you, scared?"

mick scrunches his nose, lifting his hands from you. "no, mate. reassuring her," he smiles. he slowly tears his jacket off of his arms.

logan clenches his jaw at the sheer audacity when mick turns around and hands you his jacket. he feels a wave of anger, something he's never felt before, rising in his chest when mick leans down and presses a quick kiss to your red cheeks.

this might just be jealousy. but it's an emotion so foreign to logan that he doesn't even notice it. in his head, he's just mad that he's lost you to this guy.

someone rumoured to have gotten into the school through his dad’s connections.

"you sure you wanna embarrass yourself in front of her?" logan asks sweetly, biting down on his bottom lip. "one more chance to back out, schumacher."

mick shrugs and steps towards logan. "all in, mate."

"just making sure you don't embarrass your little girlfriend," logan grins, craning his neck slightly and squints his eyes down at you. "you don't want everyone to see him lose to me, do you? you should advise him otherwise."

you don't even get a chance to react before mick steps into logan's line of vision to you. "don't bring her into this."

logan scoffs, eyeing mick up and down. he furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head. "huh?"

"let's keep this friendly?" mick smiles. he extends his hand towards logan.

logan's gaze trails to the hand held out in front of him. he chuckles dryly before turning away, earning another chorus of gasps and shocked whispers around him, walking over to his side of the table. "you know how to play beer pong, don't you?"

mick purses his lips together, retracting his arm before padding over to his spot. "yeah."

liam looks between them, drunkenly filling up the new set of cups with beer. the kiwi can only hope that they keep talking so that he doesn't have to rush with the cups.

"i can teach you if you'd like."

"no, i think i can handle myself."

"alrighty," liam stands, clasping his hands together. "enough yapping. play the stupid game, you guys. it's just beer pong."

logan remembers a time when you used to be in this crowd. cheering for him instead of some random guy you met in one of your classes. you should be on the other side of the crowd next to oscar and arthur.

logan doesn’t do great with losing. if that hasn’t been implied, he doesn’t know any other way to show it.

mick crosses his arms over his torso. “make a shot, reigning champ.”

“i can be generous,” logan scrunches his nose, pressing his lips together. “guests first.”

the boy across the table shrugs. the game doesn’t go by as fast as the previous ones that logan plays. mick was actually true to his word, knowing how to play the game.

logan’s drank more cups than he’s ever in the entirety of the evening. he has to take a couple of deep breaths, staring down at the table when mick hits the ball into the last cup on his side.

he lost. he… lost? how is that possible?

“good game,” mick smiles with a polite nod across the table.

logan scans the table, taking his last cup into his hand. he hadn’t even stood a chance against mick. he still had more than half his set on the table.

mick swiftly turns around, ready to approach you when logan speaks. “one more?”

“mate-“

oscar taps liam on the shoulder, his one arm around lily’s shoulders, and grins. “no, let him do what he wants,” he glances at lily, who is smiling back at him, “i wanna see how this goes.”

“he’s gonna get himself into a fight, oscar,” liam mutters, pointing at logan. “you know him.”

“let him,” oscar shrugs. “he’s an adult — he knows what he’s getting into.”

“one more?” mick asks, halfway towards you. “are you sure?”

“yeah. best of three?”

“logan,” frederik calls out, pressing his lips into a thin line and shaking his head. “mate. he beat you fair and square.”

“no, it’s alright,” mick smiles. “no hard feelings.”

“very hard feelings,” logan mutters to himself, reaching to the side to open a beer can to replenish everything himself. “you stole my girlfriend.”

liam quickly takes over logan, swatting his hands away as he fills one cup sloppily with half of the liquid trickling down the side.

the next game goes by even quicker than before, the entire duration flashing right in front of logan’s eyes. he’s lost again. at least, it was closer this time. it was tied down to one last cup. mick simply played his shot better.

in normal circumstances, maybe logan would have just taken the loss as one would. but this is mick we’re talking about. logan will be anything but diplomatic about it.

“you had me nervous for a moment there!” you giggle. you move your arm out to avoid spilling the cocktail that frederik very graciously mixed for you during the game. “i thought you were going to have to play the third round.”

mick laughs breathily, blinking rapidly with a hand on his chest. “me too. i’m filled with alcohol,” he laughs, sweeping you into his arms. he pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, lifting you slightly from the ground. “let’s go whenever you want to?”

“aw, mate,” frederik sighs, heading over to mick. “house rules: the winner stays until defeated.”

“no way,” you whine, jokingly tearing frederik’s hands from mick. “i wanna head to the bar and get another drink with him!”

“fuck this,” logan mutters, throwing the racket down on the table. he snatches the last cup on the table and glances over at you excitedly bouncing as mick swept you up into his arms.

he rolls his eyes, whirling around and heading towards the backyard of the house.

mick hums as you engage in a conversation with frederik, his hand still on your waist. “um, hold on,” he whispers, tapping you gently. “i’ll go check on him. he looks mad.”

you tug on his shirt. “no, he’ll be okay. he’s just a sore loser, mick.”

he laughs, shaking his head as he detaches himself from your grasp. “i just wanna ask him if he’s okay. i’ll meet you guys at the bar.”

you hum hesitantly, letting go of his hands finger by finger. frederik nudges you in the direction of the bar where oscar and lily are already walking towards.

mick steps out into the backyard, hopeful to find the blonde that turned his back on them. while he didn’t frequent petty fights, logan’s reactions are just very entertaining to him. all because he had failed to appreciate your presence when he was blessed with it and mick stepped up to take you out on a date.

and when he was hearing whispers about logan remaining undefeated at the beer pong table, he took up on the chances. perhaps the alcohol made him feel slightly competitive.

he’s ashamed to admit that he let his ego get the best of him and that’s why he stepped up to logan’s challenge.

“mate,” mick announces his presence, slowly approaching logan sitting on one of the sun beds by the pool. “i hope you didn’t take the game to heart.”

“fuck off,” logan mutters, dropping his head low. he picks at the grass under the bed and clenches his jaw. “what are you doing here anyway? shouldn’t you be celebrating with your girlfriend?”

“she’s not my girlfriend.” logan looks up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “yet.”

“seriously, what’s your deal? have you just come here to parade in my face that you got the girl or something?” logan pushes himself up to his feet. “i get it, man.”

mick sighs. “no. i was checking on you. you look like you had too much to drink there.”

“i don’t need you babysitting me,” logan shakes his head and folds his arms over his chest. “i’m a grown adult.”

“do you need some water? i don’t imagine you feel so good after chugging that much beer,” mick mutters under his breath. “you should really sit down.”

“don’t act like you care.”

“logan,” mick sighs, closing his eyes momentarily to let his frustration pass. “iced or room temp water?”

logan rolls his eyes. “stop acting all saint-like, man. i know you wanna hit me.”

“mate, i do not want to hit you.”

“for sure, you do. you just don’t know it yet.” logan shoves his hands into his pockets. he takes a step forward. “we all know you want to hit me. just do it.”

mick takes note of the step he takes, but stays planted into the ground. “i don’t want to fight you.”

“i know you do. the urge just hasn’t clawed at you yet,” logan grins sloppily. another step forward. “or are you holding back? because she doesn’t like messy guys and you’re scared you’ll lose her it you throw a punch?”

“i’m not holding back. fighting is a waste of time — i don’t like it.”

“she’s very conservative, dude, but she’s very forgiving,” logan nods, looking into the glass doors that lead into the house. he tries to spot you in the crowd but when he doesn’t, he returns his attention to mick. “you’re allowed a couple mistakes.”

“i’m not taking advantage of her like that.”

“i’m not asking you to take advantage of her kindness. i’m telling you that if you need to throw a punch or two, she will definitely forgive you. no need to be scared.”

mick laughs slightly, throwing his hands into the air to surrender. “i’m really not looking to fight with you. that’s beyond me, mate.”

“she appreciates when you let loose a little bit,” logan nods to himself. “why do you think we were going out all those months together? it’s not just cause i won her over with my charm, ya know. she’s got a bit of a wild side, mate.”

mick tilts his head, squinting slightly. he appreciates the extent logan is going to just to rile him up.

“if you don’t know that, then maybe she’s just not comfortable with you.” one more step forward. “i know so well a side of her even you’ve never seen before.”

“do you?”

“yeah,” logan answers in a low tone. he drops his head, one corner of his lips turning up into a smirk. “she’s got that perfect picture smile from a magazine, but you should have seen her when we went to this one party on campus.”

“ah. so?”

“do you know that she gets touchy when she consumes tequila?” logan perks up innocently. “very brave — she’s taken body shots before, you know. off of me?”

“okay? that was a frat party; of course you guys would host that kind of activity. i was there when that happened.”

logan ignores the jabs at the fraternity.

“kissed her yet? in case you haven’t, she tastes like those strawberry mints she always keep a tin of inside her pocket. they’re very minty, but it’s lovely.”

mick grins, pursing his together. “yeah, i know.”

“have you seen her in that one baby doll dress that she likes wearing a lot? what about her yellow sundress that barely covers her thighs?” logan pouts his bottom lip out. “it’s a scene when the wind comes by.”

“mate, you’re kind of crossing a line now,” the german chuckles. “don’t talk about her like that. i know you like her too.”

logan takes another step forward, eager to find that one trigger in mick. “do you know the mole she’s got on her hip? on the left side of her lower back. it’s really really visible when you’re fuc–“

“aw, fuck’s sake!”

logan almost bursts into laughter when he realises what had happened. his back meets the land of grass in the backyard, a pain shooting through his face. when he looks up, a crowd has formed around them during their conversation and liam is already knelt by his side.

lifting his head, he sees mick covering his face with both hands. he runs his hands through his hair as he looks down at logan with wide eyes, hands cupping his warm cheeks. “oh, my god. oh my god.”

oscar and lily pour out of the glass doors with a crowd following them out, the australian raising his eyebrows at his best friend lying back on the ground with a bloody nose.

“logan?” oscar asks, already knowing that he’s probably done or said something to trigger the normally calm headed man in front of him. “what did you do?”

logan scoffs, letting liam help him to sit on the sun bed. “i have the bloody nose and you’re asking me what i did? why don’t you ask him? he hit me.” logan points at mick as he takes the tissues that liam is putting into his hands.

oscar stares at logan. “really? you’re going with that?”

“yeah,” logan grins, glancing at mick. he presses the tissues to his nose, hissing when pain shoots through his face again at the contact. “god, dude. you don’t look like it but you can throw a punch.”

mick nurses his knuckle, taking a couple of steps back. “i know, mate. i’m not stupid.”

you stumble out of the glass doors, heaving as frederik keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. you were in one of the bathrooms upstairs — where it’s exceptionally cleaner — when mick threw the punch (frederik was holding your purse waiting for you outside the door).

when you made your way back down, the crowd inside the house halved. frederik would tap ollie, taking body shots off of someone, asking where everyone had gone.

and ollie, lying back on the table as he put salt on his stomach, pointed to the backyard and muttered something about a possible fight. “logan, maybe,” he muttered before promptly shooing you away.

you look at mick first, who has his shoulders slumped with oscar and lily by his side and is staring at you with guilt all over his face. then you look at logan, being nursed by liam and someone else, with a tissue and an ice pack against his face.

“yeah?” logan perks up with a scoff at you. “can’t pick who to nurse?”

@cashtons-wife @localwhoore @vroomvroomcircuit @foreveralbon @what-is-happening-helpp

[propheticbride]

Smile for the Camera

𐙚 Steve Rogers has taken freshly initiated baby frat brother, Peter, under his wing. And what better way to help break the boy in than Steve allowing him to help record a sex tape with his two partners?

𐙚 Steve Rogers x Reader x Natasha Romanoff/Peter Parker x Reader (tw: straight porn)

Peter Parker had miraculously been the only one to pass the seven days of hell within the Avengers frat house. Everyday a challenge was given to the boys who wished to pledge, every one harder than the next.

Not only had Peter outshined all of the boys, but he had impressed Bucky, an almost impossible feat. So when they had taken the boy, along with two other boys, in the middle of the woods and ordered them to down a 60oz and dive naked into the lake, and swim across and come back without puking, Peter had stood there, in full nude, smiling with the question.

‘I'm in right?’ despite shaking to death from the cold, he was grinning.

Steve, being the only one in the house from Peter’s high school, agreed to take him under his wing. It was either him, or Brock, but Peter happily agreed for Steve after looking the straight faced man up and down. Brock scared him.

Peter had come freshly from high school, on a fancy ass scholarship nonetheless. A bit naive, but smart as a whip that caught on quickly without needing to be told twice.

Steve and him got along quite well, and found several things in common. However, Steve found one thing odd about the boy.

It was no secret that the frat was a sex factory, even those with members that had girlfriends. So when Peter had accidentally walked in on you, and Natasha giving your boyfriend a blowjob, he admitted days later (when he could actually face Steve) that he was a virgin. Too caught up in his grades and dancing that girls and dating hadn't even crossed his mind.

That's when Steve got the idea. Albeit, when he was very drunk, bar hopping with Bucky.

Now Steve wasn't a sick guy, but when you have a sexy-confident woman as your girlfriend, along with having an adorable subby baby as your other girlfriend, things get pretty interesting inside his head.

Natasha needed to be convinced more than you did, her mostly being protective of you.

“I don't want her being exploited by your asshole friends. You already see how Brock and Jack look at her. How Bucky and Sam try to tell her dirty jokes when I walk away for a second.” Natasha had pouted. “I don't want them seeing my baby in such a vulnerable way.”

Now Steve wasn't submissive, him and Natasha both being equal doms in bed, but Steve had come to learn that it was true what they said. Women are wiser. And Natasha did own most of the brain cells, even in big bad dom mode, she was always reasonable.

Those times when Steve wanted to overstimulate you, Natasha would tell him you were already at your limit.

So when he discovered that his new baby frat brother was a virgin, his wheels began to turn. And after a long conversation with Natasha and you (mostly the redhead’s overprotective ass) he had the perfect idea in mind.

He spoiled Peter with breakfast, then lunch, and then promised him dinner after his 'present’. Peter was confused.

“You don't have to get me anything.”

“Oh I know that.” Steve nods.

When Steve opened the door to the frat and locked it, he instantly heard your sighs of pleasure. When Peter followed Steve up the stairs, Steve stopped him and requested he get the camera and stand from the main closet.

“What's that moaning?” Peter is visibly nervous when he asks.

“Left some porn on. Just get it.” Steve demands.

Peter nods and goes to fetch it. However, the sighs never stopped.

After his frat brother disappears upstairs, Peter sighs and claims the camera, quickly heading back up the stairs as the moans grow louder. Who leaves porn on?

He opens the door, without knocking, and nearly drops the camera when he sees the sight in front of him.

Peter had first met you a couple nights ago, when Steve introduced you and Natasha as his girlfriends. Peter struggled to comprehend the dynamic. Natasha hadn't been the warmest to him, but to be fair he watched her to be cold and distant to every other frat member, not excited that her girlfriend was being lusted after. Steve didn't seem to care, having his complete trust they won't ever attempt to try at anything, all having their own girlfriends and lovers at their beck and call.

But now you lay on the bed, your hands fisting the sheets while Natasha eats you out, her tongue focused on your clit while her two fingers plunged in and out of you.

Steve stands against the window, leaning back and looking at him with a grin. “You gonna set up the camera?”

“Y-Yeah.” Peter hesitates, quickly setting everything up.

“Puppy, how does that feel?” Steve asks you.

“Really really good daddy!” you cry.

“Yeah? Mommy’s tongue feels really good huh?”

“Yeah!”

Natasha pulls her fingers out and places both of her hands on your hips, immediately latching onto your clit and sucking it.

You cry and grind against her face, which she happily allows, beginning to moan to add vibrations to you.

“Steve Steve Steve-”

“I'm not pleasing you baby.” he informs you.

“Natasha. Mommy!” you cry.

Natasha begins to lick you out wildly, until you begin to shake and tears stream your face. You cum with a scream, and silently whimper as Natasha licks you completely clean.

Natasha pulls away from your cunt, licking her lips and giving you her fingers to suck.

You happily take them in your mouth, holding her wrist, and sucking them completely clean.

Natasha was wearing a deep red cami set, while you donned, or was once donning, a soft baby pink cami dress that was pushed up to your breasts, your panties completely gone, giving Peter a good view of your cunt. It made him turn red in the face almost immediately.

“Peter…right?” she asks, with an uninviting tone.

Peter nods, eager to please her for some reason. He then shifts his weight, feeling his boner getting bothersome.

“Steve?” Natasha asks. “Is he just going to stand there?”

“No. He's going to be a good boy and behave. Aren't you?” Steve asks him.

He nods again.

“Use your words.” she snarks.

“Y-Yeah.”

Natasha hms in approval, then stands up and pulls his arm closer. “You can touch her. But no kisses, or fingering. Or putting your mouth on her. Just touch her.”

Natasha then shoves him onto the bed.

Peter would be lying if he said he didn't find you attractive. Even at the most recent frat party, the night you were introduced, with you and Natasha kissing and her grinding you against her. Or the time you got up on the tables and danced ‘Can't Take My Eyes Off You’ drunkenly with Bucky’s girlfriend (in an appropriate way.)

And now, you were lying there looking at him with lust in your eyes, cunt on display, and spit gleaming around your mouth.

You whine.

“What's wrong baby?” Natasha beats Steve to it.

“Wanna feel good again.” you admit.

“Greedy girl. Natasha just made you feel good.” Steve shakes his head.

“I haven't even gotten to cum.” Natasha pouts.

Peter feels almost as if he's intruding on this moment. It feels sexual of course, but so intimate. Yeah. Steve and Natasha are your doms, but also your caring significant others who would do anything for you and each other. He stays quiet.

“Hmmm.” Natasha comes to your side, allowing you to roll over and meet her face. You exchange small kisses against each other, so loving, so soft. “I'm gonna ride your face. Daddy is gonna fuck you, and Peter is gonna rub your pretty clit. Make mommy cum and she'll be so happy.”

You nod and roll onto your back, making grabby hands as she pulls her flimsy shorts down, arousal evident on her panties.

Steve begins to undress as well, taking his dick out and giving it a few pumps.

He then looks at the younger boy, “You can undress too.”

Peter nods and begins to shed his clothes.

“Hey.” Natasha stops him. “Look, you seem like a good kid but I don't want to see you naked, and I don't think baby should either.”

“Alright. Just your boxers Petey.” Steve nods.

He nods, and follows Steve orders, removing all but his boxers.

Natasha settles over you, and before she's even ready, you immediately pull her down and hold her thighs. Natasha moans, a throaty and desperate whine that goes straight to Peter’s growing hard-on.

He couldn't get harder than he was at that moment.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Natasha cries. “You feel so good puppy oh god!”

“Feel good mommy?” Steve leans into a kiss Natasha.

She leans into it. She pulls back breathless, “So good daddy. Our puppy’s mouth is so so good.”

She begins to grind, you happily flattening your tongue and holding her down as she rocked.

Peter gets lost, watching it unfold. Sure he watched porn, but nothing was like this.

Steve quickly moved and slammed into you, catching him off guard.

“Go ahead and touch her Petey.” Steve instructs.

He nods, and quickly brings himself to the side of the bed, leaning against the soft fabric, hand immediately attaching to your cunt while he begins to run circles into your clit. You whine against Natasha, which causes her to pant and moan more at the sensation.

“Fuck. Daddy, she feels so good.” she cries.

“I bet mommy, puppy takes so good care of her doms doesn't she?” Steve rocks into you, not paying any attention to Peter anymore.

“She's the best girl. She's my favorite girl.” Natasha coos, pushing some hair out of your face as you suck and lick her.

Natasha begins to shake, rock and whimper fast. She cums with a slight squeal, as she rubs and pulls at her nipple to help her truly finish.

“Puppy let mommy up.”

You quickly shake your head and begin to lick up her arousal.

“Puppy I mean it.” she warns.

You hold onto her harder.

Steve laughs slightly, you never challenge him, but thanks to Natasha’s spoiling you, you tend to be bratty towards her.

“If mommy cums again, I'll spank your ass red. We have a guest over, you want to misbehave?” Natasha asks.

That quickly makes you release her, and she stands up once more.

“Rub her clit harder Peter.” she frowns at his fragile touch on you.

“S-Sorry.”

Steve laughs again, shooing him away before folding your legs up to your chest and begins to pound into you at a faster speed.

“Steve please!” you squeal.

“S-She's kinda loud…w-won't the other guys hear?” Peter swallows, not taking his eyes off your form for a second.

“Oh they hear. Her little fans are probably jacking it.” Natasha rolls her eyes, pulling her panties back on. She trails back to the camera and zooms in a little.

Steve cums inside you with heavy pants and a throaty fuck.

Natasha turns the camera off and closes it.

“Baby. Say goodbye to your guest.” she smiles.

“He's rock hard puppy.” Steve laughs, pulling out and reaching for his boxers.

You reach out and palm him through his boxers, he slowly rocks up against you.

“Fuck.” he swears in a low voice.

Steve and Natasha don't say anything, they know you love to please. Love, to please.

Like that one time when Bucky’s ex cheated on him, Steve had been able to convince Nataha to allow you to cheer him up, grinding against him with just your undergarments on, making him cum.

You quickly sped up, and Peter began to rock into your palm and you gave him a sly smile.

“Does it feel good?” you mumble to him.

He nods, you haven't spoken to him yet, and now you have. He was too dizzy.

“Yeah. Really good puppy-”

“You don't call her that.” Natasha hisses from behind them. “Steve tell him.”

“Nickname is sacred Petey.” Steve warns.

“S-Sorry.”

Peter cums with a high moan within his boxers, and you touch him through it.

“E-Enough. P-Please.” he begs.

“M’sorry.” you retract your hand.

A clapping of hands causes him to jump.

“Time to go Peter.” Natasha is opening the door and tapping her nails against it, a bit annoyed. “Baby needs a bath and then it's her nap time.”

“She gets grumpy. Both of them do.” Steve says the last sentence just to him. “C’mon, I'll see you out. I think Pietro is home from hockey practice. You share a room, yeah?”

Peter collects his clothes and is walked out by Steve, “Welcome to the frat house bro, lemme know when you want dinner and we'll go. On me.”

The door shuts, leaving Peter standing there, cum in his boxers, and his mind attempting to process what just happened.

[heich0e]

the hunt - frat boy!atsumu/f!reader (haikyuu!) tags: not NSFW but not NOT NSFW if that makes sense, inspired by this art by @/hlxtn, mentions of alcohol, typical frat party debauchery, college!au, greek system!au, reader is in a sorority, atsumu has a lip piercing and is a whore, making out, heavy petting, graphic depictions of graphic depictions, gratuitous headboard knocking, this atsumu makes me want to scream, word count 3k

The brief is simple: a scavenger hunt of sorts. 

It’s just a bit of friendly competition between you and your fellow sorority sisters, not unusual for the chapter president and the upper ranking sisters to orchestrate. At 8:00PM on the dot, everyone received a joint text message with a list of items to retrieve or tasks to complete to earn points—for tasks without a physical trophy, a simple photo as proof would do the trick—and once the clock strikes midnight, the participants who've managed to scavenge the most points would be the winners, and those with the lowest points would face a forfeit.

And finally, throughout the night there would be bonus points come up for grabs in the form of special challenges.

Like the one currently lighting up the screen of your phone. 

(11:00PM) INZ hookup - 100 points for a pledge, 500 points for pres, 250 points for everyone else. (11:00PM) Current ranking: 12/25. 1 hour remaining.

“How far are we from the Iota house?” you ask, leaning forward against the restraint of your seatbelt and gripping the headrest of the drivers seat in front of you.

“A couple blocks,” your friend (and fellow sorority sister) behind the wheel says in confusion, “why?”

You and a few of your closest friends had wandered out that night to amass points together. You were all doing pretty well, but according to the rankings that are sent out every half hour, none of you have even broken the top 10. 

And now there's only an hour left.

“Go there next,” you say decisively. 

“Are you nuts?” another sister smushed into the backseat with you squeaks, “hooking up with an Iota is…”

Practically a death sentence. At least socially. You all know it. 

To call the boys of the INZ frat run-through would be a disservice to the word. Their reputation among the other greeks is NOT one to be trifled with. The boys themselves, beyond being philandering, are more than a little rough around the edges. They’re known for starting fights (and finishing them) and save for their chapter president Kita, and a few standouts among the brothers, they’re not generally considered the shining gold standard of Greek Life. The Iotas are the direct cause of more than a few of the sanctions your university has imposed on the Greek system in recent years, even against Kita's best efforts to keep them in line. 

But still, that many points may just be too gleaming of an opportunity for you to pass up. 

There’s a party in full swing when you pull up to the INZ house, because it's a Friday night so of course there is.

“Do you see anyone else here?” you ask your friends as you step into the fray, raising your voice to be heard over the pulsating music rattling through the house. You’re all wearing shirts with your sorority’s greek letters on them, so any fellow sisters should be easy to spot, though you can’t make any out from where you stand near the door.

“No,” one of your friends says, pressing close to your back to avoid being run over by a few passing partygoers chasing after someone in a hoodie with a quart of rum tucked under his arm. “Hey, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Of course it’s not. But the last time you lost one of these little challenges you were stuck vacuuming the entire sorority house for two months, and you weren’t eager to experience it again. 

“How much time is left?” you ask, pulling your cellphone from your pocket. 

11:12 your screen reads.

“Around 45 minutes,” your friend confirms what you know to be true once you see the time on your screen. Your eyes scan the party, landing on a figure on the edge of the crowd in an INZ hoodie with a red solo cup in his hands.

And a terrible, horrible, perfect idea comes to mind. 

You unlock your phone.

'Claiming this task!' you type as you cross the party, leaving your friends behind. 

The President replies immediately to your claim.

(11:15PM) Which Iota? 

You send your answer without a second thought.

The boy in the INZ hoodie doesn’t see you coming as you sidle up beside him, so when you put a hand on the sleeve of his sweatshirt and crane up on your tiptoes to get close to his ear he stiffens slightly in surprise. 

“Hi,” you say into his ear to be heard over the music blaring through the crowded house, your fingers twisting into the material of his sleeve, “you don’t know me, but I really need a favour.”

And that’s how you end up in Atsumu Miya’s bedroom in the Iota Nu Zeta frat house, standing on he opposite side of the room as he sits perched on the edge of his bed.

“Yer tellin’ me ya want me to pretend to fuck ya?” he asks, a brow quirked under the band of his backwards cap. “All fer some… bet?”

“It’s not a bet,” you correct him (not for the first time), “it’s a scavenger hunt.”

“And I’m the thing yer huntin’?” he's teasing you now, and you know it. 

“It doesn’t have to be you,” you huff, your lips pursing, “and if you’re gonna keep wasting my time I can go ask—“

“Now wait a minute,” he interrupts you before you can even dangle the threat before him, “now that I know yer trying to cheat the system, whose t’say I don’t send a text of my own to that pretty little president of yours and tell her what yer schemin’?” 

“You wouldn’t,” you say, your nose crinkling up in irritation. 

Atsumu grins, and the piercing on his bottom lip catches in the light of the lamp that sits on the table between the two twin XL beds in the tiny, untidy room. You assume he shares it with his twin brother, though you really don’t have much to base that assumption other than the fact you know he has one. The room is a bit neater on the side Atsumu is not sitting on, so you infer that Osamu is also the tidier twin between the two of them. 

“Nah, I wouldn’t,” he laughs, “I kinda like seein’ ya play dirty.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You guys always seem so…” Atsumu goes on, waving his hand in the air vaguely. 

“Rule-abiding?” you offer. 

“Stuck up,” he corrects you. 

He’s not necessarily wrong for thinking it, even if it does irk you. Your sisterhood is one of the more reserved greek chapters on campus—elite even, if you dared to say it. Sure, the scavenger hunt you find yourself partaking in that evening might not seem it, but the fact of the matter is that you guys aren’t inherently morally superior to any of the other greek houses - you’re just better at not getting caught. 

Something that seems utterly beyond the Iota brothers. 

Which is exactly why you need it to be him.

“Are you gonna help me or not?” you finally ask, sighing warily. 

“What’s in it for me?” Atsumu counters your appeal. 

“I’ll give you all my precal notes ahead of the midterm next week.”

Atsumu furrows his brow. “We’re in the same precal class?” he asks. 

Your expression flattens. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” you grit out, “which you might know if you didn’t spend every class napping.”

“Wait…”—he purses his lips, eyes scanning over your face—“we have a midterm next week?” 

You feel something throb palpably behind your eyes. 

“Yes,” you manage to get out even though your jaw is clenched firmly shut. "God you're hopeless."

"Yer awfully rude for someone who's tryin' to use me fer my body," Atsumu says, smirking when he sees the way your expression shifts into one of even further annoyance at his taunt. He leans back on his bed, resting his weight on his elbows. “So, what do I have to do here?”

“Just… take your shirt off and take a picture with me in bed with you,” you say, though it physically pains you to say the words. To have to stoop so low.

He quirks a brow mischievously. “Oh, ’s that all?”

“And keep your hands to yourself,” you tack on pointedly.

Atsumu snorts, lifting his hands in innocence.

“You got it, princess.”

Just as Atsumu shifts his weight forward, and his hand reaches behind his neck to grab at the collar of his hoodie, your cellphone jingles. 

You reach for it, and see that it’s a message from the sorority president. You unlock the device to reveal the message.

It’s a picture of a door.

The very door you presently find yourself behind.

Another message pops up in the chat.

(11:29) Recruited a bit of backup! You’ve got a little crowd waiting for proof, just to be safe ;)

And then another.

(11:30) Current ranking: 15/25. 30 minutes remaining.

“Fuck,” you mutter, miserable at the turn of events - and your drop in the rankings.

“What’s wrong?” Atsumu asks. 

“There are people out there…” your voice drops quieter, your eyes flickering over to the door on the other side of the room. “Waiting for… proof.”

The information seems to process slowly in Atsumu’s brain, and his eyes widen as the facts click into place. 

“Ohhh…” he trails off. “They want a real show, huh?” 

“Sorry for dragging you into this,” you sigh, “it was stupid, just forget I-“ 

Atsumu catches your wrist in his hand, tugging you forward before you can step away towards the door in defeat. You peer down at him as you stand between his parted thighs, confused.

“I never said I couldn’t give ‘em one.”

Your face flushes.

“Don’t be stu-“

“I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he says, letting his grip on your wrist fall, “we just gotta get a bit more… creative about it ’s all.”

You chew on the corner of your lip. 

You really hate vacuuming. 

“Alright,” you muster your resolve, offering him your hand for a handshake.

“And ya owe me all your notes right up until the final,” Atsumu tacks on, just before he clasps your hand in his. 

You huff, closing the distance between your palms and taking his hand in a shake. You can’t help but notice how much larger his hand is than yours. 

“Fine, whatever.”

Atsumu is… frighteningly good at putting on a show. 

He turns out the lamp on his bedside table so there’s no light peeking out from the crack under the door, he turns on music like he’s trying (and failing) to drown out any possible noise that might make it out, and he rocks his sturdy bed frame into the wall in a steady, unmistakable rhythm. 

“Hey,” he grunts out on a particularly hard knock of the wooden frame against the wall, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Ya gotta make some noise, y’know. Yer gonna ruin my rep.”

“What do you mean?” you whisper back, still standing frozen just beside the bed, more than a little awkwardly. 

“Y’know, moan or whatever,” he hisses back. 

“I can’t do that!” you snap.

“Yeah fuckin’ right,” he mutters, and you have half a mind to smack him. But before you have the chance to, a strong arm circles your waist and pulls you down. 

You squeak in fright. “Atsumu!”

He has you pinned underneath his body before you know it, practically nose to nose with him, his hands returning to their place on the headboard to give it another knock against the wall. 

Your eyes have adjusted to the dimness in the room since he turned out the lamp, and you can make out his features even though it’s dark. He’s smirking, that little silver hoop at the edge of his lip caught between his teeth. 

“There ya go,” he snickers, “just like that.”

“You told me you’d keep your hands to yourself,” you mutter lowly.

“Sacrifices must be made,” he shrugs, and gives the headboard another loud, incriminating knock. 

It’s preposterous the situation you find yourself in, pinned underneath Atsumu god damn Miya of all people. Pretending to fuck him. 

How the hell did you end up here?

“Ow,” you complain quietly when a particularly rough knock makes the back of your head hit the headboard. 

“Shit, sorry,” Atsumu mutters. He slides an arm underneath your back. “Here.”

He grunts, flipping the two of you over so you’re straddling his waist and he’s the one against the headboard in his tiny little bed. His baseball cap falls off in the scuffle, leaving the strands of his blonde hair loose. 

“’S that better?” he asks. 

It’s not actually, because this feels a hell of a lot more compromising than it had a second before. 

“Ya just gotta push against the headboard like this,”—he takes your hands in his, guiding them up over his shoulders to grip the wooden bed frame, pressing them back until it knocks into the wall—“see?”

“Okay,” you murmur, still a little dazed from the sudden role reversal, repeating the motion. 

You go slower than he had as you get the hang of it, distracted by how close his face is to yours. How you can feel his breath against your mouth. 

It smells like spearmint gum and cheap beer. 

You lick your lips. 

“This more the pace you like?” Atsumu asks, smiling crookedly as he remarks on the tempo you’ve set, his hands settling on your waist. 

“Watch your hands,” you snap quietly, and his touch retreats as you stretch back as far as you can from him without losing your grip on the headboard. 

“You’re still bein’ pretty quiet,” Atsumu comments. “You really gonna make me do everything?” 

“What do you-“

“Ohhhh, fuck.”

Atsumu’s moan is so loud that it startles you, and you let go of the headboard to slap your hand over his mouth in surprise. He grunts a little as you pitch forward, your palm muffling the sound. 

“You tryin’ to win this thing or not?” he asks you pointedly once you pull your hand away. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, acutely aware of the fact you can feel the slickness of spit on your palm, “you just… surprised me.”

He hums. 

“I’d say we’ve probably sold it at this point anyway,” he says with a little sigh. “As long as we go back out there lookin’ a bit scruffy, no one’ll know.”

You chew on the inside of your mouth as you mull over his words. 

“What?” he asks, noticing your hesitation.

You swallow, reaching up and touching the side of your neck. 

“You should give me a hickey.”

Atsumu’s eyes go as wide as saucers. 

“Yer jokin’.”

You shake your head. “It’s like… incontrovertible proof right? It’s not like I could give myself one.”

His eyes search your face for any sign of deception. 

“Ya don’t seem like the type who’d let someone mark ya.”

“I’m not,” you say, suppressing a shiver as his pointer finger loops under the neckline of your t-shirt, tugging it gently to the side. “You seem like the type to leave marks, though.”

Atsumu leans forward and chuckles, his breath is warm against your throat.

“Yeah, guess I am.”

Atsumu’s mouth is hot as it descends upon your pulse point, lips closing around the skin.

“Oh,” you gasp, your hands tangling in the blonde’s hair without thinking as he sucks at the sensitive part of your neck. His own hands have settled on your waist, and this time you don’t tell him to remove them.

“Atsumu,” you whimper as his teeth scrape over the skin he’s been suckling against, making you dizzy.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs into your throat, his hands slipping up under the hem of your t-shirt where his fingertips meet skin.

You don’t say anything.

Atsumu flips you over, and this time there’s nothing deceptive about the way the headboard knocks into the wall. 

His hands are still up your shirt, his lips still on your neck, and your legs wrap themselves around his waist as you writhe against his bedsheets. 

“D’ya know why,”—Atsumu interrupts himself to drag his teeth along the edge of your jaw—“I was so shocked we’re in the same class?”

You shake your head minutely, your fingers twisted into the material of his hoodie over his chest. You watch his lips part in a smile, eyes fixed to that little piercing again.

“Because I’ve had a crush on ya since first year,” he murmurs, “and if I’d known ya were there, then I wouldn’t of been nappin’.”

Atsumu kisses you—finally—and you can’t help the sound that slips out of you at the feeling of his lips slotting against yours.

His mouth tastes like spearmint and beer.

His piercing presses gently into your lips as his part against yours, his tongue slipping forward to taste you too.

His hands grab at anything and everything they can reach. 

Somewhere distantly, you feel you’ve played right into his hand. You recognize that you weren’t the only one who had been scheming tonight.

On Atsumu’s floor, your discarded cellphone lights up with yet another missed message. 

(11:45PM) Proof received +250 points

(11:46PM) No idea you had it in you LOL

(12:00AM) Final ranking: 2nd place

You don’t see the texts until much, much later.

[jnginlov]

can i walk you home?

9. odd east

⇀ wc 1.2k

��� warnings maybe angst if you squint, reader talks about how they smell, two dorks who are both so awkward and so dumb but one more so than the other

chan had told you to just wait in the lobby of the dance building, so that’s where you are now, scrolling on your phone with your dance bag thrown over your shoulder. you had texted the skz president to ask which one of the guys was picking you up but you assume he had gotten distracted by his latest project as he had failed to text you back. chan had been the only one to take you back to your dorm previously but you couldn’t think of a member of skz that would be a bad choice in this situation.

you’re getting ready to text chan again to find out where your “buddy” is when the front door to the building opens and you look up to find none other than yang jeongin. you’re about to ask how he could get in, the building doors lock after 6pm except for majors or students in current dance courses, but he beats you to it once he spots you.

"i'm in the intro to movement course," he supplies nervously, gesturing to the doors behind him and you realize you must have worn your confusion on your face. he clears his throat as he glances down to your feet quickly, avoiding your gaze.

this is kind of how the boy had been for the past few weeks as you'd both grown from simply classmates to study buddies, rarely making eye contact and almost never staying still, always fidgeting just slightly whenever you'd initiate conversation or glance his way. similarly now he stands several feet in front of you with hands clasped and shoulders hunched slightly, fingers playing with the rings he always wore as he waits for you to, you assume, respond.

instead you simply nod, clearing your own throat gently before gesturing toward the doors jeongin had just entered. "are you," you trail off with a light shake of your head in a mix of confusion and question.

"right! yes," he scrambles to answer, head suddenly shooting up to look at you before he steps to the side and stretches his arm toward the doors. "can i walk you home?" he asks seeming almost nervous you'll say no even though you were the one to request the service.

"yes please," you answer with a slight chuckle and sharp nod of your head before taking the few steps to the doors and he shuffles along behind you.

once you're outside the building, jeongin takes one large step to his right, placing a few feet of distance between the two of you and you're suddenly hyperaware of the fact that you probably smell like a mix of the fading body spray you'd applied earlier today, several hours worth of sweat, and the ultra specific scent of the dance studio, a room that sports its own mix of not entirely unpleasant but strange odors. you wouldn't blame anyone for the way they might want to keep a bit of a distance but for some reason this is the only time you've felt this conscious about it, recalling all the times you'd been around lia or taehyun in similar states. you decide to simply blame it on the fact that jeongin is still a relatively new friend, if you would even really consider him that. you've only ever seen each other on days you weren't going to be in the studio or before you went, this was the first time you'd interacted after you'd been working on a series of combinations for hours on end.

"so where do you live?" jeongin speaks up, drawing you from your thoughts, and you realize you've both just been standing awkwardly in front of the dance building for a few seconds while he waited for you to point him in the proper direction.

“oh, i live in odd east this year,” you supply ticking your head lightly in the general direction of the usual path you take from the dance building to your dorm.

“that’s the green one right?” your buddy asks and you’re reminded that he’s a freshman, still learning about campus considering you’re only just over a month into his first semester.

you just nod in response, a silent chuckle leaving you as you both take the first steps along the sidewalk.

jeongin manages to keep the distance he’d set between you and several times throughout your silent stroll you catch yourself with an apology on the tip of your tongue. you’ve never felt the need to apologize for the way you’ve looked, or smelled for that matter, before this moment. maybe it’s the way jeongin is so obvious with his avoidance but as you think about it, he’s not acting all too dissimilar from how he has when you’ve gotten together before. maybe it has something to do with the privacy of this interaction, most students asleep or studying in their dorms, as opposed to all the times you’ve met in more populated spaces, the chaotic skz house, a busy coffee shop, or a packed library, that is making you hyper aware of jeongin’s behavior.

as you brainstorm about his behavior, jeongin is trying his best to avoid tripping over his own feet as he thinks about how pretty you look right now. something about how you look so relaxed and natural like this, in your more casual dance clothes and messy hair, has him feeling almost the same way he had when he saw you wearing his clothes at the skz party a few weeks ago. some uneven mix of excitement and nervousness that he’d felt brewing in him at the party, but now it feels as though it may tear him apart at the seams.

every few steps he glances over at you, partly to make sure you’re okay but mostly, to see if you’ve noticed the way he’s distanced himself from you, only to observe the determined, if not slightly frustrated, expression you sport. he’s seen you wear the same look several times in class or during study sessions and so simply chalks it up to you focusing on whatever you must have been working on in the studio before he picked you up. he’s tempted to reach out to you and brush away the hair that had escaped from behind your ear as you walked but he resists, stuffing both of his hands into his pockets rather forcefully and turning back to face the direction he’s headed.

his slightly sudden and abrupt movement catches your eye briefly, snapping you out of your own thoughts before you bring your focus to the path in front of you, counting the pavements as you go to keep your thoughts occupied.

you each had felt that your recent interactions outside of class had significantly decreased the awkwardness between you two, especially after the way jeongin had acted at the party, but with every step you took toward your dorm you could both feel the tension climbing. by the time you reached the front door of your dorm building it was obvious by either of your body language that it felt like you’d regressed back to that point right before jeongin had offered you his coffee.

“uh, thanks,” you say, clearing your throat as you reach for your key card to let yourself into the building.

jeongin nods, once again staring intently at your shoes, and you sort of wonder if they need to be cleaned, before he lets out a pathetic, “of course.”

“see you in class.”

and with that you’re closing the door behind you, making the trek toward your dorm, where lia is sure to scold you for coming back so late, and jeongin is left standing in the thick tension of the night that he can only blame himself for building.

ciwyh masterlist bonus next

taglist @peterparkoure @bangchansbae @chaotickyrith @napalmskiez @john-joong

[lnfours]

Dude frat!Tom is such a vibe. Just seeing him out on campus and having him immediately put his arm around you with such male ease/confidence bc he wants to close UGHHH

yes UGH pls i need him so bad.

i got carried away LOL oops

talk to me about frat!tom

you made your way out of the door to the lecture hall, swarming with the crowd of students as you pushed out the door. in the hallway of the marketing building, people chatted on their way out about which frat houses and sororities were hosting parties tonight and who was going to be there.

the typical friday evening routine.

you pushed the door open and almost immediately you were smacked in the face with cold air. you shivered, pulling the hoodie to the sweatshirt you were wearing over your head as you approached the tall figure ahead of you. you smiled as you got closer, noticing he was in a pair of sweatpants, a backwards snapback and his lacrosse hoodie, a cup of hot coffee in each hand as he greeted you.

"good afternoon, gorgeous," he smiled, giving you the warm cup of coffee as his other arm wrapped around you,"ready for tonight?"

"i love when you guys throw parties because, hands down, they're the best," you sighed as you let him lead you down the path that led to your dorm building,"but god i am so tired. these last 2 exams are going to kill me."

he smiled, tucking a piece of hair from your face as you reached the door, swiping your ID as it let out a beep, signaling that the door unlocked. you hurried inside in attempts to escape from the freezing wind.

"plus, it's cold outside. and i hate the cold." you whined and he chuckled as he followed you into the elevator.

"trust me, i know, you tell me every morning when i walk you to your 8am." he smiles over at you before taking a sip of the coffee, his glasses slightly fogging over from the warmth of the liquid. you roll your eyes and playfully hit his shoulder before the elevator doors open, letting you off onto your floor.

and once you were inside your dorm, you plopped onto your bed after putting the coffee down on the nightstand. tom followed your movement, climbing on top of you as your head hit the pillows. you giggled as he hovered over you, cold nose bumping into yours.

"wait, today's friday, right?" you asked and tom hummed a soft 'yes' into your neck as he moved your hair, placing a soft kiss on the warm skin. you shivered as his cold lips moved their way to the sweet spot below your ear. you tapped your phone to display the time, looking down at the big bold numbers that sat above the picture of you and tom outside the date party his frat had thrown a couple weeks ago. you were laughing, holding onto his cheeks as he smiled. the both of you so close and looking like you were about to kiss.

"megan won't be back for a couple hours, she has spanish tutoring." you smiled as he turned back to face you.

"oh really?" he asked, leaning down to get closer as his lips ghosted over yours. you scrunched your nose and nodded as you felt his hands move under your sweatshirt, cold hands meeting the warm skin of your abdomen.

"i've got a few things in mind that we can do."

"yeah? i'd love to hear 'em."

you'd giggle, his lips meeting yours.

"i'm sure you would."

[yundeob]

VARSITY. | SERIES TEASER

GENRE: fluff, smut, angst, crack, shit ton of everything

SYNOPSIS: Ah yes, your university’s undeniable pride and joy. The tbz fraternity appears to be 11 good looking, well natured and extremely talented young varsity boys, ranking first in all their classes, sweeping first place at sports tournaments almost every season, and throwing notoriously famous parties every weekend. Most of it is true, but of course, appearance isn’t everything. Deep down you’re met with 11 crazy, frat boys who love to party as much as they love to shoot their shot at dating.

AUTHORS NOTE: this will be an 11 part series featuring each member of the tbz fraternity with a story of their own. this is a work in progress, but if you are interested then please consider joining the taglist by reblogging or commenting below!

NOTICE: temporarily on hold, but I will see to it that this series gets done🫡

TAGLIST: @mingd1no @sctadf @noidnoentry @nanaheex @flaminghotyourmom

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

when the fratboy falls

fratboy!Jaehyun x tutor!reader

summary: Jaehyun is a fratboy with a notorious reputation for being a playboy, you have never heard of him. surely, he can use tutoring as an excuse to get close to you, right?

word count: 8.9k

warnings: swearing, fuckboy behavior, mentions of alcohol and weed, characters consuming alcohol, based on ages in this fic- underage drinking, mentions of sexual acts, a very brief scenario where a non-nct-fratboy verbally harasses/drunkenly flirts, confusing ages/age changes between members (just don't think about it :)), Americanized college described (I'm American), pet names (sweetie, sweets, sweeteart) in order to avoid using y/n, uhhh I think that's it, lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: oh my god this feels like it's been a long time coming, I hope you all enjoy the origins of Jaehyun and Sweetheart and grow to love them even more! Feedback is appreciated! 

This fic is a part of my fratboy!jaehyun universe but can be read as a stand alone fic! (it’s the origin story)

dividers from plutism <3

taglist! @luv4jeno @vvx3 @mmjhh1998 @bluedbliss @soheendo

@lovesuhng @i4kt @johnjaesblog @sunghoonsgfreal @leemoonna

@cbgisland @yowmaman @cryingforjae @nanaissour @kongjjen

You should be in a club right now, you and all your friends should be getting drinks bought for you in the flashing neon lights of a crowded room. You should be dancing like the girls in all the college movies with your hands up, tangled in your own hair, and dancing to the beat of the music pulsing through the room. 

But you weren’t there! You were stuck in the godforsaken library being proactive by studying for your staggered midterms starting in two weeks. You hated your professors for giving horribly detailed study guides that actually required you to work on them this early on. It was as if they had all conspired to make them as detailed and long as possible and to make them span two weeks.

Your eyes were burning from staring at the screen in front of you, the books laid out around you had barely been touched since you found the information you needed, and your pencil was lost somewhere in the pages of your notebook where you had been taking notes. Right now, your fingers were itching to grab your phone and scroll through some sort of entertainment, but you knew you couldn’t. 

You’d been doing so well studying for a good- wow, almost 3 hours, until the rowdiest group of guys came in and started making this experience even worse for you. They’d come in about half an hour ago and had been the worst examples of library goers since they took their seats two tables away from you. 

“Those guys are such a pain in the ass,” your roommate, Ari, mumbled under her breath.

Your friend, Kira, shot a look in their direction and immediately rolled her eyes, “Frat guys, Nu Chi. I’m not surprised.”

You peeked over at the group of guys catching the Greek letters on various pieces of clothing worn within the group. The ‘ΝΧΤ’ was was patched onto some hats, hoodies, and t-shirts- the bright green of the letters made it easier to see. You trailed your eyes over the guys in the group. Some look like they’d just woken up, one was asleep, another two were actually studying, and one was looking right at you. 

Your eyes widened in surprise, you hadn’t meant to get caught staring. His handsome face fell into a smirk as you saw his eyes trail you up and down. Your face got hot and you snapped your head back to the half undone study guide on your screen. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How embarrassing!

Jaehyun smirked at your embarrassed state, biting his lip as he stared at your panicked return to your studying. Thank you Taeyong for getting this table. You were cute, messy hair, comfy looking sweater, and tired eyes. He liked cute. 

You tried as hard as you could to focus on the study guide in front of you but the heat of this guy’s gaze was distracting you. You peeked up again, catching his eye and feeling your face get warm once again when his right eye dropped in a wink.

You looked away quickly, facing your friends and covering your mouth from his view, “don’t be obvious, but one of those frat guys has been staring at me for the past 10 minutes.”

Both their heads turned at the same time, catching sight of the guy. Ari’s eyes widened as her head snapped back to you, “that’s Jung Jaehyun, bitch!”

You stared at her like she’d grown another head, “does he play sports or something? Am I supposed to know who he is?”

“He’s just one of the hottest guys at this university. My roommate knows like four girls who have slept with him and not a single one of them complained. Apparently, he’s pretty good in bed. You should get on it,” Kira explains in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t be gross, I don't want to be another notch in his bedpost or name on his roster. I’m not like that,” you sigh as you begin closing up the books spread around you on the table. 

“I know, I’m just saying it could be fun for you. Don’t let him use you, you use him,” Kira offers with a smug smile.

You chuckle, gathering your things, “whatever, I’m going back to the dorm. If I read another word my brain will melt into mush. I’ll see you guys later.”

You stood from the table, your arms full of the books you’d borrowed so you could take them back to the front desk. You heard a chair scrape against the floor as you left your area and passed by tables of scattered peers also studying or at least attempting to study.

“Here, let me help you with those,” a deep voice came from behind you.

You stopped, turning your head to see that it was Jaehyun, the guy from the table. “Oh, it’s alright. Thank you though,” you smiled politely while continuing your journey to the librarian’s desk.

“Hey, child development books. Now that I think about it your pretty face did look familiar. Do you you take it with Professor G on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 2? I’m Jung Jaehyun,” He explained as he walked with you. Clearly, he wasn't at all put off by you dismissing him.

“That class has like 200 people, how would you recognize me?” You asked Jaehyun, sending the librarian a kind smile in thanks before telling him your own name as you walked toward the doors of the library.

Jaehyun walked with you, holding the door open for you, “I never forget a pretty face. But hey, listen, I gotta say I’ve been struggling quite a bit with all the materials we need to know for the midterm. You always answer questions and Professor G compliments your work, would you be down to help me study? Like a tutor?”

You came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs outside the library. You bit the inside of your lip, contemplating whether or not you should help him. On one hand, you really understood the material and you would be more than capable enough to help him, and you had some time. On the other hand, did he really need help studying or was this one of his methods for getting you alone so he could work his charm to get you in his bed? “You don’t even know me, I’m sure there’s someone you know in the class that can help you.”

Jaehyun’s mouth opens quickly, “But I know you know the materials. Come on, please.”

You shook your head, he was cute, you had the time to help him, but your pride was getting in your way. 

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Any other girl would have jumped at the opportunity to spend time with him, time alone with him. You were different, making him work for it. And he knew you wanted him. He saw the way you’d been checking him out. He looked at the trees, his eyes brightening as an idea hit him, “how about this. If you help tutor me, I’ll let you and your friends in to every Nu Chi party for free for the rest of the semester.”

You hummed, that was a pretty good offer, “but I’ve never even been to any of your parties. We’re not usually the party type.”

Geez you were making this almost impossible for him, “fine. You and your friends can still get into the rest of the parties for free and I’ll connect you with some of my older frat brothers who can help you with any other class you need help with.”

You hummed, that was a pretty good offer, “Do you have a math guy? I really need help in stats.”

Jaehyun, let out a quiet breath of relief, “Yeah, Doyoung is a computer science major or something. Even if he’s not, he’s a genius and there’s about 4 other guys who could help you. We’re not all idiots, you know?”

“Just you?” You smile at him teasingly. 

He chuckles deeply, “yeah, just me. So yes? You’ll help me.”

“Fine,” you drag out playfully, “I can find you on instagram to set up the meeting?”

He nods handing his phone to you so you can follow yourself. You hand his phone back to him, “I guess I’ll talk to you soon.”

The next time you see Jaehyun is at 9:48 on the following Saturday. You’ve been sitting in a study room nervously adjusting and readjusting the position of your laptop, then your notebook, then your pencil. Your coffee sits untouched beside your phone, face up to see if, and really when, Jaehyun will decide to message you and cancel. The session was supposed to start at 9:30, but there had been very few people walking through the door. None of which were Jaehyun.

You’d decided you would give him 10 more minutes and then you’d leave. You had better ways to be spending a Saturday than waiting in a study room alone like a mega loser for some guy you barely knew. A guy that was just trying to get in your pants no doubt.

With 2 minutes left you began to pack up your things. You knew it was too good to be true. Why had you even begun to think he was actually interested in studying? With the way he’d been undressing you with his eyes, there was no way he wanted to actually study with you. You were such an idiot! He was probably fast asleep, hung over, in his bed with a poor girl he’d managed to trick into sleeping with him. If you could even calling it tricking her- he was actually a good looking guy, charming, likable, and persuasive. Ugh! Why were you thinking about him like that?! 

You closed your laptop and slid your chair out, reaching for your bag when finally the door to the study room opened.

There stood Jung Jaehyun, red cheeked, tired looking, and out of breath, “I slept through my alarm. I’m hungover as a motherfucker right now, but I’m here. Did you just get here?”

You were frozen, “I’ve been waiting for almost 20 minutes. I was packing up to leave.”

“How are you not hungover? Last night was a major rager.”

“I didn’t go to the party,” You told him quietly, almost shyly. You pulled your laptop out again and pulled up the necessary tabs for the material for today.

Jaehyun stared at you confused, a slight hint of wonder, and another hint of admiration. “But I gave you free entry for the rest of the semester. You and your friends. I can think of something else to make this more worth your while.”

You deadpanned, “I’m not sleeping with you Jung Jaehyun, have some respect. I’m doing you a favor.”

Jaehyun flushed, his mouth falling open silently. He shook his head quickly, almost in worry, “that’s not what I meant. God, I’m sorry. I just meant that since you are doing me a favor and you haven’t exactly used any of what I offered to your advantage, maybe you’d want something else more your style. You can still have access to my smart bros, but maybe you want some food instead of the parties? A couple of the ladies in the dining hall love me and they give me food for free. I can pass that along if you want.”

You bit your lip, contemplating your answer, “It’s fine, the parties seem cool. I mean- I’ve never been to one, but I didn’t want to leave the wrong impression showing up hungover.”

Jaehyun flushed, suddenly very interested in the screen in front of him, he was embarrassed. Of course he made a bad second impression. He was the idiot that showed up hungover! “Should we get started?” he asked. It was clear you cared about school or at least doing well and wanted to make a good impression even when he was obviously thinking with his dick. Now, he felt like a total dick.

You nodded and began explaining what you had planned for this session. You had planned for the two of you would complete part 1 of the study guide, only a handful of questions and you’d review the slides used by the professor to help Jaehyun with anything he had trouble with. 

Jaehyun began to zone out after the third level of the hierarchy of needs. His eyes were zeroed in on the plastic cup on the opposite side of the table. The writing was mess but he could make out the order, a chai latte, oatmilk, a double shot of espresso, and 3 pumps of caramel syrup over ice. He’d never had a chai latte but it sounded really good. He wondered if the ice had melted own and ruined the coffee from making you wait so long. He did feel bad about that. He really didn’t mean to oversleep. He was proactive, he’d set an alarm for 9 o’clock, just enough time to shower, throw up, and walk to campus to meet you in the library. But at some point in the party last night someone had offered him a shot and as Social Chair, he couldn’t refuse. Well, he could, but he wasn’t known to unless it was his weekend to be sober and it wasn’t. Nu Chi Tau had a reputation to uphold, a reputation he upheld with pride. 

“So in the final level of the pyramid we have self-actualization, what this means is…” he heard you say, then he got distracted again. This time by you. The way your mouth moved to form the words, your lips looked soft, he wondered what kind of lip balm you used, what flavor it was, did they taste like that chai latte- WHAT?! Who was this voice invading his head?! What was this about unity and understanding you were saying?

He tuned into what you were saying, again, hoping his brain would allow him to stay focused, “since this is the highest level, not a whole lot of people ever get here. On the study guide make sure you add a note about only 2% of people ever reaching this level. I wouldn’t put it past Professor G to ask a question like that on the midterm.”

Jaehyun’s pencil scratched against a loose sheet of paper you’d let him have. “This is probably a really bad time to tell you I also forgot my laptop. Do you mind if I use yours, next time I’ll bring it. I promise.”

You sighed deeply, sending him a light-hearted glare, “Here. Let me know if you need help answering any of the questions. Let’s try to have part 1 done before we meet next time, some time during the week, if that works for you?”

“Yeah, maybe we can do Thursday before class and then we’ll see each other on Friday at the party?” Jaehyun asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could.

You bit your lip, mulling over his offer. His stare was intense, he was mentally crossing his fingers that you’d say yes. And god, why did you look so cute biting your lip?!

“Hey, I’ll be your personal host for the night. You obviously won’t have to drink if you don’t want to, I know all the areas that have more free space if you get overwhelmed, and I will see to it that you get back to your room safely. I promise you’ll have a safe and good night. That’s a Nu Chi Social Chair guarantee,” he pledged, complete with a hand over his heart.

You rolled your eyes, he was such a dork. “Fine, but don’t show up late to the next study session or else I'm dropping you. You can fail for all I care.”

Jaehyun feels his heart skip a beat, not only would he fail the class without your help, he’d also fail you and for some reason that sounded worse. He was definitely going to show up on time.

True to his word he’d even gone as far as showing up early on Thursday. He had completed part 1 of the study guide, and even flagged some areas he needed help with. You had been thoroughly impressed, even a little surprised. So to keep your part of the bargain you were standing outside the Nu Chi frat house with Ari and Kira. The party was already in full swing. The music was so loud that you felt the bass beneath your feet on the road across the street. 

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for this since our first semester to come to one of these parties!” Ari clapped excitedly.

You turned to stare at her with a look of pure confusion, “you did. Literally the first weekend here at school. You came to the dorm that night and told me you had no interest in men after a man gave you the ‘amateur DJ special,’ but you kissed a girl after and claimed to have fallen in love.”

“So I came out to you twice? Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked in shock.

Kira groaned, “both of you shut up. Let’s go.” She grabbed your arm and led you and Ari into the chaos.

Upon entering, a wave of musky funk hit your nostrils. A nasty concoction of weed, alcohol, sweat, beer, and BO. There were people cheering in the center of the hallway playing beer pong, a crowd of people grinding in the living room to r&b music, the sliding door to the back yard was open and showed people doing keg stands before flipping into the pool. This was just above and beyond. Every other frat party in town had crowded living rooms with beer being sloshed around in plastic cups, but this was a full on experience. It was as if they had seen every college movie with parties and brought them to life. You might never admit it, but you were even a little impressed.

You all moved through the bodies to the kitchen to get yourself some drinks and you looked around to observe those around you. The kitchen was strangely more empty than you thought it would be, but the party had been going on for almost 2 hours so maybe people were already too drunk to care about getting more alcohol. There was a couple making out in one corner, a group of girls sipping on seltzers all gathered around a phone, and a few drunk people snacking on some chips.

You sipped on your drink, not even noticing that someone new had taken stance beside you, “hey, I’ve never seen you around here before. You a freshman?”

Your face turned into one of poorly-concealed judgement while you studied him. He looked like a freshman himself, probably fresh out of the womb. He had cute chubby cheeks, wide eyes, and a shaggy hairstyle that made him look younger than he likely was. You laughed as you thought about his tacky line and turned to him with raised brows, “I’m in the middle of my fourth semester here. Are you a freshman? You look like you just left 8th grade, little guy.”

He scoffed, huffed, and rolled his eyes, “I’m in my second semester, I’m not some first semester loser. I’m not some kid. I’m actually almost 19. In 3 weeks.”

“Congrats,” you chuckle, taking a sip of your drink, “what’s your name?”

He flips his hair back with some weird swagger taking over him, “I’m Haechan, I hold the Nu Chi record for longest bender. Six whole days.”

Your eyes widen in shock and you almost choke on your drink, “that can’t have been healthy.”

Another guy stands beside Haechan with a can of beer in his hand, “it wasn’t. He also spent ‘six whole days’ in the hospital right after. You can’t keep bragging about it without providing more context. Normal people get concerned, not impressed, bro.”

“God! Mark! You kill the vibe every time I try to make my move!” Haechan yells before turning to you and speaking softly, “you should come to my birthday party.” 

The two continue bickering and you make your way back to your friends to refill your cup. An unfamiliar arm slings around your and Ari’s shoulders. You had expected it to be Haechan, a harmless kid, or Jaehyun who you knew and had promised to be your guide, but instead it was another guy completely. He smelled awful, a sick mix of weed, sweat, and Axe body spray. 

His words were slurred and he was clearly using you and Ari to stay upright, “Ladies, what brings you beauties to this shitty party? You know, Alpha Sig throws better parties, we got one goin’ on tomorrow night. You ladies should come by. You’ll get front of the line access, especially you.” He tugs Ari closer to him.

Ari cringes and tries to pull away from his hold, “you have no idea how much that turned me off. Go away, you smell like a preteen boy.”

“I can be your boy,” he slurs, his hot breath hitting her face. She wretches and dry heaves with the scent of his breath.

“Tyler, what the fuck are you doing here? You know you’re fucking banned. Get your ass out of here, and take any of your brothers that snuck in with you,” you hear Jaehyun’s voice. It’s surprisingly loud and stern. He speaks with confidence and command and you hate that it makes you question how you see him. He was just hot before but now he’s even more attractive, protective, and strong. Shit, what was in this drink?

You feel a sense of relief at the sound of the familiar voice. Tyler turns and begins arguing, his words barely comprehensible before a taller guy in a Nu Chi Theta shirt drags him out of the house. 

Once he’s out of sight Jaehyun turns to your small group with a much more relaxed voice, “I’ve been looking for you girls all night. Come out back, it’s way more chill. I had a pledge in charge of keeping an eye out for you, sorry he sucks.”

You all follow him out of the crowded house to the backyard and past the keg stands and to a small circle of benches where it is way calmer. These must be the older members of the frat hang out. Jaehyun smiles and introduces his brothers and they all apologize for Tyler’s behavior. 

Taeyong the frat president and Jaehyun’s Big, Johnny the Vice President, Doyoung the secretary, and Yuta the treasurer, which he was quickly explained he was forced to take up the role.

“I swear, the pledges get more and more useless every semester. The last good set was Mark and Haechan,” the one who had been introduced as Taeyong sighed.

Jaehyun goes to argue after rolling his eyes, but your snort interrupts him. Jaehyun turns to you as if to ask what was up. You shake your head, “Haechan tried to hit on me in the kitchen. Then Mark came in and they started arguing,” you explain.

Jaehyun laughs with a nod, taking a sip from his drink, “sounds like them.”

You all make conversation for a couple hours, laughing and getting to know each other. They share crazy party stories, embarrass each other with the occasional scolding to party-goers who are getting too rowdy out back or inside. They complain about their classes and upcoming finals, and in turn you and your friends complain about your own. You’re even able to make some connections for help with stats like you needed or the opportunity to look at some other member’s notes from similar classes. 

Yuta turns to you with a look of realization on his face, “hey, were you in the library about a week ago?” You nod and he continues with a smug smile, “you know, you’re like a living legend around here. You really knocked Jaehyun down a peg, first girl to ever not fall for his charm. Now, he’s actually studying. It’s amazing!”

You don’t see it because Ari suddenly falls from the bench, but Jaehyun punches Yuta’s shoulder with bright red cheeks. You and Kira help Ari up and begin saying your goodbyes, promising Yuta that you want to continue the conversation.

Jaehyun follows you guys out. He opens up the side gate and takes the brunt of Ari’s weight while you all walk back to your dorm building, which thankfully isn’t far. 

Ari nearly stumbles into a bush outside your building and plays it off with a, “I was getting you your favorite flowers, sweetie!” She pushes a crumpled pink azalea flower into you palm and you thank her while getting her upright and steady.

You and Jaehyun walk her into the lobby and from there Kira leads Ari into the elevator and she sends you a tipsy wink which is impossible to ignore. 

You flush with embarrassment, shes’s so obvious. “Thanks for walking us home, but you didn’t have to do that. You have a party to return to, Mister Social Chair. There’s probably some girl you had your eye on tonight, you could have missed your chance.”

“It was my sober weekend anyway and I promised to be your guide. No one else but you held my attention tonight,” he shrugs, “I just hope Tyler didn’t discourage you from coming to any future parties. Or even Yuta.”

“I got a personal invite to Haechan’s nasty 19. Plus, I think the brothers of Nu Chi would love to have a living legend in attendance, I’ll be there,” you smile while tucking the crumpled up flower behind your ear to distract yourself from his offhand admission of you holding his attention

Jaehyun feels his heart beat a little faster. It had to be the single beer he had earlier, or were crumpled up flowers always this pretty on girls who teased him? Was it the flower or could it be your teasing? He blinked a few times, forcing his brain to work for one of its intended purposes- speaking. “That one will be smaller. I’m not sure about calmer, but smaller for sure. Before that though, we have a couple more study sessions right?” He asks, changing the subject.

“Yeah, we need to finish off parts 2 and 3 of the study guide. The midterm is two Thursdays away, so let’s try to meet this Tuesday after class.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. I’ll have notes and everything.” He salutes you like a dork. 

You snort out a laugh, which he automatically files stores as a sound he likes hearing and wants to hear again. “I’ll see you in class.” 

He leaves with a wave and his hands shoved in his pockets. He walked back with a nice pep in his step. The stars looked brighter, he felt a giddiness he hadn’t felt in years. It was weird, but he liked it. He wanted to feel it more often. When he got to the party, he went right back to his room, alone, ready to bask in his new, light feeling. He liked this feeling, he wanted to feel it all the time.

You enter your room to find Ari passed out on the floor under a blanket from your bed and Kira happily cuddled up in her bed. You send Kira a raised brow, “your room isn’t even that far away.”

“Hey, I worked hard to get her here. I deserve this,” she huffs, setting her phone aside before she sends you a mischievous grin, “you and Jaehyun, huh?”

“Kira, I’m tutoring him. That’s all,” you sass back while changing into your pajamas.

She huffs out a humorless laugh, “sure, because Jung Jaehyun walks girls back to their dorms all the time.”

“He’s a frat boy but he’s not an asshole. We don’t even know he’s never done that before. You’re starting shit, Drunk Kira.”

“All I’m saying is, everyone else has gotten an Uber home or a pledge to walk them home. He didn’t even sleep with you and you got a personal escort while a party was still going on.”

You pull the sheets over your head, hating how you’re already over thinking an action that should be the bare minimum. She laughs drunkenly and you’re glad she can’t see the blush she’s put on your cheeks.

On Tuesday, you get to class before Jaehyun, like usual. You won’t admit you’re now keeping an eye out for him… but you are. You place your phone on the desk and pull your notebook out of you backpack and open to where your notes left off. 

Someone takes the seat right beside you as your brows furrow, watching a dried azalea flutter out onto the floor from your notebook. 

“Wow, another one. Ari wasn’t kidding when she said there were your favorites,” you head Jaehyun’s voice as he places the flower back on your desk.

Your face still shows confusion, reading the pink glittery note from Ari in your notebook. ‘Sorry for making you drag my drunk ass back home :( forgive me sweetie’. You chuckle, “Ari’s version of an apology. Sorry, hi. Do you always sit in this row?”

“Hell no, I usually slip in about 30 minutes late and find a spot in the back. Today, I’m hoping that your smartness radiates off you and I absorb it. In other words, whenever you copy notes, I’m going to copy notes,” he ultimately simplifies.

“Geez, no wonder you need tutoring for this class. Do you have a paper? Pencil? Laptop? Something to take notes?”

“I’m not dumb,” he states, pulling out a singular sheet of paper and a pen with no cap. God, he probably has nothing but those 2 things and a protein bar with his laptop in his backpack right now. He’s like a kindergartner. All you can do is sigh before Professor G starts going through the slides of the day and lecturing. You can see him from the corner of your eye writing when you writing and fiddling with his pen, twirling it through his fingers. You try to suppress a smile, you’re a little proud of him right now. Just a little bit.

After class finishes you both make your way to the library and you force yourself to ignore the looks being thrown your way. In reality no one is really looking at you, more like looking at the infamous campus celebrity following you to the elevators. 

Getting to the study room is easy enough with nearly every girl’s eyes on your study buddy making you feel anxious and self-conscious. Jaehyun doesn't seem to notice though, and goes about getting out his laptop as normal. For the first few minutes of your session you both input new material into the study guides. Then you get into his confusion on the questions.

You begin to explain some ecological something he had flagged and all Jaehyun can think is, “why does child development have so many shapes?”

Your eyes widen in shock, your mouth opening to respond before you burst into a fit of laughter, using your hands to muffle the sound. Jaehyun smiles at the sound, something about you is growing on him, making him feel things he hasn’t felt since his high school girlfriend. Fuck.

You smile, simplifying this theory for him before you calm down. “Can I ask you something?”

He nods, “of course.” He finishes up typing his notes, writing them in the way you explained because you made it so much easier for him to understand. 

“Why are you taking a child development class? This doesn’t really seem like your thing.”

“It fulfills one of my general requirements. My first and second choice were filled up, and Taeyong is an education major. He convinced me to take it, so here I am.”

“So you do have someone else to help you study…” you trail off, “why ask me? Taeyong is probably more knowledgeable about this than I am.”

He clears his throat, looking away from you, “he’s really busy. Making lesson plans and making us act like students.” He doesn’t want to tell you that it was because you were cuter and prettier. That when he first met you he wanted to sleep with you, but now you make him feel feelings he’d buried deep, deep down. Plus, Taeyong was actually very strict when he tutored Jaehyun. He didn’t let Jaehyun get distracted, snapped in his face, corrected all his work too closely. He scared Jaehyun when he was in teacher mode.

“Okay, one more question. So you told us on Friday that you had a pledge keep an eye out for me, Ari, and Kira. How would a pledge know what I looked like?”

Jaehyun blushes, his cheeks feel hot, he starts mumbling, “gave him a general description of you or whatever.”

You lean in, poking his cheek, it’s soft, “you’re lying. Did you make him stalk me or something? Did he stand outside one of my classes? This has been haunting me.”

He laughs at your exaggeration, “haunting you? No, he didn’t stalk you or follow you. I uh, I sent him a screenshot of one of your Instagram posts.”

You tried and failed to suppress a smile, your own face getting hot now, “so you have a picture of me saved on your phone? Which picture did you pick? I have some pictures of me at the beach-”

Jaehyun perks up, “really? I haven’t seen those yet. Are they recent?” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens Instagram. 

You snatch his phone from his hand, “don’t make it weird, pervert. I was just starting to like you. Seriously though, which picture was it?”

He shakes his head with a smile, “it was a picture of you with Ari and Kira, so he knew what all of you looked like. Is that a good enough answer? Give me my phone back.” He’s choosing to save you the embarrassment by ignoring the fact that you had just admitted you liked him.

You slide the phone back with your eyes narrowed, assessing him. “Fine. Let’s finish part two, we only have a few questions left.”

When you see him next, it’s one week before the midterm. You’re sitting in your usual seat in the auditorium with your notebook out waiting for Professor G to come in. Ari is texting you about some cute guy she saw. Kira is sending you memes about dogs. Your phone has all your attention.

Jaehyun comes in, five minutes early, making his way down the aisle to the empty seat beside you. He smiles awkwardly and apologetically as people move their backpacks out of the way and send him enamored smiles.

He plops into the seat beside you unceremoniously and loudly. You send him a look that shows him you are far beyond unimpressed by his lack of decorum. Then he sets something on your desk. 

“What is this for?” You ask with your brows raised. 

He shrugs, keeping himself busy by pulling out whatever he needs to take notes. “It’s a flower, sweetheart. Isn’t it obvious?”

“I know what it is, asshole. Why is it on my desk?” You ask bluntly. From anyone else ‘sweetheart’ would be condescending, but you like hearing his voice say it. Ew.

“I was walking to class and it flew in front of my face. I stomped all over it, danced on it, spit on it, and then I thought it would be nice to give to you.” He answers with a casual shrug of his shoulders, his eyes locked on the huge projector screen while everyone waits for the professor to set up the slides.

You push his shoulder playfully, preparing to reply but class starts. He lied again. The flowers don’t fly off anything because the bushes they grow on are too low to the ground. He didn’t stomp on it because it was perfectly in tact. It was round and the color was vibrant with no wilted petals. He had picked it just for you. 

You study him in your peripheral, a soft look on your face which you’re glad he can’t see since he’s busy taking notes. You force yourself to pay attention, tucking the flower behind your ear before catching up on the slides you’d missed.

Jaehyun catches a blur of pink, out of the corner of his eye he can see you tucking the flower behind your ear. He feels himself blush, and suddenly isn’t so mad that he took the long way to class just to find you that flower. They might be his favorite flower now too.

It’s the Tuesday before your child development midterm and Jaehyun is waiting for you in the study room he’s booked. Class was cancelled today, it was the least Professor G could do after giving you all so much material to cover. It was 10:16 and Jaehyun was feeling weird. You were always early or at the very least on time, and you weren’t here yet. He scrolled through your DMs to be sure you had both agreed to meet at ten, and there it was, ‘See you at 10 :)’ 

He was busy typing out a message to you when you came into the room. You were panting, hair a mess, and an oversized, comfy looking sweater, and tired eyes. You looked just like you did the first time Jaehyun saw you and felt his breath hitch in his throat. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late. My 9 o’clock class ran over, because there was a surprise essay addition to the midterm. I didn’t think I was going to take all the time the professor gave us because I studied all night for this midterm and I knew what I was doing, but the essay threw me for a loop. I’m an anxious test take as is so the essay ruined all the calmness I had built up and-” your ramble is cut short. 

Jaehyun places his hands on your shoulders. He squeezes them lightly, “Breathe, sweetheart.” He makes a show of breathing in and out until you nod, showing him you’re fine. 

“Sorry, I feel bad for running late. Are you good? Have you been waiting long?” You ask in a much more relaxed voice.

Jaehyun waves you off with a nonchalant wave of his hand, “I’m good. I only have a few questions for part three so this won’t take up much of your time and you can get back to your place and relax. But now I’m wondering if I should give you this…” He holds up a familiar plastic cup, the contents looking like the perfect shade of brown you hadn’t consumed this morning. Your mouth waters and you reach for the cup, but Jaehyun pulls it out of your reach. “Promise me, the caffeine isn’t going to make you more anxious. I don’t want to be held responsible if you have a panic attack later.”

“Please, Jaehyun,” you whine, “I need coffee.”

He smirks, handing you the cup and watching as you take a drink from the straw eagerly. Your brows furrow in confusion. You expected some vanilla latte, or a caramel coffee of some kind. Instead, you taste your usual order. You taste your iced chai latte with oatmilk, double shot of espresso, and 3 pumps of caramel syrup.

“Did Ari tell you my order?” You ask with pure curiosity.

“I remember your order from our first study session. It’s actually really good.” He tells you casually, taking a long drink from his own straw.

“You remember my order from our first study session almost two weeks ago?” You can feel your heartbeat getting faster, and it’s not the caffeine. 

“I was tired and hungover, and you were talking about the pyramid thing and my brain couldn’t focus. So I focused on your cup instead. Are we studying or what?”

“Alright, yeah. Thank you, for waiting and for the coffee,” you reply.

He smiles at you, a soft smile that some part of your brain interprets as an affectionate smile for some reason, “no problem.”

You both get through the study guide, flipping through notes and making it easier to understand. 

Before you know it, the study session is over and the midterm comes even faster. 

Jaehyun sends you a wink, holding his knuckles out for a fist bump. His voice is a quiet whisper as the rest of the class gets the test and gets started, “you got this, sweetheart.”

You feel your heart soar, you want to get up and do a happy dance. There’s just too much giddiness in our body right now. Instead you settle for, “you too.”

This was supposed to be a smaller party? The music is louder, you can hear people shouting, cheering, and the sound of people jumping in the pool. Now the card you brought feels dumb. You barely know Haechan anyway. Why did you come?

“I can hear your thoughts, sweets. We’re already here, we’re going to have a good time. Let’s go,” Ari tells you. She knows you too well. 

You don’t argue and let her and Kira guide you into the house. It is smaller, it’s less crowded than the first Nu Chi party you came to, but still full. There’s more room to move around the party, it smells less like BO and thankfully, no sign of anyone from Alpha Sig. 

Ari leads you all back to the kitchen, a familiar routine of starting your night with some alcohol. Jungle juice probably. Some kind of mix of alcohol and juices that will give you an awful hangover if you drink enough of it. 

“You came!” A voice screeches before someone embraces you. “I knew, Mark hadn’t ruined my chances. God he’s an idiot, but you came, for me.”

“Get off her, you little weirdo,” you hear Jaehyun before Haechan is pulled off you. Jaehyun holds him by the back of his shirt and Haechan tries to fight it. 

You laugh, reaching in to hug Haechan, he’s a cutie. “You invited us, I also,” you grab the card you’d set on the counter and hand it to him, “got you this.”

“For me?!” His eyes light up.

“It’s just a gift card. I wasn’t sure what you liked but I don’t like to show up on people’s birthdays empty handed. So uh, happy birthday,” you smile awkwardly, leaning in to give him another quick hug.

Jaehyun grunts, pulling Haechan back when he snakes his arms around you for too long. Haechan begins to whine and argue but quiets down when Jaehyun sends him a look of warning. Jaehyun loops an arm around your shoulders, “Ari and Kira are already out back, come on.” 

You let Jaehyun guide you out of the house again, let his arm fall from your shoulders to your waist. You like him being so close, wrapped around you like this. You like him being protective, a little possessive, and shit- you think you might like him. 

The same guys greet you in the same spot as last time. This time, Yuta and Johnny are drunker than the last party. “It’s Sweets!” Johnny cheers and you shoot your friends a blank look. That was a nickname from them, so he’d obviously gotten it from them. A nickname you felt neutral about in your small group since it was kind of cute. You were unsure of its origins but you were almost certain it came from a late night snack run you all made during your first hang out. Everyone got their own snacks that night, but you were the only one to leave with an armload of sweet snacks. 

“It’s nice to see you again. With Jaehyun,” Yuta smiles mischievously. 

Jaehyun’s arm drops from your waist and you miss the warmth it provided, the feeling of security, safety. You take a drink of the cup in your hand, hoping that the alcohol will help distract from the weird empty feeling you suddenly have. You sit beside Kira and join the conversation, letting the stress of midterms leave you while you vent and listen to everyone else rant about the tests, projects, and professors. 

You eventually come to the bottom of your cup and get up, offering to get anyone else a drink too. Taeyong joins you on your way back to the kitchen. You reach for the ladle in the giant bowl of jungle juice, already feeling a slight buzz from your first cup. Taeyong stops and chats with some people on the far side of the kitchen. A group of girls come into the kitchen and begin talking while grabbing beers. 

“I don’t know, it’s kind of weird to be here and not be hit on by him you know? It’s been pretty consistent at every party. Tonight I was going to finally give in,” one girl sighs.

“Girl, I think that ship has sailed. He’s been seen with the same girl for a few weeks now. I tried to hit on him at the last party and he shut me down completely,” her friends responds.

“You’re lying, bitch. Jung Jaehyun tied down? There’s no way!” A third girl exclaims after choking on her drink.

Suddenly you want to choke too. Your throat tightens up and fuck- you’d been so stupid to think that you could be anything special to him. Why would a guy like Jung Jaehyun go after you when he could have anyone else? It’s not like you had ever shown him you were going to give into his flirting, of course he would be done with you now. He asked you to tutor him, you had tutored him and he got what he wanted. It makes sense that he got what he wanted, not the sex, and had someone else that matched him better than you. Why would he have wanted anything deeper than tutoring and maybe friendship with you?

Your hands start to shake and tears fill your eyes making everything hard to see. You leave your cup on the counter and turn to walk out of the kitchen, out of the house, away from him. You want to go home and forget you ever fell for Jaehyun and forget that you were ever stupid enough to think he could actually like you back. Fuck!

You make your way through the living room and out the front door, feeling only a sliver of relief when the fresh air hits your face again. You feel someone grab your wrist and go to pull away, but it’s Taeyong. He looks concerned as he studies your tear filled eyes. “You’re not going home alone like this, just- wait here, I’m gonna go tell the guys that I’m taking you home,” he instructs. You nod, glad he didn’t ask any questions because your throat feels tight. If he were to ask you anything else you knew you would burst out into tears.

There’s no one out front as you wipe your tears. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you exhale. You were fine. It was all going to be fine. You were fine before you even knew who he was, and you were going to continue being fine now, after him. 

You can hear the side gate of the house open and shut, it must be Taeyong. You walk down the front steps and make it halfway to the gate before stopping, it’s not Taeyong. It’s Jaehyun and he looks worried. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He asks, looking the slightest bit distressed.

You roll your eyes and turn on your heels, not even gracing him with a response. You can make it home alone. Ari and Kira have your location, you’ll text them when you get home. It’s not even that far. It’s fine. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Just- talk to me. What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asks, his hand wrapping around your forearm and turning you to face him.

You wanted to make this a clean break. You just wanted to leave and forget you ever met him. Leave and forget you ever fell for him, but since he’s asking. “Why didn’t you tell me? Huh?”

Jaehyun’s brows pinch together trying to figure out what you’re talking about, had one of the guys told you that he liked you. Those fuckers, fine, he could confess now, “Look, I’m sorry they told you. I was trying to gather the courage and make sure my feelings were genuine before I told you. They are, of course, but I don’t know- it’s been a while since I’ve felt this way for anyone and I was nervous.”

You can feel the tears coming back, “And she knows how you treat other girls? She knows that you walk them home, get the flowers, memorize their coffee orders, and introduce them to your friends. You could have at least been honest with me! I told you from the beginning! I told you from the very beginning I wasn’t going to sleep with you. All I asked for was your respect, but I won’t be the girl you cheat on your girlfriend with. I deserve more than that. I don’t even know the poor girl, but she deserves more too.” You hadn’t even realized you’d gotten so close to him. Your finger was touching his chest and you breathed heavily, a few tears escaping your eyes.

His hand came up to hold yours, pulling your hand away from his chest while keeping your hand in his own, “At the risk of sounding like a dick, who is she?”

You pull your hand out of his hold, before throwing them up in frustration, “your girlfriend! Jaehyun, you have a girlfriend you didn’t tell me about! I developed real feelings for you and you have a girlfriend!”

“You like me back?”

“You’re not listening! That doesn’t matter! You’re a major fucking asshole and your girlfriend deserves better than you. Fuck you!”

He steps forward, cupping your cheeks which makes you freeze. It was the last thing you expected him to do. You try to move way, wriggle out of his hold, but he keeps his hold, “I don’t have a girlfriend. I like you. sweetheart, I like you.”

Your breathing falters, searching his eyes for any sign of deceit, “but there were girls in the kitchen. They said you were tied down and seen with the same girl all over campus and you turned one of them down when she hit on you.”

“Well, it wouldn’t very well make me look good to the girl I liked if I was sleeping around with random girls, would it? sweetheart, you were the one I was seen with. Didn’t we study together a few times? I sat by you in class, I walked you home, I was with you at parties. Any of this ringing a bell or should we get you to the emergency room?” He asks with a playful smile.

“You like me?” 

He laughs, it’s loud, unabashed, and happy, “yes, I like you! I have a crush on you. You make me feel things I haven’t felt since I was in high school with my first, and only, girlfriend. I like hearing your snort, I like seeing your smile, your laugh. I like how kind you are. I like when you wear your comfy sweaters. I really like when you put flowers behind your ears. I like that you make me feel giddy and warm and liked and flirty and playful and I can be myself around you. I want to be smarter for you. I want to be around you more. I think you’re beautiful and funny and kind and perfect. I just- I like you, a lot.”

“I like you too, if that wasn’t obvious. You’re cute and funny-“

“We get it! Kiss!” You hear Ari and Kira yell. You look over Jaehyun’s shoulder and catch them watching you along with the frat officers from the side of the house.

Jaehyun sends you a look as if to ask, if it was ok. You nod minutely and tilt your head up. Your eyes fall shut when his lips meet yours. His lips are soft as he kisses you tenderly. You can feel all the pent up affection you’ve both felt for each other through the kiss. His hands cup your cheeks and yours rest on the back of his neck, holding him close. You lose yourself in the feeling of his lips against your own, fighting back the urge to smile. 

He pulls away and your eyes flutter open, staring into his eyes that match your adoration and excitement in the moment. He presses his forehead against your own, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “so, want to make the rumors true?”

Your face furrows into one of confusion, the rumors? He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips which makes you melt. “Wanna tie me down, sweetheart?”

“Kinky,” you wink, which makes him laugh out loud. A deep happy laugh, which makes you embrace him closely, “of course I do. As if my temper tantrum over you having an imaginary girlfriend didn’t make it obvious.”

“Good,” he smiles. And it is good, great even.

“Simp!” Johnny and Yuta yell, before one of them drunkenly belches.

Jaehyun laughs, hooking his arm over your shoulder to lead you back to the party. So what if he was a simp? Who wouldn’t be for you?

[calamitoustide]

thinking about frat boy James who tells Regulus he doesn't do "relationships" and Regulus agrees to just be casual and see other people which is completely fine... until there's a party they both attend with different dates and James sees Regulus with someone else for the first time and he loses his fucking mind

[cameronsprincess]

thinking about frat rafe cameron……….. *sigh*

CW: frat!rafe, that damn backwards hat, protected sex (though i won’t describe him busting in a condom but know it’s there), pussy slapping, rafe calls reader a whore.

daydreams 𓆩♡𓆪 main masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 taglist form

he looked so fucking good. with his tight fitting coors light shirt, dark denim jeans, white nikes and that damn hat that sat backwards on his head.

you knew better than to get involved with a frat guy, hell, you knew better than to get involved with rafe cameron. but god, he looked too good, and you had consumed a few drinks, making you bolder and more confident to approach him.

he teased you at first, being his typical frat guy self. he was kind of an ass, but in a very sexy way. saying things like “oh, does the needy girl wanna fuck me?” or “you couldn’t handle me, baby.”

and he was sort of right. rafe was huge. the biggest you’d ever had or seen for that matter, and he was currently splitting you in two, each thrust of his hips sending shockwaves of pleasure and pain through your entire body.

“doing so good, angel. taking my dick like a good fucking whore, yeah? that’s what you are right? my little fucking whore?”

your teeth sink into your lower lip, only a small pathetic whine escaping you.

rafe lifts his body up, creating enough space between your bodies for his hand to land a harsh slap to your sensitive pussy.

“answer me, or i’ll stop and you won’t cum.”

you whine loudly, screaming his name before stuttering out, “yes! g-god yes! i’m your dirty little whore!”

the corners of his lips tilt up into a smirk, his hand slaps your pussy again before he lowers back down pressing his body flush against yours and continuing his brutal thrusts.

in, out. in, out. the force of which he’s pounding into you has you seeing stars, your teeth chattering and legs shaking as that sweet familiar feelings builds in your lower belly.

“fffuck— fuck, rafe! g-gonna cum!”

his pace picks up — if that’s even possible — and he drives into you fast and rough. your pussy clenches tightly around his dick, your orgasm rushing through you. bright, white light covers your vision, toes curling and body shaking as he fucks you through your high.

his hips begin to stutter, dick swelling inside you before he comes undone, his own release rushing through him. he drops his head into the crook of your neck, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he grunts and groans into your sweat slick skin.

he slowly pulls himself from inside you, rolling onto his back and clasping his hands on his chest, breathing heavily and trying to come down from his orgasm.

“shit, you’re a good lay. come around more often, we can have some more fun.”

pls, i suck at endings😂 let’s just fuck forever 😇

[pellucid-constellations]

Are You Bored Yet?

Pairing: College!Bucky x Tutor!Reader

Summary: God, you hated Bucky. Bucky probably hated you, too. Maybe. It was hard to tell when he was drunk and calling you pretty at a party you shouldn't have gone to.

Word count: 8k

Warnings: Alcohol, annoyance to lovers, a bit of angst, a scary man in a parking lot, frat!bucky c:

a/n:​​​ I am so excited to finally post something!! It only took me four months 😅 If you enjoy it please please let me know ❤️❤️

Masterlist

~~

12:59 pm.

The birchwood table nestled in the back of the library was long but otherwise empty, the only thing occupying it being your laptop and quite a few books. He wasn’t late. Yet. You weren’t going to hold onto that hope, however.

Tutoring Bucky Barnes was not what you had in mind when you volunteered for the peer assistance program at your university. It was true you were only using the club to boost your resume, but you had assumed the only people reaching out for help would be those that actually wanted it. Unfortunately, that was not the case. 

Sure, Bucky wanted help. Just not with anything that actually warranted the word. He wanted help sweet talking the cops so they wouldn't shut down his parties. He wanted help recruiting girls to show up to his parties. And—the one thing you could actually do—he wanted help passing his classes with the minimum GPA required to not get kicked out of his frat. So he could continue to throw parties. 

Everything in his life revolved around his fraternity, which made you very important to him. When he wanted you to be. 

With your apparently astounding knowledge of biology (you took notes during lectures), you became the star in Bucky’s life every Monday and Wednesday from 1:00 pm (give or take ten minutes) to 2:00 pm. He was also very attentive during the thirty minute phone calls he initiated prior to tests, and always looked happy to see you when he passed you devouring a bagel at the crack of dawn in the dining hall. 

Every situation in which you had come in contact with Bucky was isolated and purposeful (minus the bagel). You didn’t hang out or invite each other places, and you were almost positive that if you were to see him in his natural habitat, you would want to tutor him even less than you did now, and that was saying something. So you were important to Bucky during the times you were supposed to be important, and he was important to you in the sense that he was a job. 

But as your laptop blinked the numbers 1:22 pm back at your unimpressed expression, Bucky became much less important today. You took in a long, tortured breath before sending your gaze up to the ceiling, giving it another three minutes before you truly gave up on him for the day. 

One minute. 

Two minutes. 

The library really needed new ceiling tiles. 

1:25 pm and you snapped your laptop shut. Your fingers itched to send yet another complaint about this whole ordeal Natasha’s way, but you stopped yourself. She had already heard plenty about Barnes at this point, plus she always gave you a weird look every time you came stomping into the apartment, grumbling about something else he had done. 

You hated her weird looks, all raised eyebrows and stiff lips.

With your backpack heaved onto the table and your things slowly funneling in, you figured a nap was the best reward for sitting in the library for an unnecessary twenty-five minutes. Your last prickle of irritation was stifled at the prospect of a warm bed as you stood, only to find that irritation had returned to you tenfold. In the form of Bucky Barnes. 

“You going somewhere?” he seemed to taunt, his bag slung casually over one shoulder. 

Your jaw ticked. “Home.” 

His mouth turned up at one side, an expression you had learned meant he found you amusing. He never seemed to outright laugh at your annoyance, but apparently, it was hard to tamp down all of the joy he got out of it. Bucky took two long strides to meet the table you were attempting to abandon. 

“But I still got about—” he checked his watch “—thirty-three minutes? And an arsenal of questions about amino acids. Help a guy out.” 

“And I still got—” you checked the nonexistent watch on your wrist “—no patience for this today. You’re over twenty minutes late, Barnes. Use that watch to set an alarm on Wednesday and I’ll tell you everything you’ll inevitably forget about amino acids then.” 

He groaned, rounding the table to set firm hands on your shoulders as he hovered behind you. “Sit. I’ll buy you a coffee and I promise I won’t be late on Wednesday, okay? I was dealing with something before this and lost track of time.” 

“Were you dealing with another sorority girl in your bed? Who was it last week? Amber? No, Michelle?” 

“It’s a Monday, y/n. Cut me some slack.” 

“You came to me on a Wednesday with a hangover,” you deadpanned.

Bucky grimaced, the expression visible to you as he managed to guide you back into your chair. “Oat milk, right? A double?” 

You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest as he tossed his bag by your feet and jogged over to the coffee cart just outside the library. He fumbled with his wallet when he went to pay, and you watched him point to the carton of oat milk the barista had yet to reach for. His greek letters were printed on the gray hoodie he had haphazardly thrown over his shoulders, and you held the reprimand on your tongue when you saw the matching sweatpants he donned. 

The last time he had shown up in his pajamas—late—you’d had some choice words for him. Bucky turned around with your coffee then, poking the straw through the lid and sending you a sheepish smile through the window. 

He was lucky you accepted bribes. 

~~

“Please,” the boy across from you continued to beg, a pen held loosely between pliant fingers. “Just ask her, that’s all I want. You can even come too.” 

“Oh, wow, the great frat president letting me come to his stupid toga party? How could I ever thank you enough?” 

It was Wednesday now, and Bucky was surprisingly on time to the tutoring session. You’d gotten through about half of the last bio lecture before he started asking you ridiculous questions that had nothing to do with the content. Today, he was dead set on getting your lab partner from chemistry to go to his party this weekend. 

“Okay, yeah, you could come to whatever party you want, you know? I put you on the list—but this one will be even better if you’d just do this one thing for me.” 

You finally tore your eyes from your laptop, glancing lazily at him. “And what would make this one so—wait, what list?” 

He waved you off. “The one at the door. Did it like… the second week we started this? Anyways, Wanda?” 

You let this new information settle and tried to ignore whatever implications came with being on some frat list thanks to Bucky. He had never explicitly invited you to any of his parties over the past few months and you had never asked to come. Apparently, you could have shown up whenever you wanted to and had a grand old time. 

Not that that sounded the least bit grand. 

Bucky was looking at you still, all pleading features and a soft, infuriating smile on his lips. When he wasn’t talking to random girls in the library or taking annoying phone calls in the middle of your sessions, he was sort of endearing. In a terrible, awful sense. 

You groaned, throwing yourself back against your chair in begrudging defeat. “I don’t even talk to her outside of chem. Don’t you think it’d be a little weird to invite her to a party that I’m not even going to?” 

“So come,” he answered simply, as if that was in the realm of possibilities. 

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “Sure, I’ll come to your party, Barnes.” 

“Great,” he grinned. “Vision’s gonna be so hyped.” 

You watched as he pulled his phone from his pocket and kept your lie to yourself. He wouldn’t notice that you didn’t show up on Friday, and likely wouldn’t even bring it up the following Monday. He always had such vibrant, headache-inducing stories that you were sure your absence would be nothing more than a fleeting footnote. 

“You have a toga, right?” he mumbled, face still screwed up in concentration as he continued his text. 

“Isn’t it just a sheet all twisted up?” you asked, shutting your computer. Tutoring was obviously over. 

Bucky pocketed his phone again, brows raised in amusement. “Depends on your motives for the night.” 

“And my motives wouldn’t be to… wear a toga?” 

He chuckled and huffed out your name, resting an arm along the back of the chair to his right—your chair. “Other motives. Like if you’re trying to get someone’s attention.” 

You blinked at the warmth along your back. “Oh, of course. Then I would twist up a pillowcase instead, right?”

“Something like that.” 

He smelled like coconut. Like a day at the beach but afterwards, when the sunscreen still lingered in the air but fresh clothes covered skin that had been warmed by the sun. You could usually ignore whatever expensive combination he had on his skin, but when he got close like this it was almost impossible. 

Part of you always wanted to chuck his arm away when he leaned over you, but another part of you liked that he kept it there. It was a strange part of you, the same one that relished the looks you got from sorority girls in the library and harbored a sense of pride each time he made a blatant attempt to touch you. 

You had spent fleeting moments analyzing these emotions and chalked them up to some internalized desire for validation. Nothing else. Bucky was a hot guy and everyone knew that, so having his attention—in any capacity—felt nice. Sometimes. Meaning right now it was nice that he was looking at you with his arm practically glued to your back, but next week when he showed up late with a hangover and tried to steal the jacket off your body it would be not so nice. 

The duality of man. 

It helped your partial insanity that Bucky would never actually be interested in you. You weren’t in a sorority or interested to his parent’s money, and, worst of all, you didn’t know how to maneuver a sheet into a toga. When he put his arm around you or moved your hair from your eyes as you leaned over a book, it was probably out of habit. It felt nice, but you knew reality. This was a passing phase, and by the summer you wouldn’t even speak to him anymore.

“I’ll text you more info about everything,” Bucky called, pulling you from your thoughts. “You can come early and I’ll help you with that pillowcase.” 

You froze, the book you were shoving into your bag pausing in your hands. “Uh, maybe.” 

“No, seriously, it’d be better if you came early. I was kidding about the pillowcase but if you come on time it’ll be too crazy for me to show you around.” 

“You don’t have to show me around, Bucky. I’ve been to a house party before.” 

“Y/n, are you not coming to this thing?” Bucky accused, swiping the book from your hands and softly tossing it on the table. It still made a loud thud that had a few bitter looks thrown your way. 

“Dude!” you whispered, meeting each mean gaze with your apologetic one. “Why does it matter if I come? You just wanted Wanda anyway.” 

He knocked your hand away when you went to reach for the book again, encircling your wrist with his fingers. “You just lied to me. Straight to my face. You said you’d come and now you gotta.” 

You gave his fingers an experimental tug, but he was unrelenting in his soft grip. You glared at him through your lashes, meeting his uncharacteristically stern gaze that contrasted the humor on his lips. 

“You ever hear of sarcasm?” you whispered with a half-hearted bite. 

“Unfortunately, that’s about all I hear outta you,” he smirked back. 

You rolled your eyes, finally yanking hard enough to free yourself from him. “Then you should have known I wasn’t going to come. No matter what ‘list’ you put me on.” 

“What else could you possibly have going on on a Friday night?” 

Ouch. You felt your brows furrow even though you didn’t will them to, and even worse, you felt a rash defensiveness lodge itself in your throat. You hated the heat that now prickled along the skin of your neck, and you hated even more how it extinguished all of the good warmth you had felt from him earlier. 

This was humiliation, surely—the kind that only came from feeling small. 

“You don’t have to be a dick,” you seethed, snapping up the remainder of your belongings. “Just because I don’t want to go to your stupid frat doesn't mean I have nothing to do. I don’t spend all of my time hoping to get invited to ridiculous parties.” 

Bucky shifted up in his seat, eyes blown just a fraction wider. “Whoa, I didn’t mean—hey, stop a sec, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Whatever, Bucky,” you droned, as a new temperature seeped into the skin of your palms and made them clammy. Any semblance of delusion you’d fallen into earlier was long gone now, but you knew to expect that. He wasn’t interested in you and you weren’t interested in him. But embarrassment wasn’t a good feeling, regardless of a multitude of reality checks. 

Bucky got up when you did, his clothes looking creased and lived in. “We still have time in our session,” he defended, arm jutting out to the table. “C’mon, I didn’t mean you don’t have friends.” 

Your glare sharpened. “Great, another insinuation.” 

Bucky sputtered out incoherent words as you continued your trek outside, resorting to grabbing your wrist again, this time with more urgency. You felt the heat in you simmer down to a dull throb as he made contact, mostly out of respect for your future self. If you made this a huge deal it would only embarrass you more. 

“Look, it doesn’t even matter, okay?” you huffed, but he just tugged you forward. It was then that you realized you were in the doorway of the library, effectively blocking it off from anyone trying to leave. Bucky pulled you close enough to his chest that you weren’t in the way anymore. His cologne was back with a vengeance, your nose just inches from his collar.  

You took a steadying breath, blinking away the remnants of shame. “It doesn’t matter, I overreacted.” 

He clicked his tongue. “I’m still apologizing. I didn’t mean any of that stuff you were talking about.” 

Of course he did. You were sure he thought it all the time. He just didn’t mean to say it out loud. 

“It’s fine,” you rushed. “I have to go, anyway. Office hours.” 

“Okay,” he nodded, soft and low, like he just remembered he was in a library. “You’ll still come this weekend, right? Even if Wanda can’t?” 

“You have some kind of girl quota you need to meet?” you pressed.

Bucky smiled, still so close to you that you could feel the small breath that accompanied the expression. “And she’s back.” 

You left without promising anything, and Bucky left feeling like you had. 

~~

Sometime between Wednesday and Friday, your detestment for frat parties had snowballed into determination. You were going to go and you were going to look like you were having so much fun it was ridiculous. Then, on Monday, when Bucky would usually poke and prod about what you’d gotten up to over the past few days, you were going to pretend that it was nothing for you. That you did that every weekend. 

Of course, you didn’t. Your weekends typically consisted of calm nights with friends or dinners near campus. You’d been to a party before, sure, but you didn’t exactly frequent those kinds of scenes. 

Bucky had continued to make it clear that you were invited. He had texted you a few times, prompting you to come and thanking you for getting Wanda to agree. The messages looked strange under the plethora of biology related questions, but that just spurred you further into action. You weren’t just a tutor with no social life, and Bucky was going to see that tonight. You couldn’t remember doing something out of pure spite before, but you figured having fun to prove a point wasn’t the worst thing. 

Wanda pulled you out of your thoughts as the Uber rounded the last dark corner and revealed an overcrowded house with too many lights on. She rambled on about some guy she couldn’t wait to see and confirmed that she would likely be spending the night. You expected as much; it hadn’t taken much convincing to get her to come. If this night resulted in anything good it was apparently the blossoming relationship between your new friend and a man you’d never met. 

Wanda continued to chat as she yanked you out of the car and past the yard littered with sparse grass. The music was loud already—the type of loud that you needed to be at least a little drunk to enjoy. And that was the plan. 

“Okay, if I start dancing on a table you pull me down. And if you start dancing on a table I support you, right?” Wanda giggled, her voice now raised as you walked past the threshold of the house. 

“Exactly,” you yelled back. A guy nodded to you as he leaned against the front door, his eyes glancing up from his phone and then returning. It seemed Bucky’s ‘list’ was a page on some guy’s notes app. How luxurious. “Let’s drink.” 

The next hour was a blur. You tried your hardest to get as drunk as possible and Wanda tried her hardest to find the British man she was enamored with. You hadn’t seen Bucky, but you figured he wasn’t looking for you too hard since you hadn’t responded to any of his texts. Not out of anger, but because you didn’t know what to say. Somehow, with alcohol warming your blood and music vibrating your skin, none of that mattered anymore. 

You: Your house is soooo dirty

Your phone jostled in your grip, people bumping into you from every side. When he didn’t answer in the thirty seconds you spent staring at the screen, you locked it and continued on with your mission. 

After a few too many shots of hard liquor, you switched to beer. Gross, but decidedly less likely to make you pass out on the staircase of this house. Because you weren’t lying in your text—it was slightly disgusting. You figured you should clarify that with Bucky. You reached for your phone once again, knocking your head against the wall in the process and giggling to yourself. You had no idea where Wanda went. 

The device was snatched from your hands just as quickly as the screen had lit up your face. 

“You ever answer this thing?” an accusing voice called out. “Or do you just insult people and put it on do not disturb?” 

The look on Bucky’s face would have made you roll your eyes in any other circumstance. Right now, however, it had a startled laugh bursting past your lips. You clutched at your stomach as the laugh grew and you found yourself tipping forward until your forehead met his chest. You felt delirious, almost silly. A hand came around to rest on the back of your neck.

“Alright, alright.” Bucky’s words rumbled against your face. “I get it, this is hilarious.” 

“Your… your face,” you breathed out, catching your breath enough to part from him. “It was all—” you mimicked the straight line of his eyebrows, voice raising in a mocking tone. “—You don’t ever answer your phone. You���re so boring, y/n, answer your phone.” 

“I didn’t call you boring. Hey—hey,” Bucky stressed, reaching for you as you leaned too far to the side, a smile still lingering on your face. “Jesus, y/n, how much did you have to drink?” 

You went to mock him again, but his fingers on your jaw stopped you. He tilted your head up and to the left, and although he was much more composed than you were, you could still smell the alcohol on his breath. You scrunched up your nose as he continued his inspection. 

“Why’re you being so uptight?” you slurred, trying and failing to push away from him. “I thought you were all like, ‘I’m Bucky and I party and get drunk and have sex with girls.’”

Bucky pulled you forward as you laughed at your impression of him, his shaking head making you blink away a bout of dizziness. You toppled over a set of stairs as he threaded his fingers through yours, and then you stumbled through a doorway and onto carpeted floors. Being pressed into an uncomfortable chair was the most jarring action, the world still spinning as you sat. 

“You’re even more mean when you're drunk,” you heard Bucky mumble. You couldn’t quite catch him as he moved around whatever room you were in. “And I don’t talk like that.” 

You let out a careless sigh and leaned back. “You soooo talk like that.” 

Something cold pressed to your hand, followed by another touch to the back of your neck. You gazed down at the water bottle being guided up to your lips and couldn’t find it in you to fight against it, despite the small spark of defiance on the tip of your tongue. After about four large swallows, Bucky was satisfied. 

He asked again how much you’d had to drink. 

You answered that you didn’t know—that it didn’t matter because he wasn’t your dad and you were having fun like you always did. He bit the inside of his cheek and didn’t say anything for the next few moments. 

And then, “Thought you weren’t gonna come tonight.” 

You hummed, rolling your head against the chair to look up at his standing form. “Of course I was going to come. I love parties. Love drinking alcohol.” 

His expression twisted into something you couldn’t recognize. “God, you’re so drunk.” 

“M’not even that drunk!” 

“You’re willingly in my room right now. You’re plastered.” 

“Maybe I want to be in your room.” 

“We both know that’s not true.” 

You chuckled breathily, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to see the pretty flush of Bucky’s face. “You think you know everything, don’t you? Don’t know much about me though. Or biology.” 

Bucky kneeled down to the height of the chair. “And what do I not know about you?” 

“So much.” 

“How much?” 

You bit into your lip and cracked an eye open, catching the amusement that had slipped past the strange mask of his emotions. With blissful ignorance, you heaved yourself forward on the chair, your nose a few inches from Bucky’s. His eyes didn’t waver from yours as you swayed. 

“You don’t know that I’m the most interesting person on Earth,” you boasted, fingers gripping the upholstery of your seat. 

“That right?” Bucky probed, his voice a melodic hum. 

“Yup, I’m always really busy and even though you think I’m some boring biology tutor I’m actually super cool and, like, go to raves and stuff.” 

His brow twitched but his mouth stayed soft. “I’ve never said you were boring. And I don’t think you’ve ever been to a rave.” 

You groaned loudly and flopped against the backrest of the chair. “See! I’m telling you I do all this cool stuff and I’m so drunk my fingers are buzzing and you still don’t believe me.” 

You crossed your arms with a huff, a small pout forming on your lips. In any other context, this behavior would probably embarrass you to no end. In the dim light of Bucky’s room where you felt the feeling leave your fingers and the care leave your mind, you were just disgruntled, not embarrassed. If you remembered this tomorrow the latter would surely catch up to you.

Bucky stared at you from his spot on the ground, his gaze a bit foggy and unfocused. He was clearly intoxicated, as you deduced earlier, and it made him look more wild. Mused hair and pink cheeks, he looked like he’d been having plenty of fun before he found you. It was distracting. He was distracting you from proving that you were having a blast.

“What?” you snapped, the tone a testament to the drunken fit you were throwing. 

“You’re so fucking pretty.” 

He must be really, really drunk. Despite your clouded mind, you knew that, but the words affected you just the same. Your lips parted as a new lightness both lit up and compressed your chest, and Bucky watched the movement. 

“Yeah,” you scoffed, but it was hardly a scoff. “Sure, Bucky. How much did you have to drink—” 

“I’m not lying. I’ve thought about you in my room for weeks and now you’re here and you’re so pretty. Even when you’re yelling at me.” 

“You’ve… thought about me in your room?” 

Bucky shuffled forward and you subconsciously parted your legs to allow the space for him. “I think about you everywhere.” 

This was crazy. It was certifiably insane. A voice in the back of your head—Natasha’s voice, it sounded like—was screaming at you to stop and think about the situation at hand. He was drunk, you were even more drunk, and he was far too close to you. He had ushered you in here with good intentions and had sobered you up a fraction, but things had taken a turn and this was a sensitive situation. The kind of sensitive that altered your reality and his and probably a bunch of other people’s you’d never met. 

Or it could be nothing and you were over exaggerating. 

But then Bucky’s hand was warming your thigh. You’d felt the press of it on your back and your shoulder and your head before, but it had never been on your thigh. It felt heavy there, hot. His other hand moved to touch your face and he propped himself up on one knee. His thumb brushed your cheek. Words tumbled from your mouth before you registered that you were speaking. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” 

Why would you ask that? Who asks Bucky Barnes if he’s going to kiss them? 

“Would you let me?” he responds. 

“Yes.” 

He didn’t waste any time, his mouth hot against yours. He tasted like mint and vodka and his lips moved so slowly it ached. You had expected a fervor behind his lips, but instead you got a build up, an orchestra reaching its crescendo. He was kissing you like you were important, like this wasn’t some random hookup in his bedroom at 1 o’clock in the morning, and you had to catch your breath when he parted from you. 

But he moved back in so quickly after your brief respite, and you were eager to give him more. This was crazy, insane. This was the best kiss you’d ever have and also the worst. This was months of staring at his stupid lips when he tried explaining concepts back to you, but this was also weeks of feeling small in his presence. Bucky slid his hand back to press against your hair and you didn’t feel small anymore. 

A loud thud from the hallway interrupted the silence you’d created, and Bucky pulled back, keeping his hands on you as he craned his neck around to stare at the door. He waited a beat, and then two, and then he turned back to you. The moment was gone, but he was still touching you. You weren’t sure what you wanted—if you wanted him to kiss you again or run out the door—but when he slid his hands from your body and rubbed them down his jeans, it became clear that was not what you wanted. 

A knot formed in your stomach when he met your gaze again, and you tried blinking the feeling away. It didn’t work. 

“Um,” Bucky began, his voice sounding more clear, his tone not holding the weight it had.

Your plan had backfired. Severely. This was a mess and you needed to save yourself before you ended this night even more humiliated.

You were still drunk. Pretend you were still plastered. 

You giggled airily, the sound burning your throat. “That was loud.” 

Bucky blinked at you in what you assumed was disbelief. “Probably just someone trying to find the bathroom,” he clarified.

You shrugged, nudging him back with your knee as you stood from the chair. “I’m bored now.” You took fast steps to the door, your words foreign to you. “Thanks for the water,” you all but gritted out. 

You expected him to get up. Not to run after you or proclaim his love or even say anything. But you expected him to get up. 

He didn’t, and you couldn’t understand how the knot in your stomach had moved to your throat. Or how it made tears spring to your eyes when your feet hit the sidewalk outside. Your Uber came and you couldn’t understand how you felt hot and cold at the same time. How it was freezing outside but you were sweating. 

You couldn’t understand why you were crying over a boy that so often infuriated you, or why he kissed you in his bedroom. The reasonable side of you sent gentle reminders that he was in a frat and kissing people is just what he did. All the time. But the unreasonable side of you won out tonight, and it was telling you that this felt different.

That you should be different, somehow.

~~

Bucky: You’re here???

Bucky: Where are you?

Bucky: Y/n answer your damn phone

Bucky: This place is fucking packed tonight I thought you weren’t coming 

You stared at the text messages you hadn’t read last night, the bright light of your phone burning into your retinas. You had a brutal hangover, and the memory of the disaster in Bucky’s room felt like an even bigger one. 

You’d gone through a myriad of emotions the night before, tossing around excuses and speeches in your head until you were so exhausted you let the alcohol in your system lull you to sleep. With all of that delirious thinking, you’d landed on blacking out. You were going to tell Bucky you blacked out last night and couldn’t remember a thing. He obviously wouldn’t care and would probably appreciate it. 

Saturday was slow-moving. Reruns of television shows and bags of popcorn and overthinking. Natasha was at her parent’s house in the city, so you had no one to bounce your racing thoughts off of. You certainly weren’t going to text her about it. 

When the evening finally rolled around and your attempts at distracting yourself with mind-numbing movies failed, you checked your email. You always tried not to on the weekends, but doing anything else sounded much less appealing. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t get past the first one. 

From: University Peer Assistance Program 

Dear Y/n Y/l/n, 

This is an automated message from the campus peer assistance program. We thank you for your continued devotion to the betterment of students at this school. At this time, your tutoring placement with James Barnes has ended. We will search for a new placement to fill your current hours. 

Thank you, 

University Peer Assistance 

You blinked at the email, then blinked again. The breath left your chest and the muscles on your face twitched, but you were otherwise frozen.

This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To be free from the haughty frat boy that didn’t even listen to you when you tried to help him raise his grades. You wanted someone nice, someone that had the same goals as you and appreciated the color-coded notes you took for them. Bucky only tried to get a rise out of you. He sat too close and made fun of you and put you on lists you didn’t ask to be on. 

But he had kissed you. He had kissed you and then tutor-dumped you. 

You knew you weren’t his type, but were you really that bad? Was the kiss so terrible? 

Every inferiority complex you had developed exploded. You over-analyzed things that had already happened, things you had said. Not just at the party, but in the library, the coffee shops, the lecture halls. 

Was he really willing to risk his position in the frat just to avoid you? 

The strangle tickle of tears itched to be released from your eyes again, but you pressed it down. No, this wasn’t on you. He had kissed you. He had dragged you into his room and stumbled on pretty words. If he didn’t want you to tutor him anymore because of his stupid mistake, fine. 

His mistake. 

That word felt wrong. 

You tossed your phone on the couch with vigor. The clock above the television read out 10 pm, but that meant little to you as you slid on your shoes at the front door. You were wearing sweatpants and a jacket that was far too big on you, sadness and frustration and raw confusion propelling you down your apartment stairs. 

Ice cream would fix this. 

The only place open at this time was the gas station at the edge of campus. It wasn’t university affiliated and was usually overrun with belligerent greek life trying to buy alcohol, but the decision-making part of your brain was currently shut off. 

Ice cream, anger, probably watching tiktoks until your eyes were too heavy to keep open—those were the only things rattling in your head. 

You yanked open the gas station door after your short walk, the glass smudged and fogged from the cold night. The fluorescent lights aggravated the headache you’d been sporting all day and the floor made sticking noises with each step you took. To add insult to injury, there were only three cartons of ice cream left, and they weren’t even the good flavors. Grabbing the least offensive one, you made your way to the small line of people by the register. 

“Nice outfit.” 

Too enthralled by the disappointing ingredient list on the side of your ice cream, you had missed the tall man now looming at your shoulder. You whipped your head around with a start, taking a step back, smelling menthol and asphalt and nothing good. 

“Thanks,” you quietly replied. 

He waited until you turned back around to continue. “You go to school over here?” 

You kept your gaze forward. “Um, yeah.” 

“Nice. I graduated a few years back. Marketing.” 

“Cool,” you replied. What had compelled you to leave your phone on the couch? This night sucked. 

You found reprieve in the line moving, the employee calling you over to check out. As soon as you paid—a few dollar bills funneled out of your pocket with shaky hands—you booked it. Your ice cream burned in your palm but you didn’t care, feet carrying you out the door and into the dimly lit parking lot. You fisted your keys in your fingers; pointless, you knew, but a small comfort. 

The man’s voice returned with the chime of the bell over the gas station door. “Wait! Wait, I’m Beck. I own a business nearby.” 

You should have kept walking, but one of your fatal flaws was, apparently, people pleasing. You turned to him. He smiled at you but it made your stomach twist. 

“Oh, nice,” you responded, rocking back on your heels. 

“We should connect. Maybe go for coffee or something?” He took a step forward. You fought the urge to take one back. His beard was unkempt and he held a six pack in his white-knuckled grip. 

“Um, I don’t know. I’m pretty busy with finals coming up. Plus, I’m not really in the business field.” 

“Not for business then,” he smiled again, teeth dull in the streetlight. 

Just agree. If you agreed you could block him soon after and everything would be fine. 

You took too long to answer. He took the final step forward to arrive in your space and wrapped his fingers around your bicep. “C’mon, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything.” 

Frozen by fear, you let out a weak laugh. The pint in your hand was sticking to your skin now in a way that would be painful when you tried to let go of it later. Your breath rattled in your chest when you laughed again. 

“Sure, okay.” But he didn’t let go of your arm, instead sliding it down to the bone of your wrist. 

“What about now?” he posed. “You don’t look too busy. I can make you something at my place.” 

He was at least ten years older than you. You attempted to pull yourself from his grasp to no avail. Maybe reasoning would work. 

“My roommate's waiting for me,” you lied. “Could you let go? I sprained my wrist at the gym last week,” you lied again. 

He refused with a shake of his head. You took a panicked glance inside the gas station to your right. No one was looking. 

“Please let go of me.” 

The call of your name from the other side of the parking lot initially sent more unbearable fear down your spine. But then the owner of that voice registered in your brain, and although it had been the cause of your recent internal strife, you couldn't be more grateful to hear it. 

He said your name again, closer now and questioning. Bucky jogged up to the pair of you, saw your wrist and the man holding it hostage, and looked back up at you with confused, wild eyes. 

“You know this guy?” he asked, jutting his thumb out at Beck.

“No,” you whispered. The word was short but the syllable still trembled. 

Bucky didn’t look confused anymore. He looked pissed. “Wanna take your fucking hands off her?”

Beck was tall, but Bucky was taller. And angry. Beck released your wrist and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, man, no need for the theatrics. I’m guessing you’re here to stock up for a party? I used to be in Sigma Nu.” 

When Bucky’s silent glare failed to dampen, Beck continued with, “We were just planning a night at my place, right?” 

His nod in your direction made your breath catch. Bucky took his piercing gaze off of Beck and softened it as it fell on you. You wanted to respond, but words were gone. They were impossible. Your ice cream was melting. 

“Yeah, I think we’re done here,” Bucky scoffed, placing his arm around your shoulder. He guided you past the wall of a man, making sure to drive his shoulder into his chest as he went. Beck went to say more, to protest or whine, but Bucky shot him such a scathing look it almost made you wither. 

The smell of coconut and spices and a hint of whisky met your nose, and it was familiar. It was safe. You fumbled with the keys in your hands as your feet guided you wherever Bucky was going, and then you fumbled even more, soft jingling disrupting the softness of footfall. God, why wouldn’t you stop shaking? 

A hand fell atop yours, crunching the keys to a halt. You stared down at them, unsteady breath hitting the tanned fingers that served as your current anchor. 

“Look at me, y/n.” 

You couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything. 

“Sweetheart, eyes up. All you gotta do.” Bucky’s voice was as soft as it was last night. That was the only reason you were able to follow his request. “There she is,” he hummed. 

He removed his arm from your shoulders and shifted in front of you, placing his hand on your cheek. You ignored that it felt the same as it had last night. You ignored that you wanted it to feel the same for him, too. 

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his neck down to better see your face. His thumb brushed under your eye. “He hurt you?” 

You shook your head, whispering no, whispering that you were fine. 

Bucky nodded to himself, eyes tracking down to your toes and then back up again. He must have mistaken your shaking for coldness because the next thing he did was guide you into the car behind him. You didn’t know it was his.

He blasted the heat the second he got in. He had shuffled you into your seat with his hands before that, smoothed your hair down and closed the door after you were settled and not shaking as hard. The heat dried out your eyes. It distracted you enough to let words form. 

“Thank you,” you said. “He wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t bring my phone with me. I should’ve.” 

“Of course.” 

There was a beat of silence. The relief you had felt earlier had been muddled down to an awkward pit in your stomach, and you weren’t sure if Bucky felt it too or if he was still riding a testosterone-fueled adrenaline high. 

You wanted to go home now; this was uncomfortable and you had felt Bucky’s lips on yours less than twenty-four hours ago with no closure. He obviously didn’t want to be around you. This was probably a responsibility thing for him. 

“I can… I can walk home now. The guy left. I’m just a quarter mile away and you probably have to stock up or whatever.” 

He looked at you with a pinched expression. “I’m not letting you walk home after that. You kiddin’ me?” 

“I’ll be fine, really. I walk over here all the time.” 

“You get harassed all the time too?” 

“No…” 

“Exactly. So you’re not walking home.” 

“Bucky—” 

“Look I’m not gonna kiss you again, alright? So you don’t have to turn down a ride because of that.” 

Your ice cream was soup at this point. You let it roll into your lap as you clamped your mouth shut just to open it again. Bucky ran a rough hand through his hair before dropping it on the steering wheel, clutching at it with no place to go. 

“I’m not following,” you finally relented. 

A loud sigh released from his nose. “You don’t have to worry about me kissing you again. I just want to make sure you get home safe and then I’ll leave you alone.” 

“Worry about—you’re the one trying to avoid me,” you snapped, frozen fingers pointing to your chest. “You tutor-dumped me.”

“Tutor-dumped? How do you…” he trailed off. 

“I get an email when you make a change request, Bucky.” 

He stared at you for a moment, lips parted and unmoving. He clenched his jaw a moment later, a red tint adorning his cheeks. 

“Well, you—you—look, I know you don’t like me, y/n. You’ve made that clear,” he stuttered, words getting louder as he moved his hands around with each one. “But I like you. I like when you get mad at me and when you yell at me for not listening and when you get all embarrassed when I play with your hair. And I’ve been trying to get you to come to one of my parties since we started this whole thing, but every time I talk about them you seem to like me even less. 

“If I had known insulting you would get your attention, I woulda done that week one,” he exasperated. You sat up in your seat but he continued. “I didn’t mean any of that shit you thought I did. You’re not boring. And I didn’t mean to kiss you, but you looked—well, I already told you.” 

“So you don’t want me to be your tutor anymore because you like me?” You spoke slowly, each word careful. 

“No,” he sighed, frustrated. “I can’t be around you because I kissed you and you didn’t care. Because I’ll want to kiss you all the time and you didn’t even wanna kiss me once. I know we were drunk, I get that, but I’ve wanted that for a long time and I need to move on. It’s nothing against your… tutoring skills. If that’s what you’re worried about” 

“But you talk about hooking up with other girls all the time, Bucky. To me.” 

“You ever hear of lying?”

“Why would you—” 

“You really gonna make me live out all of my failures with you?” 

You’d read so many things wrong. Taken so many things the wrong way. You figured the email earlier was the final nail in the coffin, but this was something else entirely. This was Bucky, sitting next to you in his car looking distressed and frazzled with his hair six different directions, telling you that he’s been trying to get your attention since he met you. That you weren’t small or insignificant or boring. 

It was probably a terrible idea to follow through with your next thought. You’d probably get hurt in the long run. But you did it anyway. 

“I wanted you to kiss me.” Bucky’s head whipped towards you. You bit the inside of your cheek and said, “I want you to kiss me all the time.” 

He whispered your name. It sounded like the air had left every corner of his body. But he didn’t move, and you needed to rectify that. 

“You’re infuriating,” you began. Bucky cringed, but you needed to explain as he had. “You’re like the antithesis of everything I want out of college. You don’t care about classes. You’re always late. You talk too loud in the library.” 

You took a deep breath, fiddling with the loose thread of your pants. You couldn’t make eye contact with anything but the ground. 

“But then you know my coffee order when I’ve never told it to you. You save me from losers in parking lots and make sure I’m not drunk out of my mind at your obscene party. You make me feel… you make me feel stupid sometimes. And I thought it was because you’re everything I’m not, but I really think it’s because you’re everything I told myself I should stay away from. But I don’t want to.

“I wanted you to kiss me at that party and I want you to kiss me now.” 

“Then get over here. I’m not kissing you over some bullshit center console.” 

You twisted to follow his directions, gasping as his hands clasped around your waist to tug you into his lap. It wasn’t seamless—there was laughing and your head briefly connected with the roof of the car—but Bucky’s touch was everywhere, soothing the uncertainty and fear and slight headache. 

His forehead connected with yours when you felt secure in his arms. His fingers slid down from your waist over the material of your sweatpants and when he spoke next you felt the words on your own lips.

“You’re wearing sweatpants. You get so mad when I wear sweatpants.” 

You laughed. “I get mad because it usually means you just rolled out of bed, and you’re usually. late.” 

“I got a secret,” he whispered, nudging his nose against yours. “I’m never late. And I only wear those sweatpants around you. You get cute when you’re pissed at me.” 

“Well, I’m about to be really cute—”

He kissed you. You’d have plenty of time to argue later.

[disneyprincemuke]

where the fun begins, 3 * ls2 (ms47)

while logan can't figure out where he had gone wrong with your relationship, you do.

pairings: frat!logan x reader, college!mick x reader

word count: 6.1k

notes: guys this took me forever and 2 and a half days to write so it's a bit long so i apologise but srsly <3 i got a bit carried away LOL idk if u can tell

(f1 masterlist)

| one | two | three | four |

"i'll say," frederik mutters into your ear, guiding you towards the bar. "you look very comfortable with mick. no drinking games, no body shots..."

you laugh, shaking your head. "yeah... i've come to learn that those really aren't my thing."

"i don't even see you at parties often," he laughs. "but, i'm curious," he looks towards the backyard where mick had walked off to, "what happened between you and logan?"

you raise your eyebrows and glance at lily, bottom lip between your teeth as stare up at the decorated house. "are you sure about this, lily?"

"please?" she hums innocently, turning to you with a smile. "it's a frat party, but oscar invited me. please, please?"

you watch drunk college students stumbling in the front yard and the strobing lights going crazy inside the house. at first glance, it's very overwhelming. it's probably because this is a scene you don't typically indulge in.

"okay," you sigh, laughing airily as lily links arms with you. "you're sure about this oscar guy?"

"yeah," lily says excitedly, helping you manoeuvre through the moving crowd. "are we late or something? why does it look like everyone's leaving already?"

lily knocks on the door and presses her lips together. lily lets go of your arm and fixes her shirt, brushing her fingers through her hair. she turns to you again. "do i look okay?"

"you always do!" you giggle, tapping her shoulder. "if he's a good guy, he will like you regardless. trust me on that one."

the door opens, revealing a guy you know you've seen around in your classes before, but never really knew his name. he sees you first, eyebrows shooting up at your presence on their front porch. "oh, what are you doing here? oh, lily!"

you press your lips into a small smile, pointing at lily. “for her.”

"of course! i'm frederik. you can call me fred," he shrugs. "you're under oscar’s guestlist tonight, right? and you’re lily's plus one?"

"yeah. is he around?" lily asks, craning her neck to peek into the chaos that awaits both of you in the house. "he told me to come at 8, but i saw people are already leaving. are we late?"

"nah, you're just on time," frederik laughs, beckoning for both of you to step into the house. he leads you through the small crowd. there are not as many people as you had expected. "that party's from the other frat next door. our party starts at 8. oscar's just woken up from his nap so i'll leave you guys in the vip area if you don't mind?"

"oh, you're leaving?" you pipe up, turning to him slightly. "why don't you stay with us and guard us?" he slumps his shoulders. "i'd love to. but we're tight on people tonight. i have to be everywhere."

he stops right by a stanchion, sectioning a part of the living room away from the crowd. there isn’t anybody in the said vip area, making you raise your eyebrows. perhaps you’re too early?

you actually have never been to a party, and it’s against your better judgment even to be here in the first place. if it hadn’t been for lily’s insistence to make it out to the party that oscar personally asked her to attend, you wouldn’t be here. either way, a frat party isn’t a place lily should be alone in.

“well, if you guys need any drinks, ollie is at the bar,” frederik smiles. he glances at lily. “you’ve met him, right? he will use the good liquor for you guys.”

“of course,” lily grins, dropping herself on the couch gently. “oscar’s on his way down?”

frederik glances at the stairs. “he should be. he doesn’t take that long to get ready.”

you watch with a frown as frederik walks away with a small wave, eventually disappearing into the house. the house is slowly filling with people and you take a seat next to lily with questions at the top of your head. “why is there a guest list?”

“yeah, the frat doesn’t like letting their parties get too wild so it’s by invite only,” lily explains. “it helps them minimise the chaos a little bit. i think that’s what oscar said.”

“that would be right.” a head makes you turn your head, jumping back at the head that’s popped between you and lily. “you guys are with oscar?”

lily nods. “i’m a friend of his.” she gestures towards you. “this is my plus one.”

“oh, cool,” he grins. “i’m logan. can i get you guys some drinks? we make cocktails, we’ve got beer… you can get it on the rocks too, if you want.”

you shake your head with a small smile. “i don’t drink. thank you, though.”

“i’d like a long island please,” lily smiles sweetly. she drops her head slightly to give you an encouraging smile. “you could get a mojito. it’s like sprite with mint — we can just ask them to put less alcohol in it.”

“do you have just sprite?” you press your lips together with a worried stare at logan. you never really cared what others thought, but you could feel the judgment coming through from the way he turned his head and looked at you in shock.

you didn’t know college students were so cutthroat about the consumption of alcohol.

“really? i could just ask ollie to put in a drop of rum into the mojito,” logan suggests. “but that’s up to you. don’t feel pressured to drink alcohol if you don’t want to.”

you smile politely and nod your head at him. “just a canned sprite will do. thank you.”

you take a deep breath, slotting your laptop and notebook into your bag. heaps of students are already rushing to pour out of the lecture room while you stay behind to wait the crowd out. maybe they’ve got places to be, but you’ve got nowhere to be.

you lean back on the row behind you, watching the crowd slowly die down before you make your way out of the row you were sitting at. in the other aisle, there’s someone still sitting, typing away on his laptop.

as you pass him, he looks up at you with a polite smile, his blue eyes bearing into yours curiously. you return a small smile before shyly turning away and hopping down the stairs.

he’s pretty cute, you’ve got to admit. all semester long — all 3 weeks of it since you started your sophomore year — you always somehow run into that same guy. you’ve come to find out, from his friends screaming it in the campus cafeteria, that his name is mick. but, well, you’re not brave enough to make a first move.

so you walk down the steps with a small grin on your face. you take one last glance at him, still very focused on his screen, before you pull the door open to leave the lecture hall.

“hey!” a figure immediately steps up in front of you when you let go of the door. “hi, i’m- i’m logan. we met at the party last friday? you went with lily?”

your eyebrows shoot up in shock, unsure why or how he’s standing outside here. or how he even recognised you in the first place. the frat house was dim and crowded when he came to offer you and lily drinks. “ah, yes! are you looking for lily? i don’t have many classes with her, but i can call her for you if you’d like.”

“no,” logan grins, shoving his hands into his pockets. “i actually looked for her to find you. i couldn’t find you at the party the other night. is everything okay? did something happen?”

your lips part with an understanding nod. “yeah, i took off early. parties aren’t really my thing,” you explain. “i did have fun for the hour that i did stay, though! i never got to thank you for the sprite that you got me.”

“don’t worry about that. we were hosting, and you guys were someone’s special guests, or so i heard,” he smiles. “so, um…”

you tilt your head and look up at him, slightly confused. what business did this frat boy have with you? had you done something wrong during the party? were you supposed to bid goodbye before leaving the party because it was invitational? “i’m sorry i didn’t say goodbye,” you blurt out of nervousness.

he throws his head back slightly, blinking blankly at your reaction. “what?”

“i’m sorry,” you laugh softly, “i don’t really go to parties, and especially not ones held in a frat.”

“what are you talking about? it’s not about the party,” he laughs. you tilt your head more and furrow your eyebrows at the dimple that makes a brief appearance on his face. he’s a lot cuter in daylight than he was in the neon lights that illuminated the dark living room of their frat house.

“oh. then what are you here for?”

“i was,” he looks away briefly with a small smile, “i was wondering if i could take you out to dinner some time?”

you straighten your back at his request and grip the handles of your bag that’s resting on your shoulder. “pardon?”

logan clears his throat and stands a little straighter. “well, i think you’re really cute. i’d really like to take you out to dinner some time this week. if,” he pauses, waiting to see for any more reactions that would give away your potential answer, “you think i’m also cute?”

“i mean i think you’re cute,” you grin sweetly, dropping your head slightly. you watch as a hopeful smile spreads across his face before an apologetic expression covers yours. “but i reckon i’m not really your type.”

“what do you mean?” his eyebrows furrow and he frowns slightly at your rejection. not to say that he’s never been at the receiving end of being rejected by girls before, but it’s certainly not as common as it used to be when he was in high school.

“i’m not a party girl. seeing as how you were that night at your party, it might be safe to assume that this wouldn’t really work,” you explain slowly. “it’s not a bad thing! i just… i don’t think we would click like that.”

logan continues to tower over you in shock. you sigh. “i’m really very sorry. you are cute–”

“then let me take you out on a date?”

“–but let’s not waste each other’s time.” you take a step to the side. “i’ll see you around, logan. i had fun at the party.”

lily laughs. “oh, come on. logan’s not that bad!”

“i literally watched him go crazy over beer pong!” you explain, throwing your head back in disbelief. you pinch the bridge of your nose at what she’s trying to get at after you told her the story. “i left 45 minutes into the party because the music was too loud!”

oscar sits on your couch, slightly amused at the situation with his arm slung around lily’s shoulders loosely. “he’s alright. he can be a bit much sometimes.”

“oh, you’re not helping your friend here,” lily gasps exasperatedly, smacking oscar lightly. oscar laughs softly, throwing his head back at lily’s will to defend logan through and through. she looks back at you and throws her arms in the air. “what’s the worst that could happen if you go out on one date?”

“i don’t want to waste my time. i have enough going on as is.” you widen your eyes and glance at oscar with pleading eyes, hopeful that he can find the words to get lily off your back. “we’re total opposites! i’m an academic — it’s all i’ve ever known.”

oscar shrugs. “she’s right, you know,” oscar mutters, earning himself a glare from lily. he tilts his hands up into the air. “logan’s not been an academic in a hot minute. he skips classes, he frequents parties a lot, he gets into fights…” he looks at you. “you made the right decision.”

“i know.”

“no,” lily says slightly firmer this time. she sits up slightly and plants her feet on the ground. “what if he straightens his act because of you? i think being in your company would really do logan some good.”

“you want me to let him take me out on a date just so he can justify the school fees he’s paying? are you crazy?”

“not like that! i mean, like, if the date goes well, then i think it would help logan see the brighter side of things,” lily explains with an eye roll. she turns to oscar. “don’t you think so? don’t you want to see logan in classes again?”

oscar squints his eyes, pursing his lips slightly as he looks at lily. you gasp and stomp your foot on the ground. “don’t tell me you’re actually considering this, oscar!”

“it’s a silly idea,” oscar says. you sigh in relief before you turn on your heel, ready to get some rest for your classes tomorrow. “but–” you turn back around in panic at his change of tone. “he’s a good guy in general; just a little… misguided nowadays. he’s a pretty sweet guy.”

“sweet guys wouldn’t skip class and challenge random party attendees to a fight when he’s one of the hosts.”

“true,” oscar points out knowingly, “but if you give him a chance, you’ll see that he’s not as bad as he was that night. i mean, it was a party. everyone gets rowdy sometimes at parties.”

you fold your arms over your chest, staring at them incredulously. there’s no way that they’re making you agree to go on a date with somebody who’s a polar opposite, right? either way, it seems unethical and rude to go out on a date with logan just to hope on the fact that he will get his act together.

“that’s not fair.”

“at least give him a chance,” lily grins, eyebrows raising hopefully. “he’s not as bad as you think he is.”

you walk the busy halls of the campus, trying your best not to bump into anyone as you send your parents a quick text message. you glance up at the lecture hall you’re heading towards and flinch slightly at the figure waiting right by the door.

you sigh softly to yourself, dropping your phone into your bag as you approach the door. “i said no, you know that, right?”

“you didn’t even give me a chance,” logan hums with the sweetest smile he can sport to show you. he extends his hand with a small bouquet and rocks back and forth on his feet. “one date. if you still don’t think we would be good together after that, i’ll leave you alone.”

you stare at the flowers before you lift your eyes to meet his. “logan…”

“one date. no alcohol, no drinks, no parties,” logan suggests. his eyes light up when you look back down at the bouquet. “a proper date. i’ll take you out on a proper date.”

“fine,” you say, taking the bouquet into your hands. you lift it slightly. “thank you for the flowers. i’m busy tonight and tomorrow, how does thursday sound?”

he can’t contain the smile growing on his face. “great! i’ll pick you up at 6?”

you nod, but before you can tell him where to meet you, he’s already jogging away from you. “hey, i haven’t told you where to pick me up!”

“i’m gonna be late to class!” he laughs, waving at you. “i’ll ask lily for your number — i’ll text you tonight i promise!”

you raise an eyebrow at his statement. he’s going to class. you tilt your head with a small smile and glance down at the flowers, grazing your nails over the petals of the lavender. you press your lips together, admittedly trying to calm your racing heart. it’s very thoughtful: the flowers and the waiting for you outside your lecture hall.

logan is lucky that he’s cute, or that simple gesture of waiting for you might have bordered the line of being weird.

you press your lips together and make a sharp turn towards the door again. someone swiftly passes your stiff figure right by the door, pushing the door open that leads into the lecture hall. he steps aside and holds the door open, peeking from behind slightly to beckon you to come in.

it’s mick.

you smile. “thank you.”

he glances down at what you have in your hands. “ah, flowers. lucky guy.”

logan walks next to you in the hallway of your apartment complex, his denim jacket wrapped around you warmly. he sighs with a small smile. “i hope you enjoyed the date, at least. it wasn’t much, but–”

“what?” you laugh, the sound echoing down the hall. “don’t beat yourself up over it. i enjoyed the restaurant and the food. i enjoyed the car ride to get desserts too.”

“i know it’s a little underwhelming,” logan sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “but i really do hope that you enjoyed the date. because i know that i enjoyed myself.”

much to your surprise, the date went very well. you didn’t have a lot in common with logan, but you did click to a certain degree. surprisingly, he did have a pathway he wanted to pursue after graduation, which is why he’s enrolled on the major he’s in right now.

he softly, and hesitantly admitted to you that it’s been difficult to find motivation since the new semester started. you completely understand that.

you stop at your door, then turn to look at him. “don’t overthink it. i enjoyed myself tonight. thank you, logan.”

you’re ready to walk through that door right now and admit to lily that you’ve misjudged logan’s character. despite his tendency to be a bit of a walking menace, oscar is right about him being a sweet guy.

he opened his car door for you in all instances, gave you flowers (despite having given you one just two days ago), held your bag and gave you his jacket despite it being cold outside. you insisted on going dutch with the bill, but he beat you to the cashier to pay for the entire meal.

“do i get to take you out on a second date?” logan raises an eyebrow with a small smile. “i know a place.”

you press your lips together, trying to hold back a smile and a definite answer. you step forward and press a kiss on his cheek, giggling when you see his cheeks flush. “let’s have lunch tomorrow after my morning class,” you say with a pat on his shoulder. “text me when you get back to the frat house.”

he barely has any time to respond before you stumble into your apartment with a hand to your chest. lily, sitting on the couch doing one of her assignments, immediately looks up with wide eyes and a hopeful grin.

you don’t say anything, just shriek and run over to the red head with stories upon stories spilling past your lips.

“is this seat taken?”

you look up and flinch slightly at the pair of green eyes and soft smirk looking down at you. “logan! you aren’t in this class. what are you doing here?”

“i don’t have a class right now,” logan whispers with a small grin. “the library is full, the guys are being rowdy in the house — i’ve got an assignment i need to start on.”

“and you thought my lecture would be the perfect place to get some peace and quiet?”

“yes. and also the fact that you’re here helps.” he starts to put his things on the empty spot next to you. “do you wanna grab some dinner after your class?”

you frown slightly, keeping your eyes trained on the door for your professor to walk in. admittedly, you’re quite scared that logan’s in a class that he’s not supposed to be in.

surely your professor wouldn’t notice a fresh face in a room full of a hundred students, right?

“i’ve got tutoring after my class. it’s tuesday.”

“right. i forgot,” logan whispers. “can i pick you up afterward then?”

“i can’t stay out late. i’ve got class early tomorrow.”

“i know,” logan nods, pressing his lips together into a smile. “just want to see you. let me send you home?”

you laugh sheepishly, turning your head to look at him. you promptly drop your smile when you realise he’s serious. “oh, you’re serious.” he nods with a hopeful smile, repeating his question if you’d let him. you smile and sink into your seat. “sure. that’s very thoughtful. thank you.”

you press your lips together, picking at your nails as you look over the railing to the crowd downstairs. “are you sure about this? i can just go home if you want. i don’t really want to be a bother…”

“no, don’t be silly,” logan smiles, taking a step down. he holds his hand out to you. “it’s a smaller party than the first one you attended. no plus ones this time.”

you hum, pressing your lips to the side. “i’m not really a party person, lo.”

“it’s not a party. it’s a small get-together.” you hesitantly take his hand, letting him lead you down the stairs. “but i guess if you prefer to head home… i can drive you home.”

you take a deep breath and try to count the number of people on the first floor. there’s no way this is considered a small get-together — you lost count after 20. “i’ll stay for a little while… no drinks for me, okay?”

“just a little bit?”

you sigh. “like, a drop.”

“are you guys together yet?” lily giggles, watching you walk out of the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate.

“are you and oscar together yet?” you throw the question back at her, tucking your legs under your body. lily stares at you with wide eyes, lips pursed together at your retort. “exactly. that’s what i thought.”

“but that’s not the same.”

“you’re right — it’s not the same. cause you and oscar actually like each other.”

lily tilts her head. “you still don’t like logan? i thought everything is going well.”

“i do! i already do — i like him a lot, actually,” you sigh. “but i don’t know… we’ve been going out for like 3 weeks… i don’t know what we are.”

lily’s face contorts into something of disbelief. she looks at you. “you guys still haven’t established anything yet?”

you press your lips together. “is it that bad that we haven’t established anything yet? isn’t it like… normal? i mean, we’ve only been seeing each other for 2 months.”

“it’s already been 2 months?” you watch lily sink into the couch and puff her cheeks. “you guys are together more than half the week… have you even held hands yet?”

“of course, we have,” you scoff, slightly offended. despite being closed off yourself and being more on the inactive side, you’ve had your fair shares of relationships. “i’m not a prude — not that it’s a bad thing to be one. but seriously, lily?”

“maybe logan’s more traditional about things like this,” lily mutters, shrugging. she takes a scoop from her tub of ice cream and shoves the spoon into her mouth. “who knows? i’m not his friend.”

“that’s what i’m trying to say. but i don’t know. maybe he just doesn’t like me as much as he thought he would when he first asked me to go on a date,” you shrug, pressing your lips together. “that’s okay. maybe i should ask him tomorrow when we go the pier?”

“should you, though?”

you shrug. “better than living in the dark, right?”

lily presses her lips together. “what about that cute guy in one of your lectures? have you guys interacted again recently?”

you drop your head with a shrug. “not since he saw me with flowers in my hands that one time. he sits really far back nowadays and leaves with the crowd.”

“i told you he had a thing for you,” she says, words muffled from the ice cream in her mouth as she points the spoon directly at you. “you never believe me — i’m like the love expert or something.”

you dart your tongue out and kick her lightly. “because you’re often wrong. oscar is probably the only decent guy you’ve dated.”

she perks up with a proud smile. “i know. he’s so not made to be a frat bro. if it weren’t for logan and the difficulty of finding housing for college, he wouldn’t have been there.”

you breathe out slowly as the wind pushes all of your hair out of your face. you feel logan’s grip around your hand tighten as you take a stroll on the boardwalk of the beach near campus.

since logan had picked you up from your apartment, you’ve had this nagging feeling creeping up on you. it’s one thing to talk about asking him about the status of your relationship, but it’s another to stand in front of him to actually say the words and get an answer. “i want to ask you something if that’s okay.”

“of course,” logan nods, slowing down with his eyebrows furrowed. “is everything okay?”

“yeah, i just don’t know if i should be asking you this at all,” you say softly, turning to face him. you grab his other hand and purse your lips together. “we’ve been going out for a while… lily’s asked me, but i don’t really know what to answer. what are we? like… are we together?”

his reaction is unreadable. you watch as his forehead relaxes, but the way his lips part and the way his eyes stare into yours intensely is telling you a different story. “i… um…”

you smile and squeeze his hands. “that’s okay. you don’t have to put a label; it’s just a question.”

you turn away to continue your walk when logan pulls you back gently to face him. “no, it’s not that i don’t want this to go anywhere — i do. i really like you. but i feel like… we should take this slow, don’t you think so? there’s a lot more we don’t know about each other, and–”

“no need to explain yourself,” you hum, patting his shoulder gently. “we can go slow if you need to. after all, you’ve got tons of assignments to catch up on.”

he laughs. “there’s really too many to count.”

“there’s only too many to count because you keep skipping classes, lo.”

“try it,” oscar laughs, handing you a slice of lime. “lily’s got a plastic bag in case you have to puke.”

you hesitantly take the lime into your hands and raise an eyebrow. “are you guys sure about this? i told you i’m not a drinker.” you lift the cocktail in your hands. “i’m good with my cocktail. shots are daunting.”

liam sighs, shaking his head. “no, mate. you don’t have to drink the tequila if you don’t want to.”

“just try it once,” oscar shrugs. “one shot. the trick is to get a lot of salt to really offset the taste of tequila. then bite on the lime to finish it off.”

logan smiles at you. “do you want me to show you how to do a body shot, babe? it’s easy, and i’ll only pour half for you.”

you laugh, throwing your head back. “um, sure? how do you even–”

lily steps forward. “you need to put the lime in your mouth. and then,” she pauses to take something from the table, “we put the salt on you. is your neck okay?”

“my neck?”

“it’s a body shot,” logan giggles, breath already reeking from all the beer he’d drank from his game of beer pong. “it’s supposed to involve the body in some way.”

you take a deep breath. “i guess.”

you tilt your head back slightly and look into the crowd, bored. if you had the option to sit out this party, you genuinely would. but the frat was hosting again and logan insisted that you make a small appearance for a couple of hours.

or, in his words, he’ll teach you a couple of drinking games for the future. if not for your time in college, at least for the parties to come into your adulthood.

you lean back against the counter as lily swipes your neck with damp fingers, pressing a bit of salt against your skin. you sigh as she positions the lime into your mouth, careful not to bite too hard.

a familiar pair of blue eyes shine in the dark, looking right at you as he enters a kitchen with a friend. he furrows his eyebrows at the sight of you surrounded by a crowd of frat brothers and lily. you scrunch your nose and raise your eyebrows at him, prompting mick to wave at you hesitantly with a confused expression on his face.

which, you can argue, you’re probably having the same thought as he is: what the hell is someone like you doing in a frat party?

he disappears into the crowd, making you sigh to yourself before you feel a pair of lips hovering dangerously close to your ears. “ready, babe?”

you turn your head slightly and grin. “yes. show me how to do a body shot.”

you purse your lips together. “sorry, lo. i’m not really feeling a party tonight. i think i’ll just head back,” you say softly, leaning on the railing that gives you a sneak peek of what kind of party it would be tonight.

in the first place, you’ve got a submission for an assignment on monday night. this weekend is important that you keep free for yourself — you told logan that multiple times. yet he still insisted that you stay over tonight for the party.

“are you sure?” logan sighs, frowning slightly. “can you stay a while? frederik invited the other frat over for a party. they’re mostly upperclassmen. it won’t be that bad tonight.”

but you’re insistent. you’ve still got tons of research to do. “no, i’ve really got to head back tonight. i’m sorry, lo,” you shake your head, walking around logan to head down the steps by yourself. “you don’t have to drive me back if they’re already here. i’ll just call an uber.”

logan tilts his head and chases after you down the steps. he stops a step after you, prompting you to come to a halt. “are you sure, babe? you don’t even have to drink tonight; you can stay in my room and do your research for your paper. you don’t have to go.”

“i’m sure,” you smile slightly. though, you remember a time when it wouldn’t even have to be questioned that you preferred to leave early instead of sticking around for the party. “i’ll just text you tomorrow.”

you shake your head and press your lips together, walking towards the door of the house. you keep your head low, not wanting to receive any questions from frederik or his friends why you’re leaving so soon since the party had just started.

when you get away from the crowd of the house, you’re dialling lily’s phone number to pick you up. when she doesn’t answer, you sigh and try to book an uber for yourself. but, it’s a busy friday night and drivers wouldn’t earn much driving you two blocks out of campus.

you sigh, fully considering the 25-minute walk back to your apartment complex.

“hey, what are you doing out here instead of the party?” a familiar voice approaches you, making you turn around to meet the brightest blue eyes you’ve seen. he says your name in a question to confirm if it’s really you and you respond with a shy nod. “heading home early?”

“yeah,” you laugh airily, glancing down at your phone to see if you’ve gotten any luck with an uber. “i still have research for that one assignment we have due on monday. i wish i could stay.”

“do you need a ride back?” he smiles, tilting his head with a sweet smile. “i’m designated driver tonight, by the way, if you’re concerned about drinking and driving.”

“no,” you laugh, shaking your head. “i don’t want to keep you from the party. i can walk home.”

“it’s really late. are you insane?” he raises an eyebrow and beckons you down the sidewalk where his car is parked. “come on, let me make your life a little easier and drive you home.”

“hey, liam?” you say softly, barely tapping the taller man’s shoulder to get his attention. he stands from his position over the table, filling cups for the next round of beer pong. “sorry.”

“it’s no problem, mate. what’s up?” liam bends down slightly, though continuing to pour beer into the red solo cups, leaning into you to listen to you over the music. “can i help you with something?”

“yeah, um,” you trail off, “have you seen logan? he left me alone like about 10 minutes ago. i haven’t really seen him since. i’m getting pretty worried.”

“oh, i saw him.” ollie appears next to you with a small smile. “i saw him go up to his room about 5 minutes ago. he was on the phone with somebody, i think. it looked really serious, actually, but i don’t know. it’s logan — you never really know.”

liam laughs. “you know where his room is, right? ollie can bring you if you’ve forgotten.”

you give them a thumbs up with a smile. “i can get to his room. thank you.” you pat ollie on the arm. “thank you. prepare me a margarita? i’ll be back down soon with logan.”

you quickly excuse yourself, pushing yourself through the crowd. you jog up the stairs and immediately find logan’s room. well, it’s not that hard; it’s the second door to the left in the long stretch of bedrooms. the door to his room is slightly ajar.

“lo–” you cut yourself when you pop your head in and see that he’s still on the phone.

“will you just listen to me? fuck’s sake?” logan says tiredly. you peek in slightly more. he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees as he grabs his cheeks. “i– i don’t know, okay? i like her– yes, i do. but i still think of you. sometimes.”

you furrow your eyebrows. you never knew about a potential ex-girlfriend that he could still be hung up about. “i’m not leaving her for you. i told you this before — whatever happened 3 months ago, that’s all that will ever be of us.”

you try to do the math in your head. if you’ve been seeing logan for approximately 5 months now, what the hell did he do 3 months ago? well, you suppose you didn’t have a label up until you asked 2 and a half months in. which is fine and realistic — on a technicality.

@cashtons-wife @localwhoore @vroomvroomcircuit @foreveralbon @what-is-happening-helpp @angsthology @urfavnoirette

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron blurb (+18)

warnings: smart!reader (doesn't take shit) x bimbo!rafe <3; pope being an absolute menace; mentions of sex but no actual p in v okay; this shit is football and y'all can argue with a wall <3 IT PAINS ME TO WRITE SOCCER Y'ALL BETTER APPRECIATE IT !!!

ps: this is just for fun cause someone asked me to post it (it was just a draft😬)

you’ve never been one for academic sports spirit.

what’s the point? okay, your school has incredible athletes, that’s good, but why the fuck would you kiss and praise the ground they walk on? you’re a fantastic student and no one gives a shit. why do they get all the glory while brainiacs get zilch?

the double standards piss you off. somehow academics always take the backseat to sports. maybe that explained your dislike towards jocks like rafe cameron.

up until sophomore year, you’d only heard about him, saw him occasionally around school. it was understandable why people talked about him so often. he looked like he’d just been ripped off a page of an abercrombie and fitch catalog, and apparently – you’d never attended a game to check – he was the best player on the team, playing forward. but, unlike many, you didn’t form an opinion about him until you met him.

the verdict? total pain in your fucking ass.

ever since you two were paired in a class project together, an annual class at that, he suddenly took an interest in you, like you were some sort of exotic animal he’d never encountered in his life, only because you wouldn’t flirt with him.

outrageous, never done before.

for the first four months, it was just him laying on the cheesy pickup lines and you rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd pop out of your head. eventually, rafe dialed it down and you were able to be civil, perhaps friends. if you could call it that.

wich is why, as his friend, you’re starting to lose your fucking patience. the season was not going well for his team. at all. there’s little to no chance they’re going to be able to win the championship.

not that you care, but apparently the whole school does. everyone seems to be on the verge of a meltdown.

“i swear to god if they lose to standford next week–“

“pope, will you kindly shut the fuck up? it’s just soccer.”

“just soccer?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at pope who looks at you like you’ve just shot someone, “can we study? peacefully?”

"it’s not just soccer! it's about school spirit, camaraderie, y’know?"

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "camaraderie? please. more like a bunch of testosterone-fueled egos chasing after a ball," you retort, disdain evident in your tone.

“you don't know what you're talking about. and i'm being dead serious, cameron’s been on edge lately. never seen him like this."

you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "yeah, well, losing does that to people. don't why you're complaining soooo much" you sigh, "i’m the one who has to put up with all the brooding and pouting.”

pope’s quiet. too quiet. you can picture the gears turning in his brain as he blankly stares at you. nothing good ever comes out of that.

“what?” you press, wondering if you have to break the school spirit out of him.

“you should fuck him. after or before, don't care. but you should."

you recoil, nearly tumbling out of your chair at pope's suggestion.

your eyes widen in disbelief, your mind struggling to process what he just said. for a moment, the room spins around you, and you feel like you’ve been thrust into some surreal alternate universe.

“what?! pope?" you finally manage to sputter, acting like you're about to go into cardiac arrest, "the fuck's wrong with you?"

“don’t look at me like that,” he merely shrugs, “that man is depressed. he needs to get laid if he’s going to win something.“

you hardly think a guy like rafe is not getting laid every other day, but that’s irrelevant. your jaw drops, stunned by his audacity. "are you kidding me? you don’t even like him!”

“but i like winning!” he whines, all but pushing his books aside to place in his elbows on the table, “and he’s so obsessed with you it hurts watching. he’s like one of those little crusty white dogs always running after you.”

you shake your head in disbelief, "he does it to be funny, okay? he’s not actually interested.. t's just a joke”

your best friend only laughs, a raucous, almost maniacal sound that echoes through the room. he clutches his stomach, "just joking?" pope gasps out, his laughter still bubbling to the surface. "oh man. you're hilarious, honestly, wow."

you stare at him, lips set in a straight line, feeling like you missed the entire joke. "what's so funny?"

pope wipes away a fake tear, trying to compose himself. "he almost ripped a new one to jj after he pulled that stunt last semester.”

your eyebrows knit together in skepticism. “and? i still don’t follow.”

rafe and jj couldn’t stand each other. both are incredible athletes and everyone always gushes about how great they are together on the field. outside, however? not so much. they don't mix. ever.

“and?! why do you think jj randomly talked about you in the locker room?”

“because he’s a horny creep and got a kink for fist fights with undressed men?”

you love jj. really, you do. but sometimes he’d win a lot more if he just kept his mouth shut or thought before speaking. you've lost count of how many times that boy has been suspended.

pope leans in, his tone low and conspiratorial, “cameron practically threatened to rearrange jj's face if he ever mentioned you again.”

you narrow your eyes, “nop. you’re making that up.”

pope shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. "nah, i'm dead serious.”

your mind races, trying to piece it all together. while your brain always clicks instantly in class, feelings...emotions are a little more complicated to grasp sometimes.

"wait, so you're saying he actually cares about me?"

he nods, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "yep.”

“seriously?”

pope chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "head over heels. you’re our school’s only hope.”

your brain's on overdrive trying to process pope's bombshell revelation. rafe cameron, the big-shot jock, actually giving a fuck about you? it's like some twisted plot line from a teen drama. you didn’t see this one coming. but then again, you hardly pay attention to anything outside academics.

“so what? ’m supposed to fuck the mediocrity out of him?”

he grins, clapping you on the shoulder, “there’s that school spirit!”

you slap his hand away, “oh fuck off. ‘m being serious.”

he’s still grinning like he just cracked the code to life. "come on, hear me out. it's like a strategic move, y’ know? boost his morale, boost the team's performance. win-win."

you roll your eyes, not buying into his scheme. "yeah, because my sex habilities are definitely the key to winning soccer games."

he shrugs, undeterred. "it's not like you'd be doing it for him. it's all about the greater good."

you scoff, rearranging your notes for the millionth time, "this isn't some feel-good sports movie."

it’s not like you never thought about rafe. sure, he's a yapping idiot around you most of the time, but every time you need help or an extra hand, he’s always the first one to offer. that has to count for something, right?

“the ball’s in your court.”

yeah it is.

truth to be told, you’ve been sick and tired of rafe acting like a loser over soccer. what was the point in whining about it if he wasn’t going to try and do better? god, you'd never seen him like this before and it's been irking you to beyond. even more now that pope mentioned it again.

at this point, you just want to march up to him, shake him and make it come to his senses. you can’t even remember that last time he tried to hit on you. that’s how bad it is! the memory is buried under the weight of his brooding.

so maybe….maybe pope's onto something, y'know? maybe there's more to it than just you and rafe. and yeah, okay, you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of hopping into bed with him, but only because you’d hate the attention that comes along with his name.

but...a part of you is weirdly intrigued. not because you're dying to be his next conquest, but because you're just done with watching him drown in his own misery. maybe this could be the wake-up call he needs. a swift kick in the ass to snap him out of his funk.

you wouldn’t be doing out of selfish reasons! school spirit and all. you’d be doing everyone a favor. and you wouldn't need to blame it on yourself if things went downhill.

you had pope for that.

which is why you’re standing in front of rafe's room in his frat.

a jock and a frat boy? charming. you’ve certainly hit the jackass lottery. but you’ve been here before. he always saved the day when the library was packed or when your roommate was too busy fucking her boyfriend in your dorm room. this was weirdly your safe place to work.

taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles against the door, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. it's not about you! get a grip.

the door swings open, and there's the fucker, all brooding and rugged, like he just walked off the set of a sports movie. you roll your eyes at the cliché, but there's something weird about the way he looks at you. or maybe the tight wife-beater is doing a number on you.

you still notice the bags underneath his swollen eyes.

there's a flicker of surprise in him, like he wasn't expecting to see you, out of everyone in this school, standing there and you can't blame him; after all, you're not exactly a regular visitor to the frat house, only when your academic needs force you to.

“hey?”

“you look like shit, cameron.”

rafe's eyebrows raise in surprise at your blunt remark, “uh, what?”

you roll your eyes resisting the urge to scoff. "can i come in or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day?”

rafe chuckles, stepping aside to let you into his room, “come on in.”

you step inside, taking in the cluttered room with a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. it was never this bad before, you know rafe’s a clean freak and this? this is not him. but it is exactly how you imagined a frat boy's room would look like—dirty.

there’s laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer cans littering the desk, and a distinct musky smell lingering in the air. you shake your head in disbelief, shooting rafe a disapproving look.

"what are you? a divorced forty-five-year-old man?”

rafe laughs at your comment, though there's a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i know. sorry about that."

he’s doing worse than what you realized and it tugs a little at your heartstrings.

you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced by his apology. "sorry doesn't cut it, cameron. you should be ashamed of yourself.”

"okay, fair point. i'll clean up, promise."

“not just your stupid room. i mean your whole attitude. you've been moping around like a loser!”

rafe's expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his features. "hey, ‘m not—"

"don't even try to deny it," you interrupt, not backing down. "everyone’s noticed. you’re pissing me off.”

you don’t know why you’re suddenly so tempted to give him the scolding of a lifetime, but there’s just something about seeing someone with so much potential and drive wasting it all away without a fight. it’s not like him.

and by the kicked-puppy look on his face, you can tell he's not used to being called out so openly. but you're dead set on breaking through to him, no matter how awkward it gets.

“see! you’re just staring at me like—like, a fucking idiot!”, you fire off, frustration lacing your tone. the irony of the situation isn't lost on you. “will you speak for gods sake? for more than five seconds? i spent months trying to get you to shut up and now you do?”

rafe's stunned expression makes you second guess your approach for a moment, but you push the feeling aside, knowing you can't afford to let sympathy cloud your purpose here.

“why are you mad at me?”

you can't believe he's still clueless after all this time.

"why am i mad at you?" you repeat incredulously, feeling the irritation rising your my chest. "seriously, rafe? have you even looked in the mirror lately?"

he blinks at you, his confusion evident, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"you've been moping around like the world's about to end.”

rafe's brows furrow even further, and for a moment, you wonder if he's playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. "i don't—uh, i don't understand," he finally stammers out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

that’s it.

you’re gonna pull the feelings card and hope it doesn’t backfire.

“do you like me?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

rafe snorts as he lifts his finger to scratch his face, “course i do. pretty obvious.”

for a second you get a glimpse of the real rafe and it soothes you inside.

“and you want to fuck me?”

you’ve never seen him look so gobsmacked in his life, you’d laugh in his face if it wasn’t such a serious matter.

“what?” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. you can’t believe the rafe cameron is blushing. over you.

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "do you want to fuck me? do i need to spell it out for you?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at finally catching him off guard, “’m sorry? is this—are you…is this for punk’d?”

"punk'd? seriously, rafe?" you snap, incredulous that he would think this is some sort of prank, “it’s 2024.”

rafe's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, and he stammers again "no, i mean— i just...didn't expect you to— uhh”

“yes or no.”

rafe blinks at you before breathing out, “yes.”

“okay. so win your next match and you will.”

he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, exhaling through his nose, trying to keep his agitation to a minimum. “what?”

“i’m sick and tired of this version of you. i need you to win, and if this” you gesture to the both of you with your hand, “is your motivation, then we’re doing it.”

"y’serious?" he takes a step closer, his demeanor suddenly more serious, “me and you?”

you nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilt your head up to look at his features, “dead serious. and it’s not just you and me. it’s for the team, and for the school spirit or whatever nonsense pope keeps going on about."

rafe lets out a small chuckle, a hint of his usual cocky confident demeanor returning. "is that so? can't say no to that kind of motivation."

“i figured.”

he reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly grazing the strands of your hair, eyes fixed on your lips. "are there any rules?”

you swallow hard, feeling your heart race at his touch. “no, just win.”

rafe's lips curl into a playful smirk— the money-making smirk that makes you want to punch him and kiss him, not necessarily in that order — as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"never would've guessed you'd be the one to offer yourself as my motivation, though," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "i'm surprised."

you try to maintain your composure, but his proximity is making it increasingly difficult to think straight. "just doing what needs to be done," you manage to stammer out, trying to sound perfectly unaffected by his words.

rafe chuckles softly, his hand still lingering in your hair as he leans back slightly to look at you. "my pretty prize, huh?" he says, his tone teasing as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you feel a flush spread across your features at his boldness. you blame him entirely for this side of you. without thinking, you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, tips pressings against his skin lightly.

“just win the fucking match, cameron."

rafe's nasty smirk widens into a heart-stopping, soul-gripping grin as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

"consider it done."

[heich0e]

When Atsumu and Osamu are rushing the INZ fraternity, part of the hazing is that they get a handful of the pledges wasted and take them to a tattoo parlour to get whatever tat the older members decide on.

Kita (who abhors the more gruesome hazing rituals) finds out when he gets back to the frat house from a group project meeting at the campus library, and he and Aran rush to stop it. But by the time they get to the shady tattoo parlour on the other side of town, Atsu's already got a dainty little butterfly tattooed on his left buttcheek -- and a teetering Suna is stencilled and about to get one on his ankle. The two older Iotas stop it before it can go any further, and Atsumu is left to forever lament (loudly and frequently) the fact that they didn't get there just a few minutes earlier--especially because now he and his twin no longer match.

So the next year, just before the twins birthday, Osamu goes and gets a little tattoo on his upper thigh. So high that it's never at risk of peeking out by accident; you'd have to be seeing him naked to catch a glimpse of it.

A butterfly in monochrome. Well, a moth, technically--which he decides is a little less lame than a butterfly.

For his brother (who's too stupid to know the difference anyway.)

[jnginlov]

can i walk you home?

16. puppy day

warnings food, dogs

ciwyh masterlist next

taglist @peterparkoure @bangchansbae @chaotickyrith @napalmskiez @john-joong @phtogravi @nyasstars @httphans @hello-2-u-from-me @punkhazardlaw